But here she comes! To him INDAMORA. In the calm harbour of whose gentle breast, Indamora. Perhaps not so. Aur. Can Indamora prove Ind. You heard me not inconstancy confess: Arim. Beauty, like ice, our footing does betray; Who can tread sure on the smooth slippery way? Pleas'd with the passage, we slide swiftly on: And see the dangers which we cannot shun. Ind. To what may not desert, like yours, pretend? You have all qualities- -that fit a friend. Arim. So mariners mistake the promis'd coast: They rise no higher than to friendship's heat? Emperor. Did he, my slave, presume to look so high? That crawling insect, who from mud began, Warm'd by my beams, and kindled into man? Durst he, who does but for my pleasure live, Intrench on love, my great prerogative? Print his base image on his sovereign's coin? 'Tis treason if he stamp his love with mine. Emp. In thy own heav'n of love serenely shine: When flow'rs first peep'd, and trees did blossoms bear, Emp. Age has not yet So shrunk my sinews, or so chill'd my veins, But conscious virtue in my breast remains. But had I now That strength, with which my boiling youth was fraught, When in the vale of Balasor I fought, And from Bengal their captive monarch brought; When elephant 'gainst elephant did rear E Emp. But, yielding her, I firmly have decreed, Aur. To after-ages let me stand a shame, Had I been such, what hinder'd me to take The crown? nor had th' exchange been yours to make. Wear it, and let it where you please descend. Aur. How vain is virtue which directs our ways She trusts her balance, and neglects her sword. Melesinda. I have no taste, methinks, of coming joy; For black presages all my hopes destroy. Die, something whispers, Melesinda, die; Fulfil, fulfil, thy mournful destiny. Mine is a gleam of bliss, too hot to last, Wat'ry it shines, and will be soon o'ercast. Morat. To me, the cries of fighting fields are charms: Keen be my sabre, and of proof my arms: I ask no other blessing of my stars: No prize but fame, nor mistress but the wars. Aur. When thou wert form'd, Heav'n did a man begin; But the brute soul, by chance, was shuffl'd in. In woods and wilds thy monarchy maintain: Where valiant beasts, by force and rapine, reign. In life's next scene, if transmigration be, Some bear or lion is reserv'd for thee. Mor. Take heed thou com'st not in that lion's I prophesy thou wilt thy soul convey way: chose to stay Mor. Should I not chide you, that you Mel. Should I not chide, that you could stay and see Those joys, preferring public pomp to me? Through my dark cell your shouts of triumph rung: Ind. Could that decree from any brother come? How can our prophet suffer you to reign, Think there's a heav'n, Morat, though not for you. Mel. Fortune long frown'd, and has but lately smil'd: I doubt a foe so newly reconcil'd. You saw but sorrow in its waning form, A working sea remaining from a storm; When the now weary waves roll o'er the deep, And faintly murmur ere they fall asleep. Emp. Your inward griefs you smother in your mind; But Fame's loud voice proclaims your lord unkind. Mor. Let Fame be busy where she has to do: Tell of fought fields, and every pompous show. Those tales are fit to fill the people's ears; Monarchs, unquestion'd, move in higher spheres. Emp. Have I for this, ungrateful as thou art, Wert thou to empire, by my baseness, brought, my Ind. Your accusation must, I see, take place; Aur. If you are false, those epithets are small; |