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; though, for the present moment,

We must intreat your stay; he holds him private. Mon. His counsel, I presume?

Pr. No, the affair

Is not of earth, but heaven-A holy man,

Thou takest into thy bosom, to thy councils! They are thy only friends. The true believers Mourn to behold thee favour this Axalla.

Tam. I fear me, thou outgoest the prophet's order,

And bring'st his venerable name to shelter
A rudeness, ill-becoming thee to use,
Or me to suffer. When thou namest my friend,
Thou namest a man beyond a monk's discerning,
Virtuous and great, a warrior and a prince.

Der. He is a Christian; there our law condemns him,

Although he were even all thou speakest, and

more.

vise,

Keeps him in conference.

Mon. Hours of religion,

Especially of princes, claim a reverence, Nor will be interrupted.

Pr. What his business

Imports, we know not; but, with earnest suit, This morn, he begged admittance. Our great

master

(Than whom none bows more lowly to high Hea

ven)

In reverend regard holds all that bear
Relation to religion, and, on notice
Of his request, received him on the instant.
Mon. We will attend his pleasure. [Exeunt.

Enter TAMERLANE and a Dervise.

Tam. Thou bring'st me thy credentials from the highest,

From Alla, and our prophet. Speak thy message; It must import the best and noblest ends.

Der. Thus speaks our holy Mahomet, who has given thee

To reign and conquer: ill dost thou repay
The bounties of his hand, unmindful of

The fountain whence thy streams of greatness flow.

Thou hast forgot high Heaven, 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 make
Thy imputation out, and Tamerlane
Shall do thee ample justice on himself.

So much the sacred name of Heaven awes me,
Could I suspect my soul of harbouring aught
To its dishonour, I would search it strictly,
And drive the offending thought with fury forth.
Der. Yes, thou hast hurt our holy prophet's
honour,

By fostering the pernicious Christian sect:
Those, whom his sword pursued, with fell de-
straction,

And (though by several names and titles wor

not, prince!

Full of the prophet, I despise the danger
Thy angry power may threaten. I command thee
To hear, and to obey; since thus says Mahomet:
Why have I made thee dreadful to the nations?
Why have I given thee conquest, but to spread
My sacred law even 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 world
Confess him only.

Tam. Had he but commanded
My sword to conquer all, to make the world
Know 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 the unconquerable mind,
To make one reason have the same effect
Upon all apprehensions; to force this
Or this man, just to think as thou and I do;
Impossible! Unless souls were alike
In all, which differ now like human faces.

Der. Well might the holy cause he carried on, If Musselmen did not make war on Musselmen. Why holdest thou captive a believing monarch? Now, as thou hopest to 'scape the prophet's

curse,

Release the royal Bajazet, and join,
With force united, to destroy the Christians.

Tam. 'Tis well-I've found the cause that moves thy zçal.

[Kneeling.

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 justice
Restore 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 life
To bless thee for the bounty! Oh, Arpasia!

Tam. Unhappy, royal youth, why dost thou ask
What honour must deny? Ha! is she not
His wife, whom he has wedded, whom enjoyed?
And wouldst thou have my partial friendship
break

That holy knot, which, tied once, all mankind
Agree to hold sacred and undissolveable?
The brutal violence would stain my justice,
And brand me with a tyrant's hated name
To late posterity.

Mon. Are then the vows,

The holy vows we registered in heaven,
But common air?

Tam. Could thy fond love forget
The violation of a first enjoyment?-

But sorrow has disturbed and hurt thy mind. Mon. Perhaps it has, and, like an idle mad

man,

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 me,
Far, far from the world's sight. Honour and
fame,

Arms, and the glorious war shall be forgotten;
No noble sound of greatness, or ambition,

Till the last trump do summon.

Tam. Let thy virtue

Stand up and answer to these warring passions,
That vex thy manly temper. From the moment
When first I saw thee, something wondrous noble
Shone through thy form, and won my friendship
for thee,

Without the tedious form of long acquaintance;
Nor will I lose thee poorly for a woman.
Come, droop no more! thou shalt with me pursue
True 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 Tamer-
lane,

Thy words are as the breath of angels to me.
But, oh! too deep the wounding grief is fixt,
For any hand to heal.

Tum. This dull despair

Is the soul's laziness. Rouse to the combat,
And thou art sure to conquer. War shall re-
store thee;

The sound of arms shall wake thy martial ardour,
And cure this amorous sickness of thy soul,
Begun by sloth, and nursed by too much ease.
The idle god of love supinely dreams,
Amidst inglorious shades and purling streams;
In rosy fetters and fantastic chains,
He binds deluded maids and simple swains;
With soft enjoyments wooes them to forget
The hardy toils and labours of the great.
But, if the warlike trumpet's loud alarms
To virtuous acts excite, and manly arms,
The coward boy avows his abject fear,
On silken wings sublime he cuts the air,
Scared at the noble noise and thunder of the
[Exeunt.

war.

Der. Just entering here, I met the Tartar general, Fierce Omar.

Ha. He commands, if I mistake not, This quarter of the army, and our guards.

Der. The same. By his stern aspect, and the fires

That kindled in his eyes, I guessed the tumult
Some wrong had raised in his tempestuous soul;
A friendship of old date had given me privilege
To ask of his concerns. In short, I learned,
That, burning for the sultan's beauteous daughter,
He had begged her, as a captive of the war,
From Tamerlane; but meeting with denial
Of what he thought his services might claim,
Loudly he storms, and curses the Italian,
As cause of this affront. I joined his rage,

And added to his injuries, the wrongs
Our prophet daily meets with from Axalla.
But see, he comes. Improve what I shall tell,
And all we wish is ours.

[They seem to talk together aside.

Enter OMAR.

Om. No if I forgive it,

Dishonour blast my name! Was it for this
That I directed his first steps to greatness,
Taught him to climb, and made him what he is?
When our great Cham first bent his eyes towards
him,

(Then petty prince of Parthia) and, by me
Persuaded, raised him to his daughter's bed,
Called him his son, and successor of the empire;
Was it for this, that like a rock I stood,
And stemmed a torrent of our Tartar lords,
Who scorned his upstart sway? When Calibes,
In bold rebellion, drew e'en half the provinces
To own his cause, I, like his better angel,
Stood by his shaking throne, and fixed it fast:
And am I now so lost to his remembrance,
That, when I ask a captive, he shall tell me,
She is Axalla's right, his Christian minion?

Der. Allow me, valiant Omar, to demand, Since injured thus, why right you not yourself? The prize you ask is in your power.

Om. It is,

And I will seize it in despite of Tamerlane,
And that Italian dog.

Ha. What need of force,

When every thing concurs to meet your wishes?
Our mighty master would not wish a son
Nobler than Omar. From a father's hand
Receive that daughter, which ungrateful Tamer-
lane

Has to your worth denied.

Om. Now, by my arms,

It will be great revenge. What will your sultan Give to the man that shall restore his liberty, His crown, and give him power to wreak his hatred

Upon his greatest foe?

Ha. All he can ask,

And far beyond his wish.

Om. These trumpets speak

[Trumpets.

The emperor's approach; he comes once more
To offer terms of peace. Retire within.

I will know farther-he grows deadly to me;
And curse me, prophet, if I not repay
His hate with retribution full as mortal. [Exeunt.

SCENE II.

power

SONG.

To thee, O gentle Sleep, alone

Is owing all our peace,

By thee our joys are heightened shown, By thee our sorrows cease.

Lest Heaven should wrest it from my idle hand, If I look on, and see you weep in vain.

Arp. Not that my soul disdains the generous

aid

Thy royal goodness proffers; but, oh, emperor! It is not in my fate to be made happy;

Nor will I listen to the cozener, Hope,
But stand resolved to bear the beating storm
That roars around me; safe in this alone,
That I am not immortal. Though 'tis hard,
'Tis wondrous hard, when I remember thee,
Dear native Greece! and you, ye weeping
maids,

That were companions of my virgin youth!
My noble parents! Oh, the grief of heart,
The pangs, that, for unhappy me, bring down
Their reverend ages to the grave with sorrow.
And yet there is a woe surpassing all :
Ye saints and angels, give me of your constancy,
If you expect I shall endure it long!

Tam. Why is my pity all that I can give
To tears like yours? And yet I fear 'tis all;
Nor dare I ask, what mighty loss you mourn,
Lest honour should forbid to give it back.
Arp. No, Tamerlane, nor did I mean thou
shouldst :

But know, (though to the weakness of my sex
I yield these tears) my soul is more than man.
Think, I am born a Greek, nor doubt my virtue;
A Greek! from whose famed ancestors of old
Rome drew the patterns of her boasted heroes.
They must be mighty evils that can vanquish
A Spartan courage, and a Christian faith.

Enter BAJAZet.

Baj. To know no thought of rest! to have the mind

Still ministering fresh plagues, as in a circle,
Where one dishonour treads upon another;
What know the fiends beyond it? Ha! by hell,
[Steing Arp. and Tam.
There wanted only this to make me mad.
Comes he to triumph here? to rob my love,
And violate the last retreat of happiness?
Tam. But that I read upon thy frowning brow,
That war yet lives, and rages in thy breast,
Once more (in pity to the suffering world)
I meant to offer peace.

Baj. And meanest thou too

To treat it with our empress? and to barter The spoils, which fortune gave thee, for her favours?

Tam. If I could have wronged thee, If conscious virtue, and all-judging Heaven, Stood not between to bar ungoverned appetite, What hindered, but in spite of thee, my captive, I might have used a victor's boundless power, And sated every wish my soul could form? But to secure thy fears, know, Bajazet, This is among the things I dare not do.

Baj. By hell, it is false! else wherefore art
thou present?

What cam'st thou for, but to undo my honour?
I found thee holding amorous parly with her,
Gazing and glutting on her wanton eyes,
And bargaining for pleasures yet to come:
My life, I know, is the devoted price—
But take it! I am weary of the pain.

Tam. Yet ere thou rashly urge my rage too far,
I warn thee to take heed: I am a man,
And have the frailties common to man's nature:
The fiery seeds of wrath are in my temper,
And may be blown up to so fierce a blaze,
As wisdom cannot rule. Know, thou hast touch-
ed me

Even in the nicest, tenderest part, my honour; My honour; which, like power, disdains being questioned;

Thy breath has blasted my fair virtue's farne,
And marked me for a villain, and a tyrant.

Arp. And stand I here an idle looker-on,
To see my innocence murdered and mangled
By barbarous hands, nor can revenge the wrong!
Art thou a man, and dar'st thou use me thus?
[To Bajazet.

Hast thou not torn me from my native country,
From the dear arms of my lamenting friends,
From my soul's peace, and from my injured love?
Hast thou not ruined, blotted me for ever,
And driven me to the brink of black despair?
And is it in thy malice yet to add

A wound more deep, to sully my white name,
My virtue ?

Baj. Yes, thou hast thy sex's virtues,
Their affectation, pride, ill-nature, noise,
Proneness to change, even from the joy that
pleased them:

So

gracious is your idol, dear variety, That for another love you would forego An angel's form, to mingle with a devil's; Through every state and rank of men you wander, Till even your large experience takes in all The different nations of the peopled earth.

Arp. Why soughtst thou not from thy own impious tribe

A wife like one of these? For such thy race (If human nature brings forth such) affords. Greece, for chaste virgins famed, and pious ma

trons,

Teems not with monsters like your Turkish wives, Whom guardian eunuchs, haggard and deformed, Whoin walls and bars make honest by constraint. Know, I detest, like hell, the crime thou mentionest: