University of Virginia Library

SCENE III.

HAMET, ALMEIDA, CRISANTHE.
HAMET.
Dear, heavenly maid—thou treasure of my soul,
How poor is language to the feeling heart?
Oh, let me thus supply the want of words,
Thus speak the transports of my wond'rous fondness.

ALMEIDA.
How shall Almeida mark her gratitude?

[Offering to kneel.
HAMET.
Almeida rise: Oh do not thus o'erpay
The common duties of a common man:
To help the wretched is the debt of nature;
A debt, which every honest mind shou'd pay
To all that wear the kindred forms of men.

ALMEIDA.
Oh Hamet—Oh my king—if rising blushes—
If these reveal not—the obedient subject—

HAMET.
Obedient subject! most unkind Almeida;
Rob not the great prerogative of virtue,
The generous bosom knows no vain superior;
And pitied be the wretch, or king, or subject
Who at proud distance holds the heart he loves.

ALMEIDA.
Thou hast subdu'd—I can conceal no more:
My humble station bade me long restrain
Affection for a prince, for Persia's king,
But now—

HAMET.
Yes now receive,
Now deign to share my love, my life, my throne.
Oh, witness heav'n the glowing exultation,
Witness the triumphs of this throbbing heart,
As thus it owns Almeida for a queen.
And yet my brother—

ALMEIDA.
What of him, my lord?

HAMET.
Oh, I have doubts—

ALMEIDA.
Ha! doubts—have doubts my lord?

HAMET.
How shall I speak, Almeida, to thy softness?
How hope thy pardon for a tender fraud?
By some dire chance my brother knows our story,
And, as in jest, he tax'd me with concealment,
Desir'd to view a sister in Almeida.

ALMEIDA.
Where was the fault in this, or where the danger?

HAMET.
At this, a sudden sickness seiz'd my heart;
'Twas plain I lov'd—he pierc'd the thin disguise,
Enjoy'd my pain, and triumph'd in discovery.

ALMEIDA.
And what of that? Your feelings are too nice,
Too delicately fine to bear the shaft;
Which laughter ever levels at the lover,
Spirits less lively meet the mirth with smiles,
And wit's pert jest falls pointless to the ground.

HAMET.
How little dost thou know the soul of Almoran,
That even blazes at the view of beauty;
How wou'd he catch soft fury from this hand,
And drink large draughts of passion from those eyes?
And then—

ALMEIDA.
What then, my lord?
Hast thou no credit in Almeida's faith?
Ungenerous prince! the heart that rules this bosom
Courts not the kingly crown, nor splendid sceptre.
Had'st thou been born the lowliest of the poor,
Still had I sought alliance with thy virtues,
Still had I scorn'd variety of lovers.

HAMET.
I know it all, dear maid; I know it all;
Yet, Almoran—

ALMEIDA.
Can Almoran forget
The ties of nature, or the bonds of honour,
The dear domestic duties of the brother,
The awful virtues of the public station,
The law which binds the monarch to the man?
Or if he could, and this ill-fated form
Should chance to touch him with a transient passion,
What would avail the momentary liking?
Soon would his power o'erlook an humble maid,
And gladly leave her to the partial Hamet.
Or at the worst—should he pursue Almeida,
Firm in the pure resolves of virtuous love
Ev'n I, the subject daughter of Abdallah,
Bold in her virgin truth, would own her fondness,
Assert the native freedom of the heart,
Clasp her lov'd lord, and thus avow her passion.

HAMET.
Oh, thou dear maid—once more receive my thanks;
[embracing.
Receive a willing heart that doats to death!
Forgive the delicate alarms of love:
I have no doubts—my sickly fears are past,
I tread in æther and I breathe in heaven!
I am—oh, all ye Powers—I am most blest.

ALMEIDA.
My lord, behold—

[Seeing Almoran and Caled at a distance.
HAMET.
'Tis Almoran with Caled—haste my love
And shield thy beauties from his dangerous gaze,
In this pavilion—Soon he will be gone,
Ah! quick retire, and e'er to-morrow's dawn
I will prepare—by heav'n they're here—away.

[Hamet conducts Almeida into a pavilion.