Tamerlane (Rowe)/Act 1 Sc 1
TAMERLANE
ACT I. SCENE I.
SCENE before Tamerlane's Tent.
Enter the Prince of Tanais, Zama, and Mirvan.
Pr. of T.Hail to the Sun! from whose returning LightThe chearful Soldiers Arms new Lustre take,To deck the Pomp of Battle; Oh, my Friends!Was ever such a glorious Face of War?See, from this height! how all Galatia's PlainsWith Nations numberless are cover'd o'er;Who, like a Deluge, hide the face of Earth,And leave no Object, in the vast Horizon,But glitt'ring Arms, and Skies.
Zam.Our Asian WorldFrom this important Day expects a Lord,This Day they hope an End of all their Woes,Of Tyranny, of Bondage, and Oppression,From our Victorious Emp'ror, Tamerlane.
Mir.Well has our holy Alha mark'd him outThe Scourge of lawless Pride, and dire Ambition,The great Avenger of the groaning World.Well has he worn the Sacred Cause of Justice Upon his prosp'rous Sword; approving Heav'nStill crown'd the righteous Warrior with Success;As if it said, Go forth, and be my Champion,Thou most like me of all my Works below.
Pr.No Lust of Rule, (the common Vice of Kings)No furious Zeal inspir'd by hot-brain'd Priests,I hid beneath Religion's Specious Name,E'er drew his temperate Courage to the Field:But to redress an Injur'd People's Wrongs,To save the weak one from the strong Oppressor,Is all his End of War; and when he drawsthe sword to punish, like relenting Heav'n,He seems unwilling to deface his Kind.
Mir.So rich his Soul in every virtuous Grace,That, had not Nature made him great by Birth,Yet all the Brave had sought him for their Friend:The Christian Prince Axalla nicely bredIn polish'd Arts of Europæan Courts,For him forsakes his Native Italy,And lives a happy Exile in his Service.
Pr.Pleas'd with the gentle Manners of that Prince,Our mighty Lord is lavish to his Friendship;Tho' Omar, and the Tartar Lords repine,And loudly tax their Monarch, as too partial.
Zam.'E'er the mid Hour of Night, from Tent to Tent,Unweary'd, thro' the num'rous Host he past,Viewing with careful Eyes each several Quarter;Whilst from his Looks, as from Divinity,The Soldier took Presage; and cry'd, Lead on,Great Alha, and our Emperor, Lead onTo Victory, and Everlasting fame.
Mir.Hear you of Bajazet?
Pr.Late in the EveningA Slave, of near Attendance on his Person,'Scap'd to our Camp: from him we learn'd, the TyrantWith Rage redoubled, for the Fight prepares;Some accidental Passion fires his Breast,(Love, as 'tis thought, for a fair Grecian Captive) And adds new Horror to his native Fury;For five returning Suns, scarce was he seenBy any the most favour'd of his Court;But in lascivious Ease, amongst his Women,Liv'd from the War retir'd; or else, aloneIn sullen mood sate meditating Plagues,And Ruin to the World, till yester Morn,Like Fire that lab'ring upwards rends the Earth,He burst with Fury from his Tent, CommandingAll should be ready for the Fight, this Day.
Zam.I know his Temper well, since, in his CourtCompanion of the brave Axalla's Embassy,I oft observ'd him, Proud, Impatient,Of Ought Superiour, ev'n of Heav'n, that made him.Fond of false Glory, of the Savage Pow'rOf ruling without Reason, of confoundingJust, and Unjust, by an Unbounded Will;By whom Religion, Honour, all the Bands,That ought to hold the jarring World in Peace,Were held the Tricks of State, Snares of wise PrincesTo draw their Easy Neighbours to destruction.
Mir.Thrice, by our Law and Prophet, has he sworn,By the World's Lord, and Maker, lasting PeaceWith our great Master, and his Royal FriendThe Grecian Emperor; as oft regardlessOf plighted Faith, with most Un-Kingly Baseness,H'has ta'en the Advantage of their absent Arms.Without a War proclaim'd, or Cause pretended,To wast with Sword and Fire their fruitful Fields:Like some accursed Fiend, who, 'scapt from Hell,Poisons the balmy Air thro' which he flies,He blasts the bearded Corn, and loaded Branches,The lab'ring Hind's best hopes, and marks his way with ruine.
Pr.But see! his Fate, the mighty TamerlaneComes like the Proxy of inquring Heav'n,To Judge, and to redress.
Flourish of Trumpets.
Enter Tamerlane, Guards, and other Attendants.
Tam.Yet, yet a little, and destructive SlaughterShall rage around, and marr this beauteous Prospect;Pass but an Hour, which stands betwixt the LivesOf Thousands and Eternity: What ChangeShall hasty Death make in yon glitt'ring Plain?Oh thou fell Monster War! that in a momentLay'st wast the noblest part of the Creation,The Boast, and Masterpiece of the Great Maker,That wears in vain th' Impression of his Image,Unpriviledg'd from thee.Health to my Friends, and to our Arms Success [To the Prince, Zama, and Mirvan.Such as the Cause for which we fight deserves.
Pr.Nor can we ask beyond what Heav'n bestows,Preventing still our Wishes. See Great Sir!The Universal Joy, your Soldier wearsOmen of prosp'rous BattleImpatient of the tedious Night in ArmsWatchful they stood expecting opening Day;And now are hardly by their Leaders heldFrom darting on the Foe; like a hot Courser,That bounding paws the mould'ring Soil, disdainingThe Rein that checks him, eager for the Race.
Tam.Yes, Prince, I mean to give a loose to War:This Morn, Axalla, with my Parthian HorseArrives to join me, He, who like a StormSwept with his flying Squadrons all the PlainBetween Angoria's Walls, and yon tall Mountains,That seem to reach the Clouds; and now he comesLoaden with Spoils, and Conquest, to my aid.
Zam.These Trumpets speak his Presence———
Flourish of Trumpets.
Enter Axalla with Soldiers. Moneses, Stratocles, andSelima, Prisoners.
Axalla kneels to Tamerlane.
Tam.Welcome! thou worthy Partner of my Lawrels,Thou Brother of my Choice, a Band more SacredThan Nature's brittle Tye. By holy Friendship!Glory, and Fame stood still for thy arrival,My Soul seem'd wanting in its better half,And languish'd for thy absence, like a Prophet,That waits the Inspiration of his God.
Ax.My Emperor! my ever Royal Master!To whom my Secret Soul more lowly bends,Than Forms of outward Worship can express;How poorly does your Soldier pay this Goodness,Who wears his every hour of Life out for you?Yet 'tis his All, and what he has he offers;Nor now disdain, t' accept the Gift he brings,This Earnest of your Fortune. See My LordThe noblest Prize, that ever grac'd my Arms;Approach my Fair———
Tam.This is indeed to Conquer,And well to be rewarded for thy Conquest;The bloom of opening Flow'rs, Unsully'd Beauty,Softness, and sweetest Innocence she wears,And looks like Nature in the World's first Spring;But say, Axalla———
Sel.Most renoun'd in War, [Kneeling to Tam.Look with Compassion on a captive Maid,Tho' born of hostile Blood; nor let my BirthDeriv'd from Bajazet, prevent that Mercy,Which every Subject of your Fortune finds;War is the Province of Ambitious Man,Who tears the miserable World for Empire; Whilst our weak Sex, incapable of wrong,On either side claims Priviledge of Safety.
Tam. [Raising her.] Rise, Royal Maid, the Pride of haughty Power,Pays Homage, not receives it from the Fair:Thy angry Father fiercely calls me forth,And urges me unwillingly to arm;Yet, tho' our frowning Battles menace DearthAnd mortal Conflict, think not that we holdThy Innocence and Vertue as our Foe.Here, 'till the Fate of Asia is decided,In safety stay. To Morrow is your own:Nor grieve for who may conquer, or who lose;Fortune on either side shall wait thy Wishes.
Sel.Where shall my Wonder and my Praise begin!From the successful Labours of thy Arms?Or from a Theme more soft, and full of Peace,Thy Mercy, and thy Gentleness? Oh! Tamerlane!What can I pay thee for this noble UsageBut grateful Praise? So Heav'n it self is paid.Give Peace, ye Pow'rs above, Peace to Mankind;Nor Let my Father wage unequal War,Against the force of such united Vertues.
Tam.Heaven hear thy pious Wish!—But since our ProspectLocks darkly on Futurity, till FateDetermine for us, let thy Beauty's SafetyBe my Axalla's Care; in whose glad EyesI read what Joy the pleasing Service gives him.Is there amongst thy other Pris'ners ought [To Axalla.Worthy our Knowledge?
Ax.This brave Man, my Lord, [Pointing to Moneses.With long Resistance held the Combat doubtful: His Party, prest with Numbers, soon grew faint,And would have left their Charge an easie Prey;Whilst he alone, undaunted at the odds,Tho' hopeless to escape, fought well and firmly:Nor yielded, till o'er-match'd by many Hands,He seem'd to shame our Conquest, whilst he own'd it.
Tam.Thou speak'st him as a Soldier should a Soldier,Just to the worth he finds. I would not war [To Moneses.With ought that wears thy vertuous Stamp of Greatness:Thy Habit speaks thee Christian———Nay, yet more,My Soul seems pleas'd to take acquaintance with thee,As if ally'd to thine: Perhaps 'tis SympathyOf honest Minds; Like Strings wound up in Musick,Where by one touch, both utter the same Harmony:Why art thou then a Friend to Bajazet?And why my Enemy?
Mor.If Humane WisdomCould point out every Action of our Lives,And say, Let it be thus, in spite of Fate, Or partial Fortune, then I had not beenThe Wretch I am.
Tam.The Brave meet every AccidentWith equal Minds: Think nobler of thy Foes,Than to account thy Chance in War an Evil.
Mon.Far, far from that; I rather hold it grievousThat I was forc'd ev'n but to seem your Enemy;Nor think the baseness of a vanquish'd SlaveMoves me to flatter for precarious Life,Or ill-bought Freedom, when I swear by Heav'n!Were I to chuse from all Mankind a Master,It should be Tamerlane.
Tam.A noble FreedomDwells with the Brave, unknown to fawning Sycophants,And Claims a Priviledge of being believ'd.I take thy Praise as earnest of thy Friendship.
Mon.Still you prevent the Homage I should offer,O Royal Sir! let my Misfortunes plead,And wipe away the hostile Mark I wore.———I was, when not long since my Fortune hail'd me,Bless'd to my wish, I was the Prince Moneses;Born and bred up to Greatness: Witness the BloodWhich thro' successive Hero's Veins ally'dTo our Greek Emperors, roll'd down to me,Feeds the bright Flame of Glory in my Heart.
Tam.Ev'n that! that Princely Tye should bind thee to me,If Vertue were not more than all Alliance.
Mon.I have a Sister, (Oh severe Remembrance!)Our noble Houses, nay, her Sexe's Pride:Nor think my Tongue too lavish, if I speak herFair as the Fame of Vertue, and yet chasteAs its cold Precepts, wise beyond her SexAnd blooming Youth, soft as forgiving Mercy,Yet greatly brave, and jealous for her Honour:Such as she was, to say I barely lov'd her,Is poor to my Soul's meaning: From our InfancyThere grew a mutual Tenderness between us,Till not long since her Vows were kindly plightedTo a young Lord, the Equal of her Birth.The happy Day was fix'd, and now approaching,When faithless Bajazet (upon whose Honour,In solemn Treaty giv'n, the Greeks depended)With sudden War broke in upon the Country,Secure of Peace, and for Defence unready.
Tam.Let Majesty no more be held Divine,Since Kings, who are call'd Gods, profane themselves.
Mon.Among the Wretches, whom that Deluge sweptAway to Slavery, my self and SisterThen passing near the Frontiers to the Court,(Which waited for her Nuptials) were surpriz'd,And made the Captives of the Tyrant's Power.Soon as we reach'd his Court, we found our UsageBeyond what we expected, fair, and noble:Twas then the Storm of your victorious ArmsLook'd black, and seem'd to threaten, when he press'd me(By oft repeated instances) to drawMy Sword for him? But when he found my SoulDisdain'd his Purpose, he more fiercely told me,That my Arpasia, my lov'd Sister's FateDepended on my Courage shewn for him.I had long learnt to hold my self at nothing,But for her sake; to ward the blow from her,I bound my Service to the Man I hated. Six Days are past, since by the Sultan's OrderI left the Pledge of my return behind,And went to guard this Princess to his Camp:The rest the brave Axalla's Fortune tells you.
Tam.Wisely the Tyrant strove, to prop his CauseBy leaguing with thy Vertue; but just Heav'nHas torn thee from his Side, and left him nakedTo the avenging Bolt that drives upon him:Forget the Name of Captive, and I wishI could as well restore that Fair One's Freedom,Whose loss hangs heavy on thee: Yet e're NightPerhaps we may deserve thy Friendship nobler;Th' approaching Storm may cast thy Shipwreck'd WealthBack to thy Arms: Till that be past, since War(Tho' in the justest Cause) is ever doubtful,I will not ask thy Sword to aid my Victory,Lest it should hurt that Hostage of thy ValourOur common Foe detains.
Mon.Let BajazetBend to his Yoak repining Slaves by force,You, Sir, have found a nobler way to Empire,Lord of the willing World.
Tam.Oh, my Axalla!Thou hast a tender Soul, apt for Compassion,And art thy self a Lover and a Friend:Does not this Prince's Fortune move thy Temper?
Ax.Yes, Sir, I mourn the brave Moneses Fate;The Merit of his Vertue hardly match'dWith disadvent'rous Chance: Yet, Prince, allow me,Allow me from the Experience of a LoverTo say, one Person, whom your Story mention'd,(If he survive) is far beyond you wretched:You nam'd the Bridegroom of your beauteous Sister.
Mon.I did: Oh, most accurst!
Ax.Think what he feels,Dasht in the fierceness of his Expectation;Then, when the approaching Minute of possessionHad wound Imagination to the heighth, Think if he lives!———
Mon.He lives, he does; 'tis true,He lives; but how? To be a Dog, and dead,Were Paradise to such a State as his:He holds down Life as Children do a Potion,With strong reluctance, and convulsive Strugglings,Whilst his Misfortunes press him to disgorge it.
Tam.Spare the remembrance; 'tis a useless Grief,And adds to the Misfortune by repeating it.The Revolution of a Day may bringSuch Turns, as Heav'n it self could scarce have promis'd;Far, far beyond thy Wish: Let that Hope chear thee;Haste my Axalla, to dispose, with safety,Thy beauteous Charge, and on the Foe revengeThe Pain, which Absence gives; thy other care,Honour and Arms, now summon thy Attendance;Now, do thy Office well, my Soul, rememberThy Cause; the Cause of Heaven and injur'd Earth.O thou Supream! if thy great Spirit warmsMy glowing Breast, and sires my Soul to arms,Grant that my Sword, assisted by thy Pow'r,This Day may Peace and Happiness restore,That War and lawless Rage may vex thy World no more,[Exeunt Tamerlane, Moneses, Stratocles, Prince of
Tanais, Zama, Mirvan, and Attendants.
Tanais, Zama, Mirvan, and Attendants.
Manent Axalla, and Selima, with Soldiers.
Ax.The Battle calls, and bids me haste to leave thee.Oh! Selima!—But let Destruction wait.Are there not Hours enough for Blood and Slaughter?This Moment shall be Love's; and I will waste itIn soft Complainings, for thy Sighs and Coldness,For thy forgetful Coldness; even at Birza,When in thy Father's Court my Eyes first own'd thee,Fairer than Light, the Joy of their beholding,Ev'n then thou wert not thus.
Sel.Art not thou chang'd? Christian Axalla, Art thou still the same?Those were the gentle Hours of Peace, and thouThe World's good Angel, that didst kindly joynIts mighty Masters in harmonious Friendship:But since those Joys, that once were ours, are lost,Forbear to mention 'em, and talk of War:Talk of thy Conquest, and my Chains, Axalla.
Ax.Yet I will listen fair unkind Upbraider,Yet I will listen to thy charming Accents,Altho' they make me curse my Fame and Fortune,My Lawrel-wreaths, and all the glorious Trophies,For which the valiant bleed.———Oh! thou unjust one,Dost thou then envy me this small returnMy niggard Fate has made for all the Mournings,For all the Pains, for all the sleepless NightsThat cruel Absence brings?
Sel.Away, Deceiver;I will not hear thy soothing: Is it thusThat Christian Lovers prove the Faith they swear?Are War and Slavery the soft EndearmentsWith which they court the Beauty's they admire?'Twas well my Heart was cautious of believingThy Vows, and thy protesting. Know, my Conqueror,Thy Sword has vanquish'd but the half of Selima,Her Soul disdains thy Victory.
Ax.Hear, sweet Heav'n,Hear the fair Tyrant, how she wrests Love's Laws,As she had vow'd my Ruin! What is Conquest?What Joy have I from that but to behold thee,To kneel before thee, and with lifted EyesTo view thee, as Devotion does a Saint,With awful, trembling Pleasure: Then to swearThou art the Queen and Mistress of my Soul:Has not ev'n Tamerlane (whose Word, next Heav'n's,Makes Fate at second hand) bid thee disclaimThy Fears? And dost thou call thy self a Slave?Only to try how far the sad ImpressionCan sink into Axalla.
Sel.Oh. Axalla!Ought I to hear you?
Ax.Come back, ye Hours,And tell my Selima what she has done:Bring back the time, when to her Father's CourtI came Ambassador of Peace from Tamerlane;When hid by conscious Darkness and Disguise,I past the Dangers of the watchful Guards;Bold as the Youth who nightly swam the Hellespont:Then, then she was not worn the Foe of Love;When, as my Soul confest its Flame, and su'dIn moving Sounds for Pity, she frown'd rarely,But, blushing, heard me tell the gentle Tale:Nay, ev'n confest, and told me softly sighingShe thought there was no guilt in Love like mine.
Sel.Young and unskilful in the World's false Arts,I suffer'd Love to steal upon my Softness,And warm me with a lambent guiltless Flame:Yes, I have heard thee swear a thousand times,And call the conscious Pow'rs of Heav'n to witnessThe tend'rest, truest, everlasting Passion:But, Oh! 'tis past; and I will charge RemembranceTo banish the fond image from my Soul:Since thou art sworn the Foe of Royal Bajazet,I have resolv'd to hate thee
Ax.Is it possible!Hate is not in thy Nature; thy whole FrameIs Harmony, without one jarring Atom.Why do'st thou force thy Eyes to wear this Coldness?It damps the Springs of Life. Oh! bid me die,Much rather bid me die, if it be true,That thou haft sworn to hate me.———
Sel.Let Life and DeathWait the Decision of the bloody Field;Nor can thy Fate (my Conqueror) dependUpon a Woman's Hate. Yet since you urgeA Power, which once perhaps I had, there isBut one Request, that I can make with Honour.
Ax.Oh! name it! say!———
Sel.Forego your right of War,And render me this instant to my Father.
Ax.Impossible!———The Tumult of the Battle,That hastes to join, cuts off all means of CommerceBetwixt the Armies.
Sel.Swear then to perform it,Which way soe'er the chance of War determines,On my first instance.
Ax.By the sacred MajestyOf Heav'n, to whom we kneel, I will obey thee;Yes, I will give thee this severest ProofOf my Soul's vow'd Devotion, I will part with thee(Thou Cruel, to command it!) I will part with thee,As Wretches, that are doubtful of Hereafter,Part with their Lives, unwilling, loth, and fearful,And trembling at Futurity. But is there nothing,No small return that Honour can affordFor all this waste of Love?
Sel.The Gifts of CaptivesWear somewhat of constraint; and generous MindsDisdain to give, where freedom of the ChoiceDoes but seem wanting.
Ax.What! not one kind Look? [* Trumpets.Then thou art chang'd indeed. * Hark! I am summon'd,And thou wilt send me forth like one unbless'd;Whom Fortune has forsaken, and ill FateMarkt for Destruction. Thy surprising ColdnessHangs on my Soul, and weighs my Courage down;And the first feeble Blow I meet shall raze meFrom all remembrance: Nor is Life or FameWorthy my Care, since I am lost to thee. [Going.
Sel.Ha! Goest thou to the Fight?———
Ax.I do.———Farewel!———
Sel.What! and no more! A Sigh heaves in my Breast,And stops the struggling Accents on my Tongue,Else, sure, I should have added something more,And made our parting softer.
Ax.Give it way,The niggard Honour, that affords not Love,Forbids not Pity———
Sel.Fate perhaps has setThis Day, the Period of thy Life, and Conquests,And I shall see thee born at Evening back,A breathless Coarse;———Oh! Can I think on thatAnd hide my Sorrows?—No—they will have way,And all the Vital Air, that Life draws in,Is render'd back in Sighs.
Ax.The murmuring Gale revives the drooping Flame,That at thy Coldness languish'd in my Breast;So breath the gentle Zephyrs on the Spring,And waken every Plant, and od'rous Flower,Which Winter Frosts had blasted, to new life.
Sel.To see thee for this moment, and no more———Oh! help me to resolve against this Tenderness,That charms my fierce Resentments, and presents theeNot as thou art, mine, and my Father's Foe,But as thou wert, when first thy moving AccentsWon me to hear; when, as I listn'd to thee,The happy Hours past by us unperceiv'd,So was my Soul fix'd to the soft Enchantment.
Ax.Let me be still the same, I am, I must be.If it were possible my Heart could stray,One Look from thee would call it back again,And fix the Wanderer for ever thine.
Sel.Where is my boasted Resolution now?[Sinking into his Arms.Oh! Yes! Thou art the same; my Heart joins with thee,And to betray me will believe thee still:It dances to the Sounds that mov'd it first,And owns at once the weakness of my Soul:So when some skilful Artist strikes the Strings,The magick numbers rouse our sleeping Passions,And force us to confess our Grief, and Pleasure.Alas! Axalla, say———dost thou not pityMy artless Innocence, and easy Fondness? Oh! turn thee from me, or I die with blushing.
Ax.No— let me rather gaze, for ever gaze,And bless the new-born Glories that adorn thee;From every Blush, that kindles in thy Cheeks,Ten thousand little Loves, and Graces spring,To revel in the Roses.———'two'not be, [Trumpets.This envious Trumpet calls, and tears me from thee———
Sel.My Fears increase, and doubly press me now.I charge thee, if thy Sword comes cross my Father,Stop for a moment, and remember me.
Ax.Oh! doubt not, but his Life shall be my care,Even dearer, than my own———
Sel.Guard that, (for me) too.
Ax.Oh! Selima! thou hast restor'd my Quiet,The noble ardour of the War, with LoveReturning brightly, burns within my Breast,And bids me be secure of all hereafter.So chears some pious Saint a dying Sinner,(Who trembled at the thought of Pains to come)With Heav'ns Forgiveness, and the hopes of Mercy:At length the Tumult of his Soul appeas'd,And every Doubt, and anxious Scruple eas'd,Boldly he proves the dark, uncertain Road,The Peace, his holy Comforter bestow'd,Guides, and protects him, like a Guardian God.[Exit Axalla.
Manent Selima, and Guards.
Sel.In vain all Arts a Love-sick Virgin tries,Affects to frown, and seem severely wise,In hopes to cheat the wary Lover's Eyes.If the dear Youth her Pity strives to move,And pleads, with Tenderness, the cause of Love;Nature asserts her Empire in her Heart,And kindly takes the faithful Lover's part. By Love her self, and Nature thus betray'd,No more she trusts in Pride's fantastick Aid,But bids her Eyes confess the yielding Maid.[Exit Selima, Guards following.
End of the First Act.