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But here she comes!

To him INDAMORA.

In the calm harbour of whose gentle breast,
My tempest-beaten soul may safely rest.
Oh, my heart's joy! whate'er my sorrows be,
They cease and vanish, in beholding thee!
Care shuns thy walks; as at the cheerful light,
The groaning ghosts, and birds obscene, take flight.
By this one view, all my past pains are paid:
And all I have to come more easy made.

Indamora. Perhaps not so.

Aur.

Can Indamora prove
So alter'd? Is it but, perhaps you love?
Then farewell all! I thought in you to find
A balm, to cure my much distemper'd mind.
I came to grieve a father's heart estrang'd;
But little thought to find a mistress chang'd.
Nature herself is chang'd to punish me:
Virtue turn'd vice, and faith inconstancy.

Ind. You heard me not inconstancy confess:
'Twas but a friend's advice to love me less.
Who knows what adverse fortune may befal?
Arm well your mind; hope little, and fear all.
Hope, with a goodly prospect, feeds your eye:
Shows, from a rising ground, possession nigh:
Shortens the distance, or o'erlooks it quite;
So easy 'tis to travel with the sight.

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:
And, with full sails, on the blind rocks are lost.
Think you my aged veins so faintly beat,

They rise no higher than to friendship's heat?
So weak your charms, that, like a winter's night
Twinkling with stars, they freeze me while they light?

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:
Fair as the face of nature did appear,

When flow'rs first peep'd, and trees did blossoms bear,
And winter had not yet deform'd th' inverted year.
Calm as the breath which fans our Eastern groves,
And bright as when thy eyes first lighted up our loves.

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
His trunk, and castles jostled in the air;
My sword thy way to victory had shown,
And ow'd the conquest to itself alone.

E

Emp. But, yielding her, I firmly have decreed,
That you alone to empire shall succeed.

Aur. To after-ages let me stand a shame,
When I exchange for crowns my love or fame.
You might have found a mercenary son,
To profit of the battles he had won.

Had I been such, what hinder'd me to take

The crown? nor had th' exchange been yours to make.
While you are living, I no right pretend;

Wear it, and let it where you please descend.
But from my love, 'tis sacrilege to part:
There, there's my throne, in Indamora's heart.

Aur. How vain is virtue which directs our ways
Through certain danger to uncertain praise!
Barren, and airy name! thee fortune flies;
With thy lean train, the pious and the wise.
Heav'n takes thee at thy word, without regard,
And lets thee poorly be thy own reward.
The world is made for the bold impious man,
Who stops at nothing, seizes all he can.
Justice to merit does weak aid afford;

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.
I scarce am pleas'd I tamely mount the throne:
Would Aureng-Zebe had all their souls in one!
With all my elder brothers I would fight,
And so from partial nature force my right.

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
Into a lamb, and be again my prey.

way:

chose to stay

Mor. Should I not chide you, that you
In gloomy shades, and lost a glorious day?
Lost the first fruits of joy you should possess
In my return, and made my triumph less?

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:
I heard with pleasure, but I thought them long.

Ind. Could that decree from any brother come?
Nature herself is sentenc'd in your doom.
Piety is no more, she sees her place
Usurp'd by monsters, and a savage race.
From her soft Eastern climes you drive her forth,
To the cold mansions of the utmost North.

How can our prophet suffer you to reign,
When he looks down, and sees your brother slain?
Avenging furies will your life pursue:

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,
When right, when Nature, struggl'd in my heart;
When Heav'n call'd on me for thy brother's claim,
Broke all, and sullied my unspotted fame?

Wert thou to empire, by my baseness, brought,
And wouldst thou ravish what so dear I bought?
Dear! for conscience and its peace I gave:
Why was my reason made my passion's slave?

my

Ind. Your accusation must, I see, take place;
And am I guilty, infamous, and base?

Aur. If you are false, those epithets are small;
You're then the things, the abstract of them all.
And you are false: you promis'd him
your love.
No other price a heart so hard could move.

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