Nor can a monarch's friendship more than pay it. Baj. Ha! know'st thou that, fond girl?-Go -'tis not well,

And when thou couldst descend to take a benefit
From a vile Christian, and thy father's foe,
Thou didst an act dishonest to thy race:
Henceforth, unless thou mean'st to cancel all
My share in thee, and write thyself a bastard,
Die, starve, know any evil, any pain,
Rather than taste a mercy from these dogs.
Sel. Alas! Axalla!

Ar. Weep not, lovely maid!

I swear, one pearly drop from those fair eyes
Would over-pay the service of my life!
One sigh from thee has made a large amends
For all thy angry father's frowns and fierceness.
Baj. Oh, my curst fortune!-am I fallen thus

low!

Dishonoured to my face! Thou earth-born thing!
Thou clod! how hast thou dared to lift thy eyes
Up to the sacred race of mighty Ottoman,
Whom kings, whom even our prophet's holy off-
spring

At distance have beheld? And what art thou?
What glorious titles blazen out thy birth?
Thou vile obscurity! ha!-say-thou base one.
Ar. Thus challenged, Virtue, modest as she is,
Stands up to do herself a common justice;
To answer, and assert that inborn merit,
That worth, which conscious to herself she feels.
Were honour to be scanned by long descent,
From ancestors illustrious, I could vaunt
A lineage of the greatest, and recount,
Among my fathers, names of ancient story,
Heroes and god-like patriots, who subdued
The world by arms and virtue, and, being Romans,
Scorned to be kings; but that be their own praise:
Nor will I borrow merit from the dead,
Myself an undeserver. I could prove

My friendship such, as thou might'st deign to accept

With honour, when it comes with friendly office, To render back thy crown, and former greatness; And yet even this, even all is poor, when Selima, With matchless worth, weighs down the adverse scale.

Baj. To give me back what yesterday took from me,

Would be to give like Heaven, when, having fi

nished

This world (the goodly work of this creation),
He bid his favourite man be lord of all.
But this-

Ar. Nor is this gift beyond my power.
Oft has the mighty master of my arms
Urged me with large ambition, to demand
Crowns and dominions from his bounteous power:
'Tis true, I waved the proffer, and have held it
The worthier choice to wait upon his virtues,
To be the friend and partner of his wars,
Than to be Asia's lord. Nor wonder then,
If, in the confidence of such a friendship,
I promise boldly for the royal giver,
Thy crown and empire.

Baj. For our daughter thus

aught else?

With a vile peace, patched up on slavish terms?
With tributary kingship?-No!-To merit
A recompence from me, sate my revenge.
The Tartar is my bane, I cannot bear him:
One heaven and earth can never hold us both;
Still shall we hate, and with defiance deadly
Keep rage alive, till one be lost for ever;
As if two suns should meet in the meridian,
And strive, in fiery combat, for the passage.
Weep'st thou, fond girl? Now, as thy king, and
father,

I charge thee, drive this slave from thy remenbrance!

Hate shall be pious in thee. Come and join [Laying hold on her kan!.

To curse thy father's foes.

Sel, Undone for ever! Now, tyrant duty, art thou yet obeyed? There is no more to give thec.-Oh, Axalla! [BAJAZET leads out SELIMA, she looking back on AXALLA.

Ar. 'Twas what I feared; fool that I was to obey!

The coward, Love, that could not bear her frown, Has wrought his own undoing. Perhaps e'en now The tyrant's rage prevails upon her fears: Fiercely he storms: she weeps, and sighs, and trembles,

But swears at length to think on me no more. He bade me take her. But, oh, gracious honour! Upon what terms? My soul yet shudders at it, And stands but half recovered of her fright. The head of Tamerlane! monstrous impiety! Bleed, bleed to death, my heart, be virtue's martyr!

Oh, emperor! I own I ought to give thee Some nobler mark, than dying, of my faith. Then let the pains I feel my friendship prové; 'Tis easier far to die, than cease to love. [Exit AXALLA

SCENE II.-TAMERLANE's Camp. Enter severally MONESES, and Prince of TANAIS.

Mon. If I not press untimely on his leisure, You would much bind a stranger to your service, To give me means of audience to the emperos.

(Than whom none bows more lowly to high Heaven)

In reverend regard holds all that bear
Relation to religion, and, on notice
Of his request, received him on the instant.
Mon. We will attend his pleasure. [Exeunt.

Enter TAMERLANE and a Dervise.

Tam. Thou bring'st me thy credentials from the highest,

From Alla, and our prophet. Speak thy message; It must import the best and noblest ends.

Der. Thus speaks our holy Mahomet, who has
given thee

To reign and conquer: ill dost thou repay
The bounties of his hand, unmindful of
The fountain whence thy streams of greatness
flow.

Thou hast forgot high Heaven, hast beaten down
And trampled on religion's sanctity.

Tam. Now, as I am a soldier and a king
(The greatest names of honour), do but make
Thy imputation out, and Tamerlane
Shall do thee ample justice on himself.

So much the sacred name of Heaven awes me,
Could I suspect my soul of harbouring aught
To its dishonour, I would search it strictly,
And drive the offending thought with fury forth.
Der. Yes, thou hast hurt our holy prophet's
honour,

By fostering the pernicious Christian sect:
Those, whom his sword pursusd, with fell de-

struction,

Thou tak'st into thy bosom, to thy councils! They are thy only friends. The true believers Mourn to behold thee favour this Axalla.

Tam. I fear me, thou outgo'st the prophet's order,

And bring'st his venerable name to shelter
A rudeness ill-becoming thee to use,
Or me to suffer. When thou nam'st my friend,
Thou nam'st a man beyond a monk's discerning,
Virtuous and great, a warrior and a prince.

Der. He is a Christian; there our law condemns him,

Although he were even all thou speak'st, and

more.

Tam. 'Tis false; no law divine condemns the virtuous,

For differing from the rules your schools devise.
Look round, how Providence bestows alike
Sunshine and rain, to bless the fruitful year,
On different nations, all of different faiths;
And (though by several names and titles wor-
shipped)

Heaven takes the various tribute of their praise;
Since all agree to own, at least to mean,
One best, one greatest, only Lord of all.
Thus, when he viewed the many forms of nature,
He found that all was good, and blest the fair
variety.

Der. Most impious and profane !-Nay, frown
not, prince!

Full of the prophet, I despise the danger
Thy angry power may threaten. I command thee
To hear, and to obey; since thus says Mahomet:
Why have I made thee dreadful to the nations?
Why have I given thee conquest, but to spread
My sacred law even to the utmost earth,"
And make my holy Mecca the world's worship?
Go on, and wheresoe'er thy arms shall prosper,
Plant there the prophet's name; with sword and
fire

Drive out all other faiths, and let the world
Confess him only.

Tam. Had he but commanded
My sword to conquer all, to make the world
Know but one lord, the task were not so hard;
'Twere but to do what has been done already,
And Philip's son, and Cæsar, did as much :
But to subdue the unconquerable mind,
To make one reason have the same effect
Upon all apprehensions; to force this
Or this man, just to think as thou and I do,-
Impossible! Unless souls were alike

In all, which differ now like human faces.

Der. Well might the holy cause be carried

on,

If mussulmen did not make war on mussulmen. Why hold'st thou captive a believing monarch? Now, as thou hop'st to 'scape the prophet's curse,

Release the royal Bajazet, and join,

With force united, to destroy the Christians.

Tum. 'Tis well- -I've found the cause that. moves thy zeal!

What shallow politician set thee on,
In hopes to fright me this way to compliance?
Der. Our prophet only--

Tam. No-thou dost belie him,

Thou maker of new faiths! that dar'st to build
Thy fond inventions on religion's name.
Religion's lustre is, by native innocence,
Divinely pure, and simple from all arts;
You daub and dress her like a common mistress,
The harlot of your fancies; and, by adding
False beauties, which she wants not, make the
world

Suspect her angel's face is foul beneath,
And would not bear all lights.
found thee.

Der. I have but one resort.
prophet!—

Hence! I have

Now aid me, [Aside.

Yet I have somewhat further to unfold;

have it.

Mon. First, oh! let me entreat your royal

[Wresting the dagger from him. And blasts the murderer's purpose. Think, thou wretch!

Think on the pains that wait thy crime, and tremble

When I shall doom thee

Der. 'Tis but death at last;

And I will suffer greatly for the cause,
That urged me first to the bold deed.

Tam. Oh, impious!

Enthusiasm thus makes villains martyrs. [Pausing.] It shall be so-To die! 'twere a reward

Now, learn the difference 'twixt thy faith and mine:

Thine bids thee lift thy dagger to my throat;
Mine can forgive the wrong, and bid thee live.
Keep thy own wicked secret, and be safe!
If thou repent'st, I have gained one to virtue,
And am, in that, rewarded for my mercy;
If thou continuest still to be the same,
'Tis punishment enough to be a villain.
Hence from my sight!-It shocks my soul to
think,

That there is such a monster in my kind.
[Exit Dervise.
Whither will man's impiety extend?
Oh, gracious Heaven! dost thou withhold thy
thunder,

When bold assassins take thy name upon them, And swear they are the champions of thy cause? Enter MONESES.

Mon. Oh, emperor! before whose awful throne The afflicted never kneel in vain for justice; [Kneeling to TAM, Undone, and ruined, blasted in my hopes, Here let me fall before your sacred feet, And groan out my misfortunes, till your pity (The last support and refuge that is left me) Shall raise me from the ground, and bid me live! Tam. Rise, prince, nor let me reckon up thy worth,

And tell how boldly that might bid thee ask,
Lest I should make a merit of my justice,
The common debt I owe to thee, to all,
Even to the meanest of mankind, the charter
By which I claim my crown, and Heaven's pro-

tection.

Speak, then, as to a king, the sacred name
Where power is lodged, for righteous ends alone.
Mon. One only joy, one blessing, my fond heart
Had fixed its wishes on, and that is lost;
That sister, for whose safety my sad soul
Endured a thousand fears

Tum. I well remember,

When, ere the battle joined, I saw thee first, With grief uncommon to a brother's love, Thou told'st a moving tale of her misfortunes, Such as bespoke my pity. Is there aught

goodness,

Forgive the folly of a lover's caution,
That forged a tale of folly to deceive you.
Said I, she was my sister?-Oh! 'tis false;
She holds a dearer interest in my soul,
Such as the closest ties of blood ne'er knew;
An interest, such as power, wealth, and honour,
Can't buy, but love, love only, can bestow:
She was the mistress of my vows, my bride,
By contract mine; and long ere this the priest
Had tied the knot for ever, had not bajazet-

Tam. Ha! Bajazet-If yet his power withholds
The cause of all thy sorrows, all thy fears,
E'en gratitude for once shall gain upon him,
Spite of his savage temper, to restore her.
This morn a soldier brought a captive beauty,
Sad, though she seemed, yet of a form more rare,
By much the noblest spoil of all the field;
E'en Scipio, or a victor yet more cold,
Might have forgot his virtue at her sight.
Struck with a pleasing wonder, I beheld her,
Till, by a slave that waited near her person,
I learned she was the captive sultan's wife:
Straight I forbid my eyes the dangerous joy
Of gazing long, and sent her to her lord.

Mon. There was Moneses lost! Too sure my heart (From the first mention of her wondrous charms) Presaged it could be only my Arpasia. Tum. Arpasia! didst thou say?

Mon. Yes, my Arpasia.

Tam. Sure I mistake, or fain I would mistake thee:

I named the queen of Bajazet, his wife. Mon. His queen! his wife! he brings that holy title,

To varnish o'er the monstrous wrongs he has done me.

Tam. Alas! I fear me, prince, thy griefs are just;

Thou art, indeed, unhappy

Mon. Can you pity me,
And not redress? Ŏh, royal Tamerlane!

(Kneeling.

Thou succour of the wretched, reach thy mercy
To save me from the grave, and from oblivion!
Be gracious to the hopes that wait my youth.
Oh! let not sorrow blast me, lest I wither,
And fall in vile dishonour! Let thy justice
Restore me my Arpasia; give her back,
Back to my wishes, to my transports give her,
To my fond, restless, bleeding, dying bosom !
Oh! give her to me yet while I have life
To bless thee for the bounty! Oh, Arpasia!

Tam. Unhappy, royal youth, why dost thou ask
What honour must deny? Ha! is she not
His wife, whom he has wedded, whom enjoyed?
And wouldst thou have my partial friendship
break

That holy knot, which, tied once, all mankind
Agree to hold sacred and undissolvible?
The brutal violence would stain my justice,

Thou shalt forget these lesser cares, Moneses; Thou shalt, and help me to reform the world. Mon. So the good genius warns his mortal charge

To fly the evil fate that still pursues him,
Till it have wrought his ruin. Sacred Tamer-
lane,

Thy words are as the breath of angels to me.
But, oh! too deep the wounding grief is fixt,
For any hand to heal.

Tam. This dull despair

Is the soul's laziness. Rouse to the combat, And thou art sure to conquer. War shall restore thee;

The sound of arms shall wake thy martial ar dour,

And cure this amorous sickness of thy soul,
Begun by sloth, and nursed by too much ease.
The idle god of love supinely dreams,
Amidst inglorious shades and purling streams;
In rosy fetters and fantastic chains,
He binds deluded maids and simple swains;
With soft enjoyments wooes them to forget
The hardy toils and labours of the great.
But, if the warlike trumpet's loud alarms
To virtuous acts excite, and manly arms,
The coward boy avows his abject fear.
On silken wings sublime he cuts the air,
Scared at the noble noise and thunder of the
[Exeunt.

war.

He had begged her, as a captive of the war, From Tamerlane; but meeting with denial Of what he thought his services might claim, Loudly he storms, and curses the Italian,

this,

Demands my wonder justly.

Der. True, it may;

But 'tis a principle of his new faith;

'Tis what his Christian favourites have inspired,
Who fondly make a merit of forgiveness,
And give their foes a second opportunity,
If the first blow should miss. Failing to serve
The sultan to my wish, and even despairing
Of further means to effect his liberty,
A lucky accident retrieved my hopes.

Ha. The prophet and our master will reward Thy zeal in their behalf; but speak thy purpose. Der. Just entering here, I met the Tartar general,

Fierce Omar.

Ha. He commands, if I mistake not, This quarter of the army, and our guards. Der. The same. By his stern aspect, and the fires

That kindled in his eyes, I guessed the tumult Some wrong had raised in his tempestuous soul; A friendship of old date had given me privilege To ask of his concerns. In short, I learned, That, burning for the sultan's beauteous daughter,

And added to his injuries, the wrongs
Our prophet daily meets with from Åxalla.
But see, he comes. Improve what I shall tell,
And all we wish is ours.

[They seem to talk together aside.
Enter OMAR.

Om. No-if I forgive it,
Dishonour blast my name! Was it for this
That I directed his first steps to greatness,
Taught him to climb, and made him what he is?
When our great Cham first bent his eyes towards
him,

(Then petty prince of Parthia) and, by me
Persuaded, raised him to his daughter's bed,
Called him his son, and successor of the empire;
Was it for this, that like a rock I stood,
And stemmed a torrent of our Tartar lords,
Who scorned his upstart sway? When Calibes,
In bold rebellion, drew e'en half the provinces
To own his cause, I, like his better angel,
Stood by his shaking throne, and fixed it fast:
And am I now so lost to his remembrance,
That, when I ask a captive, he shall tell me,
She is Axalla's right, his Christian minion?

SCENE II.

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

power

SONG.

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

sorrows,

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

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.

Enter BAJAZET. Baj. To know no thought of rest! to have the mind