What Cato's daughter durst not!-Live, Arpasia,
And dare to be unhappy.
Enter TAMERLANE.
Tum. When fortune smiles upon the soldier's
And adds even beauty to adorn his conquest, Yet she ordains the fair should know no fears, No sorrows to pollute their lovely eyes, | But should be used even nobly, as herself, The queen and goddess of the warrior's vows. Such welcome as a camp can give, fair sultaness, We hope you have received; it shall be larger, And better as it may.
Arp. Since I have borne
That miserable mark of fatal greatness,
I have forgot all difference of conditions;
Sceptres and fetters are grown equal to me,
And the best change my fate can bring is death.
Tam. When sorrow dwells in such an angel
form,
Well may we guess that those above are mourn
Virtue is wronged, and bleeding innocence
Suffers some wondrous violation here,
To make the saints look sad! Oh! teach my
To cure those ills which you unjustly suffer,
Lest Heaven should wrest it from my idle hand,
Draws, and discovers ARPASIA lying on a couch. If I look on, and see you weep in vain.
To thee, O gentle Sleep, alone
Is owing all our peace ;
By thee our joys are heightened shewn,
By thee our sorrows cease.
The nymph whose hand, by fraud or force,
Some tyrant has possessed,
By thee, obtaining a divorce,
In her own choice is blessed.
Oh, stay; Arpasia bids thee stay;
The sadly weeping fair
Conjures thee, not to lose in day
The object of her care.
To grasp whose pleasing form she sought,
That motion chased her sleep;
Thus by ourselves are oft' nest wrought
The griefs, for which we weep.
Arp. Oh, death ! thou gentle end of human
Still must my weary eye-lids vainly wake In tedious expectation of thy peace?
Arp. Not that my soul disdains the generous aid Thy royal goodness proffers; but, oh, emperor! It is not in my fate to be made happy; Nor will I listen to the cozener, Hope, But stand resolved to bear the beating storm That roars around me; safe in this alone, That I am not immortal. Though 'tis hard, 'Tis wondrous hard, when I remember thee, Dear native Greece ! and you, ye weeping maids, That were companions of my virgin youth! My noble parents! Oh, the grief of heart, The pangs, that, for unhappy me, bring down Their reverend ages to the grave with sorrow! And yet there is a woe surpassing all: Ye saints and angels, give me of your constancy, If you expect I shall endure it long!
Tam. Why is my pity all that I can give To tears like yours ? And yet I fear 'tis all ; Nor dare I ask, what mighty loss you mourn, | Lest honour should forbid to give it back.
Arp. No, Tamerlane, nor did I mean thou should'st:
But know, (though to the weakness of my sex
Why stand thy thousand thousand doors still I yield these tears) my soul is more than man.
To take the wretched in, if stern religion
Guard every passage, and forbid my entrance?
Lucrece could bleed, and Portia swallow fire,
When urged with griefs beyond a mortal suffer-
But here it must not be. Think, then, Arpasia,
Think on the sacred dictates of thy faith,
And let that arm thy virtue to perform
Think, I am born a Greek, nor doubt my virtue:
A Greek ! from whose famed ancestors of old,
Rome drew the patterns of her boasted heroes,
They must be mighty evils that can vanquish
A Spartan courage, and a Christian faith.
Baj. To know no thought of rest! to have the mind
Still ministering fresh plagues, as in a circle,
Where one dishonour treads upon another;
What know the fiends beyond it? Ha! by hell,
[Seeing ARP. and TAM.
There wanted only this to make me mad!
Comes he to triumph here? to rob my love,
And violate the last retreat of happiness?
Tam. But that I read upon thy frowning brow,
That war yet lives, and rages in thy breast,
Once more (in pity to the suffering world)
I meant to offer peace.
Baj. And mean'st thou too
To treat it with our empress? and to barter The spoils, which fortune gave thee, for her favours?
Arp. What would the tyrant?
Baj. Seek'st thou thus our friendship?
Is this the royal usage thou didst boast?
Tum. The boiling passion, that disturbs thy
soul,
Spreads clouds around, and makes thy purpose
dark-
Unriddle what thy mystic fury aims at.
Baj. Is it a riddle? Read it there explained; There, in my shame. Now judge me thou, O prophet,
And equal Heaven, if this demand not rage!
The peasant-hind, begot and born to slavery,
Yet dares assert a husband's sacred right,
And guards his homely couch from violation:
And shall a monarch tamely bear the wrong,
Without complaining?
Tam. If I could have wronged thee,
If conscious virtue, and all-judging Heaven,
Stood not between to bar ungoverned appetite,
What hindered, but in spite of thee, my captive,
I might have used a victor's boundless power,
And sated every wish my soul could form?
But, to secure thy fears, know, Bajazet,
This is among the things I dare not do.
Baj. By hell, 'tis false ! else wherefore art
thou present?
What cam'st thou for, but to undo my honour?
I found thee holding amorous parly with her,
Gazing and glutting on her wanton eyes,
And bargaining for pleasures yet to come:
My life, I know, is the devoted price-
But take it! I am weary of the pain.
Hast thou not torn me from my native country,
From the dear arms of my lamenting friends,
From my soul's peace, and from my injured love?
Hast thou not ruined, blotted me for ever,
And driven me to the brink of black despair?
And is it in thy malice yet to add
A wound more deep, to sully my white name,
My virtue?
Baj. Yes, thou hast thy sex's virtues,
Their affectation, pride, ill-nature, noise,
Proneness to change, even from the joy that
pleased them;
So gracious is your idol, dear variety,
That for another love, you would forego
An angel's form, to mingle with a devil's;
Through every state and rank of men you wan-
der,
Till even your large experience takes in all
The different nations of the peopled earth.
Arp. Why sought'st thou not from thy own
impious tribe
A wife like one of these? For such thy race
(If human nature brings forth such) affords.
Greece, for chaste virgins famed, and pious ma-
Teems not with monsters like your Turkish wives,
Whom guardian eunuchs, haggard and deformed,
Whom walls and bars make honest by constraint
Know, I detest, like hell, the crime thou men-
tion'st:
Not that I fear, or reverence thee, thou tyrant!
But that my soul, conscious of whence it sprung,
Sits unpolluted in its sacred temple,
And scorns to mingle with a thought so mean.
Tam. Oh, pity! that a greatness so divine
Should meet a fate so wretched, so unequal.—
Thou, blind and wilful to the good that courts
thee,
[TO BAJAZET.
With open-handed bounty Heaven pursues thee,
And bids thee (undeserving as thou art,
And monstrous in thy crimes) be happy yet;
Whilst thou, in fury, dost avert the blessing,
And art an evil genius to thyself.
Baj. No-Thou! thou art my greatest curse
on earth!
Thou, who hast robbed me of my crown and glory,
And now pursu'st me to the verge of life,
Tum. Yet ere thou rashly urge my rage too far, To spoil me of my honour. Thou! thou hypo
I warn thee to take heed: I am a man,
And have the frailties common to man's nature:
The fiery seeds of wrath are in my temper,
And may be blown up to so fierce a blaze,
As wisdom cannot rule. Know, thou hast touch-
ed me
Even in the nicest, tenderest part, my honour;
My honour, which, like power, disdains being
questioned;
Thy breath has blasted my fair virtue's fame,
And marked me for a villain, and a tyrant.
Arp. And stand I here an idle looker-on,
To see my innocence murdered and mangled
By barbarous hands, nor can revenge the wrong?
Art thou a man, and dar'st thou use me thus?
[TO BAJAZET.
That wear'st a pageant outside shew of virtue,
To cover the hot thoughts that glow within;
Thou rank adulterer!
Tam. Oh, that thou wert
The lord of all those thousands, that lie breath-
less
On yonder field of blood, that I again
Might hunt thee, in the face of death and dan-
Through the tumultuous battle, and there force
Vanquished and sinking underneath my arm,
To own thou hast traduced me like a villain!
Baj. Ha! Does it gall thee, Tartar? By re-
It joys me much to find thou feel'st my fury.
Yes, I will echo to thee, thou adulterer!
Thou dost prophane the name of king and soldier,
And, like a ruffian bravo, cam'st with force
To violate the holy marriage-bed.
Tam. Wert thou not shelter'd by thy abject
The captive of my sword, by my just anger, My breath, like thunder, should confound thy pride,
And doom thee dead, this instant, with a word. Baj. 'Tis false! my fate's above thee, and thou dar'st not.
Tam. Ha! dare not! Thou hast raised my ponderous rage,
And now it falls, to crush thee at a blow.
A guard there! Seize, and drag him to his fate!
[Enter a guard: they seize BAJazet.
Tyrant, I'll do a double justice on thee;
At once revenge myself, and all mankind.
Baj. Well dost thou, ere thy violence and lust
Invade my bed, thus to begin with murder:
Drown all thy fears in blood, and sin securely.
Tam. Away!
Arp. [Kneeling.] Oh, stay! I charge thee, by
By that bright glory thy great soul pursues,
Call back the doom of death!
Tam. Fair injured excellence,
Why dost thou kneel, and waste such precious prayers,
As might even bribe the saints to partial justice, For one to goodness lost; who first undid thee, Who still pursues and aggravates the wrong?
Baj. By Alla! no, I will not wear a life Bought with such vile dishonour. Death shall free me
At once from infamy and thee, thou traitress! Arp. No matter, though the whistling winds grow loud,
And the rude tempest roars; 'tis idle rage:
Oh! mark it not; but let thy steady virtue
Be constant to its temper. Save his life,
And save Arpasia from the sport of talkers.
Think, how the busy, meddling world will toss
Thy mighty name about, in scurril mirth ;
Shall brand thy vengeance, as a foul design,
And make such monstrous legends of our lives,
As late posterity shall blush in reading.
Tum. Oh, matchless virtue! Yes, I will obey;
Though laggard in the race, admiring yet,
I will pursue the shining path thou tread'st.-
Sultan, be safe! Reason resumes her empire,
[The guards release BAJAZET.
And I am cool again.-Here break we off,
Lest farther speech should minister new rage.
Wisely from dangerous passions I retreat,
To keep a conquest which was hard to get :
And, oh! 'tis time I should for flight prepare,
A war more fatal seems to threaten there,
And all my rebel-blood assists the fair:
One moment more, and I too late shall find,
That love's the strongest power that lords it o'er
the mind.
[Exit TAM. followed by the guards.
Baj. To what new shame, what plague am I
Why did my stars refuse me to die warm,
While yet my regal state stood unimpeached,
Nor knew the curse of having one above me?
Then too (although by force I grasped the joy)
My love was safe, nor felt the rack of doubt.
Why hast thou forced this nauseous life upon
me?
Is it to triumph o'er me?-But I will,
I will be free; I will forget thee all ;
The bitter and the sweet, the joy and pain,
Death shall expunge at once, and ease my soul.
Prophet, take notice, I disclaim thy paradise,
Thy fragrant bowers, and everlasting shades;
Thou hast placed woman there, and all thy joys
are tainted.
[Erit BAJAZET
Arp. A little longer yet, be strong, my heart;
A little longer let the busy spirits
Keep on their cheerful round.—It will not be!
Love, sorrow, and the sting of vile reproach,
Succeeding one another in their course,
Like drops of eating water on the marble,
At length have worn my boasted courage down:
I will indulge the woman in my soul,
And give a loose to tears and to impatience;
Death is at last my due, and I will have it.—
And see the poor Moneses comes, to take
One sad adieu, and then we part for ever.
Mon. Already am I onward of my way;
Thy tuneful voice comes like a hollow sound
At distance, to my ears. My eyes grow heavy,
And all the glorious lights of Heaven look din;
'Tis the last office they shall ever do me,
To view thee once, and then to close and die.
Arp. Alas! how happy have we been, Mo-
neses!
Ye gentle days, that once were ours, what joys
Did every cheerful morning bring along!
No fears, no jealousies, no angry parents,
That for unequal births, or fortunes frowned;
But love, that kindly joined our hearts, to bless
Made us a blessing too to all besides.
Mon. Oh, cast not thy remembrance back,
Arpasia!
'Tis grief unutterable, 'tis distraction!
But let this last of hours be peaceful sorrow!
Here let me kneel, and pay my latest vows.
Be witness, all ye saints, thou Heaven and Na-
ture,
Be witness of my truth, for you have known it!
Be witness, that I never knew a pleasure,
In all the world could offer, like Arpasia!
Be witness, that I lived but in Arpasia!
And, oh, be witness, that her loss has killed me!
Arp. While thou art speaking, life begins to
fail,
And every tender accent chills like death.
Oh! let me haste then, yet, ere day declines,
And the long night prevail, once more to tell
thee
What, and how dear, Moneses has been to me.
What has he not been?-All the names of love,
Brothers, or fathers, husbands, all are poor:
Moneses is myself; in my fond heart,
Even in my vital blood, he lives and reigns:
The last dear object of my parting soul
Will be Moneses; the last breath that lingers
Within my panting breast shall sigh Moneses.
Mon. It is enough! Now to thy rest, my soul!
The world and thou have made an end at once.
Arp. Fain would I still detain thee, hold thee
still:
Nor honour can forbid, that we together
Should share the few poor minutes that remain.
I swear, methinks this sad society
Has somewhat pleasing in it.-Death's dark
shades
Seem, as we journey on, to lose their horror;
At near approach the monsters, formed by fear,
Are vanished all, and leave the prospect clear;
Amidst the gloomy vale, a pleasing scene,
With flowers adorned, and never-fading green,
Inviting stands, to take the wretched in:
No wars, no wrongs, no tyrants, no despair,
Disturb the quiet of a place so fair,
But injured lovers find Elysium there. [Exeunt.
Enter BAJAZET, OMAR, HALY, and the Dervise.
Baj. Now, by the glorious tomb that shrines
our prophet,
By Mecca's sacred temple, here I swear,
Our daughter is thy bride! and to that gift
Such wealth, such power, such honours will I add,
That monarchs shall with envy view thy state,
And own thou art a demi-god to them.
Thou hast given me what I wished, power of revenge,
And when a king rewards, 'tis ample retribution. Om. Twelve Tartar lords, each potent in his tribe,
Have sworn to own my cause, and draw their thousands,
To-morrow, from the ungrateful Parthian's side:
The day declining seems to yield to night,
Ere little more than half her course be ended.
In an auspicious hour prepare for flight;
The leaders of the troops, through which we pass,
Raised by my power, devoted to my service,
Shall make our passage secret and secure.
Der. Already, mighty sultan, art thou safe,
Since, by yon passing torches' light, I guess,
To his pavilion Tamerlane retires,
Attended by a train of waiting courtiers.
All who remain within these tents are thine,
And hail thee as their lord.-
Ha! the Italian prince,
With sad Moneses, are not yet gone forth.
Baj. Ha! with our queen and daughter!
Om. They are ours:
I marked the slaves, who waited on Axalla;
They, when the emperor past out, prest on,
And mingled with the crowd, nor missed their
lord:
He is your prisoner, sir: I go this moment,
To seize, and bring him to receive his doom.
[Exit OMAR.
Baj. Haste, Haly, follow, and secure the
Greek:
Him too I wish to keep within my power.
[Exit HALY. Der. If my dread lord permit his slave to speak,
I would advise to spare Axalla's life,
Till we are safe beyond the Parthian's power:
Him, as our pledge of safety, may we hold;
And, could you gain him to assist your flight,
It might import you much.
Baj. Thou counsell'st well;
And though I hate him (for he is a Christian,
And to my mortal enemy devoted),
Yet, to secure my liberty and vengeance,
I wish he now were ours.
Der. And see, they come!
Fortune repents; again she courts your side,
And, with this first fair offering of success,
She wooes you to forget her crime of yesterday.
Enter OMAR, with AXALLA prisoner, SELIMA
following, weeping.
Ar. I will not call thee villain; 'tis a name
Too holy for thy crime: to break thy faith,
And turn a rebel to so good a master,
Is an ingratitude unmatched on earth.
The first revolting angel's pride could only
Do more than thou hast done. Thou copiest
well,
And keep'st the black original in view.
Om. Do rage, and vainly call upon thy master To save his minion. My revenge has caught thee,
And I will make thee curse that fond presumption,
That set thee on to rival me in aught.
Baj. Christian, I hold thy fate at my disposal! One only way remains to mercy open; Be partner of my flight and my revenge, And thou art safe. Thy other choice is death. Om. What means the sultan? Der. I conjure you, holdYour rival is devoted to destruction,
[Aside to OMAR Nor would the sultan now defer his fate, But for our common safety. Listen further. [Whispers.
Ar. Then briefly thus. Death is the choice I
Since, next to Heaven, my master and my friend Has interest in my life, and still shall claim it.
Baj. Then take thy wish-Call in our mutes!
Sel. My father,
If yet you have not sworn to cast me off,
And turn me out to wander in misfortune;
If yet my voice be gracious in your ears;
If yet my duty and my love offend not,
Oh, call your sentence back, and save Axalla!
Baj. Rise, Selima! The slave deserves to die, Who durst, with sullen pride, refuse my mercy: Yet, for thy sake, once more I offer life.
Sel. Some angel whisper to my anxious soul, What I shall do to save him.-Oh, Axalla! Is it so easy to thee to forsake me?
Canst thou resolve, with all this cold indifference,
Never to see me more? To leave me here
The miserable mourner of thy fate,
Condemned to waste my widowed virgin youth,
My tedious days and nights, in lonely weeping,
And never know the voice of comfort more?
Ax. Search not too deep the sorrows of my
breast:
Thou say'st I am indifferent and cold;
Oh! is it possible my eyes should tell
So little of the fighting storm within?
Oh! turn thee from me, save me from thy beauties!
Falsehood and ruin all look lovely there.
Oh! let my labouring soul yet struggle through—
I will-I would resolve to die, and leave thee.
Baj. Then let him die!-He trifles with my
I have too long attended his resolves.
Sel. Oh! stay a minute, yet a minute longer!
[TO BAJAZET.
A minute is a little space in life.
There is a kind consenting in his eyes,
And I shall win him to your royal will.-
Oh, my Axalla! seem but to consent!
[To Ax. aside. Unkind and cruel, will you then do nothing? I find I am not worth thy least of cares.
Ar. Oh! labour not to hang dishonour on me! I could bear sickness, pain, and poverty, Those mortal evils worse than death, for thee. But this-It has the force of fate against us, And cannot be.
Sel. See, see, sir, he relents! Already he inclines to own your cause. A little longer, and he is all yours.
Baj. Then mark how far a father's fondness yields.
Till midnight I defer the death he merits,
And give him up 'till then to thy persuasion.
If by that time he meets my will, he lives;
If not, thyself shalt own he dies with justice.
Ar. 'Tis but to lengthen life upon the rack.
I am resolved already.
Nor rashly urge a ruin on us both!
'Tis but a moment more I have to save thee.-
Be kind, auspicious Alla, to my prayer!
More for my love, than for myself, I fear;
Neglect mankind awhile, and make him all thy
care! [Exeunt AXALLA and SELIMA.
Baj. Moneses-is that dog secured?
Om. He is.
Baj. 'Tis well-My soul perceives returning greatness,
As nature feels the spring. Lightly she bounds,
And shakes dishonour, like a burden, from her;
Once more imperial, awful, and herself.
So, when, of old, Jove from the Titans fled,
Ammon's rude front his radiant face belied,
And all the majesty of Heaven lay hid.
At length, by fate, to power divine restored,
His thunder taught the world to know its Lord,
The God grew terrible again, and was again
adored.
[Exeunt
SCENE I.-BAJAZET's Tent.
Arp. Sure 'tis a horror more than darkness
That sits upon the night! Fate is abroad;
Some ruling fiend hangs in the dusky air,
And scatters ruin, death, and wild distraction,
O'er all the wretched race of man below.
Not long ago, a troop of ghastly slaves
Rushed in, and forced Moneses from my sight;
Death hung so heavy on his drooping spirits,
That scarcely could he say-Farewell-for ever!
And yet, methinks, some gentle spirit whispers,
Thy peace draws near, Arpasia, sigh no more!
And see! the king of terrors is at hand;
Enter BAJAZET and HALY. Baj. [Aside to HALY.] The rest I leave To thy dispatch; for, oh! my faithful Haly, Another care has taken up thy master. Spite of the high-wrought tempest in my soul, Spite of the pangs which jealousy has cost me, This haughty woman reigns within my breast; In vain I strive to put her from my thoughts,
To drive her out with empire, and revenge.
Still she comes back, like a retiring tide,
That ebbs awhile, but strait returns again,
And swells above the beach.
Ha. Why wears my lord
An anxious thought for what his power commands?
When, in a happy hour, you shall ere long Have borne the empress from amidst your foes, She must be yours, be only and all yours.
Baj. On that depends my fear. Yes, I must have her;
I own, I will not, cannot, go without her.
But such is the condition of our flight,
That should she not consent, 'twould hazard all
To bear her hence by force. Thus I resolve
By threats and prayers, by every way, to move her;
If all prevail not, force is left at last;
And I will set life, empire on the venture,
To keep her mine-Be near to wait my will.
[Erit HALT.
When last we parted, 'twas on angry terms;
Let the remembrance die, or kindly think
That jealous rage is but a hasty flame,
|