University of Virginia Library

ACT IV.

SCENE I.

AN APARTMENT IN ALMORAN'S PALACE.
ALMORAN, OSMYN, CALED.
ALMORAN.
Then empire is our own; dominion courts
At length the smile of Almoran alone,
And proud Almeida, the Circassian maid,
Like some rich jewel, the reward of conquest,
Decreed to sparkle on the victor's brow,
Shall yield her beauties to these longing arms.

CALED.
Ali, dread king, industriously loyal,
Still plies the rabble with fomenting zeal,
And deaf of fair Almeida's eloquence,
The oaths of Hamet, and the arts of Omar,
Ev'n now the multitude tumultuous shout—
“We saw the altar flame, we heard the groans,
“And heav'n decrees to Almoran Almeida.”

ALMORAN.
See, Osmyn, that each soothing art be tried
To reconcile Almeida to our power:
Let Persia's utmost pride and pomps await her:
Breathe forth the soul of harmony around:
To his inventive mind who starts a joy
Unknown, be recompence adjudg'd. Let slaves
In splendid vassalage attend the fair,
Our future queen, the new, the lov'd sultana.
But, above all, beware no female forms
Obedient to our passion, or our pride,
That swell the chosen train of the seraglio,
Approach apartments sacred to Almeida.

CALED.
Monarch of nations, ever-glorious sultan,
Thus let me pay the debt of adoration.

[prostrates.
OSMYN.
Great ruler of the world, accept my homage.

[prostrates..
ALMORAN.
Hold, lavish Fortune, hold thy bounteous hand;
Too fast increase the thronging joys upon me,
And my soul labours with the soft oppression.
Rise, both rise—vicegerents of my greatness:
On ye, as my deputed delegates,
Henceforth devolve the shining toils of state;
All Persia's vulgar care's beneath the sultan:
Guard ye my paradise from all obtrusion,
Next in command to Almoran and fate.
Yet still beware—let strict fidelity
And nice obedience justify our favour;
Remember still—the breath that gives ye sway—
Th' immortal arm that raises, can destroy.

[Exit with Osmyn.

SCENE II.

CALED.
Lo! such the wages of successful vice.
Vice did I say! oh, infamy of slander!
'Tis pious artifice, 'tis glorious thrift!
While virtue starves, bold spirits will burst forth
Beyond the lying letter of the law,
The shackling trammels of the moral fool,
And fly to arts like Caled's for support.
I stand excus'd. Let but the gale of virtue
Waft Caled as conveniently to port,
The golden port of int'rest and ambition;
“Let but the slighting world on truth bestow
“Dissimulation's gay and gorgeous robe,”
Then nought but holy maxims shall be heard
From this converted tongue.—But, oh! my soul,
This rock impassable—this tow'ring Osmyn—
Be swift prolifick brain to work his fall,
And shake the fabrick he has rais'd above me.

[Exit.

SCENE III.

THE SERAGLIO GATES.
OSMYN
(alone).
While Caled takes his station near the palace,
Here must I wait the coming of the sultan.—
Ah! servitude abhorr'd, disgraceful state!
The recent honours he has heap'd upon me,
Chill on my brow, and sicken at my heart.
O, conscience! conscience! smite me not so sore,
Thou scourge invisible! Who plac'd thee here,
With thy dread arrowy store, to goad and wound us?
Something far sharper than the sabre's point
Now strikes this breast and calls me slave and minion.
What may be done? This constant care distracts me—
The account of infamy is large against me.
Long have I inly mourn'd—

SCENE IV.

Enter HAMET (in a mute's habit)
Stand! Who approaches?
What step forbidden, thus intrusive—Hamet?

HAMET.
Yes, traitor, Hamet. Where is that inhuman
That forces Hamet to assume these robes,
And seize upon his sacred rights by stealth?
Where is that king?—that monster-brother—Speak!
Where, villain, is Abdallah?—Where Almeida?
Answer me straight—behold this scymeter—
Delay will make me desperate.

OSMYN.
Abdallah
Still is safe.—Oh! ask, dread king, no more.

HAMET.
Equivocating slave, my heart is broke;
Loos'd is the chord that ty'd it to my breast.
Tell me each atom of the damning truth,
Or—

OSMYN.
Thus compell'd, my lord—She's there.

[Points to the seraglio.
HAMET.
There!

OSMYN.
My heart bleeds for him.—Even there, my lord;
In that seraglio—

HAMET.
Seraglio! What?
My destin'd bride?—Almeida—Persia's mistress?
Has he then turn'd her to the train of victims,
Mix'd her soft purity with venal beauty,
Stain'd the pure blossom of our virtuous joys,
And like the hapless sacrifice of riot—
Oh, nature! nature! this—I cannot bear it.

[Bursts in tears.
OSMYN.
No, gracious sovereign, 'tis the sultan's orders,
That far apart—

HAMET.
Ope not thy villain lips.
Already have they more than murther'd me—Ha!
I'll weep no more. How did the monster dare?
And thou the accursed slave that brought her hither;
And this the hell that holds my stolen treasure.
Oh! give me strength of armies, righteous powers!
Sinew my arm with force omnipotent,
That I may hit the centre of his heart;
Then to you—Blast, blast me not sweet heavens,
[Going to stab Osmyn.
Keep me, kind gods—Oh! keep my hands from blood.
Ha! wilt thou force him on me—Nay then, thus—
Thus let me meet the robber ere he plunders—

[Seeing Almoran.

SCENE III.

HAMET, ALMORAN.
ALMORAN.
Osmyn, what daring slave—

HAMET.
Strike swiftly then,
Stab sure—or die.

ALMORAN.
Hamet turn'd slave—to murder? Most intrepid!
Skulks he beneath the habit of the mute
To rob the wretched vassal of his office?
O worthy emulation.

HAMET.
No—I cannot strike—
All frantic as I am, th' unspotted soul
Shudders at brother's blood—Away foul purpose,
Detested instrument away—Oh! Almoran,
[throws away the dagger.
Ev'n she who shar'd her matron breast between us,
Then died the martyr of the lives she gave,
Seems beck'ning from the tomb to ward the blow:
Obey the summons of the saint who bore us,
Admit the touch of nature to thy bosom,
And open yet thy heart to meet thy brother.

ALMORAN.
What shall I do? He melts my six'd resolves,
Nor can this bosom, slave of every passion,
Thus inly touch'd, shrink back from his embraces.
Generous—too generous—Hamet.

[embracing him.
HAMET.
Thy heart relents—
I have thee in my arms—thou art subdued;
'Tis the blest moment of returning virtue;
Truth, justice, and humanity prevail,
Thou art my brother still—The gods be prais'd.

[again embrace.

SCENE IV.

CALED and GUARDS.
CALED.
Sultan and sovereign of the world, thy life—
Thy sacred life's at hazard.

ALMORAN.
Said'st thou life?

CALED.
As at the palace gate I plac'd the guard,
Redoubling shouts assail'd my started ear;
When rushing on, with every slave in arms,
Full in the city's heart I saw a crowd
Of Persian peasants—Omar at their head—
Vollying the rights of Hamet in each ear,
'Till ev'ry gaping fool abus'd the Sultan,
And toss'd their saucy turbans up for Hamet.
Injuriate Omar cried—REVENGE—when straight,
With my own arm, I seiz'd the hoary traitor.

HAMET.
Slave, speak with reverence of that noble Persian.

ALMORAN.
Swift, Osmyn, load the bald conspirator
With ponderous chains—Bid him expect a fate
Well suited to his crimes—then bring him to us.
[Exit Osmyn.
Well, young dissembler, but deep-learned in fraud,
Well may'st thou start; but ere the veil of night
Shall hide his shame from the attending croud
That cluster curious o'er each scene of death,
Omar, thy oracle, shall bleed before thee.

HAMET.
Insensate as I was—how could I hope?
How could I ever frame a thought so wild
As to expect from that tempestuous soul
Or truth, or justice, pity, love, or honour:
My heart, that knows thee, throbs with keen reproach
To chide its own simplicity.

ALMORAN.
'Twas truth—
Haply 'twas Hamet's justice, love, and pity,
That bade thee try the force of artful tears,
Well manag'd warmth, and counterfeited fondness.
'Twas honour taught him, like an hypocrite,
To wind his serpent arms about my neck,
To triumph in the theft of fair Almeida;
While his arch minister, the virtuous Omar,
Back'd by the trait'rous phalanx he had form'd,
Concerted measure of escape and rescue:
O flight of stratagem sublime and noble!

HAMET.
I scorn to answer thee, disnatur'd taunter.

ALMORAN.
Thou hast prepar'd for punishment and prison!
Thy heart, so skill'd in Almoran, has told thee
These guards shall drag thee instant to the dungeon,
Unarm'd and undefended as thou art.—
Slaves, leave the traitor free—Go, man of virtue,
Captivity would swell thy pride—Go, haste,
Array thy troops, and lead them on the battle—
Ev'n to this bosom bid the slaves advance,
Then see if Almoran retreats before them—
See if thy traitors, or thyself, their king,
Can awe this heart, or check one promis'd joy
It made to transport, and the fair Almeida.
Caled, unbar the gates—Farewel! my brother—
My kind, my just, my honourable brother.

[Going.
HAMET.
Hold—yet hold—Ah, Almoran, forbear!
If there is courage, pride, or manhood in thee,
Yet—yet desist—I charge thee by the pangs—
The bitterest pangs of conscience and the soul,
Not to invade—Turn back, base ravisher;
Thus on my knees—

ALMORAN.
What, at thy arts again?
'Tis thus I answer them—I'll talk no more.

[Exit, closing the gates against him, he falls.

SCENE V.

HAMET
(alone.)
Is this permitted—Is this suffer'd, gods?
Spurn'd to the earth—Ha! left alone—gone from me—
Gone whither!—Did he not say to—horror! horror!
To make a hell of heaven—My senses shake!
The brain begins to totter on its basis—
This is the gate that leads to Paradise,
[rises.
And Satan is within—Still fast upon us.—
No means of death—The scymetar remov'd—
Death!—I'll not die.—First grant me rich revenge.
Demons of vengeance here possess me quite;
Take me infuriate—Take me to yourselves!
Oh! bring the villain once again before me,
Arm my firm hand, and I shall die content.

[Exit.

SCENE VI.

THE INSIDE OF THE SERAGLIO. ALMEIDA DISCOVERED IN A SUPERB APARTMENT OPENING INTO SEVERAL OTHERS MAGNIFICENTLY DECORATED. MUSIC AND VOICES, ATTEMPT HER ENTERTAINMENT BEFORE SHE SPEAKS. MUTES RICHLY DRESSED ATTENDING.
ALMEIDA.
O vain magnificence of impious grandeur—
Poor ineffectual gildings to set off
Th' imprison'd victim with a shew of pleasure.
Oh! for Circassia's unpolluted shores,
And all the unblemish'd scenes of guiltless life!
Tell me, ye instruments of Persia's tyrant—
Tell me with instant speed—Alas! ye dare not—
Chain'd, by your hapless slavery, to silence,
Vain is to you the blessed power of speech.
Retire, retire—Ye may not give me comfort.
Torn from my father, Omar, Hamet too—
From Hamet—hold my heart—what have I said?
It wakes a thought so full of tender sorrow
I cannot bear it—it overwhelms my soul.

[Reclines on one of the sophas.

SCENE II.

Enter ALMORAN to ALMEIDA.
ALMORAN.
The bursting anguish rushes to her eye,
And her fair form, more lovely in distress,
Droops like the tender blossom of the spring,
Beat by the gather'd force of pitiless showers.
Fierce as I am, unbidden softness steals,
In gentlest sighs, from an unwonted source.
My very heart's subdued. Almeida, cease—
Repress those tears, this anguish, this despair.
I come to smoothe the tumults of thy bosom,
And at thy feet to lay the Persian sceptre.

ALMEIDA.
The Persian sceptre—Why must I reproach thee?
Such trappings are, alas! thy sole dependance.
Keep them, my lord, to awe the vulgar mind.
The scepter'd conscience wants no crown to grace it.

ALMORAN.
For thee, behold, I leave the Persian throne—
For thee, forgetting empire and command,
Lo! Almoran now bends his knee to earth,
And, with a subject's low humility,
Thus deigns to court the smile of fair Almeida.

[kneels.
ALMEIDA.
And dost thou strip me of each dearer joy,
Fix the fell poignard in the quivering heart,
And, as the ruddy life-blood gushes from it,
Calmly survey thy work, and bid me smile?

ALMORAN.
By Heav'n, you charge unjustly, my Almeida.

ALMEIDA.
Oh! Almoran, the human form is thine,
Yet where's the honour that should mark thy manhood.
Reluctant thousands call thee mighty sovereign;
Yet where's the virtues that should grace thy station?
But leave me to myself—I'll not upbraid thee.
One mournful boon is all that I shall ask;
I beg the privilege to weep alone.

ALMORAN.
Sorrow and solitude be far away.
Thou'rt too severe Almeida. Long I strove
To hide MY love in pity to my brother.

ALMEIDA.
He talks of pity too, who never felt it.
Where is thy brother, tyrant?—Where is Hamet?

ALMORAN.
He lives—is free—But wherefore talk of him—
Regard him not—

ALMEIDA.
Mark me, Almoran.
Thou bid'st me not regard him—then observe me!
If thy unhallow'd, desolating hand,
In utter darkness could that spark extinguish,
That viewless, vital spark of heaven-born fire,
Which the Omnipotent in this true breast
Hath kindly kindled, here to glow for ever,
Pure as the source that first supplied the flame,
Then might thy prisoner cease to think of Hamet.
But long as that inspires my faithful fondness,
Though waters wide as yonder heaven from earth,
Though worlds remote as planets from each other,
Should from his honour'd presence far divide me,
Still should Almeida's prayers be offer'd for him—
Still should her ardent tenderness increase—
And still, as now, in all his pride of splendour,
'Midst the vain glitter of his vacant greatness,
Still should perfidious Almoran be scorn'd.

ALMORAN.
Then be it so—Lady, 'tis well—I'll not complain,
For the curs'd stripling can obstruct no more.

ALMEIDA.
Ha!—how!—What said'st thou?—Is it possible,
Thou man of blood?—Sure thy barbarian hand—
And yet I fear—for in thy sanguine eye
Murder's inscrib'd—Yes, yes, thy silence speaks—
The characters of death are legible
In every cruel feature. Oh, distraction!
Here then, unnatural—here, well-pleased, behold,
Indulge thy genius—take thy fill of blood,
Point thy insatiate sabre here—yes, strike;
Think me a sister, and enjoy the slaughter.

ALMORAN.
By heav'n he lives, uncircumscrib'd he walks
Thro' Persia's realm, save this one dear apartment.

ALMEIDA.
Prais'd be the guardian god that shields his virtues;
Ador'd the power that watches all his ways.

ALMORAN.
Ah! lavish not these raptures on a wretch,
But kindly treat thy heav'n-allotted husband.

ALMEIDA.
Speak'st thou of heav'n?—and after foul detection?—
Of heav'n, where sceptre'd virtue sits enthron'd,
Sublime, amid'st the stars, to register
The deeds of human kind. “Oh, bethink thee:
“Can he who hangs, in yonder spangled vault,
“The even scale of justice, e'er ordain
“That I should violate this wretched form,
“And weary out a life of loveless perfidy?”
No, Almoran, thy priests have led the wrong:
Whate'er is made thy deity—ah! think not
Thou dost him honour, when thou mak'st him pleas'd
With what offends the secret judge within thee—
Yes, start; but know, insidious king,
E'en now, thou stand'st beneath a piercing eye,
That notes thy crimes, and will one day requite them.

ALMORAN.
I thought to have found thee, lady, less reluctant:
I'll talk no more—nor have I time to lose
In idle parly with a haughty beauty.
Thus in a word—if thou, with yielding kindness,
Within an hour, consent to crown my wishes,
The next shall honour thee as Persia's queen,
(Something thou see'st I can allow to pride)
If not, then learn the issue—That vile boy
Who hath usurp'd a gem, than crown more worth—
The throne of thy affections—think upon it—
Dies the succeeding instant—so resolve.

ALMEIDA.
The very image hurries me to phrenzy.
See, cruel, see Almeida at thy feet;
She condescends to kneel—for whom?—Thy brother.
Is human pity quite extinct, my lord—Oh, heaven!
Where is thy nature that it sleeps so sound?
Nay, turn not from me—spare the generous Hamet—
Shed not thy brother's blood—Thou wilt not kill him?

ALMORAN.
'Tis in Almida's power to save or ruin.

ALMEIDA.
Oh, name the means—Almeida dies to save him.

ALMORAN.
I've mark'd out easier terms, thou know'st.

ALMEIDA.
See, Sultan, see! behold!—ye shall not stir.

[Catches hold of him in great agony.
ALMORAN.
By hell he dies this moment—nay, thou
Shalt SEE him struggling in the pangs of death;
That hoary traitor too, thy sire Abdallah,
He from the palace shall be dragg'd.

ALMEIDA.
My father!

ALMORAN.
Yes; thou shalt gaze upon them—powerless gaze—
With frantick hand tear those luxuriant locks,
And shriek, and weary the reverberant air
With unavailing, impotent complainings.
Thy tears, thy strugglings, and thy woman's arts,
Assail in vain. Away, and hang not thus
Idly upon me, for I now can hate thee—Go—
Go and prepare for anguish, blood, and horror.

[Exit.

SCENE VIII.

ALMEIDA.
Oh, barbarous, barbarous man, inhuman tyrant—
Then they must die: Well, well, I will not weep.
Am I not very patient, righteous gods?
Am I not very calm?—Yes, let them bleed,
The pitying heavens shall open to receive them.
Bleed! whom bleed?—My lord, my love, my father!
Oh, shrouding darkness, hide me from the sight,
And I, I murther them—What can I do?
Point out the path to me, some kindly power,
Instruct my staggering senses how to act,
And save the innocent from the assassin.
It shall not be—I cannot bear the thought.
Oh, I will save their lov'd, their precious lives;
Prevent the fatal blow, or with them die.