Be wrought upon? Could he be just, or kind?
Insultingly, he made your love his boast;
Gave me my life, and told me what it cost.
Speak; answer. I would fain yet think you
Lie; and I'll not believe myself, but you.
Tell me you love; I'll pardon the deceit,
And, to be fool'd, myself assist the cheat.
Aur. Ah traitress! Ah ingrate! Ah faithless mind!
Ah sex, invented first to damn mankind!
Nature took care to dress you up for sin:
Adorn'd, without; unfinish'd left, within.
Hence, by no judgment you your loves direct;
Talk much, ne'er think, and still the wrong affect.
So much self-love in your composure's mix'd,
That love to others still remains unfix'd:
Greatness, and noise, and show, are your delight;
Yet wise men love you in their own despite:
And, finding in their native wit no ease,
Are forc'd to put your folly on to please.
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 distinguish'd to my ear
His dying groans, and his last accents bear!
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:
Refus'd 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.
Mor. Urg'd by my love, by hope of empire fir'd,
'Tis true, I have perform'd what both requir'd:
What fate decreed; for when great souls are giv'n,
They bear the marks of sov'reignty from Heav'n.
My elder brothers my forerunners came;
Rough draughts of Nature, ill design'd, and lame:
Blown off, like blossoms never made to bear;
Till I came finish'd, her last-labour'd care.
Mor. What bus'ness 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 clam'rous voice with louder wars:
Trumpets and drums shall fright her from the throne,
As sounding cymbals aid the lab'ring moon.
Ind. Repell'd 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 holla, Rebel, tyrant, murderer.
Your ill-got pow'r 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. Birthright's a vulgar road to kingly sway;
'Tis ev'ry dull-got elder brother's way.
Dropt from above, he lights into a throne;
Grows of a piece with that he sits upon,
Heav'n'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. How you confound desires of good and ill!
For true renown is still with virtue join'd;
But lust of pow'r lets loose th' 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 lighten'd, 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 pursu'd them, though directed wrong.
In hazard, and in toils, I heard they lay;
Sail'd farther than the coast, but miss'd my way:
Now you
have giv'n 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.
Asaph. 'Tis past; and you desire his life in vain.
He, prodigal of soul, rush'd on the stroke
Of lifted weapons, and did wounds provoke:
In scorn of night, he would not be conceal'd;
His soldiers, where he fought, his name reveal'd:
In thickest crowds, still Aureng-Zebe did sound:
The vaulted roofs did Aureng-Zebe rebound,
Till late, and in his fall, the name was drown'd.
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.
Nourmahal. I love a foe, who dares my Who gives me the full scene of my content, Shows me the flying soul's convulsive strife, And all the anguish of departing life.
Curse me with thy last breath; and make me see
A spirit worthy to have rivall'd me.
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, ev'n in death, I find
My fainting body biass'd by my mind:
I fall tow'rd 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 Heav'n's unmov'd, yet Heav'n looks careless on.
Mel. Let me, at least, a fun'ral 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 call'd him hither; 'twas my fatal breath;
And I the screech-owl that proclaim'd his death.
Mel. Ah turn your sight to me, my dearest lord!
Can you not one, one parting look afford?
Ev'n 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 vow'd faith control;
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?
Can I! Oh my
Have I heard one kind word before I part?
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:
I would not live to violate the bliss.
Abas. Some envious dev'l has ruin'd us yet more: The fort's revolted to the emperor;
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