Tamerlane (Rowe)/Act 3 Sc 2
SCENE II. Tamerlane's Camp.
Enter severally Moneses, and Prince of Tanais,
Mon.If I not press untimely on his leisure,You would much bind a Stranger to your Service,To give me means of Audience from the Emperor.
Pr.Most willingly, tho' for the present MomentWe must entreat your stay; he holds him private.
Mon.His Council, I presume,———
Pr.No; the AffairIs not of Earth, but Heav'n—a Holy Man,(One whom our Prophet's Law calls such) a DerviseKeeps him in Conference.
Mon.Hours of Religion,Especially of Prince's, claim a Reverence,Nor will be interrupted.
Pr.What his BusinessImports, we know not; but with earnest SuteThis Morn he begg'd admittance. Our great Master(Than whom none bows more lowly to high Heaven)In reverend regard holds all that bearRelation to Religion, and, on noticeOf his Request, receiv'd him on the instant.
[Exeunt.Mon.We will attend his Pleasure.
Enter Tamerlane, and a Dervise.
Tam.Thou bring'st me thy Credentials from the Highest,From Alha, and our Prophet: Speak thy Message,It must import the best and noblest Ends.
Der.Thus speaks our Holy Mahomet, who has giv'n theeTo reign, and conquer; Ill do'st thou repayThe Bounties of his Hand, unmindful ofThe Fountain, whence thy Streams of Greatness flow,Thou hast forgot high Heav'n, hast beaten down,And trampled on Religion's Sanctity.
Tam.Now, as I am a Soldier, and a King(The greatest Names of Honour) do but makeThy Imputation out, and TamerlaneShall do thee ample Justice on himself;So much the Sacred Name of Heav'n awes me.Could I suspect my Soul of harbouring oughtTo its Dishonour, I would search it strictly,And drive th' offending Thought with Fury forth.
Der.Yes, thou hast hurt our Holy Prophet's Honour,By soft'ring the pernicious Christian Sect:Those, whom his Sword pursu'd with fell Destruction,Thou tak'st into thy Bosom, to thy Councils;They are thy only Friends: The true BelieversMourn to behold thee favour this Axalla.
Tam.I fear me, thou out-go'st the Prophet's Order;And bring's his venerable Name, to shelterA Rudeness ill becoming thee to use,Or me to suffer. When thou nam'st my Friend, Thou nam'st a Man beyond a Monk's discerning,Vertuous, and Great, a Warriour, 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 Virtuous,For differing from the Rules your Schools devise.Look round, how Providence bestows alikeSunshine and Rain, to bless the fruitful Year,On different Nations, all of different Faiths;And (tho' by several Names and Titles worshipp'd)Heav'n takes the various Tribute of their PraiseSince all agree to own, at least to mean,One best, one greatest, only Lord of All.Thus when he view'd the many Forms of Nature,He found that all was good, and blest the fair Variety.
Der.Most Impious, and Profane!—nay, frown not, Prince,Full of the Prophet, I despise the DangerThy angry Power may threaten: I command theeTo hear, and to obey; since, thus says Mahomet,Why have I made thee dreadful to the Nations?Why have I giv'n thee Conquest? but to spreadMy sacred Law ev'n to the utmost Earth,And make my Holy Mecca the World's Worship?Go on, and wheresoe'er thy Arms shall prosper,Plant there the Prophet's Name: with Sword and Fire,Drive out all other Faiths, and let the WorldConfess him only.
Tam.Had he but commandedMy Sword to conquer all, to make the WorldKnow but one Lord, the Task were not so hard;'Twere but to do what has been done already;And Philip's Son, and Cæsar did as much:But to subdue th' unconquerable Mind,To make one Reason have the same EffectUpon all Apprehensions; to force this,Or this Man, just to think, as thou and I do;Impossible! Unless Souls were alikeIn all, which differ now like Humane Faces.
Der.Well might the Holy Cause be carry'd on,If Mussulmen did not make war on Musselmen.Why hold'st thou Captive a believing Monarch?Now, as thou hop'st to 'scape the Prophet's Curse,Release the Royal Bajazet, and joinWith Force united, to destroy the Christians.
Tam.'Tis well—I have found the Cause that mov'd thy Zeal.What shallow Politician set thee on,In hopes to fright me this way to compliance?
Der.Our Prophet only.———
Tam.No—thou do'st bely him,Thou Maker of new Faiths! that dar'st to buildThy fond Inventions on Religion's Name.Religion's Lustre is by native InnocenceDivinely pure, and simple from all Arts;You daub and dress her like a common Mistress,The Harlot of your Fancies; and by addingFalse Beauties, which she wants not, makes the WorldSuspect, her Angel's Face is foul beneath,And wo'not bear all Lights. Hence! I have found thee.
[aside.Der.I have but one resort. Now aid me, Prophet.Yet have I somewhat further to unfold;Our Prophet speaks to thee in Thunder———* thus———[*The Dervise draws a conceal'd Dagger, and offers to stab Tamerlane.
Tam.No, Villain, Heav'n is watchful o'er its Worshippers,[Wresting the Dagger from him.And blasts the Murderer's Purpose. Think thou, Wretch,Think on the Pains that wait thy Crime, and trembleWhen I shall doom thee———
Der.'Tis but Death at last,And I will suffer greatly for the CauseThat urg'd me first to the bold Deed.
Tam.Oh, impious!Enthusiasm thus makes Villains, Martyrs.[Pausing.] It shall be so.—To die! 'twere a 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.Keep thy own wicked Secret, and be safe:If thou continu'st still to be the same,'Tis Punishment enough to be a Villain:If thou repent'st, I have gain'd one to Vertue,And am, in that, rewarded for my Mercy.Hence! from my sight!———It shocks my Soul, to think[Exit Dervise.That there is such a Monster in my Kind.Whither will Man's Impiety extend?Oh gracious Heav'n! do'st thou with-hold thy Thunder,When bold Assassines take thy Name upon 'em,And swear, they are the Champions of thy Cause?
Enter Moneses.
Mon.Oh, Emperor! before whose awful Throne kneeling to Tam.Th' afflicted never kneel in vain for Justice,Undone, and ruin'd, blasted in my Hopes,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.
Tam.Rise, Prince, nor let me reckon up thy Worth,And tell, how boldly That might bid thee ask,Lest I should make a Merit of my Justice,The common Debt I owe to thee, to All,Ev'n to the meanest of Mankind, the CharterBy which I claim my Crown, and Heav'ns Protection:Speak then as to a King, the Sacred NameWhere Pow'r is lodg'd, for Righteous Ends alone.
Mon.One only Joy, one Blessing, my fond HeartHad fix'd its Wishes on, and that is lost;That Sister, for whose safety my sad SoulEndur'd a thousand Fears.———
Tam.I well remember,When e're the Battles 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 oughtThou 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 Falshood to deceive you:Said I, she was my Sister?———Oh! 'tis false,She holds a dearer Interest in my Soul,Such as the closest ties of Blood ne'er knew?An Int'rest, such as Pow'r, Wealth and HonourCan't buy, but Love, Love only can bestow;She was the Mistress of my Vows, my Bride,By Contract mine; and long e're this, the PriestHad ty'd the Knot for ever, had not Bajazet———
Tam.Ha! Bajazet!———If yet his Pow'r with-holdsThe Cause of all thy Sorrows, all thy Fears,Ev'n 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 most rare,By much the noblest Spoil of all the Field:Ev'n Scipio, or a Victor yet more cold,Might have forgot his Vertue, at her sight.Struck with a pleasing Wonder, I beheld her,Till by a Slave that waited near her Person,I learnt she was the Captive Sultan's Wife;Strait I forbid my Eyes the dangerons JoyOf gazing long, and sent her to her Lord.
Mon.There was Moneses lost.———Too sure my Heart(From the first mention of her wond'rous Charms)Presag'd it could be only my Arpasia.
Tam.Arpasia! didst thou say?
Mon.Yes, my Arpasia.
Tam.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.
Tam.Alas! I fear me, Prince, thy Griefs are just;Thou art indeed unhappy.———
Mon.Can you pity me.[*Kneeling.And not redress? *Oh, Royal Tamerlane!Thou Succour of the Wretched, reach thy Mercy,To save me from the Grave, and from Oblivion;Be gracious to the Hopes that wait my Youth.Oh! let not Sorrow blast me, lest I wither,And fall in vile Dishonour. Let thy JusticeRestore me my Arpasia; give her back,Back to my Wishes, to my Transports give her,To my fond, restless, bleeding, dying Bosom:Oh! give her to me yet while I have LifeTo bless thee for the Bounty. Oh, Arpasia!
Tam.Unhappy Royal Youth, why do'st thou askWhat Honour must deny? Ha! Is she notHis Wife, whom he has wedded, whom enjoy'd?And would'st thou have my partial Friendship break,That Holy Knot which ty'd once, all MankindAgree to hold Sacred, and undissolvable:The Brutal Violence would stain my Justice,And brand me with a Tyrant's hated NameTo late Posterity.
Mon.Are then the Vows,The Holy Vows we registred in Heav'n,But common Air?
Tam.Could thy fond Love forgetThe Violation of a first Enjoyment?———But Sorrow has disturb'd and hurt thy Mind.
Mon.Perhaps it has, and like an idle Madman,That wanders with a Train of hooting Boys,I do a thousand things to shame my Reason.Then let me fly, and bear my Follies with meFar, far from the World's Sight;———Honour, and Fame,Arms, and the glorious War shall be forgotten:No noble Sound of Greatness, or Ambition,Shall wake my drowsy Soul from her dead Sleep,Till the last Trump do summon.
Tam.Let thy VirtueStand up, and answer to these warring Passions, That vex thy manly Temper. From the momentWhen first I saw thee, something wondrous nobleShone thro' thy Form, and won my Friendship for thee,Without the tedious Form of long Acquaintance;Nor will I lose thee poorly for a WomanCome, droop no more, thou shalt with me pursueTrue Greatness, till we rise to Immortality;Thou shalt forget these lesser Cares, Moneses,Thou shalt, and help me to reform the World.
Mon.So the good Genius warns his mortal Charge,To fly the evil Fate, that still pursues him,Till it have wrought his Ruin. Sacred Tamerlane,Thy Words are as the Breath of Angels to me:But oh! too deep the wounding Grief is fixtFor any hand to heal.
Tam.This dull DespairIs the Souls Lazyness: 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,Begun by sloth, and nurs'd by too much ease;The idle God of Love supinely dreams,Amidst inglorious Shades and purling Streams;In rosie Fetters, and fantastick Chains,Ae binds deluded Maids and simple Swains,With soft Enjoyments, woes 'em to forgetThe hardy Toils, and Labours of the great.But if the warlike Trumpet's loud AlarmsTo virtuous Acts excite, and manly Arms;The Coward Boy avows his abject Fear,On silken Wings sublime he cuts the Air,Scar'd at the noble Noise, and Thunder of the War.Exeunt.
End of the third Act.