The Ambitious Step-mother/Act 5 Scene 1
ACT V.
SCENE I. Mirza's Palace.
Enter Mirza, Magas, and Attendants with lights.
Mirz.Pho! You or'e rate the Danger.
Mag.If I doWe err in the Extreams, since you Esteem itAs much too lightly; think you then 'tis nothingThis horrid jar of Tumult and Confusion?Heads white with Years, and vers'd in long Experience,Who yet remember all the different ChangesA Rolling Age produces, cannot callTo mind one instance dreadful as this Night.Infernal Discord hideous to behold,Hangs like it's evil Genius o're the City,And lend's a Snake to every vulgar Breast.From several Quarters the mad Rabble swarmArm'd with the Instruments of hasty Rage,And in Confus'd disorderly ArrayMost formidable March; their differing Clamour's,Together join'd Compose one deafning sound;Arm! Arm! they Cry, Religion is no more,Our God's are slighted, whom if we revenge notWar Pestilence and Famine will ensue,And Universal ruin swallows all.
Mirz.A Crew of mean unthinking heartless Slaves,With ease stirr'd up to Mutiny and quell'dWith the same ease, with like Expressions shewTheir Joy or Anger both are noise and tumult.And still when Holidays make Labour cease,They meet and Shout; do these deserve our Fears?
Mag.Most certainly they may; if we consider Each Circumstance of Peril that Concurrs;Tigranes with the rest that scap'd the Temple,Are mixt amongst this Herd, and urge the WrongsWhich with the God's their Prince and Memnon suffer.
Mirz.Nor need we fear ev'n that, safe in the AidAnd Number of our Friends, who treble theirs,For this mad Rout that hum and swarm togetherFor want of somewhat to Employ their Folly;Indulge 'em in their fancy for Religion.Thou and thy Holy Brotherhood of Priests,Shall in Procession bear the sacred Fire,And all our Golden God's; Let their Friends JudgeIf still they look not kindly as of Old;'Tis a most apt Amusement for a Crowd,They'll gaze, and gather round the gaudy Shew,And quite forget the thoughts of Mutiny;A Guard shall wait you.
Mag.Why go not you too with us?They hold your Wisdom in most high regard,And will be greatly sway'd by your persuasion,Th' occasion is well worth your Care and Presence.
Mirz.O! you'll not need my Aid: Besides, my Friend,My Hours this Night are destin'd to a TaskOf more import, than are the Fates of MillionsSuch groveling Souls as theirs. As yet the secretIs Immature nor worth your present knowledge;To Morrow that and all my Breast is yours.[AsideI must not, dare not trust him with my weakness,'Twill mark me for his scorn, 'tis yet some WisdomIf we must needs be fools to hide our folly.
[AsideMag.He means the Pris'ners death, let him engrossThe Peoples hate, Monopolize Damnation,I will be safely Ignorant of MischiefHereafter when your Wisdom shall think fitTo share those thoughts, and trust 'em with your Friend,I shall be pleas'd to know; This instant Hour,My Cares are all employ'd on my own Province,Which hast's me hence.
Exeunt.Mirz.May all your God's assist you.