University of Virginia Library

SCENE III.

Apartment in Damaral's Palace.
Enter Ismena and Hali.
HALI.
So—our plot works. Thou'st bravely play'd thy part.

ISMENA.
Would it were one more worthy and becoming!
There's something in this man, that pleads against
The dark contrivance form'd for his undoing.
He has a noble nature, richly stor'd
With rare heroic qualities. 'Tis pity
To turn them thus against him, and pervert
Heav'n's choice endowments to a guilty purpose.

HALI.
'Tis not for us, the slaves of Soliman,
To scan the merits of our destin'd victim,
To whom this isle, which long hath been esteem'd
The bulwark of the Christian potentates,
Now looks for safety 'gainst the pow'rful force
Commission'd to reduce it. While he heads
The practis'd militants who form his Order,
Doubtful must prove the conflict: he remov'd,
On yon proud ramparts shall our standard wave—

ISMENA.
Hush!—see, he comes—

Enter Damaral.
HALI.
Welcome again, my lord.
We spoke of thy exceeding bounty tow'rds us,
So delicate, so dignified. Believe
My mistress is most thankful.

DAMARAL.
Had it pleas'd
My wayward fate to place me in the station,
Which, without boasting, I might well have fill'd,
I could have giv'n thee, lady, other greeting.
As 'tis—but this is not a theme which suits
Th'occasion.

HALI.
Pardon me—it is a theme
Which suits thee but too well.

DAMARAL.
There was indeed
A time, when I expected the fulfilment
Of my long cherish'd hopes. But that is past.

HALI.
'Tis ever so. From those, whom our exertions
Have aided in the perilous hour of action,
If we require return, ingratitude
Mars expectation. Brave and gen'rous foes
Appreciate best the worth by which they suffer.
They nurse no jealousy, they have no motives—

DAMARAL.
How's this? Methinks thy boldness—

ISMENA.
Chide him not—
He speaks but truth. Ere we Byzantium left,
The rumour of Carette's decease was spread,
And on the choice of a new Rhodian chief
The thoughts of Soliman were turn'd. I've heard him
Discuss the merits of the diff'rent knights,
On whom he thought the Order's choice might fall.
He did full justice to thy worth: but had he
Known thee as I do, could he but have witness'd
Thy gen'rous courtesy—

DAMARAL.
From other lips
Such praise were hateful. I have nothing done
To merit thy approval. Try me farther,
Devise occasions to call forth my zeal—

ISMENA.
I know the fame thou hast acquir'd in arms,
But little did I think to find thee thus,
Combining knightly worth with courtly grace.

DAMARAL.
Fie! thou'rt a flatt'rer—I've no graces, I—
Rude as the boist'rous element I roam,
I cannot play the courtier. I can feel,
And plainly speak the dictates of my heart.

ISMENA.
Ah! could but those, who seek to gain our favour,
Know how superior to their flimsy arts
Sincerity and manly candour shew,
They'd speak and act like thee. I love plain dealing.

DAMARAL.
Thou art in all superior to thy sex.
I have not been a stranger to their charms,
But, on the faith and honour of a soldier
Who scorns deception, never saw I yet
Beauties like thine, which touch at once the sense,
And with soft bondage captivate the soul.

ISMENA.
Oh speak not thus! Hast thou so soon forgotten
With what design I bent my course to Cyprus?
Hast thou? Alas! I had myself forgotten.

DAMARAL.
Forgotten, say'st thou? And didst thou forget it?
To Cyprus?—Selim?—Aye, 'twas so—by heav'n!
It cannot, must not be—

ISMENA.
Ah! cease, my lord—
I must not hear thee. Had I been convey'd
At once to Cyprus, had I never known thee,
Ne'er felt thy kindness, my unpractis'd heart
Had haply not rebell'd against its fate.
As 'tis—I do beseech you pardon me.

(Going.
DAMARAL.
Ah! go not thus away, nor coldly check
The gen'rous dictates of thy feeling breast—

ISMENA.
I may not answer—cannot, dare not hear thee—
I know not what I say—the heart will feel—
The tongue will wander—stay me not I pray—
Had I but known thee ere my fate was fix'd—
What is't I've said?—Oh! think not harshly of me—
Farewell—I go to be again myself.

[Exit.
DAMARAL.
Am I myself? My better half seems gone
When she departs.

HALI.
My gracious lord seems mov'd.

DAMARAL.
Who can unmov'd perfection's self behold?

HALI.
That she's most fair is true; yet her pure mind
Transcends her outward charms. She has a heart,
Gentle, affectionate; tumultuous passion
As yet ne'er made it throb: he, who shall gain it,
Shall gain a treasure richer than the crown
Of Asia's sovereign.

DAMARAL.
I believe thee truly—
So rare a creature were indeed a treasure
Monarchs might envy. Would it were my lot!

HALI.
Whose could it be who would so well deserve it?
Fam'd as thou art beyond all Christian knights,
She of all peerless maids Byzantium boasts
The sweetest paragon of loveliness—
By heav'n! the union of such excellence
Must in the book of fate have been predestin'd.—
Nay, my good lord, I pray thee give me hearing.
Hath not some secret guidance hither led her?
Is she not here an inmate?—There is more
In this than merely chance could have produc'd.

DAMARAL.
'Tis, as thou sayst.—But would'st thou have me think—

HALI.
I know not what it is thou may'st not think.
My thoughts are busy. 'Tis not in thy nature
To prove insensible of charms like her's,
And as for her, whose heart ne'er own'd the sway
Of am'rous passion, how can she withstand
Attractions such as thine?

DAMARAL.
As mine?—No, no!
She ne'er would think of me—my bloom is past—
I lack the courtly elegance that wins
The favour of her sex!

HALI.
Thou may'st not be
In life's first spring: unlike our pamper'd youth,
The hour of action thou hast not consum'd
In idle dalliance. What of that? Thy fame,
Thy feats in war, the glorious scars thou bearest,
Will often weigh in female bosoms more
Than their trim graces. When you spoke, methought
No common feelings mov'd her. Mark'd you not
How came and went her colour? I ne'er saw her
Affected thus.

DAMARAL.
I noted a confusion—
But I had no concern—

HALI.
I know not that.
She is a woman; women have quick eyes,
And make a juster estimate of men,
Than men do of themselves. I should not wonder
If she were mov'd, when she convers'd with one,
Whose signal worth she had so long been taught
T'admire and venerate.

DAMARAL.
Knew she aught of me?

HALI.
Oft have we talk'd of thy illustrious deeds,
And oft thy gallantry provok'd her praise.
'Twas, I remember, on the fatal day,
When to Byzantium the report arriv'd
Of the surpassing victory thou hadst gain'd
Over the Turkish fleet on Cyprus' shore—

DAMARAL.
Yes! 'twas my doing—yet I'm now pass'd over,
While Villiers—but it matters not—proceed.

HALI.
'Tis strange—I crave thy pardon for my boldness—
'Tis surely strange that those, who might appreciate
Thy services, should thus repay a deed—

DAMARAL.
Enough—I know not how we've wander'd thus.
Thou spok'st of fair Ismena's partial judgment.

HALI.
'Tis true. As of thy prowess we discours'd,
She with uplifted eyes remain'd awhile
As if in silent transport, then on the sudden
She cried, “what godlike valour! Oh that Selim
“Were but renown'd like him, then would Ismena
“Fly to his conqu'ring arms and wed his glory!”

DAMARAL.
Did she say that?—It may—yet 'tis not likely
She should so quickly feel a soft impression.

HALI.
'Tis not unlikely for a maid like her.
She is not one whom practice of the world
Hath caution taught. Secluded from all converse,
Like a poor bird, confin'd within its cage,
She sigh'd for freedom; from whatever hand
The boon might come, 'twould have been acceptable.
Now, set at large, she finds she has a heart,
She feels it glow, she hails its gen'rous impulse,
And gives it to a corresponding spirit,
Attun'd to love, and worthy of the blessing.

DAMARAL.
I would I might believe thee.

HALI.
Good my lord,
My life for your's 'tis so. I've known her long,
And cannot be deceiv'd. Her ev'ry look
Betray'd her secret passion—speak to her—
Judge for thyself—

DAMARAL.
Thou'st set my soul on fire—
But was she not intrusted to my charge,
A soldier's mistress to a soldier's care?
'Twas so—it may not be.

HALI.
It might not be,
Were he her choice or worthy to possess her.
But such is not her fate. She knows him not,
Nor, did she know him, would her gentle heart
Own him its master. By the Sultan's pow'r
Consign'd to the stern sway of one, more fit
To call her daughter than to hail her bride,
Think what a fate is her's! Did she not weep
When we discours'd of Cyprus? Own'd she not
That when she look'd on thee she had forgotten—

DAMARAL.
She did—she did—

HALI.
Why disbelieve her then?
Why hesitate at once to know thy bliss?
The foeman's sword could never keep thee back:
Let not the smiles of willing beauty daunt thee.
Come, come, my lord—let's have no further parly;
Fortune befriends the bold, and love rewards them!

[Exeunt.