RIZIA: EMPRESS OF INDE
[A DRAMATIC POEM.]
ACT I
Scene I
Delhi. A Chamber in the Imperial Palace.
Altunia, Kabirc.
Altunia. O 'tis a shame past utterance! tell me not—
I'd rather that yon vile idolator
Trod on my father's grave—aye, built upon it
His idol'd shrine for damned rites obscure!
What—must a loathsome wretch—a cursed slave
Clasp in his foul embrace the Queen, who sits
Upon the mighty throne of boundless Inde,
To revel in harlot riots—
Kabirc. Nay—gently, friend!
For these be words e'en Echo must not hear
To blab with that controlless tongue of hers. I
too have heard it darkly whisper'd round
That our Abassan friend—but such a tale,
So wild, so strange, so passing strange, Altunia!
Dost think 'tis true?
Altuna. 'Tis true, by Heaven, 'tis true!
I tell thee, Kabirc! Come with me to-night
To the royal banquet, and if there thine eyes
Read not this tale of shame in every page,
Writ as with burning characters of fire,
A chapter'd infamy and commentaried
By every look and word—
Call me a fool,
A faithless, an accursed Nazarene!
Yea—an idolater who blindly kneels
To things of wood and stone—a pagan dog!
O why doth Hell delay to ope her Jaws
And swallow this broad Land—
Kabirc. Nay, gently, friend!
Perchance it hath no such keen appetites
but tell me first if this thy tale be true.
