Tamerlane (Rowe)/Act 2 Sc 2
SCENE II. The Inside of a Magnificent Tent.
Symphony of Warlike Musick.
Enter Tamerlane, Axalla, Prince of Tanais, Zama,Mirvan, Soldiers, and other Attendants.
Ax.From this Auspicious Day the Parthian NameShall date its birth of Empire, and extendEven from the dawning East to utmost ThuléThe Limits of its Sway:
Pr. of T.Nations unknown,Where yet the Roman Eagles never flewShall pay their Homage to Victorious Tamerlane,Bend to his Valour, and Superior Virtue,And own, that Conquest is not giv'n by Chance,But, (bound by fatal and resistless Merit)Waits on his Arms.
Tam.It is too much, you dress meLike an Usurper in the borrow'd AttributesOf Injur'd Heav'n: Can we call Conquest ours?Shall Man this Pigmy with a Gyant's PrideVaunt of himself, and say, Thus have I done this?Oh! vain Pretence to Greatness! Like the Moon,We borrow all the brightness, which we boast,Dark in our selves, and useless. If that HandThat rules the fate of Battles strike for us,Crown us with Fame, and gild our Clay with Honour;'Twere most ungrateful to disown the Benefit,And arrogate a Praise which is not ours.
Ax.With such unshaken Temper of the SoulTo bear the swelling Tide of prosp'rous Fortune,Is to deserve that Fortune: In Adversity The Mind grows tough by buffeting the Tempest;Which, in Success dissolving, sinks to Ease,And loses all her Firmness.
Tam.Oh! Axalla!Could I forget I am a Man, as thou art,Would not the Winter's Cold, or Summer's Heat,Sickness, or Thirst, and Hunger, all the TrainOf Nature's clamorous Appetites (assertingAn equal Right in Kings, and common Men)Reprove me daily?———No——— If I boast of ought,Be it, to have been Heaven's happy Instrument,The means of Good to all my Fellow-Creatures;This is a King's best Praise.
Enter Omar.
[Bowing to Tamerlane.Om.Honour and FameFor ever wait the Emperor; may our ProphetGive him ten thousand thousand Days of Life,And every Day like this. The Captive SultanFierce in his Bonds, and at his Fate repining,Attends your Sacred Will.
Tam.Let him approach.
Enter Bajazet and other Turkish Prisoners in Chains, witha Guard of Soldiers.
When I survey the Ruins of this Field,The wild Destruction, which thy fierce AmbitionHas dealt among Mankind, (so many Widdows,And helpless Orphans has thy Battle made,That half our Eastern World this Day are Mourners)Well may I in behalf of Heav'n and EarthDemand from thee Atonement for this wrong.
Baj.Make thy Demand to those that own thy Power,Knew I am still beyond it; and tho' Fortune(Curse on that Changeling Deity of Fools!)Has stript me of the Train, and Pomp of Greatness,That Out-side of a King, yet still my Soul, Fixt high, and of it self alone dependant,Is ever free, and royal, and ev'n now,As at the head of Battle does defy thee:I know what Pow'r the Chance of War has giv'n,And dare thee to the use on't. This vile Speeching,This after game of Words is what most irks me;Spare that, and for the rest 'tis equall all———Be it as it may.
Tam.Well was it for the World,When on their Borders Neighbouring Princes met,Frequent in friendly Parle, by cool Debates,Preventing wastful War; such should our MeetingHave been; had'st thou but held in just regardThe Sanctity of Leagues so often sworn to.Can'st thou believe thy Prophet (or what's more,That Pow'r Supream, which made Thee, and thy Prophet)Will, with Impunity, let pass that breachOf sacred Faith given to the Royal Greek?
Baj.Thou pedant Talker! ha! art thou a KingPossest of Sacred Power Heav'n's darling Attribute,And dost thou prate of Leagues, and Oaths, and Prophets?I hate the Greek (Perdition on his Name!)As I do thee, and would have met you both(As Death does human Nature) for destruction.
Tam.Causeless to hate is not of human kind;The savage Brute, that haunts in Woods remote,And Desart-wilds, tears not the fearful Traveller,If Hunger, or some Injury provoke not.
Baj.Can a King want a Cause when Empire bidsGo on? what is he born for but Ambition?It is his Hunger, 'tis his Call of Nature,The noble Appetite which will be satisfi'd,And like the Food of Gods, makes him immortal.
Tam.Henceforth I will not wonder, we were Foes,Since Souls that differ so, by Nature hate,And strong Antipathy forbids their Union.
Baj.The noble Fire that warms me does indeedTranscend thy Coldness, I am pleas'd we differ,Nor think, alike.
Tam.No———for I think like Man,Thou like a Monster; from whose baleful PresenceNature starts back; and tho she fix'd her StampOn thy rough Mass, and mark'd thee for a Man,Now conscious of her Error, she disclaims thee,As form'd for her Destruction.———'Tis true, I am a King, as thou hast been:Honour, and Glory too have been my Aim;But tho I dare face Death, and all the Dangers,Which furious War wears in its bloody Front,Yet would I chuse to fix my Fame by Peace,By Justice, and by Mercy; and to raiseMy Trophies on the Blessings of Mankind;Nor would I buy the Empire of the WorldWith ruin of the People whom I sway,Or forfeit of my Honour.
Baj.Prophet, I thank thee.———Damnation!—Could'st thou rob me of my Glory,To dress up this tame King, this preaching Dervise?Unfit for War, thou should'st have liv'd secureIn lazy Peace, and with debating SenatesShar'd a precarious Scepter, sate tamely still,And let bold Factions canton out thy Power,And wrangle for the Spoils they robb'd thee of;Whilst I (curse on the Power that stops my Ardour!)Would, like a Tempest, rush amidst the Nations,Be greatly terrible, and deal, like Alba,My angry Thunder on the frighted World.
Tam.The World!———'twould be too little for thy Pride:Thou would'st scale Heav'n.———
Baj.I would:———Away: my SoulDisdains thy Conference.
Tam.Thou vain, rash Thing,That, with gigantick Insolence, hast dar'dTo lift thy wretched self above the Stars,And mate with Pow'r Almighty: Thou art fallen!———
Baj.'Tis false! I am not fall'n from ought I have been;At least my Soul resolves to keep her State, And scorns to take acquaintance with ill Fortune.
Tam.Almost beneath my Pity art thou fallen;Since, while th' avenging Hand of Heav'n is on thee,And presses to the Dust thy swelling Sou!,Fool-hardy, with the stronger thou contendest;To what vast heights had thy tumultuous TemperBeen hurry'd, if Success had crown'd thy Wishes?Say, What had I to expect, if thou had'st conquer'd?
Baj.Oh, Glorious Thought! By Heav'n! I will enjoy it,Tho' but in Fancy; Imagination shallMake room to entertain the vast Idea.Oh! had I been the Master but of Yesterday,The World, the World had felt me; and for thee,I had us'd thee, as thou art to me,———a Dog,The Object of my Scorn, and mortal Hatred:I would have taught thy Neck to know my weight,And mounted from that Footstool to my Saddle:Then, when thy daily servile Task was done,I would have caged thee, for the Scorn of Slaves,Till thou hadst begg'd to die; and ev'n that MercyI had deny'd Thee: Now thou know'st my Mind,And question me no farther.
Tam.Well dost thou teach meWhat Justice should exact from thee: MankindWith one consent cry out for Vengeance on thee;Loudly they call, to cut off this League-breaker,This wild Destroyer, from the Face of Earth.
Baj.Do it, and rid thy shaking Soul at onceOf its worst Fear.
Tam.Why slept the Thunder,That should have arm'd thy Idol Deity,And given thee Power, e're yester Sun was set,To shake the Soul of Tamerlane: Hadst thou an ArmTo make thee fear'd, thou should'st have prov'd it on me,Amidst the Sweat and Blood of yonder Field,When, thro' the Tumult of the War, I sought thee,Fenc'd in with Nations.
Baj.Curse upon the Stars,That fated us to different Scenes of Slaughter!Oh! could my Sword have met thee!———
Tam.Thou hadst then,As now, been in my Power, and held thy LifeDependant on my Gift.———Yes Bajazet,I bid thee, Live.———So much my Soul disdains,That thou should'st think, I can fear ought but Heav'n:Nay more; could'st thou forget thy brutal fierceness,And form thy self to Manhood, I would bid thee,Live, and be still a King, that thou may'st learnWhat Man should be to Man, in War remembringThe Common Tye, and Brotherhood of Kind.This Royal Tent, with such of thy Domesticks,As can be found, shall wait upon thy Service;Nor will I use my Fortune, to demandHard Terms of Peace, but such as thou may'st offerWith Honour, I with Honour may receive*,[*Tamerlane sings to an Officer, who unbinds Bajazet.
Baj.Ha! say'st thou'—no!———our Prophets Vengeance blast me,If thou shalt buy my Friendship with thy Empire.Damnation on thee! thou smooth, fawning Talker!Give me again my Chains, that I may curse thee,And gratifie my Rage: Or, if thou wilt,Be a vain Fool, and play with thy Perdition,Remember I'm thy Foe, and hate thee deadly.Thy Folly on thy Head!
Tam.Be still my Foe;Great Minds (like Heav'n) are pleas'd in doing good,Tho' the ungrateful Subjects of their FavoursAre barren in return: Thy stubborn PrideThat spurns the gentle Office of Humanity,Shall, in my Honour own, and thy despite,I have done, as I ought. Vertue still doesWith Scorn, the Mercenary World regard,Where abject Souls do good, and hope Reward: Above the worthless Trophies Men can raise,She seeks not Honours, Wealth, nor airy Praise,But with her self, Her self, the Goddess pays.[Exeunt Tamerlane, Axalla, Prince of Tanais,
Mirvan, Zama, and Attendants.
Mirvan, Zama, and Attendants.
Manent Bajazet, Omar, Guards.
Baj.Come, lead me to my Dungeon; plunge me down,Deep from the hated Sight of Man, and Day,Where (under Covert of the friendly Darkness)My Soul may brood, at leisure, o'er its Anguish.
Om.Our Royal Master would, with noble Usage,Make your Misfortunes light, he bids you hope.———
Baj. I tell thee, Slave, I have shook hands with Hope,And all my Thoughts are Rage, Despair, and Horror,
Enter Haly, Arpasia, and Women Attendants.
Ha! wherefore am I thus?———Perdition seize me!But my cold Blood runs shiv'ring to my Heart,As at some Fantom, that in dead of Night,With dreadful Action stalks around our Beds.The Rage, and fiercer Passions of my BreastAre lost in new Confusion.—Arpasia!—Haly!
Ha.Oh, Emperor! for whose hard Fate, our Prophet,And all the Heroes of thy Sacred RaceAre sad in Paradise, thy faithful Haly(The Slave of all thy Pleasures) in this RuinThis universal Shipwrack of thy FortunesHas gather'd up this Treasure for thy Arms:Nor ev'n the Victor, haughty Tamerlane,(By whose Command, once more, thy Slave beholds thee)Denies this Blessing to thee, but with HonourRenders thee back thy Queen, thy beauteous Bride.
Baj.Oh! had her Eyes, with pity, seen my Sorrow's,Had she the Softness of a tender Bride,Heav'n could not have bestow'd a greater Blessing, And Love had made amends for loss of Empire.But see, what Fury dwells upon her Charms!What Lightning flashes from her angry Eyes!With a malignant Joy she views my Ruin:Ev'n Beauteous in her Hatred, still she charms me,And awes my fierce tumultuous Soul to Love.
Arp.And dar'st thou hope, thou Tyrant! Ravisher!That Heav'n has any Joy in store for thee?Look back upon the Sum of thy past Life,Where Tyranny, Oppression, and Injustice,Perjury, Murders, swell the black Account,Where lost Arpasia's Wrongs stand bleeding fresh,Thy last recorded Crime; but Heav'n has found thee,At length the tardy Vengeance has o'ertane thee.My weary Soul shall bear a little longerThe pain of Life, to call for Justice on thee,That once compleat, sink to the peaceful Grave,And lose the memory of my Wrongs and thee.
Baj.Thou rail'st! I thank thee for it.———Be perverse,And muster all the Woman in thy Soul;Goad me with Curses, be a very Wife,That I may fling off this tame Love, and hate thee.
Enter Moneses.
Bajazet starting.] Ha!—Keep thy temper Heart; nor take alarmAt a Slave's Presence.
Mon.It is Arpasia!—Leave me, thou cold fear.Sweet as the rosie Morn she breaks upon me,And Sorrow, like the Night's unwholsome Shade,Gives way before the Golden Dawn she brings.
Baj.[Advancing towards him. Ha, Christian! Is it well that we meet thus?Is this thy Faith?
Mon.Why does thy frowning BrowPut on this Form of Fury? Is it strangeWe should meet here Companions in Misfortune,The Captives of one common Chance of War?Nor should'st thou wonder, that my Sword has fail'd Before the Fortune of victorious Tamerlane,When thou with Nations like the sanded ShoreWith half the warring World upon thy side,Could'st not stand up against his dreadful Battle,That crush'd thee with its Shock. Thy Men can witness,Those Cowards, that forsook me in the CombatMy Sword was not unactive.
Baj.No,———'tis false.Where is my Daughter, thou vile Greek? Thou hastBetray'd her to the Tartar; or even worse,Pale with thy Fears, didst lose her like a Coward;And like a Coward now, would'st cast the blameOn Fortune, and ill Stars.
Mon.Ha! said'st thou like a Coward?What Sanctity, what Majesty DivineHast thou put on, to guard thee from my Rage?That thus thou dar'st to wrong me.
Baj.Out, thou Slave,And know me for thy Lord———
Mon.I tell thee, Tyrant,When in the Pride of Pow'r thou sat'st on high,When like an Idol thou wert vainly worshipp'd,By prostrate Wretches, born with slavish Souls:Ev'n when thou wert a King, thou wert not more,Nor greater than Moneses; born of a RaceRoyal, and Great as thine: What art thou now thenThe Fate of War has set thee with the Lowest;And Captives (like the Subjects of the Grave)Losing distinction, serve one common Lord.
Baj.Brav'd by this Dog! how give a loose to Rage,And curse thy self, curse thy false, cheating Prophet.Ha! Yet there's some Revenge. Hear me, thou Christian;Thou left'ft that Sister with me;—Thou Impostor!Thou Boaster of thy Honesty! Thou, Lyar!But take her to thee back.Now to explore my Prison.———If it holdsAnother Plague like this, the restless Damn'd(Is Musty's lie not) wander thus in Hell? From scorching Flames to chilling Frosts they run,Then from their Frosts to Fires return again,And only prove variety of Pain.[Exeunt Bajazet and Haly.
Arp.Stay, Bajazet, I charge thee by my Wrongs!Stay, and unfold a Tale of so much Horrour,As only fits thy telling.—Oh, Moneses!
Mon.Why dost thou weep? why tempestuous Passion,That stops thy falt'ring Tongue short on my Name?Oh, speak! unveil this Mystery of Sorrow,And draw the dismal Scene, at once, to sight.
Arp.Thou art undone, lost, ruin'd, and undone.
Mon.I will not think 'tis so, while I have thee,While thus 'tis giv'n to fold thee in my Arms;For while I sigh upon thy panting Bosom,The sad remembrance of past Woes is lost.
Arp.Forbear to sooth thy Soul with flatt'ring ThoughtsOf Evils overpast, and Joys to come:Our Woes are like the genuine Shade beneath,Where Fate cuts off the very hopes of Day,And everlasting Night and Horror reign.
Mon.By all Tenderness, and chaste EndearmentsOf our past Love, I charge thee, my Arpasia,To case my soul of Doubts; give me to knowAt once the utmost Malice of my Fate.
Arp.Take then thy wretched Share in all I suffer,Still Partner of my Heart, Scarce hadst thou leftThe Sultan's Camp, when the imperious Tyrant,Softning the Pride and fierceness of his Temper,With gentle Speech made offer of his Love.Amaz'd, as at the shock of sudden Death,I started into Tears, and often urg'd(Tho still in vain) the difference of our Faiths:At last, as flying to the utmost Refuge,With lifted Hands, and streaming Eyes, I own'dThe Fraud; which when we first were made his Pris'ners,Conscious of my unhappy Form, and fearingFor thy dear Life, I forc'd thee to put on, Thy borrow'd Name of Brother, mine of Sister;Hiding beneath that Veil the nearer tie,Our mutual Vows had made before the Priest;Kindling to Rage at hearing of my Story,Then be it so, he cry'd. Think'st thou thy VowsGiv'n to a Slave shall barr me from thy Beauties?Then bad the Priest pronounce the Marriage Rites,Which he perform'd, whilst shrieking with Despair,I call'd in vain the Pow'rs of Heav'n to aid me.
Mon.Villain! Imperial Villain!———Oh, the Coward!Aw'd by his Guilt, tho' back'd by Force and Power,He durst not to my Face avow his Purpose;But in my absence like a lurking ThiefStole on my Treasure, and at once undid me.
Arp.Had they not kept me from the means of Death,(Forgetting all the Rules of Christian Suffering)I had done a desperate Murder on my Soul,E're the rude Slaves, that waited on his Will,Had forc'd me to his.———
Mon.Stop thee there, Arpasia,And bar my Fancy from the guilty Scene;Let not Thought enter, lest the busie MindShould muster such a train of monstrous Images,As wou'd distract me. Oh! I cannot bear it.Thou lovely Hoard of Sweets, where all my JoysWere treasur'd up, to have thee rifled thus!Thus torn untasted from my eager Wishes!But I will have thee from him. Tamerlane(The Sovereign Judge of Equity on Earth)Shall do me Justice on this mighty Robber,And render back thy Beauties to Moneses.
Arp.And who shall render back my Peace, my Honour,The spotless Whiteness of my Virgin Soul?Ah! no, Moneses———think not I will everBring a polluted Love to thy chaste Arms:I am the Tyrant's Wife. Oh, fatal Title!And, in the sight of all the Saints, have sworn,By Honour, Womanhood, and blushing Shame, To know no second Bride-bed, but my Grave.
Mon.I swear, it must not be, since still my EyeFinds thee as heavenly white, as Angel pure,As in the earliest hours of Life, thou wert,Nor art thou his, but mine; thy first Vows mine,Thy Soul is mine,———
Arp.Oh! think not, that the PowerOf most persuasive Eloquence can make meForget, I have been another's, been his Wife;Now by my Blushes! by the strong Confusion,And Anguish of my Heart! spare me Moneses,Nor urge my trembling Virtue to the Precipice.Shortly, (oh! very shortly) if my SorrowsDivine aright, and Heav'n be gracious to me,Death shall dissolve the fatal Obligation,And give me up to Peace, to that blest PlaceWhere the Good rest from Care and anxious Life.
Mon.Oh! teach me, thou fair Saint, like thee to suffer,Teach me, with hardy Piety, to combatThe present Ills, instruct my Eyes to passThe narrow bounds of Life, this Land of Sorrow,And with bold Hopes, to view the Realms beyond,Those distant Beauties of the future State.Tell me Arpasia, ——— say, what Joys are those,That wait to crown the Wretch who suffers here:Oh! tell me, and sustain my failing Faith.
Arp.Imagine somewhat exquisitly fine,Which Fancy cannot paint, which the pleas'd MindCan barely know, unable to describe it;Imagine, 'tis a Tract of endless Joys,Without Satiety, or Interruption;Imagine, 'tis to meet, and part no more.
Mon.Grant, gentle Heaven, that such may be our Lot!Let us be be blest together,——— Oh! my Soul!Build on that hope, and let it arm thy Courage,To struggle with the Storm, that parts us now.
Arp.Yes! my Moneses, now the Surges rise,The swelling Sea breaks in between our Barks, And drives us to our Fate on different Rocks,Farewel!——— my Soul lives with thee.———
Mon.Death is parting,'Tis the last sad adieu 'twixt Soul and Body,But this is somewhat worse ——— my Joy, my ComfortAll that was left in life fleets after thee.My aking Sight hangs on thy parting Beauties,Thy lovely Eyes all drown'd in Floods of Sorrow!So sinks the setting Sun beneath the Waves,And leaves the Traveller in pathless Woods,Benighted and forlorn,——— Thus with sad EyesWestward he turns, to mark the Light's decayTill having lost the last faint Glimpse of Day,Chearless, in darkness, he pursues his way.[Exeunt Moneses, and Arpasia severally.
End of the second Act.