Emp. Disturb me not;—
How can my latest hour be better spent?
To reconcile myself to him is more,
Than to regain all I possessed before.
Empire and life are now not worth a prayer;
His love, alone, deserves my dying care.
Aur. Fighting for you, my death will glorious be.
Ind. Seek to preserve yourself, and live for me.
Arim. Lose then no farther time.
Heaven has inspired me with a sudden thought,
Whence your unhoped for safety may be wrought,
Though with the hazard of my blood 'tis bought.
But since my life can ne'er be fortunate,
'Tis so much sorrow well redeemed from fate.
You, madam, must retire,
(Your beauty is its own security,)
And leave the conduct of the rest to me.
Glory will crown my life, if I succeed;
If not, she may afford to love me dead.[Aside.
Aur. My father's kind, and, madam, you forgive;
Were heaven so pleased, I now could wish to live.
And I shall live.
With glory and with love, at once, I burn:
I feel the inspiring heat, and absent god return.[Exeunt.
ACT V. SCENE I.
Indamora alone.
Ind. The night seems doubled with the fear she brings,
And o'er the citadel new-spreads her wings.
The morning, as mistaken, turns about,
And all her early fires again go out.
Shouts, cries, and groans, first pierce my ears, and then
A flash of lightning draws the guilty scene,
And shows me arms, and wounds, and dying men.
Ah, should my Aureng-Zebe be fighting there,
And envious winds, distinguished to my ear,
His dying groans and his last accents bear!
To her, Morat, attended.
Mor. The bloody business of the night is done,
And, in the citadel, an empire won.
Our swords so wholly did the fates employ,
That they, at length, grew weary to destroy,
Refused the work we brought, and, out of breath,
Made sorrow and despair attend for death.
But what of all my conquest can I boast?
My haughty pride, before your eyes, is lost:
And victory but gains me to present
That homage, which our eastern world has sent.
Ind. Your victory, alas, begets my fears:
Can you not then triumph without my tears?
Resolve me; (for you know my destiny
Is Aureng-Zebes) say, do I live or die?
Mor. Urged by my love, by hope of empire fired,
'Tis true, I have performed what both required:
What fate decreed; for when great souls are given,
They bear the marks of sovereignty from heaven.
My elder brothers my fore-runners came;
Rough-draughts of nature, ill designed, and lame:
Blown off, like blossoms never made to bear;
Till I came, finished, her last-laboured care.
Ind. This prologue leads to your succeeding sin:
Blood ended what ambition did begin.
Mor. 'Twas rumour'd,—but by whom I cannot tell,—
My father 'scaped from out the citadel;
My brother too may live.
Mor. He must:
I kill'd him not: and a less fate's unjust.
Heaven owes it me, that I may fill his room,
A phœnix-lover, rising from his tomb;
In whom you'll lose your sorrows for the dead;
More warm, more fierce, and fitter for your bed.
Ind. Should I from Aureng-Zebe my heart divide,
To love a monster, and a parricide?
These names your swelling titles cannot hide.
Severe decrees may keep our tongues in awe;
But to our thoughts, what edict can give law?
Even you yourself, to your own breast, shall tell
Your crimes; and your own conscience be your hell.
Mor. What business has my conscience with a crown?
She sinks in pleasures, and in bowls will drown.
If mirth should fail, I'll busy her with cares,
Silence her clamorous voice with louder wars:
Trumpets and drums shall fright her from the throne,
As sounding cymbals aid the labouring moon.
Ind. Repelled by these, more eager she will grow,
Spring back more strongly than a Scythian bow.
Amidst your train, this unseen judge will wait;
Examine how you came by all your state;
Upbraid your impious pomp; and, in your ear,
Will hollow,—"Rebel, tyrant, murderer!"
Your ill-got power wan looks and care shall bring,
Known but by discontent to be a king.
Of crowds afraid, yet anxious when alone,
You'll sit and brood your sorrows on a throne.
Mor. Birth-right's a vulgar road to kingly sway;
'Tis every dull-got elder brother's way.
Dropt from above, he lights into a throne;
Grows of a piece with that he sits upon;
Heaven's choice, a low, inglorious, rightful drone.
But who by force a sceptre does obtain,
Shows he can govern that, which he could gain.
Right comes of course, whate'er he was before;
Murder and usurpation are no more.
Ind. By your own laws you such dominion make,
As every stronger power has right to take:
And parricide will so deform your name,
That dispossessing you will give a claim.
Who next usurps, will a just prince appear,
So much your ruin will his reign endear.
Mor. I without guilt would mount the royal seat;
But yet 'tis necessary to be great.
Ind. All greatness is in virtue understood:
'Tis only necessary to be good.
Tell me, what is't at which great spirits aim,
What most yourself desire?
Mor. Renown and fame,
And power, as uncontrouled as is my will.
Ind. How you confound desires of good and ill.
For true renown is still with virtue joined;
But lust of power lets loose the unbridled mind.
Yours is a soul irregularly great,
Which, wanting temper, yet abounds with heat,
So strong, yet so unequal pulses beat;
A sun, which does, through vapours, dimly shine;
What pity 'tis, you are not all divine!
New moulded, thorough lightened, and a breast
So pure, to bear the last severest test;
Fit to command an empire you should gain
By virtue, and without a blush to reign.
Mor. You show me somewhat I ne'er learnt before;
But 'tis the distant prospect of a shore,
Doubtful in mists; which, like enchanted ground,
Flies from my sight, before 'tis fully found.
Ind. Dare to be great, without a guilty crown;
View it, and lay the bright temptation down:
'Tis base to seize on all, because you may;
That's empire, that, which I can give away:
There's joy when to wild will you laws prescribe,
When you bid fortune carry back her bribe:
A joy, which none but greatest minds can taste;
A fame, which will to endless ages last.
Mor. Renown, and fame, in vain, I courted long,
And still pursued them, though directed wrong.
In hazard, and in toils, I heard they lay;
Sailed farther than the coast, but missed my way:
Now you have given me virtue for my guide;
And, with true honour, ballasted my pride.
Unjust dominion I no more pursue;
I quit all other claims, but those to you.
Ind. Oh be not just by halves! pay all you owe:
Think there's a debt to Melesinda too.
To leave no blemish on your after-life,
Reward the virtue of a suffering wife.
Mor. To love, once past, I cannot backward move;
Call yesterday again, and I may love.
'Twas not for nothing I the crown resigned;
I still must own a mercenary mind;
I, in this venture, double gains pursue,
And laid out all my stock, to purchase you.
To them, Asaph Chan.
Now, what success? does Aureng-Zebe yet live?
Asaph. Fortune has given you all that she can give.
Your brother—
Mor. Hold; thou showest an impious joy,
And think'st I still take pleasure to destroy:
Know, I am changed, and would not have him slain.
Asaph. 'Tis past; and you desire his life in vain.
He, prodigal of soul, rushed on the stroke
Of lifted weapons, and did wounds provoke:
In scorn of night, he would not be concealed;
His soldiers, where he fought, his name revealed.
In thickest crowds, still Aureng-Zebe did sound;
The vaulted roofs did Aureng-Zebe rebound;
Till late, and in his fall, the name was drowned.
Ind. Wither that hand which brought him to his fate,
And blasted be the tongue which did relate!
Asaph. His body—
Mor. Cease to enhance her misery:
Pity the queen, and show respect to me.
'Tis every painter's art to hide from sight,
And cast in shades, what, seen, would not delight.—
Your grief in me such sympathy has bred,[To her.
I mourn, and wish I could recal the dead.
Love softens me; and blows up fires, which pass
Through my tough heart, and melt the stubborn mass.
Ind. Break, heart; or choak, with sobs, my hated breath!
Do thy own work: admit no foreign death.
Alas! why do I make this useless moan?
I'm dead already, for my soul is gone.
To them, Mir Baba.
Mir. What tongue the terror of this night can tell,
Within, without, and round the citadel!
A new-formed faction does your power oppose;
The fight's confused, and all who meet are foes:
A second clamour, from the town, we hear;
And the far noise so loud, it drowns the near.
Abas, who seemed our friend, is either fled,
Or, what we fear, our enemies does head:
Your frighted soldiers scarce their ground maintain.
Mor. I thank their fury; we shall fight again:
They rouse my rage; I'm eager to subdue:
'Tis fatal to with-hold my eyes from you.
[Exit with the two Omrahs.
Mel. Can misery no place of safety know?
The noise pursues me wheresoe'er I go,
As fate sought only me, and, where I fled,
Aimed all its darts at my devoted head.
And let it; I am now past care of life;
The last of women; an abandoned wife.
Ind. Whether design or chance has brought you here,
I stand obliged to fortune, or to fear:
Weak women should, in danger, herd like deer.
But say, from whence this new combustion springs?
Are there yet more Morats? more fighting kings?
Mel. Him from his mother's love your eyes divide,
And now her arms the cruel strife decide.
Ind. What strange misfortunes my vext life attend!
Death will be kind, and all my sorrows end.
If Nourmahal prevail, I know my fate.
Mel. I pity, as my own, your hard estate:
But what can my weak charity afford?
I have no longer interest in my lord:
Nor in his mother, he: she owns her hate
Aloud, and would herself usurp the state.
Ind. I'm stupified with sorrow, past relief
Of tears; parched up, and withered with my grief.
Mel. Dry mourning will decays more deadly bring,
As a north wind burns a too forward spring.
Give sorrow vent, and let the sluices go.
Ind. My tears are all congealed, and will not flow.
Mel. Have comfort; yield not to the blows of fate.
Ind. Comfort, like cordials after death, comes late.
Name not so vain a word; my hopes are fled:
Think your Morat were kind, and think him dead.
Mel. I can no more—
Can no more arguments, for comfort, find:
Your boding words have quite o'erwhelmed my mind.
[Clattering of weapons within.
Ind. The noise increases, as the billows roar,
When rolling from afar they threat the shore.
She comes; and feeble nature now, I find,
Shrinks back in danger, and forsakes my mind.
I wish to die, yet dare not death endure;
Detest the medicine, yet desire the cure.
I would have death; but mild, and at command:
I dare not trust him in another's hand.
In Nourmahal's, he would not mine appear;
But armed with terror, and disguised with fear.
Mel. Beyond this place you can have no retreat:
Stay here, and I the danger will repeat.
I fear not death, because my life I hate;
And envious death will shun the unfortunate.
Ind. You must not venture.
Mel. Let me: I may do
Myself a kindness, in obliging you.
In your loved name, I'll seek my angry lord;
And beg your safety from his conquering sword:
So his protection all your fears will ease,
And I shall see him once, and not displease.[Exit.
Ind. O wretched queen! what power thy life can save?
A stranger, and unfriended, and a slave!
Enter Nourmahal, Zayda, and Abas, with Soldiers.
Alas, she's here![Indamora retires.
Nour. Heartless they fought, and quitted soon their ground,
While ours with easy victory were crowned.
To you, Abas, my life and empire too,
And, what's yet dearer, my revenge, I owe.
Abas. The vain Morat, by his own rashness wrought,
Too soon discovered his ambitious thought;
Believed me his, because I spoke him fair,
And pitched his head into the ready snare:
Hence 'twas I did his troops at first admit;
But such, whose numbers could no fears beget:
By them the emperor's party first I slew,
Then turned my arms the victors to subdue.
Nour. Now let the head-strong boy my will controul!
Virtue's no slave of man; no sex confines the soul:
I, for myself, the imperial seat will gain,
And he shall wait my leisure for his reign.—
But Aureng-Zebe is no where to be found,
And now, perhaps, in death's cold arms he lies!
I fought, and conquered, yet have lost the prize.
Zayd. The chance of war determined well the strife,
That racked you, 'twixt the lover and the wife.
He's dead, whose love had sullied all your reign,
And made you empress of the world in vain.
Nour. No; I my power and pleasure would divide:
The drudge had quenched my flames, and then had died.
I rage, to think without that bliss I live,
That I could wish what fortune would not give:
But, what love cannot, vengeance must supply;
She, who bereaved me of his heart, shall die.
Zayd. I'll search: far distant hence she cannot be. [Goes in.
Nour. This wondrous master-piece I fain would see;
This fatal Helen, who can wars inspire,
Make kings her slaves, and set the world on fire.
My husband locked his jewel from my view;
Or durst not set the false one by the true.
Re-enter Zayda, leading Indamora.
Zayd. Your frighted captive, ere she dies, receive;
Her soul's just going else, without your leave.
Nour. A fairer creature did my eyes ne'er see!
Sure she was formed by heaven, in spite to me!
Some angel copied, while I slept, each grace,
And moulded every feature from my face.
Such majesty does from her forehead rise,
Her cheeks such blushes cast, such rays her eyes,
Nor I, nor envy, can a blemish find.—
The palace is, without, too well designed:
Conduct me in, for I will view thy mind.[To her.
Speak, if thou hast a soul, that I may see,
If heaven can make, throughout, another me.
Ind. My tears and miseries must plead my cause;
[Kneeling.
My words, the terror of your presence awes:
Mortals, in sight of angels, mute become;
The nobler nature strikes the inferior dumb.
Nour. The palm is, by the foe's confession, mine;
But I disdain what basely you resign.
Heaven did, by me, the outward model build;
Its inward work, the soul, with rubbish filled.
Yet, oh! the imperfect piece moves more delight;
'Tis gilded o'er with youth, to catch the sight.
The gods have poorly robbed my virgin bloom,
And what I am, by what I was, o'ercome.
Traitress! restore my beauty and my charms,
Nor steal my conquest with my proper arms.
Ind. What have I done thus to inflame your hate?
I am not guilty, but unfortunate.
Nour. Not guilty, when thy looks my power betray,
Seduce mankind, my subject, from my sway,
Take all my hearts and all my eyes away?
My husband first; but that I could forgive;
He only moved, and talked, but did not live.
My Aureng-Zebe!—for I dare own the name,
The glorious sin, and the more glorious flame,—
Him from my beauty have thy eyes misled,
And starved the joys of my expected bed.
Ind. His love so sought, he's happy that he's dead.
O had I courage but to meet my fate,
That short dark passage to a future state,
That melancholy riddle of a breath!
Nour. That something, or that nothing, after death:
Take this, and teach thyself.[Giving a Dagger.
Ind. Alas!
Nour. Why dost thou shake?
Dishonour not the vengeance I designed:
A queen, and own a base Plebeian mind!
Let it drink deep in thy most vital part;
Strike home, and do me reason in thy heart.
Ind. I dare not.
Nour. Do't, while I stand by and see,
At my full gust, without the drudgery.
I love a foe, who dares my stroke prevent,
Who gives me the full scene of my content;
Shows me the flying soul's convulsive strife,
And all the anguish of departing life.
Disdain my mercy, and my rage defy;
Curse me with thy last breath, and make me see
A spirit, worthy to have rivalled me.
Ind. Oh, I desire to die, but dare not yet!
Give me some respite, I'll discharge the debt.
Without my Aureng-Zebe I would not live.
Nour. Thine, traitress! thine! that word has winged thy fate,
And put me past the tedious forms of hate:
I'll kill thee with such eagerness and haste,
As fiends, let loose, would lay all nature waste.
[Indamora runs back: As Nourmahal is running
to her, clashing of swords is heard within.
Sold. Yield, you're o'erpowered: Resistance is in vain. [Within.
Mor. Then death's my choice: Submission I disdain. [Within.
Nour. Retire, ye slaves! Ah, whither does he run
[At the door.
On pointed swords? Disarm, but save my son.
Enter Morat staggering, and upheld by Soldiers.
Mor. She lives! and I shall see her once again!
I have not thrown away my life in vain.
[Catches hold of Indamora's gown, and falls by
her: She sits.
I can no more; yet even in death I find
My fainting body biassed by my mind:
I fall toward you; still my contending soul
Points to your breast, and trembles to its pole.
To them Melesinda, hastily casting herself on the other side of Morat.
Mel. Ah woe, woe, woe! the worst of woes I find!
Live still; Oh live; live e'en to be unkind!—
With half-shut eyes he seeks the doubtful day;
But, ah! he bends his sight another way.
He faints! and in that sigh his soul is gone;
Yet heaven's unmoved, yet heaven looks careless on.
Nour. Where are those powers which monarchs should defend?
Or do they vain authority pretend
O'er human fates, and their weak empire show,
Which cannot guard their images below?
If, as their image, he was not divine,
They ought to have respected him as mine.
I'll waken them with my revenge; and she,
Their Indamora, shall my victim be,
And helpless heaven shall mourn in vain, like me.
[As she is going to stab Indamora, Morat
raises himself, and holds her hand.
Mor. Ah, what are we,
Who dare maintain with heaven this wretched strife,
Puft with the pride of heaven's own gift, frail life?
That blast which my ambitious spirit swelled,
See by how weak a tenure it was held!
I only stay to save the innocent;
Oh envy not my soul its last content!
Ind. No, let me die; I'm doubly summoned now;
First by my Aureng-Zebe, and since by you.
My soul grows hardy, and can death endure;
Your convoy makes the dangerous way secure.
Mel. Let me at least a funeral marriage crave,
Nor grudge my cold embraces in the grave.
I have too just a title in the strife;
By me, unhappy me, he lost his life:
I called him hither, 'twas my fatal breath,
And I the screech-owl that proclaimed his death.[Shout within.
Abas. What new alarms are these? I'll haste and see. [Exit.
Nour. Look up and live; an empire shall be thine.
Mor. That I condemned, even when I thought it mine.—
Oh, I must yield to my hard destinies,[To Ind.
And must for ever cease to see your eyes!
Mel. Ah turn your sight to me, my dearest lord!
Can you not one, one parting look afford?
Even so unkind in death:—but 'tis in vain;
I lose my breath, and to the winds complain.
Yet 'tis as much in vain your cruel scorn;
Still I can love, without this last return.
Nor fate, nor you, can my vowed faith controul;
Dying, I follow your disdainful soul:
A ghost, I'll haunt your ghost; and, where you go,
With mournful murmurs fill the plains below.
Mor. Be happy, Melesinda; cease to grieve,
And for a more deserving husband live:—
Can you forgive me?
Mel. Can I! Oh, my heart!
Have I heard one kind word before I part?
I can, I can forgive: Is that a task
To love like mine? Are you so good to ask!
One kiss—Oh, 'tis too great a blessing this![Kisses him.
I would not live to violate the bliss,
Re-enter Abas.
Abas. Some envious devil has ruined us yet more:
The fort's revolted to the emperor;
The gates are opened, the portcullis drawn,
And deluges of armies from the town
Come pouring in: I heard the mighty flaw,
When first it broke; the crowding ensigns saw,
Which choked the passage; and, what least I feared,
The waving arms of Aureng-Zebe appeared,
Displayed with your Morat's:
In either's flag the golden serpents bear
Erected crests alike, like volumes rear,
And mingle friendly hissings in the air.
Their troops are joined, and our destruction nigh.
Neur. 'Tis vain to fight, and I disdain to fly.
I'll mock the triumphs which our foes intend,
And spite of fortune, make a glorious end.
In poisonous draughts my liberty I'll find,
And from the nauseous world set free my mind.[Exit.
At the other end of the Stage enter Aureng-Zebe, Dianet, and Attendants. Aureng-Zebe turns back, and speaks entering.
Aur. The lives of all, who cease from combat, spare;
My brother's be your most peculiar care:
Our impious use no longer shall obtain;
Brothers no more by brothers shall be slain.—
[Seeing Indamora and Morat.
Ha! do I dream? Is this my hoped success?
I grow a statue, stiff and motionless.
Look, Dianet; for I dare not trust these eyes;
They dance in mists, and dazzle with surprise.
Dia. Sir, 'tis Morat; dying he seems, or dead;
And Indamora's hand—
Aur. Supports his head.[Sighing.
Thou shalt not break yet, heart, nor shall she know
My inward torments by my outward show:
To let her see my weakness were too base;
Dissembled quiet sit upon my face:
My sorrow to my eyes no passage find,
But let it inward sink, and drown my mind.
Falsehood shall want its triumph: I begin
To stagger, but I'll prop myself within.
The specious tower no ruin shall disclose,
Till down at once the mighty fabric goes,
Mor. In sign that I die yours, reward my love,[To Ind.
And seal my passport to the blessed above.[Kissing her hand.
Ind. Oh stay; or take me with you when you go;
There's nothing now worth living for below.
Mor. I leave you not; for my expanded mind
Grows up to heaven, while it to you is joined:
Not quitting, but enlarged! A blazing fire,
Fed from the brand.[Dies.
Mel. Ah me! he's gone! I die![Swoons.
Ind. Oh, dismal day!
Fate, thou hast ravished my last hope away!
[She turns, and sees Aureng-Zebe standing
by her, and starts.
O heaven! my Aureng-Zebe—What strange surprise!
Or does my willing mind delude my eyes,
And shows the figure always present there?
Or liv'st thou? am I blessed, and see thee here?
Aur. My brother's body see conveyed with care,
[Turning from her, to her Attendants.
Where we may royal sepulture prepare.
With speed to Melesinda bring relief:
Recal her spirits, and moderate her grief—
[Half turning to Ind.
I go, to take for ever from your view,
Both the loved object, and the hated too.
[Going away after the bodies, which are
carried off.
Ind. Hear me! yet think not that I beg your stay;
[Laying hold of him.
I will be heard, and, after, take your way.
Go; but your late repentance shall be vain:
[He struggles still: she lets him go.
I'll never, never see your face again.[Turning away.
Aur. Madam, I know whatever you can say:
You might be pleased not to command my stay.
All things are yet disordered in the fort;
I must crave leave your audience may be short.
Ind. You need not fear I shall detain you long:
Yet you may tell me your pretended wrong.
Aur. Is that the business? then my stay is vain.
Ind. How are you injured?
Aur. When did I complain?
Ind. Leave off your forced respect,
And show your rage in its most furious form:
I'm armed with innocence to brave the storm.
You heard, perhaps, your brother's last desire,
And, after, saw him in my arms expire;
Saw me, with tears, so great a loss, bemoan;
Heard me complaining my last hopes were gone.
Aur. "Oh stay, or take me with you when you go,
There's nothing now worth living for below."
Unhappy sex! whose beauty is your snare:
Exposed to trials; made too frail to bear.
I grow a fool, and show my rage again:
'Tis nature's fault; and why should I complain?
Ind. Will you yet hear me?
Aur. Yes, till you relate
What powerful motives did your change create.
You thought me dead, and prudently did weigh
Tears were but vain, and brought but youth's decay.
Then, in Morat, your hopes a crown designed;
And all the woman worked within your mind.—
I rave again, and to my rage return,
To be again subjected to your scorn.
Ind. I wait till this long storm be over-blown.
Aur. I'm conscious of my folly: I have done.—
I cannot rail; but silently I'll grieve.
How did I trust! and how did you deceive!
Oh, Arimant, would I had died for thee!
I dearly buy thy generosity.
Ind. Alas, is he then dead?
Aur. Unknown to me,
He took my arms; and, while I forced my way
Through troops of foes, which did our passage stay,
My buckler o'er my aged father cast,
Still fighting, still defending as I past,
The noble Arimant usurped my name;
Fought, and took from me, while he gave me, fame.
To Aureng-Zebe, he made his soldiers cry,
And, seeing not, where he heard danger nigh,
Shot, like a star, through the benighted sky,
A short, but mighty aid: At length he fell.
My own adventures 'twere lost time to tell;
Or how my army, entering in the night,
Surprised our foes; The dark disordered fight:
How my appearance, and my father shown,
Made peace; and all the rightful monarch own.
I've summed it briefly, since it did relate
The unwelcome safety of the man you hate.
Ind. As briefly will I clear my innocence:
Your altered brother died in my defence.
Those tears you saw, that tenderness I showed,
Were just effects of grief and gratitude.
He died my convert.
Aur. But your lover too:
I heard his words, and did your actions view;
You seemed to mourn another lover dead:
My sighs you gave him, and my tears you shed.
But, worst of all,
Your gratitude for his defence was shown:
It proved you valued life, when I was gone.
Ind. Not that I valued life, but feared to die:
Think that my weakness, not inconstancy.
Aur. Fear showed you doubted of your own intent:
And she, who doubts, becomes less innocent.
Tell me not you could fear;
Fear's a large promiser; who subject live
To that base passion, know not what they give.
No circumstance of grief you did deny;
And what could she give more, who durst not die?
Ind. My love, my faith.
Aur. Both so adulterate grown,
When mixed with fear, they never could be known.
I wish no ill might her I love befal;
But she ne'er loved, who durst not venture all.
Her life and fame should my concernment be;
But she should only be afraid for me.
Ind. My heart was yours; but, oh! you left it here,
Abandoned to those tyrants, hope and fear;
If they forced from me one kind look, or word,
Could you not that, not that small part afford?
Aur. If you had loved, you nothing yours could call;
Giving the least of mine, you gave him all.
True love's a miser; so tenacious grown,
He weighs to the least grain of what's his own;
More delicate than honour's nicest sense,
Neither to give nor take the least offence.
With, or without you, I can have no rest:
What shall I do? you're lodged within my breast:
Your image never will be thence displaced;
But there it lies, stabbed, mangled, and defaced.
Ind. Yet to restore the quiet of your heart,
There's one way left.
Aur. Oh, name it.
Ind. 'Tis to part.
Since perfect bliss with me you cannot prove,
I scorn to bless by halves the man I love.
Aur. Now you distract me more: Shall then the day,
Which views my triumph, see our loves decay?
Must I new bars to my own joy create?
Refuse myself what I had forced from fate?
What though I am not loved?
Reason's nice taste does our delights destroy:
Brutes are more blessed, who grossly feed on joy.
Ind. Such endless jealousies your love pursue,
I can no more be fully blessed than you.
I therefore go, to free us both from pain:
I prized your person, but your crown disdain.
Nay, even my own—
I give it you; for, since I cannot call
Your heart my subject, I'll not reign at all.[Exit.
Aur. Go: Though thou leav'st me tortured on the rack,
'Twixt shame and pride, I cannot call thee back.—
She's guiltless, and I should submit; but oh!
When she exacts it, can I stoop so low?
Yes; for she's guiltless; but she's haughty too.
Great souls long struggle ere they own a crime:
She's gone; and leaves me no repenting time.
I'll call her now; sure, if she loves, she'll stay;
Linger at least, or not go far away.
[Looks to the door, and returns.
For ever lost! and I repent too late.
My foolish pride would set my whole estate,
Till, at one throw, I lost all back to fate.
To him the Emperor, drawing in Indamora: Attendants.
Emp. It must not be, that he, by whom we live,
Should no advantage of his gift receive.
Should he be wholly wretched? he alone,
In this blessed day, a day so much his own?[To Ind.
I have not quitted yet a victor's right:
I'll make you happy in your own despite.
I love you still; and, if I struggle hard
To give, it shows the worth of the reward.
Ind. Suppose he has o'ercome; must I find place
Among his conquered foes, and sue for grace?
Be pardoned, and confess I loved not well?
What though none live my innocence to tell,
I know it: Truth may own a generous pride:
I clear myself, and care for none beside.
Aur. Oh, Indamora, you would break my heart!
Could you resolve, on any terms, to part?
I thought your love eternal: Was it tied
So loosely, that a quarrel could divide?
I grant that my suspicions were unjust;
But would you leave me, for a small distrust?
Forgive those foolish words—[Kneeling to her.
They were the froth my raging folly moved,
When it boiled up: I knew not then I loved;
Yet then loved most.
Ind. [To Aur.]
You would but half be blest![Giving her hand, smiling.
Aur. Oh do but try
My eager love: I'll give myself the lie.
The very hope is a full happiness,
Yet scantly measures what I shall possess.
Fancy itself, even in enjoyment, is
But a dumb judge, and cannot tell its bliss.
Emp. Her eyes a secret yielding do confess,
And promise to partake your happiness.
May all the joys I did myself pursue,
Be raised by her, and multiplied on you!
A Procession of Priests, Slaves following, and, last, Melesinda in white.
Ind. Alas! what means this pomp?
Aur. 'Tis the procession of a funeral vow,
Which cruel laws to Indian wives allow,
When fatally their virtue they approve;
Cheerful in flames, and martyrs of their love.
Ind. Oh, my foreboding heart! the event I fear:
And see! sad Melesinda does appear.
Mel. You wrong my love; what grief do I betray?
This is the triumph of my nuptial day,
My better nuptials; which, in spite of fate,
For ever join me to my dear Morat.
Now I am pleased; my jealousies are o'er:
He's mine; and I can lose him now no more.
Emp. Let no false show of fame, your reason blind.
Ind. You have no right to die; he was not kind.
Mel. Had he been kind, I could no love have shown:
Each vulgar virtue would as much have done.
My love was such, it needed no return;
But could, though he supplied no fuel, burn.
Rich in itself, like elemental fire,
Whose pureness does no aliment require.
In vain you would bereave me of my lord;
For I will die:—Die is too base a word,
I'll seek his breast, and, kindling by his side,
Adorned with flames, I'll mount a glorious bride.[Exit.
Enter Nourmahal, distracted, with Zayda.
Zay. She's lost, she's lost! but why do I complain,
For her, who generously did life disdain!
Poisoned, she raves—
The envenomed body does the soul attack;
The envenomed soul works its own poison back.
Nour. I burn, I more than burn; I am all fire.
See how my mouth and nostrils flame expire!
I'll not come near myself—
Now I'm a burning lake, it rolls and flows;
I'll rush, and pour it all upon my foes.
Pull, pull that reverend piece of timber near:
Throw't on—'tis dry—'twill burn—
Ha, ha! how my old husband crackles there!
Keep him down, keep him down; turn him about:
I know him,—he'll but whiz, and strait go out.
Fan me, you winds: What, not one breath of air?
I'll burn them all, and yet have flames to spare.
Quench me: Pour on whole rivers. 'Tis in vain:
Morat stands there to drive them back again:
With those huge billows in his hands, he blows
New fire into my head: My brain-pan glows.
See! see! there's Aureng-Zebe too takes his part;
But he blows all his fire into my heart[4].
Aur. Alas, what fury's this?
Nour. That's he, that's he!
[Staring upon him, and catching at him.
I know the dear man's voice:
And this my rival, this the cursed she.
They kiss; into each other's arms they run:
Close, close, close! must I see, and must have none?
Thou art not hers: Give me that eager kiss.
Ungrateful! have I lost Morat for this?
Will you?—before my face?—poor helpless I
See all, and have my hell before I die![Sinks down.
Emp. With thy last breath thou hast thy crimes confest:
Farewell; and take, what thou ne'er gav'st me, rest.
But you, my son, receive it better here:
[Giving him Indamora's hand.
The just rewards of love and honour wear.
Receive the mistress, you so long have served;
Receive the crown, your loyalty preserved.
Take you the reins, while I from cares remove,
And sleep within the chariot which I drove.[Exeunt.
Footnotes:
-
—Magne regnator deum,
Tam lentus audis scelera? tam lentus vides?
Ecquando sæva fulmen emittes manu,
Si nunc serenum est?
—Me velox cremet,
Transactus ignis. Sum nocens, merui mori,
Placui novercæ.
—Hippolitus apud Senecam.
See Langbaine, on this play.
- In Dryden's time it was believed, that some Indian tribes devoured the bodies of their parents; affirming, they could shew no greater mark of respect, than to incorporate their remains with their own substance.
- Langbaine traces this speech also to Seneca's Hippolitus.
—Thesei vultus amo;
Illos priores quos tulit quondam puer,
Cum prima puras barba signaret genas.
- I wish the duty of an editor had permitted me to omit this extravagant and ludicrous rhapsody.