by John Dryden
This cup a cure for both our ills has brought;
You need not fear a philtre in the draught.
Aur. All must be poison which can come from thee; [Receiving it from her.
But this the least. To immortal liberty
This first I pour, like dying Socrates; [Spilling a little of it.
Grim though he be, death pleases, when he frees.
As he is going to drink, Enter Morat attended.
Mor. Make not such haste, you must my leisure stay;
Your fate’s deferred, you shall not die to-day. [Taking the cup from him.
Nour. What foolish pity has possessed your mind,
To alter what your prudence once designed?
Mor. What if I please to lengthen out his date
A day, and take a pride to cozen fate?
Nour. ‘Twill not be safe to let him live an hour.
Mor. I’ll do’t, to show my arbitrary power.
Nour. Fortune may take him from your hands again,
And you repent the occasion lost in vain.
Mor. I smile at what your female fear foresees;
I’m in fate’s place, and dictate her decrees. —
Let Arimant be called.[Exit one of his Attendants.
Aur. Give me the poison, and I’ll end your strife;
I hate to keep a poor precarious life.
Would I my safety on base terms receive,
Know, sir, I could have lived without your leave.
But those I could accuse, I can forgive;
By my disdainful silence, let them live.
Nour. What am I, that you dare to bind my hand? [To Morat.
So low, I’ve not a murder at command!
Can you not one poor life to her afford,
Her, who gave up whole nations to your sword?
And from the abundance of whose soul and heat,
The o’erflowing served to make your mind so great?
Mor. What did that greatness in a woman’s mind?
Ill lodged, and weak to act what it designed?
Pleasure’s your portion, and your slothful ease:
When man’s at leisure, study how to please,
Soften his angry hours with servile care,
And, when he calls, the ready feast prepare.
From wars, and from affairs of state abstain;
Women emasculate a monarch’s reign;
And murmuring crowds, who see them shine with gold,
That pomp, as their own ravished spoils, behold.
Nour. Rage choaks my words: ’Tis womanly to weep: [Aside.
In my swollen breast my close revenge I’ll keep;
I’ll watch his tenderest part, and there strike deep.[Exit.
Aur. Your strange proceeding does my wonder move;
Yet seems not to express a brother’s love.
Say, to what cause my rescued life I owe.
Mor. If what you ask would please, you should not know.
But since that knowledge, more than death, will grieve,
Know, Indamora gained you this reprieve.
Aur. And whence had she the power to work your change?
Mor. The power of beauty is not new or strange.
Should she command me more, I could obey;
But her request was bounded with a day.
Take that; and, if you spare my farther crime,
Be kind, and grieve to death against your time.
Enter Arimant.
Remove this prisoner to some safer place:
He has, for Indamora’s sake, found grace;
And from my mother’s rage must guarded be,
Till you receive a new command from me.
Arim. Thus love, and fortune, persecute me still,
And make me slave to every rival’s will.[Aside.
Aur. How I disdain a life, which I must buy
With your contempt, and her inconstancy!
For a few hours my whole content I pay:
You shall not force on me another day.[Exit with Ari.
Enter Melesinda.
Mel. I have been seeking you this hour’s long space,
And feared to find you in another place;
But since you’re here, my jealousy grows less:
You will be kind to my unworthiness.
What shall I say? I love to that degree,
Each glance another way is robbed from me.
Absence, and prisons, I could bear again;
But sink, and die, beneath your least disdain.
Mor. Why do you give your mind this needless care,
And for yourself, and me, new pains prepare?
I ne’er approved this passion in excess:
If you would show your love, distrust me less.
I hate to be pursued from place to place;
Meet, at each turn, a stale domestic face.
The approach of jealousy love cannot bear;
He’s wild, and soon on wing, if watchful eyes come near.
Mel. From your loved presence how can I depart?
My eyes pursue the object of my heart.
Mor. You talk as if it were our bridal night:
Fondness is still the effect of new delight,
And marriage but the pleasure of a day:
The metal’s base, the gilding worn away.
Mel. I fear I’m guilty of some great offence,
And that has bred this cold indifference.
Mor. The greatest in the world to flesh and blood:
You fondly love much longer than you should.
Mel. If that be all which makes your discontent,
Of such a crime I never can repent.
Mor. Would you force love upon me, which I shun?
And bring coarse fare, when appetite is gone?
Mel. Why did I not in prison die, before
My fatal freedom made me suffer more?
I had been pleased to think I died for you,
And doubly pleased, because you then were true:
Then I had hope; but now, alas! have none.
Mor. You say you love me; let that love be shown.
’Tis in your power to make my happiness.
Mel. Speak quickly! To command me is to bless.
Mor. To Indamora you my suit must move:
You’ll sure speak kindly of the man you love.
Mel. Oh, rather let me perish by your hand,
Than break my heart, by this unkind command!
Think, ’tis the only one I could deny;
And that ’tis harder to refuse, than die.
Try, if you please, my rival’s heart to win;
I’ll bear the pain, but not promote the sin.
You own whate’er perfections man can boast,
And, if she view you with my eyes, she’s lost.
Mor. Here I renounce all love, all nuptial ties:
Henceforward live a stranger to my eyes:
When I appear, see you avoid the place,
And haunt me not with that unlucky face.
Mel. Hard as it is, I this command obey,
And haste, while I have life, to go away:
In pity stay some hours, till I am dead,
That blameless you may court my rival’s bed.
My hated face I’ll not presume to show;
Yet I may watch your steps where’er you go.
Unseen, I’ll gaze; and, with my latest breath,
Bless, while I die, the author of my death.[Weeping.
Enter Emperor.
Emp. When your triumphant fortune high appears,
What cause can draw these unbecoming tears?
Let cheerfulness on happy fortune wait,
And give not thus the counter-time to fate.
Mel. Fortune long frowned, and has but lately smiled:
I doubt a foe so newly reconciled.
You saw but sorrow in its waning form,
A working sea remaining from a storm;
When the now weary waves roll o’er the deep,
And
faintly murmur ere they fall asleep.
Emp. Your inward griefs you smother in your mind;
But fame’s loud voice proclaims your lord unkind.
Mor. Let fame be busy, where she has to do;
Tell of fought fields, and every pompous show.
Those tales are fit to fill the people’s ears;
Monarchs, unquestioned, move in higher spheres.
Mel. Believe not rumour, but yourself; and see
The kindness ‘twixt my plighted lord and me.[Kissing Morat.
This is our state; thus happily we live;
These are the quarrels which we take and give.
I had no other way to force a kiss.[Aside to Morat.
Forgive my last farewell to you and bliss.[Exit.
Emp. Your haughty carriage shows too much of scorn,
And love, like hers, deserves not that return.
Mor. You’ll please to leave me judge of what I do,
And not examine by the outward show.
Your usage of my mother might be good:
I judged it not.
Emp. Nor was it fit you should.
Mor. Then, in as equal balance weigh my deeds.
Emp. My right, and my authority, exceeds.
Suppose (what I’ll not grant) injustice done;
Is judging me the duty of a son?
Mor. Not of a son, but of an emperor:
You cancelled duty when you gave me power.
If your own actions on your will you ground,
Mine shall hereafter know no other bound.
What meant you when you called me to a throne?
Was it to please me with a name alone?
Emp. ’Twas that I thought your gratitude would know
What to my partial kindness you did owe;
That what your birth did to your claim deny,
Your merit of obedience might supply.
Mor. To your own thoughts such hope you might propose;
But I took empire not on terms like those.
Of business you complained; now take your ease;
Enjoy whate’er decrepid age can please;
Eat, sleep, and tell long tales of what you were
In flower of youth, — if any one will hear.
Emp. Power, like new wine, does your weak brain surprise,
And its mad fumes, in hot discourses, rise:
But time these giddy vapours will remove;
Meanwhile, I’ll taste the sober joys of love.
Mor. You cannot love nor pleasures take, or give;
But life begin, when ’tis too late to live.
On a tired courser you pursue delight,
Let slip your morning, and set out at night.
If you have lived, take thankfully the past;
Make, as you can, the sweet remembrance last.
If you have not enjoyed what youth could give,
But life sunk through you, like a leaky sieve,
Accuse yourself, you lived not while you might;
But, in the captive queen resign your right.
I’ve now resolved to fill your useless place;
I’ll take that post, to cover your disgrace,
And love her, for the honour of my race.
Emp. Thou dost but try how far I can forbear,
Nor art that monster, which thou wouldst appear;
But do not wantonly my passion move;
I pardon nothing that relates to love.
My fury does, like jealous forts, pursue
With death, even strangers who but come to view.
Mor. I did not only view, but will invade.
Could you shed venom from your reverend shade,
Like trees, beneath whose arms ’tis death to sleep;
Did rolling thunder your fenced fortress keep,
Thence would I snatch my Semele, like Jove,
And ‘midst the dreadful wrack enjoy my love.
Emp. Have I for this, ungrateful as thou art!
When right, when nature, struggled in my heart;
When heaven called on me for thy brother’s claim,
Broke all, and sullied my unspotted fame?
Wert thou to empire, by my baseness, brought,
And wouldst thou ravish what so dear I bought?
Dear! for my conscience and its peace I gave; —
Why was my reason made my passion’s slave?
I see heaven’s justice; thus the powers divine
Pay crimes with crimes, and punish mine by thine.
Mor. Crimes let them pay, and punish as they please;
What power makes mine, by power I mean to seize.
Since ’tis to that they their own greatness owe
Above, why should they question mine below?[Exit.
Emp. Prudence, thou vainly in our youth art sought,
And, with age purchased, art too dearly bought:
We’re past the use of wit, for which we toil;
Late fruit, and planted in too cold a soil.
My stock of fame is lavished and decayed;
No profit of the vast profusion made.
Too late my folly I repent; I know
My Aureng-Zebe would ne’er have used me so.
But, by his ruin, I prepared my own;
And, like a naked tree, my shelter gone,
To winds and winter-storms must stand exposed alone.[Exit.
Enter Aureng-Zebe and Arimant.
Arim. Give me not thanks, which I will ne’er deserve;
But know, ’tis for a noble price I serve.
By Indamora’s will you’re hither brought:
All my reward in her command I sought.
The rest your letter tells you. — See, like light,
She comes, and I must vanish, like the night.[Exit.
Enter Indamora.
Ind. ’Tis now, that I begin to live again;
Heavens, I forgive you all my fear and pain:
Since I behold my Aureng-Zebe appear,
I could not buy him at a price too dear.
His name alone afforded me relief,
Repeated as a charm to cure my grief.
I that loved name did, as some god, invoke,
And printed kisses on it, while I spoke.
Aur. Short ease, but long, long pains from you I find;
Health, to my eyes; but poison, to my mind.
Why are you made so excellently fair?
So much above what other beauties are,
That, even in cursing, you new form my breath;
And make me bless those eyes which give me death!
Ind. What reason for your curses can you find?
My eyes your conquest, not your death, designed.
If they offend, ’tis that they are too kind.
Aur. The ruins they have wrought, you will not see;
Too kind they are, indeed, but not to me.
Ind. Think you, base interest souls like mine can sway?
Or that, for greatness, I can love betray?
No, Aureng-Zebe, you merit all my heart,
And I’m too noble but to give a part.
Your father, and an empire! Am I known
No more? Or have so weak a judgment shown,
In chusing you, to change you for a throne?
Aur. How, with a truth, you would a falsehood blind!
’Tis not my father’s love you have designed;
Your choice is fix’d where youth and power are join’d.
Ind. Where youth and power are joined! — has he a name?
Aur. You would be told; you glory in your shame:
There’s music in the sound; and, to provoke
Your pleasure more, by me it must be spoke.
Then, then it ravishes, when your pleased ear
The sound does from a wretched rival hear.
Morat’s the name your heart leaps up to meet,
While Aureng-Zebe lies dying at your feet.
Ind. Who told you this?
Aur. Are you so
lost to shame?
Morat, Morat, Morat! You love the name
So well, your every question ends in that;
You force me still to answer you, Morat.
Morat, who best could tell what you revealed;
Morat, too proud to keep his joy concealed.
Ind. Howe’er unjust your jealousy appear,
It shows the loss of what you love, you fear;
And does my pity, not my anger move:
I’ll fond it, as the forward child of love.
To show the truth of my unaltered breast,
Know, that your life was given at my request,
At least reprieved. When heaven denied you aid,
She brought it, she, whose falsehood you upbraid.
Aur. And ’tis by that you would your falsehood hide?
Had you not asked, how happy had I died!
Accurst reprieve! not to prolong my breath;
It brought a lingering, and more painful death,
I have not lived since first I heard the news;
The gift the guilty giver does accuse.
You knew the price, and the request did move,
That you might pay the ransom with your love.
Ind. Your accusation must, I see, take place; —
And am I guilty, infamous, and base?
Aur. If you are false, those epithets are small;
You’re then the things, the abstract of them all.
And you are false: You promised him your love, —
No other price a heart so hard could move.
Do not I know him? Could his brutal mind
Be wrought upon? Could he be just, or kind?
Insultingly, he made your love his boast;
Gave me my life, and told me what it cost.
Speak; answer. I would fain yet think you true:
Lie; and I’ll not believe myself, but you.
Tell me you love; I’ll pardon the deceit,
And, to be fooled, myself assist the cheat.
Ind. No; ’tis too late; I have no more to say:
If you’ll believe I have been false, you may.
Aur. I would not; but your crimes too plain appear:
Nay, even that I should think you true, you fear.
Did I not tell you, I would be deceived?
Ind. I’m not concerned to have my truth believed.
You would be cozened! would assist the cheat!
But I’m too plain to join in the deceit:
I’m pleased you think me false,
And, whatsoe’er my letter did pretend,
I made this meeting for no other end.
Aur. Kill me not quite, with this indifference!
When you are guiltless, boast not an offence.
I know you better than yourself you know:
Your heart was true, but did some frailty shew:
You promised him your love, that I might live;
But promised what you never meant to give.