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I fear thou wilt: indeed I have done that,
I could have wish'd t' avoid but for a cause
So lovely, so belovM
End. What dost thou mean? I'll not indulge a thought that thou couldst do One act unworthy of thyself, thy honour, And that firm zeal against these foes of Heaven: Thou couldst not save thy life, by means inglorious. Pho. Alas, thou know'st me not—I'm man, frail man, To error born ; and who, that's man, is perfect. To save my life ! O no, well was it risk'd For thee ! had it been lost, 'twere not too much, And thou art safe:—O what wouldst thou have
said, If I had risk'd my soul to saveEudocia! Eud. Ha! speak—Oh no, be dumb—it cannot be! And yet thy looks are chang'd, thy lips grow pale.
Why dost thou shake? Alas! I tremble too!
Thou couldst not, hast not sworn to Mahomet?
cause, These batter'd walls were rocks impregnable, Their towers of adamant. But, O, I fear
Some act of thine
Pho. No more—I'll tell thee all; I found the wakeful foe in midnight council, Resolv'd ere day to make a fresh attack, Keen for revenge, and hungry after slaughter— Could my rack'd soul bear that, and think of thee i
Nay, think of thee expos'd a helpless prey
Pho. No, the sword,
Eud. Safe! free! O no life, freedom, every
'Tis thou hast blasted all my joys for ever,
Pho. Cruel Eudocia!
A while from what I was dost tkou reject me?
Think of the cause
Eud. The cause! there is no cause— Not universal nature could afford A cause for this. What were dominion, pomp, The wealth of nations, nay, of all the world, If weigh'd with faith unspotted, heavenly truth, Thoughts free from guilt, the empire of the mind, And all the triumpthof a godlike breast, Firm aHd unmov'd in the great cause of virtue?
Pho. No more thou waken'st in my tortur'd
heart The cruel, conscious, worm, that stings to madness! Oh, I'm undone! I know it, and can bear To be' undone for thee, but not to lose thee.
Eud. Poor wretch !—I pity thee !—but art thou
Will I be made the curst reward of treason,
Pho. What league ?—'tis ended—I renounce it—
I bend to Heaven and thee O thou divine,
Thou matchless image of all perfect goodness!
Eud. No —we must part.
Then do not think
Thy loss in me is worth one drooping tear:
Farewell for still I cannot speak that word,
These tears speak for me—O farewell [Exit.
Pho. [Racing.] For ever! Return, return and speak it; say, for ever 1 She's gone—and now she joins the fugitives. O hear, all gracious Heaven ! wilt thou at once Forgive, and, O, inspire me to some act This day, that may in part redeem what's past '. Prosper this day, or let it be my last. [Exit. ACT THE FIFTH.
An open place in the City.
Enter Caled and Daran meeting.
Caled. Soldier, what news? thou look'st as thou wert angry.
Dor. And,durst I say it, so, my chief, lam;
Cal. No, say on.
Dar. Is this, my leader,
Cal. The vale of palms!
Dar. Beyond those hills, the place Where they agreed this day to meet and halt, To gather all their forces; there disguis'd, Just now I'veview'd their camp—O, I could curse My eyes for what they've seen.
Cal. What hast thou seen?
Dar. Why, all Damascus :—All its souls, its life, Its heart blood, all its treasure, piles of plate, Crosses enrich'd with gems, arras and silks,
And vests of gold, unfolded to the sun,
Dar. Tis true.
Cal. So forward too ! Curse on this foolish treaty!
Dar. Forward it looks as if they had been fore
warn'd. By Mahomet, the land wears not the face Of war, but trade ! and thou wouldst swear its merchants Were sending forth their loaded caravans To all the neighb'ring countries.
Cal. Dogs ! infidels ! 'tis more than was allow'd!
Dar. And shall we not pursue them—Robbers! thieves! That steal away themselves, and all they're worth, And wrong the valiant soldier of his due?
Cal. [Aside.] The caliph shall know this—he shall. Abudah, This is thy coward bargain—I renounce it, Daran, we'll stop their march, and search.
Dar. And strip—
Cal. And kill. v
Dar. That's well. And yet I fear Abudah's christian friend
Cal. If possible,
Dar. I knew my general would not suffer this,