University of Virginia Library

SCENE SECOND.

—A large hall or staircase, with many doors. Music heard without.
Enter Abou Malek, Fatima, Ayesha, L.
Abou.
I hate all this nonsense!—these gardens of myrtle,
These long wedding suppers, how vastly absurd!
These verses comparing my spouse to a turtle!
I'm wed to a woman, and not to a bird!
I can gaze with delight on her person and graces,
And hope that the sequel fresh charms will disclose;
But it bores me to hear such bombastical praises,—
No nightingale I, to be gull'd with a rose!
Go—order the minstrels to silence their tabors!
Bid the dancing-girls pack up their rags and be gone!

Ayesha.
Lord sir! you'll offend all your kindred and neighbours;
The nach-girls and singers have scarcely begun!
I never can find an excuse that is clever—
They'll needs see your highness before they retire.

Abou.
Go tell 'em I'm sick—have the plague—have a fever!
Say the sherbet is out!—say the Harem's on fire!
(Exit Ayesha. lingeringly, L.
I breathe at my ease now Ayesha is gone!
O born in a cottage, but fit for a throne!
You perchance think my manners are rough and austere;
But why do you tremble?—my Houri, draw near!
I have secrets of moment to pour in your ear!
Twelve years have I languish'd a partner to meet,
Kind, beautiful, humble, domestic, discreet;
Twelve times have I hoped that my labour was sped;
Twelve times have I fail'd—for the rest, ask the dead!
Twelve damsels in turn—but, alas! you have heard
The crime which has call'd down this curse on my beard!
You have heard it?

Fatima.
Your highness, I have—but I know
That slander still follows the mighty.

Abou.
'Tis true!
Now learn the sad cause!—in my cradle when laid,
My mother gave alms to a soothsaying maid,
A poor crazy wanderer, in ruins that slept,
And her vigils with Gouls in the monument kept,
Till her soul, from the haunts of humanity driven,
Grew skill'd in the visions of Hell and of Heaven,
And her words of wild raving had power to unfold
Whatever the eyes of the Prophet behold:—
She stopt at our cottage, sate down by our door
(I care not who knows it—my parents were poor,
I rose by the sabre's adventurous law,
First robber, then rebel, and last a Bashaw;)
But she, when relieved by our water and bread,
Took the babe in her arms, prest her lips to his head,
And—You mark me?

Fati.
Intently!

Abou.
She shudder'd and, “Thou!
Strange matters are written,” she cried, “on thy brow!
High valour, high fortune, untimely o'erthrow!
Yet, warrior, no bowstring shall bring thee thy doom,—
No writ of the Sultan conduct to the tomb;
Live, live, Abou Malek! fear'd, honour'd, carest,
Of the chief of the Koran the boldest and best;
Fear no sabres that glisten, no bullets that fly,
Till a bride's curiosity doom thee to die!”

Fati.
Strange doom?

Abou.
Dost thou wonder that twelve I have tried?
Dost thou wonder that they who deceived me have died?
Let their fate be thy warning! Last hope of my life,
Be firm! and I make thee my queen and my wife!
Thou shalt rule o'er our heart, shall rule o'er Damascus,
Whatever thou seek'st thou hast only to ask us!
But first, to thy trial! take charge of my keys:
Wherever thou wilt, they admit thee with ease.
Range at will through my castle,—its wealth is thine own!
But yon south turret chamber must yet be unknown!
Do this and be blest! for three days we must part:
Be firm,—or my dagger must smoke in thy heart!
Farewell for three days!

Fati.
Oh, my Lord, I entreat,
Show grace to my weakness! I sink at your feet!
I will honour you, love you, obey you, adore!
In all but this trial!

Abou.
It must be! no more!

(Exit R.
Enter Ayesha, L.
Ayesha.
Thank Heaven he is off! I have heard your dispute—
He a Bashaw, indeed! A fantastic old brute.

Fati.
You heard it?

Ayesha.
I listen'd, my love, at the door—
I never have met such a monster before.
Kill a woman for peeping! why here's a to-do!
I wonder what's in that chamber—Don't you?

Fati.
Oh, talk not of prying!

Ayesha.
The Prophet forbid!
But—he never could know it, my dear if we did.
And now that I look, what a beautiful key!
Do, Fatima, trust it a moment with me.

(snatching the key.
Fati.
What, what are you doing?

(Ayesha tries the key in the lock of the door.
Ayesha.
I want to be sure.
If this is the key which belongs to the door—
It fits, I declare, like a finger and glove!

Fati.
In mercy return it!

Ayesha.
Return it, my love!
I have not yet turn'd it,—nor do I intend.
No, child, on my prudence you well may depend!
I would not for the world—Oh, my stars! it is done!
(The door flies open with a tremendous sound, several skeletons seen within.
The chamber is open as sure as a gun;
And oh! what an object! See, Fatima, see!
Oh, shut-to the door! turn the key, turn the key!
Run! Run for your life—Oh!

(Fatima closes the door
Fati.
Wretched girl! we're undone!
The key is all bloody!

Ayesha.
Run, Fatima, run!

(Exeunt R., closed in by