To-morrow, from the ungrateful Parthian's side:
The leaders of the troops thro' which we pass,
Rais'd by my pow'r, devoted to my service,
Shall make our passage secret and secure.
Der. Already, mighty sultan, art thou safe,
Since, by yon passing torches' light, I guess,
To his pavilion Tamerlane retires,

Attended by a train of waiting courtiers.
All who remain within these tents are thine,
And hail thee as their lord.-

Ha! the Italian prince,

-

With sad Moneses, are not yet gone forth.
Baj. Ha! with our queen and daughter!
Omar. They are ours:

I mark'd the slaves, who waited on Axalla;
They, when the emperor pass'd out, prest on,
And mingled with the crowd, nor miss'd their lord:
He is your pris'ner, sir: I go this moment,

To seize, and bring him to receive his doom.

[Exit OMAR. Baj. Haste, Haly, follow, and secure the Greek: Him too I wish to keep within my power. [Exit HALY.

Der. If my dread lord permit his slave to speak,

I would advise to spare Axalla's life,

Till we are safe beyond the Parthian's pow'r:
Him, as our pledge of safety, may we hold;
And, could you gain him to assist your flight,
It might import you much.

Baj. Thou counsell'st well;

And tho' I hate him (for he is a Christian,
And to my mortal enemy devoted),

Yet, to secure my liberty and vengeance,

I wish he now were ours.

Der. And see, they come!

Fortune repents; again she courts your side,
And, with this first fair offering of success,
She wooes you to forget her crime of yesterday,

Enter OMAR, with AXALLA, FOUR MUTES; SELIMA following, weeping.

Ax. I will not call thee villain ; 'tis a name Too holy for thy crime: to break thy faith, And turn a rebel to so good a master, Is an ingratitude unmatch'd on earth. The first revolting angel's pride could only Do more than thou hast done. Thou copy'st well, And keep'st the black original in view.

Omar. Do rage, and vainly call upon thy master To save his minion. My revenge has caught thee, And I will make thee curse that fond presumption, That set thee on to rival me in aught.

Baj. Christian, I hold thy fate at my disposal!
One only way remains to mercy open;
Be partner of my flight and my revenge,
And thou art safe. Thy other choice is death.
Ar. Then briefly thus. Death is the choice I make;
Since, next to Heav'n, my master and my friend
Has interest in my life, and still shall claim it.
Baj. Then take thy wish-Call in our mutes!
Sel. My father,

If yet you have not sworn to cast me off,
And turn me out to wander in misfortune;
If yet my voice be gracious in your ears;
If yet my duty and my love offend not,
Oh, call your sentence back, and save Axalla!
Baj. Rise, Selima! The slave deserves to die,
Who durst, with sullen pride, refuse my mercy:
Yet, for thy sake, once more I offer life.

Sel. Some angel whisper to my anxious soul,
What I shall do to save him.

Oh, my Axalla! seem but to consent.

[Aside to AXALLA. Unkind and cruel, will you then do nothing?

I find I am not worth thy least of cares.

Ax. Oh, labour not to hang dishonour on me!

I could bear sickness, pain, and poverty,
Those mortal evils, worse than death, for thee.
But this-It has the force of fate against us,
And cannot be.

Sel. See, see, sir, he relents,

[TO BAJAZET. Already he inclines to own your cause.

A little longer, and he is all yours.

Baj. Then mark how far a father's fondness yields. Till midnight I defer the death he merits, And give him up till then to thy persuasion. If, by that time, he meets my will, he lives; If not, thyself shalt own he dies with justice. Ax. 'Tis but to lengthen life upon the rack: I am resolv'd already.

Sel. Oh, be still,

Nor rashly urge a ruin on us both!

"Tis but a moment more I have to save thee. Be kind, auspicious Alla, to my pray'r; More for my love, than for myself, I fear;

Neglect mankind a while, and make him all thy care! [Exeunt AXALLA and SELIMA.

Baj. Moneses, is that dog secur'd?

Omar. He is.

Baj. "Tis well-My soul perceives returning great

ness,

As nature feels the spring. Lightly she bounds,
And shakes dishonour, like a burden, from her;
Once more imperial, awful, and herself.

[Exeunt,

ACT THE FIFTH.

SCENE I.

BAJAZET'S Tent.

ARPASIA discovered.

Arp. Sure 'tis a horror, more than darkness brings, That sits upon the night!

Not long ago, a troop of ghastly slaves

Rush'd in, and forc'd Moneses from my sight;
Death hung so heavy on his drooping spirits,
That scarcely could he say-Farewell-for ever!
And yet, methinks, some gentle spirit whispers,
Thy peace draws near, Arpasia, sigh no more!
And see, the king of terrors is at hand;
His minister appears.

Enter BAJAZET and HALY.

Baj. [Aside to HALY.] The rest I leave
To thy dispatch. For, oh! my faithful Haly,
Another care has taken up thy master.

Spite of the high-wrought tempest in my soul,
Spite of the pangs which jealousy has cost me,
This haughty woman reigns within my breast.
Haly. Why wears my lord

An anxious thought for what his pow'r commands?
When, in an happy hour, you shall, ere long,
Have borne the empress from amidst your foes,
She must be yours, be only and all yours.

Baj. On that depends my fear. Yes, I must have

her;

I own,' I will not, cannot go without her.

Be near to wait my will.
[Exit HALY.
When last we parted, 'twas on angry terms;
Let the remembrance die, or kindly think,
That jealous rage is but a hasty flame,
That blazes out, when love too fiercely burns.
Arp. For thee to wrong me, and for me to suffer,
Is the hard lesson that my soul has learnt:
Nor is it worth my leisure to distinguish
If love or jealousy commit the violence;
Each have alike been fatal to my peace,
Confirming me a wretch, and thee a tyrant.

Baj. Still to deform thy gentle brow with frowns,
And still to be perverse, it is a manner
Abhorrent from the softness of thy sex:
Women, like summer storms, a while are cloudy,
Burst out in thunder, and impetuous show'rs;
But straight, the sun of beauty dawns abroad,
And all the fair horizon is serene.

Arp. Then, to retrieve the honour of my sex, Here I disclaim that changing and inconstancy : To thee I will be ever as I am.

Baj. Thou say'st I am a tyrant; think so still, And let it warn thy prudence to lay hold On the good hour of peace, that courts thee now. Souls, form'd like mine, brook being scorn'd but ill. Be well advis'd, and profit by my patience; It is a short-liv'd virtue.

Arp. Turn thy eyes

Back on the story of my woes, barbarian!
Thou, that hast violated all respects

Due to my sex, and honour of my birth.

Thou brutal ravisher!

Can I have peace with thee?

Impossible! First Heav'n and hell shall join ;
They only differ more.