John Dryden - Delphi Poets Series

by John Dryden

  Arim. My love must still he in obedience shown. [Exit Arim.

  Enter Melesinda, led by Solyman, who retires afterwards.

  Ind. When graceful sorrow in her pomp appears,

  Sure she is dressed in Melesinda’s tears.

  Your head reclined, (as hiding grief from view)

  Droops, like a rose, surcharged with morning dew.

  Mel. Can flowers but droop in absence of the sun,

  Which waked their sweets? And mine, alas! is gone.

  But you the noblest charity express:

  For they, who shine in courts, still shun distress.

  Ind. Distressed myself, like you, confined, I live:

  And, therefore, can compassion take and give.

  We’re both love’s captives, but with fate so cross,

  One must be happy by the other’s loss.

  Morat, or Aureng-Zebe, must fall this day.

  Mel. Too truly Tamerlane’s successors they;

  Each thinks a world too little for his sway.

  Could you and I the same pretences bring,

  Mankind should with more ease receive a king:

  I would to you the narrow world resign,

  And want no empire while Morat was mine.

  Ind. Wished freedom, I presage, you soon will find;

  If heaven be just, and be to virtue kind.

  Mel. Quite otherwise my mind foretels my fate:

  Short is my life, and that unfortunate.

  Yet should I not complain, would heaven afford

  Some little time, ere death, to see my lord.

  Ind. These thoughts are but your melancholy’s food;

  Raised from a lonely life, and dark abode:

  But whatsoe’er our jarring fortunes prove,

  Though our lords hate, methinks we two may love.

  Mel. Such be our loves as may not yield to fate;

  I bring a heart more true than fortunate.[Giving their hands.

  To them, Arimant.

  Arim. I come with haste surprising news to bring:

  In two hours time, since last I saw the king,

  The affairs of court have wholly changed their face:

  Unhappy Aureng-Zebe is in disgrace;

  And your Morat, proclaimed the successor,

  Is called, to awe the city with his power.

  Those trumpets his triumphant entry tell,

  And now the shouts waft near the citadel.

  Ind. See, madam, see the event by me foreshown:

  I envy not your chance, but grieve my own.

  Mel. A change so unexpected must surprise:

  And more, because I am unused to joys.

  Ind. May all your wishes ever prosperous be!

  But I’m too much concerned the event to see.

  My eyes too tender are,

  To view my lord become the public scorn. —

  I came to comfort, and I go to mourn.[Taking her leave.

  Mel. Stay, I’ll not see my lord,

  Before I give your sorrow some relief;

  And pay the charity you lent my grief.

  Here he shall see me first, with you confined;

  And, if your virtue fail to move his mind,

  I’ll use my interest that he may be kind.

  Fear not, I never moved him yet in vain.

  Ind. So fair a pleader any cause may gain.

  Mel. I have no taste, methinks, of coming joy;

  For black presages all my hopes destroy.

  “Die!” something whispers,— “Melesinda, die!

  Fulfil, fulfil, thy mournful destiny!” —

  Mine is a gleam of bliss, too hot to last;

  Watry it shines, and will be soon o’ercast. [Ind. and Mel. retire.

  Arim. Fortune seems weary grown of Aureng-Zebe,

  While to her new-made favourite Morat,

  Her lavish hand is wastefully profuse:

  With fame and flowing honours tided in,

  Borne on a swelling current smooth beneath him.

  The king, and haughty empress, to our wonder,

  If not atoned, yet seemingly at peace,

  As fate for him that miracle reserved.

  Enter, in triumph, Emperor, Morat, and Train.

  Emp. I have confessed I love.

  As I interpret fairly your design,

  So look not with severer eyes on mine.

  Your fate has called you to the imperial seat:

  In duty be, as you in arms are, great;

  For Aureng-Zebe a hated name is grown,

  And love less bears a rival than the throne.

  Mor. To me, the cries of fighting fields are charms:

  Keen be my sabre, and of proof my arms,

  I ask no other blessing of my stars:

  No prize but fame, nor mistress but the wars.

  I scarce am pleased I tamely mount the throne: —

  Would Aureng-Zebe had all their souls in one!

  With all my elder brothers I would fight,

  And so from partial nature force my right.

  Emp. Had we but lasting youth, and time to spare,

  Some might be thrown away on fame and war;

  But youth, the perishing good, runs on too fast,

  And, unenjoyed, will spend itself to waste;

  Few know the use of life before ’tis past.

  Had I once more thy vigour to command,

  I would not let it die upon my hand:

  No hour of pleasure should pass empty by;

  Youth should watch joys, and shoot them as they fly.

  Mor. Methinks, all pleasure is in greatness found.

  Kings, like heaven’s eye, should spread their beams around,

  Pleased to be seen, while glory’s race they run:

  Rest is not for the chariot of the sun.

  Subjects are stiff-necked animals; they soon

  Feel slackened reins, and pitch their rider down.

  Emp. To thee that drudgery of power I give:

  Cares be thy lot: Reign thou, and let me live.

  The fort I’ll keep for my security;

  Business and public state resign to thee.

  Mor. Luxurious kings are to their people lost:

  They live, like drones, upon the public cost.

  My arms from pole to pole the world shall shake,

  And, with myself, keep all mankind awake.

  Emp. Believe me, son, and needless trouble spare;

  ’Tis a base world, and is not worth our care:

  The vulgar, a scarce animated clod,

  Ne’er pleased with aught above them, prince or God.

  Were I a God, the drunken globe should roll,

  The little emmetts with the human soul

  Care for themselves, while at my ease I sat,

  And second causes did the work of fate;

  Or, if I would take care, that care should be

  For wit that scorned the world, and lived like me.

  To them, Nourmahal, Zayda, and Attendants.

  Nour. My dear Morat,[Embracing her son.

  This day propitious to us all has been:

  You’re now a monarch’s heir, and I a queen.

  Your faithful father now may quit the state,

  And find the ease he sought, indulged by fate.

  Cares shall not keep him on the throne awake,

  Nor break the golden slumbers he would take.

  Emp. In vain I struggled to the gaol of life,

  While rebel-sons, and an imperious wife,

  Still dragged me backward into noise and strife.

  Mor. Be that remembrance lost; and be it my pride

  To be your pledge of peace on either side.

  To them, Aureng-Zebe.

  Aur. With all the assurance innocence can bring,

  Fearless without, because secure within,

  Armed with my courage, unconcerned I see

  This pomp; a shame to you, a pride to me.

  Shame is but where with wickedness ’tis joined;
<
br />   And, while no baseness in this breast I find,

  I have not lost the birth-right of my mind.

  Emp. Children, the blind effect of love and chance,

  Formed by their sportive parents’ ignorance,

  Bear from their birth the impressions of a slave;

  Whom heaven for play-games first, and then for service gave:

  One then may be displaced, and one may reign,

  And want of merit render birth-right vain.

  Mor. Comes he to upbraid us with his innocence?

  Seize him, and take the preaching Brachman hence.

  Aur. Stay, sir! — I from my years no merit plead: [To his Father.

  All my designs and acts to duty lead.

  Your life and glory are my only end;

  And for that prize I with Morat contend.

  Mor. Not him alone: I all mankind defy.

  Who dares adventure more for both than I?

  Aur. I know you brave, and take you at your word:

  That present service, which you vaunt, afford.

  Our two rebellious brothers are not dead:

  Though vanquished, yet again they gather head.

  I dare you, as your rival in renown,

  March out your army from the imperial town:

  Chuse whom you please, the other leave to me;

  And set our father absolutely free.

  This, if you do, to end all future strife,

  I am content to lead a private life;

  Disband my army, to secure the state,

  Nor aim at more, but leave the rest to fate.

  Mor. I’ll do it. — Draw out my army on the plain!

  War is to me a pastime, peace a pain.

  Emp. Think better first. — [To Mor.

  You see yourself enclosed beyond escape,[To Aur.

  And, therefore, Proteus-like, you change your shape;

  Of promise prodigal, while power you want,

  And preaching in the self-denying cant.

  Mor. Plot better; for these arts too obvious are,

  Of gaming time, the master-piece of war.

  Is Aureng-Zebe so known?

  Aur. If acts like mine,

  So far from interest, profit, or design,

  Can show my heart, by those I would be known:

  I wish you could as well defend your own.

  My absent army for my father fought:

  Yours, in these walls, is to enslave him brought.

  If I come singly, you an armed guest,

  The world with ease may judge whose cause is best.

  Mor. My father saw you ill designs pursue;

  And my admission showed his fear of you.

  Aur. Himself best knows why he his love withdraws:

  I owe him more than to declare the cause.

  But still I press, our duty may be shown

  By arms.

  Mor. I’ll vanquish all his foes alone.

  Aur. You speak, as if you could the fates command,

  And had no need of any other hand.

  But, since my honour you so far suspect,

  ’Tis just I should on your designs reflect.

  To prove yourself a loyal son, declare

  You’ll lay down arms when you conclude the war.

  Mor. No present answer your demand requires;

  The war once done, I’ll do what heaven inspires;

  And while this sword this monarchy secures,

  ’Tis managed by an abler arm than yours.

  Emp. Morat’s design a doubtful meaning bears:[Aside.

  In Aureng-Zebe true loyalty appears.

  He, for my safety, does his own despise;

  Still, with his wrongs, I find his duty rise.

  I feel my virtue struggling in my soul,

  But stronger passion does its power controul. —

  Yet be advised your ruin to prevent:[To Aur. aside.

  You might be safe, if you would give consent.

  Aur. So to your welfare I of use may be,

  My life or death are equal both to me.

  Emp. The people’s hearts are yours; the fort yet mine:

  Be wise, and Indamora’s love resign.

  I am observed: Remember, that I give

  This my last proof of kindness — die, or live.

  Aur. Life, with my Indamora, I would chuse;

  But, losing her, the end of living lose.

  I had considered all I ought before;

  And fear of death can make me change no more.

  The people’s love so little I esteem,

  Condemned by you, I would not live by them.

  May he, who must your favour now possess,

  Much better serve you, and not love you less.

  Emp. I’ve heard you; and, to finish the debate,[Aloud.

  Commit that rebel prisoner to the state.

  Mor. The deadly draught he shall begin this day:

  And languish with insensible decay.

  Aur. I hate the lingering summons to attend;

  Death all at once would be the nobler end.

  Fate is unkind! methinks, a general

  Should warm, and at the head of armies fall;

  And my ambition did that hope pursue,

  That so I might have died in fight for you.[To his Father.

  Mor. Would I had been disposer of thy stars!

  Thou shouldst have had thy wish, and died in wars.

  ’Tis I, not thou, have reason to repine,

  That thou shouldst fall by any hand, but mine.

  Aur. When thou wert formed, heaven did a man begin;

  But the brute soul, by chance, was shuffled in.

  In woods and wilds thy monarchy maintain,

  Where valiant beasts, by force and rapine, reign.

  In life’s next scene, if transmigration be,

  Some bear, or lion, is reserved for thee.

  Mor. Take heed thou com’st not in that lion’s way!

  I prophecy, thou wilt thy soul convey

  Into a lamb, and be again my prey. —

  Hence with that dreaming priest!

  Nour. Let me prepare

  The poisonous draught: His death shall be my care.

  Near my apartment let him prisoner be,

  That I his hourly ebbs of life may see.

  Aur. My life I would not ransom with a prayer:

  ’Tis vile, since ’tis not worth my father’s care.

  I go not, sir, indebted to my grave:

  You paid yourself, and took the life you gave.[Exit.

  Emp. O that I had more sense of virtue left,[Aside.

  Or were of that, which yet remains, bereft!

  I’ve just enough to know how I offend,

  And, to my shame, have not enough to mend.

  Lead to the mosque. —

  Mor. Love’s pleasures, why should dull devotion stay?

  Heaven to my Melesinda’s but the way. [Exeunt Emperor, Morat, and train.

  Zayd. Sure Aureng-Zebe has somewhat of divine,

  Whose virtue through so dark a cloud can shine.

  Fortune has from Morat this day removed

  The greatest rival, and the best beloved.

  Nour. He is not yet removed.

  Zayd. He lives, ’tis true;

  But soon must die, and, what I mourn, by you.

  Nour. My Zayda, may thy words prophetic be! [Embracing her eagerly.

  I take the omen; let him die by me!

  He, stifled in my arms, shall lose his breath;

  And life itself shall envious be of death.

  Zayd. Bless me, you powers above!

  Nour. Why dost thou start?

  Is love so strange? Or have not I a heart?

  Could Aureng-Zebe so lovely seem to thee,

  And I want eyes that noble worth to see?

  Thy little soul was but to wonder moved:

  My sense of it was higher, and I loved.

  That man, that god-like man, so brave, so great —

  But these
are thy small praises I repeat.

  I’m carried by a tide of love away:

  He’s somewhat more than I myself can say,

  Zayd. Though all the ideas you can form be true,

  He must not, cannot, be possessed by you.

  If contradicting interests could be mixt,

  Nature herself has cast a bar betwixt;

  And, ere you reach to this incestuous love,

  You must divine and human rights remove.

  Nour. Count this among the wonders love has done:

  I had forgot he was my husband’s son.

  Zayd. Nay, more, you have forgot who is your own:

  For whom your care so long designed the throne.

  Morat must fall, if Aureng-Zebe should rise.

  Nour. ’Tis true; but who was e’er in love, and wise?

  Why was that fatal knot of marriage tied,

  Which did, by making us too near, divide?

  Divides me from my sex! for heaven, I find,

  Excludes but me alone of womankind.

  I stand with guilt confounded, lost with shame,

  And yet made wretched only by a name.

  If names have such command on human life,

  Love sure’s a name that’s more divine than wife.

  That sovereign power all guilt from action takes,

  At least the stains are beautiful it makes.

  Zayd. The incroaching ill you early should oppose:

  Flattered, ’tis worse, and by indulgence grows.

  Nour. Alas! and what have I not said or done?

  I fought it to the last, — and love has won.

  A bloody conquest, which destruction brought,

  And ruined all the country where he fought.

  Whether this passion from above was sent,

  The fate of him heaven favours to prevent;

  Or as the curse of fortune in excess,

  That, stretching, would beyond its reach possess;

  And, with a taste which plenty does deprave,

  Loaths lawful good, and lawless ill does crave —

  Zayd. But yet, consider —

  Nour. No, ’tis loss of time:

  Think how to further, not divert my crime.

  My artful engines instantly I’ll move,

  And chuse the soft and gentlest hour of love.

  The under-provost of the fort is mine. —

  But see, Morat! I’ll whisper my design.

  Enter Morat with Arimant, as talking: Attendants.

  Arim. And for that cause was not in public seen,

  But stays in prison with the captive queen.

  Mor. Let my attendants wait; I’ll be alone:

  Where least of state, there most of love is shewn.

  Nour. My son, your business is not hard to guess; [To Morat.

  Long absence makes you eager to possess:

  I will not importune you by my stay;

  She merits all the love which you can pay.[Exit with Zayda.