ZAIRE.
83
Stabbed cruelly, yet for complaint too proud,
For poor pretence too generous, too great,
I come to tell you that a cold disdain
Will be of your caprice the fit award.
Attempt not to deceive my tenderness,
To seek for arguments whose glozing art,
Veiling repugnance with illusive tints,
Might lure a lover back who still were blind;
Who in his dread of shame would fain refuse
To know the cause that bids you outrage him.
Lady, 'tis past: another shall ascend
The throne my love has deigned to offer you;
Another will have eyes, and know, at least,
What value on my heart and hand to set.
Fixed my resolve, though it may cost me dear.
Know Orosman is capable of all;
Rather, far rather, would I lose you now
And die afar, distracted with the loss,
Than hold you mine, if to your wavering faith
It costs one sigh that is not breathed for me.
Go—never more will I behold your charms.
For poor pretence too generous, too great,
I come to tell you that a cold disdain
Will be of your caprice the fit award.
Attempt not to deceive my tenderness,
To seek for arguments whose glozing art,
Veiling repugnance with illusive tints,
Might lure a lover back who still were blind;
Who in his dread of shame would fain refuse
To know the cause that bids you outrage him.
Lady, 'tis past: another shall ascend
The throne my love has deigned to offer you;
Another will have eyes, and know, at least,
What value on my heart and hand to set.
Fixed my resolve, though it may cost me dear.
Know Orosman is capable of all;
Rather, far rather, would I lose you now
And die afar, distracted with the loss,
Than hold you mine, if to your wavering faith
It costs one sigh that is not breathed for me.
Go—never more will I behold your charms.
'Zaire.
"O God, who seest my tears, Thou hast reft all;
Thou only wouldst possess my wildered soul!
Well, since 'tis true I am no longer loved,
My lord—
Thou only wouldst possess my wildered soul!
Well, since 'tis true I am no longer loved,
My lord—
"Orosman.
"It is too true, as honour bids,
That I adored, that I abandon you,
That I renounce you, that you so desire,
That other laws presiding… Zaire, you weep?"
That I adored, that I abandon you,
That I renounce you, that you so desire,
That other laws presiding… Zaire, you weep?"
"Zaire, you weep?" seems to have been the great point of the play. "These words," says Voltaire, "make a grand effect on our stage."
