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Even 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 lost Arpasia's wrongs stand bleeding fresh, Thy last recorded crime. But Heav'n has found thee; At length the tardy vengeance has o'erta'en thee. My weary soul shall bear a little longer The pain of life, to call for justice on thee: That once complete, sink to the peaceful grave, And lose the memory of my wrongs and thee.

Bqj. 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 otF this tame love, and hate thee.

Enter Moneses.

[Starting.] Ha! Keep thy temper, heart; nor take

alarm At a slave's presence.

Mon. It is Arpasia!—Leave me, thou cold fear. Sweet as the rosy morn she breaks upon me, And sorrow, like the night's unwholesome shade, Gives way before the golden dawn she brings.

Bqj. [Advancing towards hirn.] Ha, Christian! Is it well that we meet thus? Is this thy faith I

Mon. Why does thy frowning brow Put on this form of fury? Is it strange We should meet here, companions in misfortune, The captives in one common chance of war? Nor shouldst thou wonder that my sword has fail'd Before the fortune of victorious Tamerlane, When thou, with nations like the sanded shore, With half the warring world upon thy side,

Couldst not stand up against his dreadful battle.
That crush'd thee with its shock. Thy men can

Those cowards, that forsook me in the combat,
My sword was not unactive.

Baj. No—'tis false;
Where is my daughter, thou vile Greek? Thou hast
Betray'd her to the Tartar; or even worse,
Pale with thy fear, didst lose her like a coward;
And, like a coward now, would cast the blame
On fortune and ill stars. '•

Mon. Ha! saidst thou, like a coward?
What sanctity, what majesty divine,
Hast 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 power, 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 wort a king, thou wert no more, Nor greater than Moneses; born of a race Royal, and great as thine. What art thou now then t The 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! Now give a loose to rage, And curse thyself; curse thy false cheating prophet. Ha! yet there's some revenge. Hear me, thou christian! Thou left'st that sister with me:—Thou impostor 1 Thou boaster of thy honesty! Thou liar! But take her to thee back. Now to explore my prison—If it holds Another plague like this, the restless damn'd {If Mufties 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 horror As only fits thy telling.—Oh, Moneses!

Mon. By all the tenderness and chaste endearments Of our past love, I charge thee, my Arpasia, To ease my soul of doubts! Give me to know, At 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 left The sultan's camp, when the imperious tyrant, Soft'ning 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 (Though still in vain) the difference of our faiths. At last, as flying to the utmost refuge, With lifted hands and streaming eyes, I own'd The fraud; which, when we first were made his

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 vows,
Giv'n to a slave, shall bar me from thy beauties?
Then bade 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, though back'd by force and

power, He durst not, to my face, avow his purpose


But, in my absence, like a lurking thief,
Stole on my treasure, and at once undid me.

Arp. Had they not kept me from the means of
Forgetting all the rules of christian suffering,
I had done a desp'rate murder on my soul,
Ere 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 busy mind
Should muster such a train of monstrous images,
As would distract me. Oh, I cannot bear it!
Thou lovely hoard of sweets, where all my joys
Were 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
The spotless whiteness of my virgin soul?
Ah! no, Moneses—Think not I will ever
Bring 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.
Shortly, oh! very shortly, if my sorrows
Divine aright, and Heav'n be gracious to me,
Death shall dissolve the fatal obligation.
Yes, my Moneses! now the surges rise,
The swelling sea breaks in between our barks,
And drives us to our fate on different rocks.
Farewell!—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 comfort,

All that was left in life, fleets after thee!

[Exeunt, severally.



The Inside of the Royal Tent.

Enter Axalla and Selima.

Ax. Why was I ever blest!—Why is remembrance Rich with a thousand pleasing images Of past enjoyrrents, since 'tis but plague to me? When thou art mine no more, what will it ease me To think of all the golden minutes past, To think that thou wert kind, and I was happy? But like an angel fall'n from bliss, to curse My present state-, and mourn the heav'n I've lost.

Set. Hope better for us both; nor let thy fears, Like an unlucky omen, cross my way.

Ax. But see, the sultan comes!

Enter Bajazet. Baj. To have a nauseous courtesy forc'd on me, Spite of my will, by an insulting foe! Hit! they would break the fierceness of my temper,

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