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Thou nam'st a man beyond a monk's discerning,
Virtuous and great, a warrior and a prince.
Der. He is a Christian; there our law condemns
him,
Altho'he were ev'n all thou speak'st, and more.
Tam. 'Tis false; no law divine condemns the vir-
tuous,
For differing from the rules your schools devise.
Look round, how Providence bestows alike
Sunshine and rain, to bless the fruitful year,
On different nations, all of diffrent faiths;
And (tho' by several names and titles worship'd)
Heav'n takes the various tribute of their praise;
Since all agree to own, at least to mean,
One best, one greatest, only Lord of all.
Der. Why hold'st thou captive a believing mo-
narch?
Now, as thou hop'st to 'scape the prophet's curse,
Release the royal Bajazet, and join,
With force united, to destroy the Christians.

Tam. Tis well—I've found the cause that mov'd
thy zeal.
What shallow politician set thee on,
In hopes to fright me this way to compliance?
Hence! I have found thee.

Dei: I have but one resort. Now aid me, prophet.

[Aside. Yet I have somewhat further to unfold;

Our prophet speaks to thee in thunder—thus

[The Debvise draws a concealed Dagger, and offers to stab Tamerlane. Tam. No, villain, Heav'n is watchful o'er its worshippers, [Wresting the Dagger from him. And blasts \he murderer's purpose. Think, thou

wretch! Think on the pains that wait thy crime, and tremble

When I shall doom thee

Der, 'Tis but death at last;

And I will suffer greatly for the cause
That urg'd me first to the bold deed.

Tarn. Oh impious!
Enthusiasm thus makes villains martyrs.
[Pausing.] It shall be so—To die! 'iwerea reward-^
Now learn the difference'twixt thy faith and mine:
Thine bids thee lift thy dagger to my throat;
Mine can forgive the wrong, and bid thee live. i

Keep thy own wicked secret, and be safe!
If thou repent'st, I have gain'd one to virtue,
And am, in that rewarded for my mercy;
If thou continu'st still to be the same,
'Tis punishment enough to be a villain.
Hence! from my sight—It shocks my soul to think
That there is such a monster in my kind,

[Exit Deevise.

Enter Moneses.

Mon. Oh, emperor! before whose awful throne Th' afflicted never kneel in vain for justice,

[Kneeling to Tamerlane.
Here let me fall before your sacred feet,
And groan out my misfortunes, till your pity,
(The last support and refuge that is left me)
Shall raise me from the ground, and bid me live.

Tarn. Rise, prince,
Speak, as to a king, the sacred name
Where pow'r is lodg'd, for righteous ends alone.

Mon. One only joy, one blessing, my fond heart
Had fix'd its wishes on, and that is lost;
That sister, for whose safety my sad soul
Endur'd a thousand fears

Tarn. I well remember, When, ere the battle join'd, I saw thee first, With grief uncommon to a brother's love, Thou told'st a moving tale of her misfortunes, Such as bespoke my pity. Is there aught Thou canst demand from friendship? Ask, and have it. Mon. First, oh! let me entreat your royal goodness; Forgive the folly of a lover's caution, That forg'd a tale of folly to deceive you. Said I, she was my sister?—Oh! 'lis false; She holds a dearer interest in my soul, She was the mistress of my vows, my bride; By contract mine; and long ere this the priest Had ty'd the knot for ever, had not Bajazet——

Tarn. Ha! Bajazet!—If yet his pow'r withholds The cause of all thy sorrows, all thy fears, E'en gratitude for once shall gain upon him, Spite of his savage temper, to restore her. This morn' a soldier brought a captive beauty, Sad, tho'she seem'd, yet of a form more rare, By much the noblest spoil of all the field; Struck with a pleasing wonder, I beheld her, Till, by a slave that waited near her person, 1 learn'd she was the captive sultan's wife: Straight I forbid my eyes the dangerous joy Of gazing long, and sent her to her lord.

Mon. There was Moneses lost. Too sure my heart (From the first mention of her wondrous charms) Presag'd it could be only my Arpasia.

Tarn. Arpasia! didst thou say?

Mon. Yes, my Arpasia.

Tarn. Sure I mistake, or fain I would mistake thee; I nam'd the queen of Bajazet, his wife.

Mon. His queen! his wife! He brings that holy title To varnish o'er the monstrous wrongs he has done me.

Tarn. Alas! I fear me, prince, thy griefs are just; Thou art, indeed, unhappy

Mon. Can you pity me, And not redress? Oh, royal Tamerlane! [Kneeling. Thou succour of the wretched, Let thy justice Restore me my Arpasia;

Tam. Unhappy, royal youth, why dost thou ask'
What honour must deny? Ha! is she not
His wife, whom he has wedded, whom enjoy'd?
Could thy fond love forget
The violation of a first enjoyment ?——
But sorrow has disturb'd and hurt thy mind.

Man. Perhaps it has, and like an idle madman,
I do a thousand things to shame my reason.
Then let me fly, and bear my follies with me,
Far, far from the world's sight.

Tam. Let thy virtue
Stand up and answer to these warring passions,
That vex thy manly temper. From the moment
When first I saw thee, something wondrous noble
Shone thro' thy form, and won my friendship for thee,
Without the tedious form of long acquaintance;
Nor will I lose thee poorly for a woman.
Come, droop no more, thou shalt with me pursue
True greatness, till we rise to immortality.
Thou shalt forget these lesser cares, Monescs;
Thou shalt, and help me to reform the world.

Mon. Sacred Tamerlane,
Thy words are as the breath of angels to me.
But, oh! too deep the wounding grief is fixt,
For any hand to heal.

Tam. This dull despair
Is the soul's laziness. Rouse to the combat,
And thou art sure to conquer. War shall restore

thee;
The sound of arms shall wake thy martial ardour,
And cure this amorous sickness of thy soul,
The boy, fond love,

Is nurs'd and bred in sloth, and too much ease;
Near purling streams, in gloomy shapes, he lie»,
And loosely there, instructs his votaries,
Honour, and active virtue to despise.

But if the trumpets echo from afar,

On silken winds sublime he cuts the air,

Scar'd at the noise and clangour of the war. [Exeunt.

ACT THE FOURTH.

SCENE I.

Bajazet's Tent.

Enter Haly and the Dervise.

JIaly. To 'scape with life from an attempt like this, Demands my wonder justly.

Der. True, it may;
But 'tis a principle of his new faith;
'Tis what his Christian favourites have inspir'd,
Who fondly make a merit of forgiveness,
And give their foes a second opportunity,
If the first blow should miss.—Failing to serve
The sultan to my wish, and e'en despairing
Of further means t' effect his liberty,
A lucky accident retriev'd my hopes.

Haly. The prophet and our master will reward
Thy zeal in their behalf; but speak thy purpose.

Der. Just ent'ring here I met the Tartar general, Fierce Omar.

Haly. He commands, if I mistake not, This quarter of the army, and our guards? E

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