University of Virginia Library

ACT II.

Betwixt the Acts, a Warlike Tune is plaid, shooting off Guns, and shouts of Souldiers are heard, as in an Assault.
Aureng-Zebe, Arimant, Asaph Chawn, Fazel Chawn, Solyman.
Aur.
What man could do, was by Morat perform'd:
The Fortress thrice himself in person storm'd.
Your valour bravely did th'Assault sustain;
And fill'd the Moats and Ditches with the Slain.
Till, mad with rage, into the Breach he fir'd:
Slew Friends and Foes, and in the Smoak retir'd.

Arim.
To us you give what praises are not due:
Morat was thrice repuls'd, but thrice by you.
High, over all, was your great conduct shown:
You sought our safety, but forgot your own.

Asaph.
Their Standard, planted on the Battlement,
Despair and death among the Souldiers sent:
You, the bold Omrah tumbled from the Wall;
And shouts of Victory pursu'd his fall.

Fazel.
To you, alone, we owe this prosp'rous day:
Our Wives and Children rescu'd from the prey:
Know your own int'rest Sir, where e'r you lead,
We joyntly vow to own no other Head.

Solym.
Your wrongs are known. Impose but your commands;
This hour shall bring you twenty thousand hands.

Aur.
Let them who truly would appear my friends,
Employ their Swords, like mine, for noble ends.
No more: remember you have bravely done:
Shall Treason end, what Loyalty begun?
I own no wrongs; some grievance I confess,
But Kings, like Gods, at their own time redress.
Yet, some becoming boldness I may use:
I've well deserv'd, nor will he now refuse.
[Aside.
I'll strike my Fortunes with him at a heat:
And give him not the leisure to forget.

[Exit, attended by the Omrahs.
Arim.
Oh! Indamora, hide these fatal Eyes;
Too deep they wound whom they too soon surprise:
My Virtue, Prudence, Honour, Interest, all
Before this Universal Monarch fall.
Beauty, like Ice, our footing does betray;
Who can tread sure on the smooth slippery way?
Pleas'd with the passage, we slide swiftly on:
And see the dangers which we cannot shun.

To him, Indamora.
Ind.
I hope my liberty may reach thus far:
These Terras Walks within my limits are.
I came to seek you, and to let you know,
How much I to your generous Pity owe.
The King, when he design'd you for my Guard,
Resolv'd he would not make my Bondage hard:
If otherwise, you have deceiv'd his end;
And whom he meant a Guardian, made a Friend.

Arim.
A Guardian's Title I must own with shame:
But should be prouder of another Name.

Ind.
And therefore 'twas I chang'd that Name before:
I call'd you Friend, and could you wish for more?

Arim.
I dare not ask for what you would not grant:
But wishes, Madam, are extravagant.
They are not bounded with things possible:
I may wish more then I presume to tell:
Desire's the vast extent of humane mind,
It mounts above, and leaves poor hope behind.
I could wish—

Ind.
What?

Arim.
Why did you speak? yo've dash'd my Fancy quite:
Ev'n in th'approaching minute of delight.
I must take breath—
Ere I the Rapture of my wish renew,
And tell you then, It terminates in you.

Ind.
Have you consider'd what th'event would be?
Or know you, Arimant, your self, or me?
Were I no Queen, did you my beauty weigh,
My Youth in bloom, your Age in its decay?

Arim.
I my own Judge, condemn'd my self before:
For pity aggravate my crime no more.
So weak I am, I with a frown am slain;
You need have us'd but half so much disdain.

Ind.
I am not cruel yet to that degree:
Have better thoughts both of yourself, and me.
Beauty a Monarch is,
Which Kingly power magnificently proves,
By crouds of Slaves, and peopled Empire loves.
And such a Slave as you, what Queen would lose?
Above the rest, I Arimant would chuse:
For counsel, valour, truth, and kindness too,
All I could wish in man, I find in you.

Arim.
What Lover could to greater joy be rais'd!
I am, methinks, a God by you thus prais'd.

Ind.
To what may not desert, like yours, pretend?
You have all qualities—that fit a Friend.

Arim.
So Mariners mistake the promis'd Coast:
And, with ful Sails, on the blind Rocks are lost.
Think you my aged veins so faintly beat,
They rise no higher than to Friendships heat?
So weak your Charms, that, like a Winter's night,
Twinkling with Stars, they freez me while they light?

Ind.
Mistake me not, good Arimant, I know
My Beauty's pow'r, and what my charms can do.
You your own Talent have not learn'd so well;
But practise one, where you can ne'r excel.
You can at most,
To an indiff'rent Lover's praise pretend:
But you would spoil an admirable Friend.

Arim.
Never was Amity so highly priz'd;
Nor ever any Love so much despis'd.
Ev'n to my self ridiculous I grow;
And would be angry, if I knew but how.

Ind.
Do not. Your Anger, like your Love, is vain:
When e'r I please, you must be pleas'd again.
Knowing what pow'r I have your will to bend,
I'll use it; for I need just such a Friend.
You must perform, not what you think is fit:
But, to what ever I propose, submit.

Arim.
Madam, you have a strange Ascendant gain'd;
You use me like a Courser, spurr'd and rein'd:
If I fly out, my fierceness you command,
Then sooth, and gently stroke me with your hand.
Impose; but use your pow'r of Taxing well:
When Subjects cannot Pay, they soon Rebel.

Enter the Emperor, unseen by them.
Ind.
My Rebels punishment would easie prove:
You know y'are in my pow'r by making Love.

Arim.
Would I, without dispute, your will obey,
And could you, in return, my life betray?

Emp.
What danger, Arimant, is this you fear?
Or what Love-secret which I must not hear?
These alter'd looks some inward motion show.
His cheeks are pale, and yours with blushes glow.

[To her.
Ind.
'Tis what, with justice, may my anger move:
He has been bold, and talk'd to me of Love.

Arim.
I am betray'd, and shall be doom'd to die!

[Aside.
Emp.
Did he, my Slave, presume to look so high?
That crawling Insect, who from Mud began,
Warm'd by my Beams, and kindl'd into Man?
Durst he, who does but for my pleasure live,
Intrench on Love, my great Prerogative?
Print his base Image on his Sovereign's Coin?
'Tis Treason if he stamp his Love with mine.

Arim.
'Tis true, I have been bold; but if it be
A crime—

Ind.
—He means, 'tis onely so to me.
You, Sir, should praise, what I must disapprove:
He insolently talk'd to me of Love:
But, Sir, 'twas yours, he made it in your name:
You, if you please, may all he said disclaim.

Emp.
I must disclaim what e'r he can express:
His groveling sense will show my passion less.
But stay, if what he said my message be,
What fear, what danger could arrive from me?
He said, He feard you would his life betray.

Ind.
Should he presume again, perhaps I may.
Though in your hands he hazard not his life,
Remember, Sir, your fury of a Wife;
Who, not content to be reveng'd on you,
The Agents of your passion will pursue.

Emp.
If I but hear her nam'd, I'm sick that day;
The sound is mortal, and frights life away.
Forgive me, Arimant, my jealous thought:
Distrust in Lovers is the tender'st fault.
Leave me, and tell thy self in my excuse,
Love, and a Crown, no Rivalship can bear;
And precious things are still possess'd with fear.
[Exit Arimant bowing.
This, Madam, my excuse to you may plead;
Love should forgive the faults which Love has made.

Ind.
From me, what pardon can you hope to have,
Robb'd of my Love, and treated as a Slave?

Emp.
Force is the last relief which Lovers find:
And 'tis the best excuse of Wooman-kind.

Ind.
Force never yet a generous Heart did gain:
We yield on parley, but are storm'd in vain.
Constraint, in all things, makes the pleasure less;
Sweet is the Love which comes with willingness.

Emp.
No; 'tis resistance that inflames desire:
Sharpens the Darts of Love, and blows his Fire.
Love is disarm'd that meets with too much ease:
He languishes, and does not care to please.
And therefore 'tis your golden Fruit you guard
With so much care, to make possession hard.

Ind.
Was't not enough you took my Crown away,
But cruelly you must my Love betray?
I was well pleas'd to have transferr'd my right,
And better chang'd your Claim of Lawless might,
By taking him, whom you esteem'd above
Your other Sons, and taught me first to love.

Emp.
My Son, by my command his course must steer:
I bad him love, I bid him now forbear.
If you have any kindness for him still,
Advise him not to shock a Father's will.

Ind.
Must I advise?
Then let me see him, and I'll try t'obey.

Emp.
I had forgot, and dare not trust your way.
But send him word,
He has not here an Army to command:
Remember he and you are in my hand.

Ind.
Yes, in a Father's hand, whom he has serv'd;
And, with the hazard of his life, preserv'd.
But piety to you, unhappy Prince,
Becomes a crime, and duty an offence:
Against your self, you with your Foes combine,
And seem your own destruction to design.

Emp.
You may be pleas'd your Politiques to spare:
I'm old enough, and can my self take care.

Ind.
Advice from me was, I confess, too bold:
Y'are old enough it may be, Sir, too old.

Emp.
You please your self with your contempt of Age:
But Love, neglected, will convert to Rage.
If on your head my fury does not turn,
Thank that fond dotage which so much you scorn.
But, in another's person, you may prove,
There's warmth for Vengeance left, though not for Love.

Re-enter Arimant.
Arimant.
The Empress has the Anti-chambers past,
And this way moves with a disorder'd haste:
Her brows, the stormy marks of anger bear.

Emp.
Madam, retire: she must not find you here.

[Exit Indamora with Arimant.
Enter Nourmahal hastily.
Nour.
What have I done, that Nourmahal must prove
The scorn and triumph of a Rival's Love?
My eyes are still the same, each glance, each grace,
Keep their first lustre, and maintain their place;
Not second yet to any other face.

Emp.
What rage transports you? are you well awake?
Such Dreams distracted minds in Feavers make.

Nour.
Those Feavers you have giv'n, those Dreams have bred,
By broken Faith, and an abandon'd Bed.
Such Visions hourly pass before my sight;
Which from my eyes their Balmy slumbers fright,
In the severest silence of the night.
Visions, which in this Cittadel are seen;
Bright, glorious Visions of a Rival Queen.

Emp.
Have patience, my first flames can ne'r decay:
These are but Dreams, and soon will pass away.
Thou know'st, my Heart, my Empire, all is thine:
In thy own Heav'n of Love serenely shine:
Fair as the face of Nature did appear,
When Flowers first peep'd, and Trees did Blossoms bear,
And Winter had not yet deform'd th'inverted Year.
Calm as the Breath which fans our Eastern Groves,
And bright as when thy Eyes first lighted up our Loves.
Let our eternal Peace be seal'd by this,
With the first ardour of a Nuptial Kiss.

[Offers to kiss her.
Nour.
Me would you have, me your faint kisses prove,
The dregs and droppings of enervate Love?
Must I your cold long-labouring age sustain,
And be to empty joys provok'd in vain?
Receive you sighing after other Charms,
And take an absent Husband in my Arms?

Emp.
Even these reproaches I can bear from you:
You doubted of my Love, believe it true.
Nothing but Love this patience could produce;
And I allow your rage that kind excuse.

Nour.
Call it not patience; 'tis your guilt stands mute:
You have a cause too foul to bear dispute.
You wrong me first, and urge my rage to rise,
Then I must pass for mad; you, meek and wise,
Good man, plead merit by your soft replies.
Vain priviledge poor Women have of tongue:
Men can stand silent, and resolve on wrong.

Emp.
What can I more? my friendship you refuse,
And even my mildness, as my crime, accuse.

Nour.
Your sullen silence cheats not me, false Man;
I know you think the bloudiest things you can.
Could you accuse me, you would raise your voice:
Watch for my crimes, and in my guilt rejoyce.
But my known virtue is from scandal free,
And leaves no shadow for your calumny.

Emp.
Such virtue is the plague of humane life:
A virtuous Woman, but a cursed Wife.
In vain of pompous chastity y'are proud:
Virtue's adultery of the Tongue, when loud,
I, with less pain, a Prostitute could bear,
Than the shrill sound of Virtue, virtue hear.
In unchaste Wives—
There's yet a kind of recompensing ease:
Vice keeps 'em humble, gives 'em care to please:
But against clamorous Virtue, what defence?
It stops our mouthes, and gives your noise pretence.

Nour.
Since Virtue does your indignation raise,
'Tis pity but you had that Wife you praise.
Your own wild appetites are prone to range;
And then you tax our humours with your change.

Emp.
What can be sweeter than our native home!
Thither for ease, and soft repose, we come:
Home is the sacred refuge of our life:
Secur'd from all approaches, but a Wife.
If thence we fly, the cause admits no doubt:
None but an Inmate Foe could force us out.
Clamours, our privacies uneasie make:
Birds leave their Nests disturb'd, and Beasts their Haunts forsake.

Nour.
Honour's my crime that has your loathing bred:
You take no pleasure in a virtuous Bed.

Emp.
What pleasure can their be in that estate,
Which your unquietness has made me hate?
I shrink far off—
Dissembling sleep, but wakeful with the fright.
The day takes off the pleasure of the night.

Nour.
My thoughts no other joys but pow'r pursue:
Or, if they did, they must be lost in you.
And yet the fault's not mine—
Though Youth and Beauty cannot warmth command;
The Sun in vain shines on the barren Sand.

Emp.
'Tis true, of Marriage-bands I'm weary grown.
Love scorns all ties, but those that are his own.
Chains that are dragg'd, must needs uneasie prove:
For there's a God-like liberty in Love.

Nour.
What's Love to you?
The bloom of Beauty other years demands;
Nor will be gather'd by such wither'd hands:
You importune it with a false desire:
Which sparkles out, and makes no solid fire.
This impudence of Age, whence can it spring?
All you expect, and yet you nothing bring.
Eager to ask, when you are past a grant;
Nice in providing what you cannot want.
Have conscience; give not her you love this pain:
Sollicite not your self, and her, in vain.
All other Debts may compensation find:
But Love is strict, and will be paid in kind.

Emp.
Sure of all ills, Domestic are the worst;
When most secure of blessings, we are curst.
When we lay next us what we hold most dear,
Like Hercules, invenom'd Shirts we wear;
And cleaving mischiefs.

Nour.
—What you merit, have:
And share, at least, the miseries you gave.
Your days, I will alarm, I'll haunt your nights:
And, worse than Age, disable your delights.
May your sick Fame still languish, till it die:
All Offices of Pow'r neglected lie,
And you grow cheap in every Subject's eye.
Then, as the greatest Curse that I can give;
Unpiti'd, be depos'd; and after live.

[Going off.
Emp.
Stay; and now learn,
How criminal soe'r we Husbands are,
'Tis not for Wives to push our crimes too far.
Had you still Mistris of your temper been,
I had been modest, and not own'd my Sin.
Your fury hardens me: and what e'r wrong
You suffer, you have cancell'd by your tongue.
A Guard there; seize her: she shall know this hour,
What is a Husband's and a Monarch's pow'r,

[Guard seizes her.
Enter Aureng-Zebe.
Nour.
I see for whom your Charter you maintain:
I must be fetter'd, and my Son be slain,
That Zelyma's ambitious Race may reign.
Not so you promis'd, when my Beauty drew
All Asia's Vows; when Persia left for you
The Realm of Candahar for Dow'r I brought:
That long contended Prize for which you fought.

Aur.
The name of Step-mother, your practis'd Art,
By which you have estrang'd my Father's heart,
All you have done against me, or design,
Shows your aversion, but begets not mine.
Long may my Father India's Empire guide:
And may no breach your Nuptial Vows divide.

Emp.
Since Love obliges not, I from this hour,
Assume the right of Man's Despotic pow'r:
Man is by Nature form'd your Sexes head:
And is himself the Canon of his Bed.
In Bands of Iron fetter'd you shall be:
An easier yoke than what you put on me.

Aur.
Though much I fear my int'rest is not great,
[Kneeling.
Let me your Royal Clemency intreat.
Secrets of Marriage still are Sacred held:
There sweet and bitter by the wise conceal'd.
Errors of Wives reflect on Husbands still:
And, when divulg'd, proclaim you've chosen ill.
And the mysterious pow'r of Bed and Throne,
Should always be maintain'd, but rarely shown.

Emp.
To so perverse a Sex all Grace is vain:
It gives 'em courage to offend again:
For with feign'd tears they penitence pretend:
Again are pardon'd, and again offend.
Fathom our pity when they seem to grieve;
Onely to try how far we can forgive.
Till lanching out into a Sea of strife,
They scorn all pardon, and appear all Wife.
But be it as you please: for your lov'd sake,
This last and fruitless trial I will make.
In all requests, your right of merit use:
And know, There is but one I can refuse.

[He signs to the Guards, and they remove from the Empress.
Nour.
You've done enough, for you design'd my Chains:
The Grace is vanish'd, but th'Affront remains.
Nor is't a Grace, or for his merit done;
You durst no farther, for you fear'd my Son.
This you have gain'd by the rough course you prove;
I'm past Repentance, and you past my Love.

[Exit.
Emp.
A Spirit so untam'd the world ne'r bore.

Aur.
And yet worse usage had incens'd her more.
But since by no obligement she is ti'd,
You must betimes for your defence provide.
I cannot idle in your danger stand;
But beg once more I may your Arms command:
Two Battels your auspicious Cause has wonn;
My Sword can perfect what it has begun,
And, from your Walls, dislodge that haughty Son.

Emp.
My Son, your valour has, this day, been such,
None can enough admire, or praise too much.
But now, with reason, your success I doubt:
Her Faction's strong within, his Arms without.

Aur.
I left the City in a Panic fright:
Lions they are in Council, Lambs in Fight.
But my own Troops, by Mirzah led, are near:
I, by to morrow's dawn, expect 'em here.
To favour 'em, I'll Sally out ere day,
And through our slaughter'd Foes enlarge their way.

Emp.
Age has not yet
So shrunk my Sinews, or so chill'd my Veins,
But conscious Virtue in my breast remains.
But had I now
That strength, with which my boiling Youth was fraught;
When in the Vale of Balasor I fought,
And from Bengale their Captive Monarch brought;
When Elephant 'gainst Elephant did rear
His Trunck, and Castles justl'd in the Air;
My Sword thy way to Victory had shown:
And ow'd the Conquest to it self alone.

Aur.
Those fair Idea's to my aid I'll call,
And emulate my great Original.
Or, if they fail, I will invoke in Arms,
The pow'r of Love, and Indamora's Charms.

Emp.
I doubt the happy influence of your Star:
T'invoke a Captives name bodes ill in War.

Aur.
Sir, give me leave to say, What ever now
The Omen prove, it boded well to you.
Your Royal Promise, when I went to fight,
Oblig'd me to resign a Victor's right.
Her liberty I fought for, and I wonn:
And claim it as your General, and your Son.

Emp.
My ears still ring with noise, I'm vext to death:
Tongue-kill'd, and have not yet recover'd breath.
Nor will I be prescrib'd my time by you:
First end the War, and then your Claim renew.
While to your Conduct I my Fortune trust,
To keep this pledge of duty is but just.

Aur.
Some hidden cause your jealousie does move,
Or you could ne'r suspect my Loyal Love.

Emp.
What love soever by an Heir is shown,
He waits but time to step into the Throne.
You're neither justifi'd, nor yet accus'd:
Mean while, the Pris'ner with respect is us'd.

Aur.
I know the kindness of her Guardian such,
I need not fear too little, but too much.
But how, Sir, how have you from virtue swerv'd?
Or what so ill return have I deserv'd?
You doubt not me, nor have I spent my bloud,
To have my faith no better understood:
Your Soul's above the baseness of distrust:
Nothing but Love could make you so unjust.

Emp.
You know your Rival then; and know 'tis fit,
The Son's should to the Father's Claim submit.

Aur.
Sons may have right, which they can never quit.
Your self first made that Title which I claim:
First bid me love, and authoris'd my flame.

Emp.
The value of my gift I did not know:
If I could give, I can resume it too.

Aur.
Recal your gift, for I your power confess:
But first, take back my life, a gift that's less.
Long life would now but a long burthen prove:
You're grown unkind, and I have lost your love.
My grief let unbecoming speeches fall:
I should have di'd, and not complain'd at all.

Emp.
Witness yee Pow'rs,
How much I suffer'd, and how long I strove
Against th'assaults of this imperious Love!
I represented to my self the shame
Of perjur'd Faith, and violated Fame.
Your great deserts, how ill they were repay'd;
All arguments, in vain, I urg'd and weigh'd:
For mighty Love, who Prudence does despise,
For Reason, show'd me Indamora's Eyes.
What would you more, my crime I sadly view,
Acknowledge, am asham'd, and yet pursue.

Aur.
Since you can love, and yet your error see,
The same resistless pow'r may plead for me.
With no less ardor I my claim pursue:
I love, and cannot yield her even to you.

Emp.
Your elder Brothers, though o'rcome, have right:
The youngest yet in Arms prepar'd to fight.
But, yielding her, I firmly have decreed,
That you alone to Empire shall suceed.

Aur.
To after Ages let me stand a shame,
When I exchange for Crowns my Love or Fame.
You might have found a mercenary Son,
To profit of the Battels he had won:
Had I been such, what hinder'd me to take
The Crown? nor had th'exchange been yours to make.
While you are living, I no right pretend;
Wear it, and let it where you please descend.
But from my Love, 'tis Sacrilege to part:
There, there's my Throne in Indamora's heart.

Emp.
'Tis in her heart alone that you must Reign:
You'll find her person difficult to gain.
Give willingly what I can take by force:
And know, Obedience is your safest course.

Aur.
I'm taught, by Honour's precepts, to obey:
Fear to Obedience is a slavish way.
If ought my want of duty could beget;
You take the most prevailing means, to threat.
Pardon your Bloud that boils within my veins;
It rises high, and menacing disdains.
Even death's become to me no dreadful name:
I've often met him, and have made him tame:
In fighting fields, where our acquaintance grew,
I saw him, and contemn'd him first for you.

Emp.
Of formal duty make no more thy boast:
Thou disobey'st where it concerns me most.
Fool, with both hands thus to push back a Crown:
And headlong cast thy self from Empire down.
Though Nourmahal I hate, her Son shall Reign:
Inglorious thou, by thy own fault remain.
Thy younger Brother I'll admit this hour:
So mine shall be thy Mistris, his thy Pow'r.

[Exit.
Aur.
How vain is Virtue which directs our ways
Through certain danger to uncertain praise!
Barren, and aery name! thee Fortune flies;
With thy lean Train, the Pious and the Wise.
Heav'n takes thee at thy word, without regard;
And lets thee poorly be thy own reward.
The World is made for the bold impious man;
Who stops at nothing, seizes all he can.
Justice to merit does weak aid afford;
She trusts her Ballance, and neglects her Sword.
Virtue is nice to take what's not her own;
And, while she long consults, the Prize is gone.

To him, Dianet.
Dia.
Forgive the Bearer of unhappy news:
Your alter'd Father openly pursues
Your ruine; and, to compass his intent,
For violent Morat in haste has sent.
The Gates he order'd all to be unbarr'd:
And from the Market-place to draw the Guard.

Aur.
How look the People in this turn of State?

Dia.
They mourn your ruine as their proper Fate.
Cursing the Empress: for they think it done
By her procurement, to advance her Son.
Him too, though aw'd, they scarcely can forbear:
His pride they hate, his violence they fear.
All bent to rise, would you appear their Chief,
Till your own Troops come up to your relief.

Aur.
Ill treated, and forsaken, as I am,
I'll not betray the glory of my name:
'Tis not for me, who have preserv'd a State,
To buy an Empire at so base a rate.

Dia.
The points of Honour Poets may produce;
Trappings of life, for Ornament, not Use:
Honour, which onely does the name advance,
Is the meer raving madness of Romance.
Pleas'd with a word, you may sit tamely down;
And see your younger Brother force the Crown.

Aur.
I know my fortune in extremes does lie:
The Sons of Indostan must Reign, or die.
That desperate hazard Courage does create;
As he plays frankly, who has least Estate,
And that the World the Coward will despise,
When Life's a Blank, who pulls not for a Prize.

Dia.
Of all your knowledge, this vain fruit you have,
To walk with eyes broad open to your Grave.

Aur.
From what I've said, conclude, without reply,
I neither would Usurp, nor tamely die.
Th'attempt to flie, would guilt betray, or fear:
Besides, 'twere vain; the Fort's our Prison here.
Somewhat I have resolv'd—
Morat, perhaps, has Honour in his breast:
And, in extremes, bold Counsels are the best.
Like Emp'ric Remedies, they last are tri'd;
And by th'event condemn'd, or justifi'd.
Presence of mind and courage in distress,
Are more than Armies to procure success.

[Exit.