Tamerlane; a tragedy

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/ THE

NEW ENGLISH DRAMA,

WITH

PREFATORY REMARKS,
BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES, AND NOTES,

Critical aim epplanator? ;
j

BIINC THE ONLY EDITION BXISTINO WHICH IS FAITHFULLY MASKED

WITH THE

STAGE BUSINESS, AND STAGE DIRECTIONS,

As Performed

Sit $e %tywct$ ttogal*

■ By W. OXBERRY, Comedian.

VOLUME NINETEENTH.

CONTAINING

RICH AND POOR. HBNRY THE EIGHTH.

WINTER'S TALE. — WOOD DJEMON.— KBNILWORTH.

Honoott.

PUBLISHED FOR THE PROPRIETORS, BY W. S1MPKIN AND
R. MARSHALL, STATIONER8 9 COURT, LUDGATB STREET,
AND C. CHAPPLE, 59, PALL MALL.

1834.

0jAttr?'* Oftrfttau

TAMERLANE.

A TRAGEDY,

$2 £icfjola3 ftotoe-

Jf/Ttf PREFATORY REMARKS.

THE ONLY EDITION EXISTING WHICH IS FAITHFULLY MARKED
WITH THE STAGE BUSINESS AND STAGE DIRECTION, ^

AS IT IS PERFORMED AT THE

ffl&mrrs &opal.

BY W. OXBERRY, Comedian.

PUBLISHED FOR THE PROPRIETORS, BY W. SIMPKIN, AND

R. MARSHALL, STATIONERS' COURT, LUDGATE-STRBET ;

AND C. CHAPPLE, 59, PALL-MALL.

1824.

JsitH.si'iS'

\

/

From the Pi ess of W. Ox berry
fc, Wbue-Hart Yard.

ftemarkd*

TAMERLANE.

About the commencement of the last century, there arose in this
country a new school of tragic composition, corresponding in many
points with that of a neighbouring nation, and dramas modelled ac-
cording to its formal precepts monopolised possession of the stage till
within the recollection of the present generation; the wild heroics of
Lee and Dryden had just given place to the more simple style of wri-
ting cultivated by Otway and Southerne, and the English theatre ap-
peared to be on the point of again shining with resplendent glory,
when the fatal influence of a few great names blighted all its buds of
promise, and doomed it to endure a long cheerless night of monotonous
dulness. Congreve, Rowe, and Addison set the fashion, by producing
tragedies, which, though constructed upon false principles, and essen-
tially undramatic, undoubtedly displayed superlative beauties of sen-
timent and language, and for eighty or a hundred years after, a tedious
tribe of versifiers, aping with feeble servility their illustrious prede-
cessors, inundated the stage with numberless mawkish pieces, in which
declamation was substituted for passion, and description occupied the
place of incident. We suppose we need hardly stay to enumerate
writers whose names must be familiar to most of our readers, though
the dramas they composed, after having enjoyed their brief season of
notoriety, are now as completely unknown to people in general as if
they never had existed. From the days of Aaron Hill, Hughes, and
Phillips, down to those of Murphy, Hoole, and Hayley, the last lum-
bering disciples of the school, scarcely six tragedies were produced
which deserve to be mentioned with commendation, though the list of
authors includes men of such celebrity as Young and Johnson.

The play before us is a perfect specimen of the class we have been
describing; the language for the most part is coldly correct, the action
moves tediously on, the incidents are few, and the interest is feeble ; as
for the characters, they are either extravagant libels upon humanity,

a 2

iv

out of keeping and out of nature, or so totally common-place and in-
sipid as to excite no feeling of any kind but indifference- Tamerlane
and Bajazet are the two opposing powers of good and evil, the angels
of light and darkness, the one all gall and vinegar, the other all milk
and honey ; but, as we have observed on a previous occasion, these
vulgar displays of mere unmixed characters upon the stage — monsters
redeemed by no single virtue, and saints deformed by no one vice,
betray either a sad want of taste or a lamentable lack of ability in a
dramatist ; the veriest scribbler that ever blotted paper will find it no
difficult task to describe an angel and a devil upon the plan here
adopted, and play them off in opposition to each other, through five
tedious acts, very decorously ; but such a system we conceive is al-
together from the purpose of playing. Personages of this description
are perhaps never met with in the world, or even if they are, are not
proper subjects to be introduced upon the stage, whose end was and is —
or should be — to exhibit " the web of life of a mingled yarn, good and
ill together," and to paint men and women as they really exist, nei-
ther raised altogether above humanity nor sunk irrecoverably below it.
Vice without one redeeming quality, and virtue assailable by no temp-
tation, are alike ineffective in the theatre : the one is beneath our at-
tention, and the other beyond our solicitude.

That the characters of Tamerlane and Bajazet come nearly within
this description, and consequently are liable to .these objections, must
we think be granted. Rowe, who had taste enough to admire a better
style of writing, yet wanted courage or ability to imitate it, was
doubtless sensible of the defects of his plan ; but dramatic propriety
and historical accuracy appear to have been but secondary consider-
ations with him while composing this tragedy, and he therefore hesi-
tated not to render them subservient to other more important objects
which he had in view j with these, however, we have no concern ; our
business is to examine the piece as we find it, without reference to the
adventitious circumstances which influenced the author in the con-
struction of it. Rowe aimed at painting a benignant monarch and a
ferocious tyrant, but it strikes us that he has neither rendered Tamer-
lane so attractive, nor Bajazet so odious, as he evidently intended ;
the boasted virtue of the former is little more than " a rhapsody of
words ;" and all our respect for his philosophical magnanimity can-
not conceal from ns the ungracious fact, that this model for sovereigns

is no better at bottom than a pedantic, egotistical sermonizer, brimful
of conceit and mock humility. Bajazet, with all his brutality, is far the
more interesting personage of the two, for though a ferocious animal,
he is no hypocrite, and even his ungovernable passions, malignant and
iaappeasable as they are, are preferable to the dull stagnant pool of his
rival's mind. One kindly feeling too remains in his wildest paroxysms,
to connect him with human nature : his love for his daughter half
atones for his hatred of others, and insensibly wins for him a portion
of that esteem which we are compelled to withhold from the frigid
propriety of Tamerlane. In other respects, Rowe, we admit, has made
his monster monstrous enough ; the Saracen's Head upon Snow Hill,
or a bull inflamed to madness by goads, dogs, and brands, would be
bnt a faint emblem of this distorted daemon : Billingsgate itself never
poured forth a torrent of abuse half so eloquent as that with which he
favours Tamerlane in Acts 2 and 4. — The sorrows of the ravished he-
roine and her whining lover excite but little sympathy, for though they
are on the rack throughout the play, they are not made remarkably
amiable, nor are their misfortunes very afFectingly described. Ma-
nes es seems to be " a wretch created to repine," and his unvarying
depression throws a corresponding damp on the spirits of the audience »
he is, however, as self-confident, opiniated a gentleman as one would
wish to meet with, for no fanatical puritan ever quitted the world with
a more presumptuous reliance upon the pureness of his past life, or the
efficacy of an empty faith : on the point of being strangled, he ex-
claims to Ar pasta, who gives him the comfortable assurance that " very
shortly they shall both be happy"—

" There is no room for doubt ; 'tis certain bliss ;
The tyrant's cruel violence, thy loss,
Already seem more light ; nor has my soul
One unrepented guilt upon remembrance,
To make me dread the Justice of hereafter;
But, standing now on the last verge of life, *
Boldly I view the vast abyss, Eternity,
Eager to plunge, and leave my woes behind me."

This strangulation is a vile incident in a play, even when supposed
to take place behind the scenes ; Johnson hazarded it in his " Irene'
upon the open stage, till the shrieks of the female spectators and the

a 3

VI

execrations of the men compelled the acton to desist, and we mast
confess we never witnessed the last act of " Tamerlane" but with un-
utterable disgust; the very idea of such a procedure causes horror in-
stead of pity. Rowe has not managed his heroine's fall very cle-
verly; had the agony of the moment burst her heart-strings, and in-
stantaneous death ensued, the incident would hare been far more na-
tural, effective, and decorous than the volley of oaths and curses which
the now contrives to give vent to ere she falls. The lady's destiny is
certainly very melancholy, but her lachrymose bewailings of it are
excessively tedious, and she has moreover a vile spice of prudery in her
composition,which she clearly betrays when she beseeches Tamerlane to
spare Bqjazet's life, not from any feeling of compassion for the man,
or any sentiment of duty towards her husband, but simply from an ap-
prehension that his execution may be injurious to her reputation, and
furnish matter for " the busy world's scurril mirth."

Although the language of the piece in general is monotonous and
undramatic, 'twould be unjust to deny that it contains some splendid
descriptive passages, and many felicities of thought and expression ;
but what are cadences however harmonious, imagery however elegant,
or descriptions however glowing, when stirring incident and an ex-
citing plot are absent ? The polished periods of the speakers by de-
grees fall unheeded upon the listless ear, and the mind sighs for some-
thing to rouse it from the state of inaction into which it finds itself
lulled. Read the speech with which the play opens— a fair specimen
of the rest— and say whether such measured, unimpassioned declama-
tion has any thing about it to awake the attention or interest the feel-
ings of an audience; throughout the piece, the dialogue proceeds in
the same formal, sing-song style ; all the personages alike, without
discrimination of character or rank, deal in high-flown metaphor and
flowery phraseology; each man seems determined to have his fair
quota of talk, " turn and turn about," and when one speaker has
delivered six .lines, the next is sure to have half-a-dozen in reply. It
is amusing also to observe the sedulous anxiety with which broken
lines are in general avoided ; when any one fails to conclude a speech
with the requisite number of syllables, the hemistich is in most in-
stances as carefully completed by the respondent as if the slightest ap-
proach to a colloquial style were the worst fault a dramatist can be
guilty of. The defects of the plot we have already adverted to ; the

»*

grand question, the fate of Bajazet is decided at the outset, and all
that follows is of secondary interest ; the mind, after contemplating
the subversion of an empire, is bewildered with a succession of petty
details, a paltry conspiracy, and two insipid lore-plots, to which Ta-
merlane seems half inclined to add a third. Heavily too as the main
action labours on, it stands completely still in the middle of the play,
while the useless episode of the Dervise is introduced to afford Tamer-
lane an opportunity of indulging in a controversy upon modes of faith,
which would be pefectly in place in an argument upon religious tole-
ration at a debating-club, but might very well have been spared in a
tragedy. The authors of the " Dramatic Censor," 1770, say, " We
are bold to assert that no pulpit ever advanced more useful instruction
than this scene affords," and we readily assent to the correctness of their

*

opinion, though far from thinking it particularly complimentary to
Howe's dramatic talent, whatever honour it may do him as a moral-
ist. At length the play is helped on to a conclusion by the old ex-
pedient, a conspiracy, the clumsiest both in contrivance and execution
that can be met with in any drama but " Cato ;" and Bajazet finally
stalks off in triumphant defiance, while the innocent suffer, for Mo-
neses and Arpasia appear to have been guilty of no fault beyond a little
venial artifice.

But, even were the plot the cleverest ever contrived, and the cha-
racters as engaging as they are repulsive, 'twould avail but little,
while the interest remained clogged with the multitude of words, the
ill-timed, unnatural displays of eloquence, which Rowe had such a
passion for introducing. Refer, for instance, to the most striking si-
tuation in the whole piece, the moment of Arpasia' s death, and say
what can be better calculated to quench every spark of feeling it may
have awakened, than the introduction at such a time of a laboured
piece of description like the following. Holy has merely to announce
that Arpasia has expired, yet he can by no means manage to convey
the information in less compass than eight lines : —

" Already she's beyond the power of art ;
For, see, a deadly cold has froze the blood,
The pliant limbs grow stiff, and lose their use,
And all the animating fire is quench'd.
E'en beauty too is dead ; an ashy pale

• ••

Y1U

Grows o'er the roses, the red lips have lost
Their fragrant hue, for want of thafsweet breath
That blest 'em with its odours as it past."

Tlie distracting moment of parting for ever from him to whom she
is devotedly attached, might be expected to draw from a woman some
little display of feeling, and some faint burst of passion ; but, how
does Arpasia comport herself in this trying situation ? — she gives rent
to her anguish in the following truly natural and affecting style : —

" Fain would I still detain thee, hold thee still ;
Nor honour can forbid, that we together
Should sha/e the poor few minutes that remain.
I swear, methinks this sad society
Has somewhat pleasing in it. — Death's dark shades
Seem, as we journey on, to lose their horror.
At near approach, the monsters, form'd by fear,
Are vanish'd all, and leave the prospect clear ;
Amidst the gloomy vale, a pleasing scene,
With flow'rs adorn'd, and never-fading green,
Inviting stands, to take the wretched in :

No wars, no wrongs, no tyrants, no despair,
Disturb the quiet of a place so fair,
But injur'd lovers find Elysium there."

Now we call upon every unprejudiced reader to say whether there
is any thing in these common-place triplets, these passionless, inani-
mate sentiments, to arouse the slightest feeling of sympathy for the
distressed lady who utters them ; si vis me flere, &c, and Arpasia**
expressions of sorrow are really so perfectly cold and artificial, that
the audience very naturally give themselves no concern about a mat-
ter which seems so little to agitate the parties themselves. But, let
us turn to another scene. Moneses comes to Tamerlane, bewailing in
bitter terms the loss of his affianced bride, upon which the cold-blooded
philosopher thinks forsooth to console him, by proposing to enter upon
a very laudable though somewhat arduous undertaking : —

" Thou shalt forget these lesser cares, Moneses;
Thou shalt, and help me to reform the world "

ix

Finding, however, that this brilliant idea does not entirely reconcile
If <me$es to his lot, he breaks out into the following superb display of
elocution, which proceeds with peculiar propriety from one who pre-
viously affects to execrate the " fell monster, war," and deplore the
44 destructive slaughter" to which it gives rise :—

" This dull despair
Is the soul's laziness* 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 rosy fetters and fantastic chains,
He binds deluded maids and simple swabs ;
With soft enjoyments woos 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 abjectfear,
On silken wings, sublime he cuts the air,
Scar'd at the noble noise and thunder of the war."

All this jingling stuff about swains and chains, streams and dreams,
would we confess have a very imposing effect in its proper place, — a
Magazine Prize-Poem, Lines on the Prospect of War, or some such
thing, though whether it is judiciously introduced in a tragedy we are
much inclined to question. Thundered out with due emphasis and
discretion, by a brazen-lunged performer, it will doubtless make
the judicious stare, and split the ears of the groundlings, but beyond
this it does not seem calculated to produce much impression either
upon Moneses or the audience. It, however, answers Tamerlane s end ;
it silences his auditor, if it does not convince him, and is in truth un-
answerable.

We might swell this preface with fifty other specimens of the kind,
but these will suffice to illustrate the opinions we have advanced, and
they who desire to see more, "may meet with them in every page ; we

prefer selecting a few of the brilliant passages which the piece eon-
tains, whicn, as we have already admitted, are by no means of rare
occurrence. The description given of Bcyazet in the first scene, though
struck out of the acting -copy, deserves to be quoted for its vigour of
thought and expression : —

" For five returning suns, scarce was he seen
By any, the most favoured of his court,
But in lascivious ease, among his women,
Liv'd from the war retir'd; or else alone,
In sullen mood, sat meditating plagues
And ruin to the world 5 till yester morn,
Like fire thatlab'ring upwards rends the earth,
He burst with fury from his tent, commanding
All should be ready for the fight to-day.
Thrice by our law and prophet has he sworn,
By the world's Lord and Maker, lasting peace
With our great master, and his royal friend,
The Grecian Emperor ; as oft, regardless
Of plighted faith, with most unkingly baseness,
-' Has ta'en th' advantage of their absent arms,
Without a war proclaim'd, or cause pretended,
To waste with sword and fire their fruitful fields :
Like some accursed fiend, who, scap'd from hell,
Poisons the balmy air through which he flies,
He blasts the bearded corn and loaded branches,
The lab'ring hinds' best hopes, and marks bis way with ruin."

The day after the victory is finely described in a short passage,
containing a figure of infinite grandeur : —

" The dreadful business of the war is over j
And Slaughter, that from yester morn 'till even,
With giant steps, pass'd striding o'er the field,
Besmear'd and horrid with the blood of nations,
Now weary sits among the mangled heaps,
And slumbers o'er her prey; while from the camp,
The cheerful sounds of * Victory and Tamerlane*
Beat the high arch of heav'n."

1 here is also much eloquent beauty in Tamerlane's rebuke of the
JMrvise who attempts his life : —

" Thou maker of new faiths, that dar'st to build

Thy fond inventions on religion's name !—

Religion's lustre is, by native innocence,

Divinely pure, and simple from all arts ;

You daub and dress her like a commonjnistress,

The harlot of your fancies ; and by adding

False beauties, which she wants not, make the world

Suspect her angel's face is foul beneath,

And will not bear all lights. Hence, I have found thee.

Now learn the difference 'twizt thy faith and mine : —
Thine bids thee lift the dagger to my throat,
Mine can forgive the wrong, and bid thee live.
ICeep thy own wicked secret, and be safe !
If thou repent'st, I have gain'd one to virtue,
And am, in that, rewarded for my mercy ;
If thou continuest still to be the same,
"lis punishment enough to be a villain !"

We select these passages as specimens of just sentiment and smooth
versification, not as possessing any dramatic character, or as being
adapted to t^e dialogue of a tragedy, which in truth they serve to en-
cumber rather than adorn. Sometimes indeed Rowe rises to a more
spiiited and natural style of writing, as in Bajazefs suggestion to
Axalla y in Act 3 ; but such examples are truly " few, and far be-
tween :"

" Bqjazet. For our daughter thus
Mean'stthou to barter? Ha ! I tell thee, christian,
There is but one, one dowry thou canst give,
An<? I can ask, worthy my daughter's love.

A valla. Oh ! name the mighty ransom ; task my power;
Let there be danger, difficulty, death,
Tenhance the price —

XII

Bajatet. I take thee at thy word j—
Bring me the Tartar's head!

Amalla. Ha !

Bajaaet. Tamerlane's
That death, that deadly poison to my glory.

Atalla. Prodigious ! horrid !

Seiima. Lost! for ever lost.*

Bajazet. And couldst thou hope to bribe me with aught else ?
With a vile peace, patch'd up on slavish terms ?
With tributary kingship ?— No !— To merit
A recompence from me, sate my revenge.
The Tartar is my bane, I cannot bear him ;
One heaven and earth can never hold us both;
Still shall we hate, and with defiance deadly
Keep rage alive, till one be lost for ever :
As if two suns should meet in the meridian,
And strive in fiery combat for the passage."

Had Rowe always written in so animated a style as this, ours would
have been a far pleasanter task, and " Itanerlane" would still hav e
been a popular tragedy : as the play now stands, it is the poet himself
who speaks throughout, and not his characters ; we have little leisure
to think of the two Emperors, of Moneses, or Arpasia, for we are never
suffered to lose sight of Rowe himself.

The contention of Tamerlane and Bajazet had more than once
formed the groundwork of a play in our language before it was se-
lected by Rowe, and an Italian Opera on the subject was played at
the King's Theatre in 1724. About 1588 it formed the story of one
of our earliest tragedies, " Tamburlaine the Great," by Christopher
Marlowe, which though stuffed with bombast and absurdities, is still
a highly amusing composition, and contains some poetical passages of

* This hemistich curiously illustrates the mechanical, formal con-
struction of the verse, which we have previously noticed, and which
Rowe never lost sight of in his most animated moments. Five sylla-
bles were required to complete the line, and accordingly poor Seiima
was dragged forward with an unmeaning exclamation,

• ••

Xlll

exquisite beauty. In 1681 a play called " Tamerlane" was written
by one Saunders, who in the Epilogue, by Dryden, was described as
a youth of great genius, but never fulfilled the promise of his early
years by any after production. Rowe's tragedy was first performed in
1702, by the revolted company under Betterton, then established at
a theatre in Bear- Yard, or Little Lincoln's Inn Fields. Downes says, >
it was " in general well acted, but chiefly the parts of Mr. Betterton,
Mr. Vanbruggen, Mr. Powell, Madam Bracegirdle and Madam Barry,
which made it a stock-play. Gildon, in his " Comparison betweeri>the
Two Stages," 1702, attributes this success entirely to the admirable ,
manner in which the characters were sustained : " Upon the Stage
(says he) it may appear well, but he [Rowe] had some of the best
tragedians in the world to act it, and who knows not the advantage
a play receives from their mouths \ Who knows not the effect of
Betterton's fine acting ? Who is not charmed with Mrs. Barry ? What
beauty do they not give to every thing they represent ?" — Rowe, it is
supposed, intended to represent William the 3rd and Louis 14th by the
characters of Tamerlane and Bajazet; and the parallel, after being
obscurely hinted at in the Prologue, seems to be pretty plainly avowed
in the dedication of the play to Lord Hartington, if any conclusion
may be drawn from the following coquettish allusion to it. — " Some
people (who do me a very great honour in it) have fancied, that
in the person of Tamerlane, I have alluded to the greatest charac-
ter of the present age. I do not know whether I ought not to
apprehend a great deal of danger from avowing a design Hke
that. It may be a task indeed worthy the greatest genius which
this or any other time has produced, but therefore I ought not to
stand the shock of a parallel, lest it should be seen, to my disadvan-
tage, how far the herp has transcended the poet's thoughts. There
are many features, 'tis true, in that great man's life not unlike His
Majesty; his courage, his piety, his moderation, his justice, and his
fatherly love of his people ; but above all, his hate of tyranny and op-
pression, and his zealous care for the common good of mankind,
carry a strong resemblance of him. Several incidents are alike \a
their stories ; and there wants nothing to His Majesty, but such a de-
ciding victory as that by which Tamerlane gave peace to the world :
that is yet to come ; but I hope we may reasonably expect it from the
uoanimity of the present Parliament, and the formidable force which
that unanimity will give life and vigour to."

X1T

Whether or not the belief was well founded, it procured for the play
a surprising popularity. Louis was the bugbear of the day, and the
people were delighted thus to have an opportunity of beholding
him

" Painted upon a pole, and underwrite
Here you may see the tyrant."

Long after the death of Louis, it was the fashion to perform thif
play annually*, with an occasional Prologue, on the 4th and 5th of
November, the anniversaries of William's birth, and landing in Eng-
and,butthe custom at length fell into disuse, nor did the result of the
last attempt to revive it, which was, we believe at Covent Garden
Theatre in Nov. 1819, appear to presage that managers will ever find
it to their interest to resume the practice.

A slight sketch of Rowe's life was given in our edition of " Jane
Shore," and we here subjoin a few illustrative notices, which we have
gathered from various quarters, but principally from " Spence's
Anecdotes".

Rowe in Pope's opinion, though he maintained a decent character,
had no heart; Addison was once justly offended with him for some be-
haviour which arose from this defect, and estranged himself from his
company, which Rowe felt very severely. Pope, their common friend,
knowing this, took an opportunity on some occasion' of Addison's ad-
vancement, to tell him how much poor Rowe was grieved at his dii -
pleasure, and what satisfaction he had shewn on hearing of his good
fortune, ' which (added Pope) he expressed so naturally that I could
.not but think him sincere.' Addison replied, f I do not suspect that
he feigned, but the levity of his heart is such, that he is struck with
every new occurrence, and he would be affected just in the same man-
ner, if he heard I was going to be hanged.' Pope said, he could not
deny that Addison understood Rowe well, but if this was really his
opinion, he afterwards found reason to alter it, or else lied egregiously
when he composed this heartless fellow's epitaph.

The following familiar epistle from Rowe to Pope has been preser-
ved, though it possesses little interest, except as a record of the fa-
miliar terms upon which these two illustrious men lived with one
another :

XT

«•

" To Mr. Pope, at Mr. Jervas's, in Cleveland Court, by St. James's
House, or at Button's Coffee House, in Covent Garden.

Thursday, May 20, 1713.
Dear Sir,

I don't know that I have a long time received a billet
with greater pleasure than yours. Depend upon it, nothing could have
been more agreeable, but yourself. To do something then that is per-
fectly kind, come and eat a bit of mutton with me to-morrow, at
St Kk well. Bring whom you will along with you, though I can give
yo 1 nothing but the aforesaid mutton and a cup of ale. It is but a lit-
tle mile from Fox Hall, and you don't know how much you will
ol lige

Your most affectionate and faithful humble Servant,

N. Rowe."

' ' Rowe was bred first at Westminster school, and then at the Tem-
ple. He had about £300 a year, and his chambers there. His father
was a Sergeant at Law. Rowe was of a pretty personage, and a very
pretty sort of man* •

" Some one observing that they thought Rowe had been too grave to
wiUe light things, Pope said, * He ! why he would laugh all day long ;
he would do nothing else but laugh.' " P.P.

%iw of Uevvtmxmion.

The time this piece takes in representation, is Two Hours and
Forty minutes,

Stage Directions.

By r.h is meant. . . . , Right Hand.

l.h • ..»»i. Left Hand.

s. e Second Entrance.

u.E Upper Entrance.

MD. Middle Door.

D.r.. •••• ..Door in Flat.

r.h.d .'. Right Hand Door.

jl.h.d • •• ........... Left Hand Doer.

Costume*

TAMERLANE.
Morone coloured robe, white satin tunic, and white trowsers.

BAJAZET.
Green velvet ibid, yellow ibid, ibid, ibid.

AXALLA.
Roman shape robe, &c.

MONESES.
Ibid, ibid.

STRATOCLES.
Ibid, ibid.

PRINCE OF TANAIS.
Black velvet fly jacket, scarlet vest and trowsers.

OMAR.
Light blue ibid, ibid.

Crimson ibid, ibid.

Yellow ibid, ibid.

Blue ibid, ibid.

DERVISE.
Green robe, slate coloured, and vest.

ARPASIA.

White dress, trimmed with gold, and scarlet silk searf, embroidered
with gold.

SELIMA.

White dress, trimmed with silver, and orange coloured velvet robe
trimmed ibid.

MIRVAN.
ZAMA.
HALY.

$trftmg fttpre&ntti).

Drury Lane, 1815. Covent Garden, 1819.

Tamerlane Mr. Pope. Mr. C. Kemble.

BajazeU • • • . . Mr. Kean Mr. Macready.

AxaUa • Mr. Wallack. Mr. Connor.

Moneses •• Mr. Rae. Mr. Abbott.

Stratocles Mr. Barnard. Mr. Mears.

Prince of Tanais, ......... Mr. Coveney. Mr. Jefferies*

Omar....* Mr. R. Phillips* Mr. Comer.

Mirvan . . Mr. Ebs worth. Mr. Ryals.

Zama Mr. Cooke. Mr. King.

Haly Mr. Kent. Mr. Claremont.

Dervise Mr. Powell. Mr. Chapman.

Arpasia. Mrs. Bartley. Mrs. Bunn.

Selima •• Miss L. Kelly. Miss Foote.

Parthian and Tartar Soldiers, Mutes belonging to Bajaztt, and

other Attendants.

SCENE'— Tamerlane* s Camp, near Angaria in Galatia.

TAMERLANE.

ACT I.

SCENE I.— Before Tamerlane's Tent.

The Prince of Tanais, Zam a, and Mirvan,

discovered.

Pr. Hail to the son ! from whose returning light
The cheerful soldier's arms new lustre take,
To deck the pomp of battle. Oh, my friends !
Was ever such a glorious face of war ?
See, from this height, how all Galatia's plains
With nations numberless are cover'd o'er ;
Who, like a deluge, hide the face of earth,
And leave no object in the vast horizon,
But glittering arms and skies.

Zam. Our Asian world
From this important day expects a lord \
This day they hope an end of all their woes,
Of tyranny, of bondage, and oppression,
From our victorious emp'ror, Tamerlane.

Mir. Hear you of Bajazet ?

Pr. Late in the evening
A slave of near attendance en his person
'Scap'd to our camp. From him we learn'd the ty-
rant.

TAMERLANE.

With rage redoubled, for the fight prepares ;
Some accidental passion fires his breast,
{Love, as 'lis thought, for a fair Grecian captive)
And adds new horror to his native fury- (Flourish. )

Pr. But see his fate ! The mighty Tamerlane
Comes, like the proxy of enquiring heav'n,
To judge, and to redress, (Flourish of Trumpets.)

£uler Tamerlane, preceded by Soldiers, r.h.

7am. Yet, yet a little, aud destructive slaughter
Shall rage around, and mar this beauteous prospect.
Pass but an hour, which stauds betwixt the lives
Of thousands and eternity, what change
Shall hasty Death make in yon glitt'ring plain ?
Oh, thou fell monster, War ! that in a moment
Lay'st waste the noblest part of the creation,
The boast and master-piece of tlm great Maker,
That wears in vain th' impression of his image,
Unprivileg'd from thee. —
Health to our friends, and to our arms success !

(To the Prince, Zama, and Mirvan.)
Such as the cause for which we fight deserves.

Pr. Nor can we ask beyond what heaven bestows,
Preventing still our wishes. Sec, great sir,
The universal joy your soldiers wear,
Omen of prosp'rous battle.
Impatient of the tedious night, in arms
Watchful they stood, expecting op'ning day ;
And now are hardly by their leaders held
From darting on the foe.

Tarn. Yes, prince, I mean to give a loose to war.
This morn Axalla, with my Parthian horse,
Arrives to join me. He who, like a storm,
Swept with his flying squadrons all the plain
Between Angoria s walls and yon tall mountains,
That seem to reach the clouds ; and now he comes,
Loaden w itli spoils and conquest, to my aid.

(Trumpets flourish.)

Zam. These trumpets speak his prudence —

TAMERLANE.

Enter Axalla, l.h. who kneels to Tamerlane.

Tarn. Welcome ! thou worthy partner of ray lau-
rels,
Thou brother of my choice, a bond more sacred
Than nature's brittle tie. By holy friendship,
Glory and fame stood still for thy arrival ;
My soul seem'd wanting in its belter half,
And languished for thy absence.

Ax. My emperor! My ever royal master!
To whom my secret soul more lowly bends,
Than forms of outward worship can express j
How poorly does your soldier pay this goodness,
Who wears his every hour of life out for you !
Vet 'tis his all, and what he has he offers ;
Nor now disdain t' accept the gift he brings,

Enter Selima, Moseses, SmATocLKS, Prisoners,
Guards, Mutes, Sec. l.h.

This earnest of your fortune. See, my lord,
The noblest prize that ever grae'd my arms t
Approach, my lair —

Tarn. This is indeed to conquer,
And well to be rewardrd for thy conquest j
The bloom of op'ning ffow'rs, unsullied beauty,
Softest and sweetest innocence she wears,
And looks like nature in the world's first spring —
But .say, Axalla —

Sel. Most renown'd in war !

(Crosses to centreand kneels to Tamerlane.)
Look with compassion on a captive maid,
Though born of hostile blood ; nor let my birth,
Deriv'd from Bajazet, prevent that mercy
Which every subject of your fortune finds.
War is the province of ambilious man,
Who tears trie miserable world for empire ;
Whilst our weak sex, incapable of wrong,
On either side claims privilege of safety.

TAMERLANE.

Torn. ( Raising her.) Rise, royal maid! the pride
of haughty pow'r
Pays homage, not receives it, from the fair.
Thy angry father fiercely calls me forth,
And urges we unwillingly to arms-
Vet, though our frowning battles menace death.
And mortal conflict, think not that we hold
Thy innocence and virtue as our foe.
Here, till the fate of Asia is decided,
In safety stay. To-morrow is your own.
Nor grieve for who may conquer, or who lose ;
Fortune on either side shall wait thy wishes.

Sel. Where shall my wonder and my praise begin ?
From the successful labours of thy arms ;
Or from a theme more soft and full of peace,
Thy mercy and thy gentleness ! Oh, Tamerlane I
What can I pay thee for this noble usage,
But grateful praise ? So heaven itself is paid.
Give peace, ye pow'rs above, peace to mankind ;
Nor let my father wage unequal war
Against the force of such united virtues.

Tarn. Heav'n hear thy pious wish ! — But since our
prospect
Looks darkly on futurity, till fate
Determine for us, let thy beauty's safety
Be my Axalla's care; in whose glad eyes
I read what joy the pleasing service gives him.

(Setima retires-)
Is there amongst thy other prisoners aught ( To Axaila.)
Worthy our knowledge ?

Ax. This brave man, my lord,

( Pointing to Moneses, who advances.)
With long resistance held the combat doubtful.
His party, prest with numbers, soon grew faint,
And would have left their charge an easy prey ;
Whilst he alone, undaunted at the odds,
Though hopeless to escape, fought well and firmly ;
Nor yielded till, o'ermatch'd by many hands,
He seem'd to shame our conquest, whilst he own'd it.

Turn. Thou speak'st him as a soldier should a sol-
dier,

m

TAMEBLANE. 5

Just to the worth he finds. I would not war

(To Moneses. — Axalla and Selima converse
apart, R.a.)

ith aught that wears thy virtuous stamp of great-
ness.
Thy habit speaks thee Christian. — Nay, yet more,
My soul seems pleas'd to take acquaintance with thee,
As if all j 'd to thine : perhaps 'tis sympathy
Of honest minds ; like strings wound up in music,
Where, by one touch, both utter the same harmony.
Why art thou then a friend to Bajazet ?
And why my enemy f

Mon. If human wisdom
Could point out every action of our lives.
And say, — Let it be (hus in spite of fate
Or partial fortune, — then I had not been
The wretch I am.

Tarn. The brave meet every accident
With equal minds. Think nobler of thy foes,
Than to account thy chance in war an evil.

Mon. Far, far from that : I rather hold it grievous
That I was fore'd ev'n but to seem your enemy;
Nor think the baseness of a vanquished slave
Moves rae to flatter for precarious life.
Or ill-brought freedom, when 1 swear, by heav'n,
Were I to choose from all mankind a master,
It should be Tamerlane.

Tarn. A noble freedom
Dwells with the brave, unknown to fawning syco-
phants,
And claims a privilege of being believ'd.
1 take thy praise as earnest of thy friendship.

Mon. Still you prevent the homage I shall offer.
Oh, royal sir ! let my misfortunes plead,
And wipe away the hostile mark I wore.
I was, when nut long since iny fortune hail'd me,
Bless'd to ray wish ; I was the prince Moneses ;
Born and bred up to greatness : witness the blood,
Which, through successive heroes' veins, ally'd
To our Greek emperors, roll'd down to me,
b 3

6 TAMERLANE.

Feeds the bright flame of glory in my heart.

Tarn. Ev'n that, that princely tie, should bind thee
to me,
If virtue were not more than all alliance.

(Crosses to R.H.)

Mon. I have a sister, oh, severe remembrance 1
Our noble house's, nay, her sex's pride ;
Nor think my tongue too lavish, if I speak her
Fair as the feme of virtue, and yet chaste
As its cold precepts ; wise beyond her sex
And blooming youth; sodas forgiving mercy,
Yet greatly brave and jealous for her honour :
Such as she was, to say I barely lov'd ber,
la poor to my soul's meaning. From our infancy
There grew a mutual tenderness between us,
Till not long since her vows were kindly plighted
To a young lord, the equal of her birth.
The happy day was fix'd, and now approaching,
When faithless Bajazet (upon whose honour,
In solemn treaty given, the Greeks depended)
With sudden war broke in upon the country,
Secure of peace, and for defence unready.

Tain. Let majesty no more be held divine,
Since kings, who are call'd gods, profane themselves.

Mon. Among the wretches, whom that deluge
swept
Away to slavery, myself and sister,
Then passing near the frontiers, to the court,
(Which waited for her nuptials) were surpris'd,
And made the captives of the tyrant's pow'r.
Soon as we reach d his court, we found our usage,
Beyond what we expected, fair and noble ;
Twas then ihe storm of your victorious arms
Xiook'd black, and seem't! to threaten, when heprestme
(By oft repealing instances) to draw
My sword for him : but when he found my soul
Disdain'd his purpose, he more fiercely told me,
That my Arpasia, my lov'd sister's fate,
Depended on my courage shewn for him.
I had long learnt to hold myself at nothing ;
But for her sake, to ward the blow from her,

TAMEBLANE. 7

I bound my service to the man I hated.
Six days are past since, by the sultan's order,
I left the pledge of my return behind,
And went to guard this princess to liis camp :
The rest, the brave Axalla's fortune tells you.

Tarn. Wisely the tyrant strove to prop his cause,
By leaguing with thy virtue ; but just heav'n
Has torn thee from his side, and left him naked
To the avenging bolt that drives upon him.
Forget the name of captive, and I wish
i could as well restore that fair-one's freedom,
Whose loss hangs heavy on thee : yet, ere night,
Perhaps, we may deserve thy friendship nobler ;
Th'approachingstorm may cast thy shipwreck'd wealth
Back to thy arms : till that be past, since war
(Though in the justest cause) is ever doubtful,
I will not ask thy sword to aid my victory,
Lest it should hurt that hostage of thy valour
Our common foe detains.

Man. Let Hajazet
Bend to his yoke repining slaves by force;
You, sir, have found a nobler way to empire,
Lord of the willing world.

Tarn. Haste, my Axalla, to dispose with safety
The beauteous charge, and on the toe revenge
The pain which absence gives ; thy other care,
Honour and arms, now summon thy attendance.
Now do thy office well, my soul ! Remember
The cause, the cause of heaven and injur'd earth.
O thou Supreme ! if thy great spirit warms
My glowing breast, and Ores my soul to arms,
Grant that my sword, assisted by thy pow'r,
This day may pease and happiness restore,
That war and lawless rage may vex the world no
more.
[Exeunt Tamerlane, Seltma, Moneses, Stra-
tocles, Prince of Tanais, Zama, Miroan, and
Attendants, n.H.

END OF ACT 1.
B 4

TAMERLANE.

ACT II.

SCENE I,— Tamerlane's Camp.

Enter Moneseb, n.n.

Man. The dreadful business of the war is o'er ;
And slaughter, that from jester* morn till even,
With giant steps, poss'd striding o'er the field,
Besmear' d and horrid with the blood of nations.
Now weary sits among the mangled heaps,
And slumbers o'er her prey ; while from this c
The cheerful sounds of victory and Tamerlane
Beat the high arch of heaven.

Enter Stratoclbs, l.h.

My Stratocles !

Most happily relurn'd : might I believe

Thou brmg'st me any joy I

Stra. With my best diligence,
This night, I have enquir'd of what concerns y
Scarce was the sun, who shone upon the horror
Of the past day, sunk to the western ocean,
When, by permission from the prince Axalla,
I mixt among the tumult of the warriors
Returning from the battle : here, a troop
Of hardy Parthians, red with honest wounds,
Confest the conquest they had well deserv'd :
There, a dejected crew of wretched captives,
Followed sadly after

The haughty victor's heels. Hut that which fulL_,
Crown'd the success of Tamerlane, was Bajazct,
Fall'n, like the proud archangel, from the height
Where once (ev'n next to majesty divine)
Enthron'd he sat, down to the vile descent
And lowness of a slave : but, oh ! to speak
The rage, the fierceness, and the indignation,
It bars all words, and cuts description short.

TAMERLANE. 9

Mon. Then he ia fallen ! that comet, which on
high
Portended ruin : he has spent his blaze,
And shall distract the world with fears no more.
But say, my friend, what hear'st thou of Arpasia f
For there my thoughts, my every care is center'd.

Slra. Tho' on that purpose still I bent my search,
Yet nothing certain could 1 gain, but this:
That, in the pillage of the sultan's tent,
Some women were made prisoners, who this morning
Were to be offer'd to the emperor's view ;
Their names and qualities, though oft enquiring,
I could not learn.

Mon. Then must my soul still labour
Beyond uncertainty and anxious doubt.

Stra. 'Twas said, not far from hence
The captives were to wait the emperor's passage.

Mon. Haste weto find the place. Oh, my Arpasia !
Khali we l.hen meet ?

in, "1
f pain. J

When thy lov'd sight shall bless my eyes again
Then 1 will own, 1 ought not to complain,
^incc that sweet hour is worth whole years

[Exeunt

F SCENE M.—The Inside of a Magnificent Tent.
Symphony of warlike Music.

Tambrlanb, Axai-la, k.h. Puince of Tanais,
Zama, and Mirvan, l.h. Soldiers, and other At-
tend mils., discovered.

At. From this auspicious day the Parthian name
Shall date its birlh of empire, and extend,
Ev'n from the dawning East to utmost Thule,
The limits of its sway.

Pr. Nations unknown.
Where yet the Roman eagles never flew,
Shall pay their hoflfage to victorious Tamerlane ;
Bend to his valour and superior virtue,
A ud own that conquest is not given by chance ;
b 5

10 TAMBRLANE.

But, bound by fatal and resistless merit,
Waits on his arms.

Tarn. It is too much : you dress me,
Like an usurper, in the borrowed attributes
Of injur'd heaven. Can we call conquest ours ?
Shall man, this pigmy, with a giant's pride,
Vaunt of himself, and say, Thus have 1 done this ?
Ohj vain pretence to greatness I Like the moon,
We borrow all the brightness which we boast ;
Dark in ourselves, and useless. If that hand
That rules the fate of battles, strike for us,
Crown us with fame, and gild our clay with honour,
'Twere most ungrateful to disown the benefit,
And arrogate a praise which is not ours.

Ax. With such unshaken temper of the soul
To bear the swelling tide of prosp'rous fortune,
Is to deserve that fortune : in adversity,
The mind grows tough by buffeting the tempest,
Which, in success dissolving, sinks to ease,
And loses all her firmness.

Tarn. Oh, Axalla !
Could I forget I am a man, as thou art ;
Would not the winter's cold, or summer's heat.
Sickness, or thifst, and hunger, all the train
Of nature's clamorous appetites, asserting
An equal right in kings and common men,
Reprove me daily ? — No — If I boast of aught,
Be it, to have been heaven's happy instrument,
The means of good to all my fellow-creatures :
This is a king's best praise. ' (Crosses to r.h.)

Enter Omar, l.h.s.e.

Om. Honour and feme

(Bowing to Tamerlant, who turns. )
For ever wait the emperor ! May our prophet
Give him ten thousand thousand days of life,
And every day like this ! The captive sultan,
Fierce in his bonds, and at his fate repining,
Attends your sacred will.

Tarn. Let him approach.

TAMERLANE.

iterBijAZETjlwo Gentlemen and Soldiers, l.h.s.f

When I survey the ruins of this field,
The wild destruction which thy fierce ambition
Has dealt among mankind, (so many widows
And helpless orphans has thy battle made,
That half our eastern world this day are mourners)
* Veil may I, in behalf of heav'n and earth,
►eraand from thee atonement for this wrong.
Bty. Make thy demand to those that own tby
pow'r,
Know, I am still beyond it ; and though fortune
(Curse on that changeling deity of fools t)
Has stript me of the train and pomp of greatness,
That outside of a king, yet still my soul,
I'ix'd high, and of itself alone dependent,
Js ever free and royal, and ev'n now,
As at the head of battle, does defy thee.
I know what pow'r the chance of war has giv'n,
And dare thee to the use on't. This vile speeching,
This after-game of words, is what most irks me;
Spare that, and for the rest 'tis equal all —
Be it ns it may.

Tarn. Well was it for the world.
When on their borders neighbouring princes met,
Frequent in friendly parle, by cool debates
Preventing wasteful war; such should our meeting
Have been, hadst thou but held in just regard
The sanctity of leagues so often sworn to,
Canst thou believe thy prophet, or what's more,
That Pow'r Supreme which made thee and thy pro-
phet,
Will, with impunity, let pass that breach
Of sacred faith giv'n to the royal Greek f

Biij. Thou pedant talker 1 I hi ! art thou a king,
Possess'd of sacred pow'r, heav'n's darling attribute,
And dost thou prate of leagues, and oaths, and pro-
phets ?
1 hate the Greek (perdition on his name !)
b 6

12 TAMERLANE.

As I do thee, and would have met you both

As death does human nature, for destruction.

Tarn. Causeless to hate, is not of human kind :
The savage brute that haunts in woods remote
And desert wilds, tears not the fearful traveller.
If hunger or some injury, provoke not.

Baj. Can a king want a cause, when empire bids
Go on ? What is he born for, but ambition ?
It is his hunger, 'tis his call of nature,
The noble appetite which will be satisfied,
And, like the food of gods, make him immortal.

Tarn. Henceforth 1 will not wonder we were foes.
Since souls, that differ so, by nature hate,
And strong antipathy forbids their union.

{Crosses to h.h.)

Baj. The noble fire that warms me, does indeed
Transcend thy coldness. I am pleased we differ,
Nor think alike.

Tain. No — (Turns back.)'- for I think like man,
Thou like a monster, from whose baleful presence
Nature starts back ; and though she fix'd her stamp
On thy rough mass, and mark'd thee for a man,
Now, conscious of her error, she disclaims thee,
As furm'd for her destruction. —
'Tis true 1 am a king, m thou hast been :
Honour and glory, too, have been my aim i
But, though 1 dare face death, and all the dangers
Which furious war wears in its bloody front,
Yet would I choose to fix my name by peace,
By justice, and by mercy ; and to raise
My trophies on the blessings of mankind:
Nor would I buy the empire of the world
With ruin of the people whom I sway,
On forfeit of my honour. (Crosses to ji.ii.)

Bqj. Prophet. 1 thank thee—
Damnation 1 — Could'st thou rob me of my glory.
To dress up this tame king, this preaching dervise ?
Unfit for war, thou should'si haveliv'd secure
In lazy peace, and with debating senates
Shar'd a precarious sceptre, sat tamely still,

TAMERLANE. 13

And let bold factions canton out thy pow'r,
And wrangle for the spoils they robb <1 thee of;
Whilst I (curse on Ihe pow'r that stops my ardour !)
Would, like a tempest, rush amidst the nations,
Be greatly terrible, and deal, like Alba,
My angry thunder on the frighted world !

Tarn. The world! — 'twould be too little for thy
pride :
Thou would'sl scale heaven —

Bqj. I would! — Away! my aoul
Disdains thy conference. (Crosses to l.h.)

Tarn. Thou vain, rash thing,
That, with gigantic insolence, hast dar'd
To lift thy wrelched self above the stare,
And mate with pow'r almighty : thou art fallen !
Bqj. "Pis false ! I am not fallen from aught I have
been;
At least my soul resolves to keep her state,
And scorns to lake acquaintance with ill fortune.
Tarn. Almost beneath my pity art thou fiill'ii 5
Since, while th' avenging hand of heaven is on thee,
And presses to the dust thy swelling soul,
Fool-hardy, with the stronger thou contendest.
To what vast heights had thy tumultuous temper
Been hurried, if success had crown'd thy wishes!
Say, what had 1 to expect if thou hadst conquer'd !

Bqj. Oh, glorious thought ! by heav'n 1 will enjoy it,
Though but in fancy; imagination shall
Make room to entertain the vast idea.
Oh, had 1 been the master but of yesterday,
The world, the world had felt me; and for thee,
1 had used thee as thou art to me — a dog,
The object of my scorn, and mortal hatred :
I would have taught thy neck to know my weight,
And mounted from that footstool to tny saddle !
Then, when thy daily servile task was done,
I would have cag'd thee for the scorn of slaves,
Till thou hadst begg'd to die; and ev'n (hat mercy
I had denied thee. Now thou, know'st my mind,
And question me no farther.

14 TAMERLANE.

Tarn. Well dost thou teach me
What justice should exact of thee. Mankind,
With one consent, cry out for vengeance on thee ;
Loudly they call to cut off this league-breaker,
This wild destroyer, from the face of earth.

Baj. Do it, and rid thy shaking soul at once
Of its worst fear.

Tarn. Why slept the thunder
Tbat should have armed the idol deity,
And given thee pow'r, ere yester sun was set,
To shake the sou! of Tamerlane. Hadst thou an arm
To make thee fear'd, thou should'st have prov'd it on

me,
Amidst the sweat and blood of yonder field,
When through the tumult of the war 1 sought thee,
Fenc'd in with nations.

Baj. Curse upon the stars,
That fated us to different scenes of slaughter !

Oh, could my sword have met thee

Tarn. Thou hadst then,
As now, been in my pow'r, and held thy life
Dependent on my gift. Yes, Bajnzet,
I bid thee, live: — (Crosses to l.h.)

Nay, more : could'st thou forget thy brutal fierceness,
And form thyself to manhood, I would bid thee
Live, and be still a king, that thou may'st learn
What man should be to man, in war remembering
The common tie and brotherhood of kind.
This royal tent, with such of thy domestics
As can be found, shall wait upon thy service j
Nor will I use my fortune to demand
Hard terms of peace ; but such as thou may'st offer
With honour, 1 with honour may receive.
Baj, Ha ! say'st thou — no— our prophet's vengeance
blast me,
If thou shalt buy my friendship with thy empire !
Damnation on thee, thou smooth fawning talker !
Give me again my chains, that I may curse thee,
And gratify my rage : or, if thou wilt
Be a vain fool, and play with thy perdition,

TAMERLANE. 15

Remember, I am thy foe, and hate thee deadly :
Thy folly on thy head !

Tarn. Be still my foe.
Great minds, like heav'n, are pleas'd in doing good,
Though the ungrateful subjects of their favours
Are barren in return. Virtue still does
With scorn the mercenary world regard,
Where abject souls do good, and hope reward :
Above the worthless trophies men can raise, a

She seeks not honours, wealth, nor airy praise, y

But with herself, herself the goddess pays. J

[Exeunt Tamerlane, Axalla, Prince of Tanais,
Mirvan, Zama, and Attendants \ b.h.
Bqj. Come, lead me to my dungeon; plunge me
down
Deep from the hated sight of man and day ;
Where, under covert or the friendly darkness,
My soul may brood at leisure* o'er its anguish.

(Crosses to r.m.) -
Om. Our royal master would, with noble usage,
Make your misfortunes light : he bids you hope —
Bqj. 1 tell thee, slave, I have shook hands with
hope,
And all my thoughts are rage, despair, and horror' !

. [Exeunt Omar and Guards, ii.h.
Ha ! wherefore am I thus ! — Perdition seize me,
But my cold blood runs shiv'ring to my heart !
The rage and fiercer passions of my breast
Are lost in new confusions.

Enter Haly, r.h.

Arpasia! — Halyl

Ha. Oh, enlperor ! for whoso hard fate our prophet
And all the heroes of thy sacred race
Are sad in paradise, thy faithful Ualy,
The slave of all thy pleasures, in this ruin,
This universal shipwreck of thy fortunes,
Has gathered up this treasure for thy arms.

TAMERLANE.

Enter Arpasia, h.h.

Nor ev'n the victor, haughty Tamerlane,
(By whose command once more thy slave beholds thee)
Denies this blessing to thee, but with honour
Renders thee back thy queen, thy beauteous bride.

Bey. Oh, had her eyes with pity seen iny sorrows,
Had she the fondness of a tender bride,
Heav'n could not have bestow'cl a greater blessing,
And love had made amends for loss of empire.
But sec, what fury dwells upon her charms!
What lightning flashes from her angry eyes 1
With a malignant joy she views my ruin :
Even beauteous in her hatred, still she charms me,
And awes my fierce tumultuous soul to love.

Arp. And dar'st thou hope, thou tyrant ravisher !
That heaven has any joy in store for thee ?
Look back upon the sura of thy past life,
Where tyranny, oppression, and injustice,
Perjury, murders, swell the black account ;
Where lost Arpasia 's wrongs stand bleeding fresh,
Thy last recorded crime. But heaven has found thee ;
At length the tardy vengeance has o'erta'en thee.
My weary soul shall bear a little longer
The pain of life, to call for justice on thee :
That once complete, sink to the peaceful grave,
And lose the memory of my wrongs and thee.

Bnj. Thou rail'st ! I thank thee for it : be perverse,
And muster all the woman in thy soul;
Goad me with curses, be a very wife,
Thai I may fling off this tame love, and hale thee.

Enter Monesks, i..ii.—Btyazet starts.

Ha! keep thy temper, heart; nor take alarm

At a slave's presence. (Retires.)

Man. It is Arpasia I — Leave me, thou cold fear.
Sweet as the rosy morn she breaks upon me ;

TAMERLANE.

17

And sorrow, like the night's unwholesome shade,
Gives way before the golden dawn she brings,

Bqj. (Advancing towards him.) Ha! Christian!—
Is it well that we meet thus ?
Is this thy faith ?

Mon. Why does thy frowning brow
Put on this storm of fury ? Is it strange
We should meet here, companions of misfortune,
The captives of one common chance of war 2
Nor should'st thou wonder that my sword has fail'd
Before the fortune of victorious Tamerlane,
When thou, with nations like the sanded shore,
With half the warring world upon thy side,
Could'st not stand up against this dreadful battle,
Thatcrush'd thee with its shock. Thy men can wit-
ness,
Those cowards that forsook me in the combat,
My sword was not inactive.

Baj. No — 'tis false !
Where is my daughter, thou vile Greek ? Thou hast
Betray'd her to the Tartar ; or even worse,
Pale with thy fear, didst lose her like a coward;
And, like a coward now, would'st cast the blame
On fortune and ill stars.

Mon. Ha I said'st thou like a coward ?
What sanctity, what majesty divine
Hast thou put on, to guard thee from my rage,
That thus thou dar'st to wrong me?

Ii<y. Out, thou slave,
And know me for thy lord —

Mon. I tell thee, tyrant,
"When in the pride of pow'r thou sat'st on high,
When like an idol thou wert vainly worshipp'd
By profane wretches, born with slavish souls ;
-Ev'n when thou wert a king, thou wert no more
Nor greater than Moneses, born of a race
Royal and great as thine. What art thon now, then ?
The fate of war has set thee with the lowest ;
And captives (like the subjects of the g rave)
.Losing distinction, serve one common lord.

18 TAMERLANE.

Baj. Brav'd by this dog ! Now give loose to ngt,
And curse thyself; curse thy false cheating prophet.
Ha! yet there's some revenge. Hear rae, thou Chris-
tian!
Thou left'st that sister with me: thou imposter!
Thou boaster of thy honesty ! thou liar !
But take her to thee back.
Now to explore my prison — if it holds
Another plague like this. — The restless damn'd
(If muflies lie not) wander thus in hell:
From scorching flames to chilling frosts they run,
Then from their frosls to fires return again,
And only prove variety of pain.

[Exeunt Bajazet and Holy, n.i

Arp. Stay, Bajazet, 1 charge thee, by my wrongs,
Slay, and unfold a tale of so much horror,
As only fits thy telling ! Oh, Moneses !

Mon. Why dost thou weep! Why this tempestu-
ous passion,
That stops thy fait' ring tongue short on my name ?
Oh, speak! unveil this mystery of sorrow.

Arp. Thou art undone ! lost, ruin'd, and undone

Mon. I will not think 'tis so, while I have thee ;
While thus 'tis given to fold thee in my arms,
The sad remembrance of past woes is lost !

Arp. Forbear to soothe thy soul with flattering
thoughts
Of evils overpast, and joys to come :
Our woes arc like the genuine shade beneath,
Where fate cuts off the very hopes of day,
And everlasting night and horror reign,

Mon. By all the tenderness and chaste endearments
Of our past lovej I charge thee, my Arpasia,
To ease my soul of doubts ! Give me to know,
At once, the utmost malice of my fate!

Arp. Take then thy wretched share in all I suffer,
Still partner of my heart ! Scarce hndst thou left
The sultan's camp, when Ihe imperious tyrant,
Soft'ning the pride and fierceness of his temper,
With gentle speech made offer of his love.

TAMERLANE. 10

Amaz'd, as at the shock of sudden pain,
i started into tears, and often urg'd
(Though still in vain) the difference of out faiths.
At last, as flying to the utmost refuge,
"With lifted hands and streaming eyes, I own'd
The fraud which, when we first were made his pri-
soners,

I fore'd thee to put on

Thy borrow'd name of brother, mine of sister;
Hiding between that veil the nearer tie
Our mutual vows had made before the priest.
Kindling to rage at hearing of my story,
Then, be it so, he cried : think'st thou thy vows,
Giv'n to a slave, shall bar me from thy beauties !
Then bade the priest pronounce the marriage rites ;
"Which he performed; whilst shrieking with despair,
I call'd in vain the pow'rs of heav'n to aid me.

Mon. Villain ! Imperial villain ! — Oh, thecoward !
Aw'd by his guilt, though back'd by force and pow'r,
He durst not to my face avow his purpose ;
But, in my absence, like a lurking thief,
Stole on my treasure, and at once undid me.
Oh, I cannot bear it !

Thou lovely hoard of sweets, where all my joys
Were treasnr'd up, to have thee rifled thus !
But I will have thee from him. Tamerlane
(The sovereign judge of equity on earth)
Shall do me justice on this mighty robber,
And render hack thy beauties to Moneses.

Arp. And who shall render back my peace, my
honour ?
I am the tyrant's wife! — Oh, fatal title! —
And, in the sight of all the saints, have sworn,
By honour, womanhood, and blushing shame,
To know no second bride-bed but my grave 1

Mon. Tell mc, Arpasia — s:iy, what joys are those
That wait to crown the wretch who suffers here f
me, and sustain my failing faith.
Imagine 'lis a track of endless joys,
fancy cannot paint,

20

TAMERLANE.

Without satiety or interruption ;
Imagine 'tis to meet, and part no more.
Oh, my Moneses I now the surges rise,
The swelling sea breaks in between our barks,
And drives us to our fate on different rocks.
Farewell! — My soul lives with thee.

Man. Death is parting,
'Tis the last sad adieu 'twixt soul and body.
But this is somewhat worse — my joy, my comfo
All that was left in life, flees after thee ;
My aching sight hangs on thy parting beauties.
Thy lovely eyes, all drown'd in floods of sorrow
So sinks the setting aun beneath the waves,
And leaves the traveller in pathless woods,
Benighted and forlorn : thus, with sad eyes,
Westward he turns, to mark the light's decay,
Till, having lost the last faint glimpse of day,
Cheerless, in darkness, he pursues his way.

[Exeunt, Moneses l.h. and Arpasta R.H

SCENE \.— Inside of the Royal Tent.
Enter Axalla and Selima, l.h.

Ax. Why was I ever blest ! Why is remembrance
Rich with a thousand pleasing images
Of past enjoyments, since 'tis but to plague me ?
When thou art mine no more, what will it ease me
To think of all the golden minutes past,
To think that (lion wert kind, and 1 was happy,
But, like an angel fall'n from bliss, to curse
My present slate, and mourn the heav'n I've lost ?

Sel. Hopebetter forus both; nor let thy fears,

TAMERLANE.
Like an unlucky omen, cross my way.
My father, rough and stormy in his nature,
To me was always gentle, and, with fondness
Paternal, ever met me with a blessing.
Oft, when offence had stirr'd him to such fury,
That not grave counselors, for wisdom fam'd,
Nor hardly captains, that had fought his battles,
Presum'd to speak, but struck with awful dread,
Were hush'd as death ; yet has he smil'd on me,
Kiss'd me, and bade me utter all my purpose,
Till with my idle prattle 1 had sooth'd him,
And won him from his anger.

Ax. Oh, 1 know
Thou hast a tongue to charm the wildest tempers :
But, oh, when I revolve each circumstance,
My christian faith, my service closely bound
To Tamerlane, my master and my friend,
Tell me, my charmer, if my fears are vain 1
Think n hat remains for me, if the fierce sultan
Should doom thy beauties to another's bed?

Sel. 'Tis a sad thought : but, to appease thy doubts,
Here, in the awful sight of heaven, I vow
No pow'r shall e'er divide me from thy love,
Ev'n duty shall not force me to be false.
My cruel stars may tear thee from my arms,
But never from my heart.

Ax. But see, the sultan comes! {They retire, l.h.)

Baj.

Enter Bajazet, r.h.

_ . To have a nauseous courtesy fore'd on me,
Spite of my will, by an insulting loe !
Ha ! they would break the fierceness of my temper,
And make me supple for their slavish purpose.
Curse on their fawning arts! {Crosses to centre.)

Sel. {Comes forward and kneels to Bajazet.) My
lord ! iny royal father!

Baj. Ha! what art thou?
That in a form
So known, so lov'd, hast left thy paradise,

TAMERLANE.
For joyless prison, for this place of woe?
Art thou my Selima?

Sel. Have you forgot me f
Your Selima, your daughter whom you lov'd,
The fondling once of her dear father's arms,
Is come to claim her share in his misfortunes ;
To help to wear the tedious minutes out,
To soften bondage and the loss of empire.

Big. Now, by our prophet, if my wounded r
Could know a thought of peace, it would be no*
Ev'n from thy prattling infancy, thou wert
My joy, my little angel : smiling comfort
Came with thee still to glad me. Now I'm cm
Ev'n in thee too. Reproach and infamy
Attend the Christian dog t'whom thou wert troi
To see thee here — 'twere belter sec thee dead!

Ax. Thus Tamerlane, to royal Bajazet
With kingly greeting, sends : since with the bre
( The bloody business of the fight once ended)
Slern hate and opposition ought to cease:
Thy queen already to thy arms reslor'd,
Receive this second gift, thy beauteous daughtc
And if there be aught farther in thy wish,
Demand with honour, and obtain it freely.

Bqj. Bear back the fulsome greeting to thy master ;
Tell him, I'll none on't. Had he been a god,
All his omnipotence could not restore
My fame diiuinish'd, loss of sacred honour,
The radiancy of majesty eclips'd :
For aught besides, it is not worth my care ;
The giver and his gifts are both beneath me.

Ax. Enough of war the wounded earth has known;
Weary at length, and wasted with destruction,
Sadly she rears her ruin'd head, to shew
Her citiea humbled, and her countries spotl'd.
Oh, sultan ! by the power divine I swear,
With joy I would resign the savage trophies
In blood and battle gain'd, could I atone
The fatal breach 'twixt thee and Tamerlane;
And think a soldier's glory well beslow'd,

TAMERLANE.

23

To buy mankind a peace.

Bqj. And what art thou,
That dost presume to mediate 'twist the rage
Of angry kings?

Ax. A prince, born of the noblest,
And of a soul that answers to that birth,
That dares not but do well. Thou dost put on
A forc'd forgetfulness, thus not to know me,
A guest so lately to thy court, then meeting
Od gentler terms.

Sel. Could aught efface the merit
Of brave Axalla's name, yet, when your daughter
Shall tell how well, how nobly she was us'd,
How light this gallant prince made all her bondage,
Most sure, the royal Bajazet will own
That honour stands indebted to such goodness,
Nor can a monarch's friendship more than pay it.

Bqj. Ha! know'st thou that, fond girl? — Go — 'tis
not well :
And when thou could'st descend to take a benefit
From a vile Christian, and thy father's foe,
Thou did'st an act dishonest to thy race :
Henceforth, unless thou mean'st to cancel all
My share in thee, and write thyself a bastard,
Die, Starve, know any evil, any pain,
Rather than taste a mercy from these dogs I

(Crosses to r.h.)

Sel. Alas, Ax alia !

Ax. Weep not, lovely maid !
I swear, one pearly drop from those fair eyes
Would overpay the service of my life !
One sigh from thee has made a large amends
For all thy angry father's frowns and fierceness.

Bqj. Oh, my curs'd fortune! — (Crosses to cetilre.)
—Am 1 fall' 11 thus low 1
Dishonour'd to my face! Thou earth-born thingt
Thou clod! how hast thou dar'd to lift thy eyes
Up to the sacred race of mighty Ottoman,
Whom kings, whom e'en our prophet's holy offspring.
At distance have beheld ? And what art thou ?

24 TAMERLANE.

What glorious title blazons out thy birth J

Thou vile obscurity ! Ha ! — say — .thou base one 1

As, Thus challenged, virtue, modest as she is,
Stands up to do herself a common justice;
To answer and assert that inborn merit,
That worth, which conscious to herself she feels.
Were honour to be scann'd by long descent
From ancestors illustrious, 1 could vaunt
A lineage of the greatest ;
Heroes and godlike patriots, who subdu'd
The world by arms and virtue, and, being Romans.
Scorn'd to be kings ; but that be their own praise :
Nor will I borrow merit from the dead,
Myself an undeserver. 1 could prove
My friendship such as thou might'st deign t' accept
With honour, when it comes with friendly office,
To render back thy crown and former greatness;
And yet, e'en this, e'en all is poor, when Sclima,
With matchless worth, weighs down the adverse scale.

Bqj. To give me back what yesterday took from roe
Would be to give like heaven, when, having iinish'd
This world, (ihe goodly work of his creation)
He bade his favourite, man, be lord of all.
But this

Ax. Nor is this gift beyond my pow'r.
Oft has the mighty master of my arms
Urg'd me, with large ambition, to demand
Crowns and dominions from his bounteous pow'r :
Tis true, I wav'd the proffer, and have held it
The worthier choice to wait upon his virtues,
To be the friend and partner of his wars,
Than (o be Asia's lord. Nor wonder, then,
If, in the confidence of such a friendship,
lpromise boldly, for the royal giver,
Thy crown and empire.

Bqj. For our daughter thus
Mean's! thou to barter ?~Ha I I tell thee, Christian,
There is but one, one dowry thou can'st give,
And I can ask, worthy my daughter's love.

Ax. Oh, name the mighty ransom ; task my pow'r ;

TAMERLANE. 25

Jjeb there be danger, difficulty, death,
T" enhance the price.

Bqf. I take thee at thy word :
Bring me the Tartar's head I

Ax. Hat

Bqj. Tamerlane's 1
That death, that deadly poison to my glory.

Ax. Prodigious! horrid!

Sel. Lost, for ever lost!

Biff. And could'stthou hope to bribe me with aught
else?
With a vile peace patch' d up on slavish terms ? t
"With tributary kingship ? — No ! — To merit
A recompense from me, sate my revenge.
The Tartar is my bane : I cannot bear him :
One heav'n and earth can never hold us both :
Still shall we hate, till one be lost for ever : x

As if two suns should meet in the meridian,
And strive in fiery combat for the passage.

(Crosses to r.h.)
Weep'st thou, fond girl ? Now, as thy king and fa-
ther,
I charm thee drive this slave from thy remembrance !
Hate shall be pious in thee. Come and join
To curse thy father's foes.

[Bajazet takes the right hand of Selima, and
leads her off, r.h. she looking back on Axalla*

Ax. Tis what I fear'd : fool that I was t' obey !
The coward Love, that could not bear her frown,
Has wrought his own undoing.
He bade me take her : but, oh, gracious honour \
Upon what terms ? — My soul yet shudders at it 1—
The head of Tamerlane ! monstrous impiety !
Bleed, bleed to death, my heart ; be virtue's martyr.
Oh, emperor ! I own, I ought to give thee
Some nobler mark than dying, of my faith.
Then let the pains I feel my friendship prove ;
'Tis easier far to die, than cease to love.

[Exit*) L.H.

TAMERLANE.

SCENE II.— Tamerlane's Camp.
Enter Tamerlane and a Dervise, L.ir

Tarn. Thou bring'st me thy credentials
highest,
From Alba and our prophet. Speak thy message t
It must import the best and noblest ends.

Der. Thus speaks our holy Mahomet, who u
giv'n thee
To reign and conquer :— 111 dost thou repay
The bounties of his hand, unmindful of
The fountain whence thy streams of greatness flow.
Thou hast forgot high heav'n ; hast beaten down
And trampled on religion's sanctity.

Tarn. Now, as I am a soldier and n kin?,
(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 ho-
nour,
By fostering the pernicious Christian sect ;
Those whom his sword pursu'd with fell destruction,
Thou tak'st into Ihy bosom, to thy councils ;
They are thy only friends. The true believers
Mourn to behold thee favour this Axalla.

Tarn. I fear me, thou outgo'st the prophet's order,
And bring'st his venerable name to shelter
A rudeness ill-becoming thee to use,
Or me to suffer. W hen thou nam'st my friend,
Thou nam'st 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 ev'n all thou speak'st, and

„

TAMERLANE. 27

Tarn. Tib false ! no law divine condemns the vir-
tuous,
For differing from the rules your schools devise.
Look round, how Providence bestows alike
Sunshine and rain, to bless the fruitful year,
On different nations, all of different faiths ;
And, though by several names and titles worshipp'd,
Heaven takes the various tribute of their praise ;
Since all agree to own, at least to mean,
One best, one greatest, only Lord of all.

Der. Most impious and profane ! — Nay, frown not,
prince ;
Full of the prophet, I despise the danger
Thy nngry power may threaten. I command thee
To hear and to obey ; since thus says Mahomet :
Why have 1 made thee dreadful to the nations ?
Why have I giv'n thee conquest ? but to spread
My 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 world
Confess him only.

Tarn. Had he but commanded
My sword to conquer all, to make the world
Know but one lord, Ihc task were not so hard ;
'Twere but to do what has been done already ;
And Philip's son, and Caesar, did as much :
But, to subdue th' unconquerable mind ;
To make one reason have Ihe 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 be carried on,
If Musselmen did not make war on Mussel men.
Why hold'st thou captive a believing monarch l
Now, as thou liop'st to 'scape the prophet's curse,
Release the royat Bajazet, and join,
With force united, to destroy the Christians.
C S

38 TAMERLANE.

Tom. 'Tis well, — I've found the cause that laov'i
thy zeal.
What shallow politician set thee on,
In hopes to fright me this way to compliance ?

Der. Our prophet only —

Tarn. No, — thou dost belie him,
Thou maker of new faiths! that dar'stto build
Thy fond inventions on religion's name.
Religion's lustre is, by native innocence,
Divinely pure, and simple from all arts ;
Yon daub and dress her like a common misti
The harlot of your fancies ; and by adding
False beauties, which she wants not, make the world
Suspect her angel's face is foul beneath,
And wo' not hear all lights. Hence! I have found
thee.

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 drams a concealed dagger, and of-
fers to stab Tamerlane.)
Tarn. No, villain! heav'n is watchful o'er its wor-
shippers, — ( Wresting the dagger from Attn.)—
And blasts the murderer's purpose, Think, thou

wretch !
Think on the pains that wait thy crime, and tremble
When I shall doom thee —
- Der. 'Tis but death at last ;
And I will suffer greatly for the cause
That urg'd me first to the bold deed.

Tarn. Oh, impious! (Crosses to h.h.)

Enthusiasm thus makes villains martyrs.
(Pausing.) — It shall be so: — to die! 'twere a reward.
( Crosses to eentre.y
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 repent'st, I have gain'd one to virtue,

TAMERLANE.
And am, in thnt, rewarded for my mercy ;
If thou continu'st still to be the same,
'Tia punishment enough to be a villain.
Henoe ! from my sight! — It shocks my soul, to think
That there is such a monster in ray kind. ,

[Demise Crosses to l.h. and exits.
'hither will man s impiety extend ?
gracious heaven ! dost thou withhold thy thunder,
en bold assassins take thy Dame upon 'em,
nd swear they are the champions of thy cause !

Whitb

When
And si

»

Un,

Enter Moneses, r.ii.

Mon. Oh, emperor 1 before whose awful throne
afflicted never kneel in vain for justice,

(Ktieeli/ig to Tamerlane.)
ndone and ruin'd, blasted in my hopes,
Here let me fall before your sacred feet,
Ami 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.
Tarn. 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 ray justice,
The common debt I owe to thee, to all,
Ev'n to the meanest of mankind ; the charter
By which I claim my crown, and heaven's protection.
Speak, then, as to a king, the sacred name
Where power is lodg'd, tor righteous ends alone.

Mori. One only joy, one blessing, my fond heart
Had ri.x'd its wishes on, and that is lost :
That sister, for whose safety ray sad soul
Eudur'd a thousand fears —

Tarn, 1 well remember,
When, ere the battle join'd, I saw thee first,
"'ith grief uncommon to a brother's love,
lold'st a moving (ale of her misfortunes,
as bespoke my pity. Is there aught
canst demand from friendship .' Ask and have it.
c 3

30 TAMERLANE.

Mon. First, oh, let meintreat yonr royal goodness :
Forgive the folly of a lover's caution,
That forg'd a tale of folly to deceive you.
Said I, she was my sister I — Oh, 'tis false !
She holds a dearer interest in my soul :
She was the mistress of my vows, my bride,
By contract mine ; and, long ere this, the priest
Had tied the knot for ever, had not Bajazet

Tarn. Ha! Bajazet !— If yet his power withholds
The canse of all thy sorrows, all thy fears,
E'en gratitude for once shall gain upon him,
s Spite of his savage temper, to restore her.
s ,Thi3 morn a soldier brought a captive beauty,
Sad though she seem'd, yet of a form more rare,
By much the nobler spoil of all the field :
E en Scipio, or a victor yet more cold,
Might have forgot his virtue at her sight.
Struck with the pleasing wonder, I beheld her,
• —Till, by a slave that waited near her person,
t\ learn'd she was the captive sultan's wife :
Strait I forbade my eyes the dangerous joy
Of 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.

Tarn, Arpasia, did'st thou say ?

Mon. Yes, my Arpasia.

Tarn. Sure I mistake, or I fain would mistake thee ;
I nam'd the queen of Bajazet ; his wife.

Molt. His queen I his wife! He brings that boly
title
To varnish o'er the monstrous wrongs he has done me.

Tarn. Alas ! I fear me, prince, thy griefs are just ;
Thou art, indeed, unhappy —

Mon. Can you pity me,
And not redress f— Oh, royal Tamerlane !
Thou succour of the wretched, reach thy mercy !
Let thy justice

Restore me my Arpasia ; give her back,
Back to my wishes, to my transports give h

! mercy !
e her!

TAMERLANE. 31

Oh, give her to me yet, while I have life
To bless thee for the bounty. — Oh, Arpasia!

Tain. Unhappy, royal youth ! why dost thou ask
What honour rnuat deny 2 Ha ! is she not
His wife, whom he has wedded, whom cnjoy'd ?
And would'st thou have my partial friendship break
That holy knot, which tied once, all mankind
Agree to hold sacred and uudissolvable ?
The brutal violence would stain my justice,
And brand me with a tyrunt's hated name
To late posterity. (Crosses to l.h.)

Man. Then let me fly, aod bear my follies with me,
Far, Car from the world's sight. Honour and tame,
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.

Tarn. 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 wond'rous noble
Shone through thy form, and won my friendship for

(hee,
Without the tedious form of long acquaintance ;
Nor will I lose thee poorly for a woman.
Come, droop no more ; thou shall with me pursue
True greatness, till we rise to immortality.
Tliou shalt forget these lesser cares, Moneses ; '
Thou shalt, and help me to reform the world.

Mon. Sacred Tamerlane,
Thy words are as the breath of angels to me.
But, oh, too deep the wounding grief is fix'd
For any hand to heal I

Tarn. This dull despair ,

Is the soul's laziness. Rouse to the combat,
And thou art sore to conquer. War shall restore thee:
The sound of arms shall wake tby martial ardour,
And cure this amorous sickness of thy soul.
The boy, fond Love,

Is nurs d and bred in sloth, and too much ease •
c i

I

3S TAMERLANE.

If ear purling streams, in gloomy shades, he lies,
And loosely there, instructs his votaries
Honour and active virtue to despise ;
But if the trumpets echo from afar,
On silken wings sublime he cuts the air,
Scar'd at the noise and clangor of the war.

[Exeunt, l.h.

END OF ACT III.

ACT IV.

SCENE l.—BqjazeVs Tent.

Enter Haly and the Dervise, r.h.

Ha. To 'scape with life from an attempt like this,
Demands my wonder justly.

Der. True, it may ;
But His a principle of his new faith ;
'Tis what his. Christian favourites have inspir'd,
Who fondly make a merit of forgiveness,
And give their foes a second opportunity,
If the first blow should miss. Failing to serve
The sultan to my wish, and e'en despairing
Of further means t' effect his liberty,
A lucky accident retriev'd my hopes.

Ha* The prophet and our master will reward
Thy zeal in their behalf; but speak thy purpose.

tier. 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 guess'd the tumult
Some wrong had rais'd in his tumultuous soul s
A friendship of old date bad giv'n me privilege
To ask of bis concerns. In short, I learn'd.
That burning for the sultan's beauteous daughter >

s*

TAMERLANE. 33

H' had begg'd 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 join'd 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 talk together , aside.)

Enter Omar, r.h.

Om. No— if I forgive it,
Dishonour blast my name ! Was it for this
That I directed his first step to greatness,
Taught him to climb, and made him what he is ?
Was it for this, that like a rock I stood,
And stemm'd a torrent of our Tartar lords,
Who scorn'd his upstart sway ? When Calibes,
In bold rebellion, drew e'en half the provinces
To his own cause, I, like his better angel,
Stood by his shaking throne, and fix'd it fast;
And am I now so lost to his remembrance,
That, when I ask a captive, he shall tell me,
She is Azalla's right, his Christian minion.

Der. Allow me, valiant Omar, to demand,
Since injur'd 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 Tamerlane
Has to your worth denied.

Om. Now, by my arms,
It will be great revenge ! What would your sultan
Give to the man that snail restore his liberty,

c 5

34 TAUTER LAKE.

His crown, and give him power to wreak hia hatred

Upon his greatest foe ?

Ha. A\\ he can ask,
And far beyond his wish — (Trumpets.)

Om. Those trumpets speak
The emperor's approach : lie comes once more
To offer terms of peace. Retire within.
I will no farther — he grows deadly (o me :
And curse me, prophet, if 1 not repay
His hate with retribution full as mortal.

[Exeunt, l.h,

Scene draws, and discovers Arpasia lying an a
Couch,

Arp. Oh, death ! thou gentle end of human sorrows,
Still must my weary eye-lids vainly wake,
In tedious expectation of thy peace f
Why stand thy thousand thousand doors still open,
To take the wretched in, if stern religion
Guards every passage, and forbids my entrance t —
Lucrece could bleed, and Porcia swallow fire,
When urg'd with griefs beyond a mortal sufferance 1
But here it must not be. Think, then, Arpasia,
Think on the sacred dictates of thy faith,
And let that arm thy virtue, to perform
What Cato's daughter durst not: — live, Arpasia,
And dare to be unhappy.

En/crTAMBKLANE, K.D.

Tarn. When fortune smiles upon the soldier's arms,
And adds e'en beauty to adorn his conquest,
Yet she ordains, the fair should know no fears.
Such welcome as a camp can give, fair sullaness,
We hope you have receiv'd ; it shall be larger,
And better as it may.

Arp. Since I have borne
That miserable mark of fatal greatness,
I have forgot all difference of conditions ;

TAMERLANE.
Sceptres and fetters are grown equal to me,
Ana the best change my Tate can bring is death.

Tarn. Oh ! teach my power
To cure those ilk which you unjustly suffer,
Lest heav'n should wrest it from my idle hand,
in 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.

Tarn. Why is my pity all that I can give
To tears like yours ? And yet I fear 'tis all ;
Nor dare 1 ask what mighty loss you mourn,
Lest honour should forbid to give it back.

Arp. No, Tamerlane, nor did I mean thou
should 'at,
But know (though to the weakness of my sex
1 yield these tears) my soul is more than man.
Think, I am born a Greek, nor doubt my virtue ;
They must be mighty evils that can vanquish
A Spartan courage, and a Christian faith.

(They retire, l.h.)

Enter Baj azet, ii.h.

Baj. To know no thougl t of rest ! to have the
mind
Still ministering fresh plagues, as in a circle,
W here one dishonour treads upon another ;
What know the fiends beyond it ?— Ha ! by hell,

(Seeing Arpasia and Tamerlane.)
There wanted only this to make me mad.
Comes he to triumph here ? to rob me of my love,
And violate the last retreat of happiness 1

Tam. But that I read upon thy frowning brow.
That war yet lives, and rages in thy breast ;
Once more (in pity to the sulTring world)
I meant to offer peace. (Advances.)

Baj. And raean'st thou too
To treat it with our empress ; and to barter
The spoils which fortune gave thee, for her favours ?
cG

36 TAMERLANE.

Seek'st thou llius our friendship 1

Is this the royal usage thou didst boast ?

Tarn. The boiling passion that disturbs thy soul
Spreads clouds around, and makes thy purpose dark :
Unriddle what thy mystic fury aims at.

Baj. Is it a riddle? Read it there explain'd ;
There, in my shame. Now judge me thou, oh, pro-
phet!
And equal hcav'n, if this demand not rage !
The peasant-hind, begot and born to slavery,
Yet dares assert a husband's sacred right,
And guards his homely couch from violation :
And shall a monarch tamely bear the wrong
Without complaining f

Tarn. If I could liavewrong'd thee,
If conscious virtue, and all-judging hcav'n,
Stood not between, to bar ungovern'd appetite,
What hinder'd, but, in spite of thee, my captive,
I might have us'd a victor's boundless power,
And sated every wish my soul could form ?
But, to secure thy fears, know, IJajazct,
. This is among the things 1 dare not do.

Bqj. By hill, 'tis false ! else wherefore art thon
present f
What cam'st thou for, but to undo my honour ?
I found thee holding amorous parley 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.

Tarn. Yet, ere thou rashly urge my rage too Far,
I warn thee to take heed : 1 am a man.
And have the frailties cominoii to man's nature ;
The fiery seeds of w rath are in my temper,
And may be blown up to so fierce a blaze
As wisdom cannot rule. Know, thou hast touch'd me
E'en in the nicest, tend'rest part, my honour ;
My honour, which, like pow'r, disdains being qucs-

tion'd ;
Thy breath has blasted my fair virtue's fame,
And rnark'd me for a villain, and a tyrant.

TAMERLANE- 37

Arp. And stand I here an idle looker-on,

(Crosses to centre.)
To see my innocence murder'd and mangled
By barbarous hands, nor can revenge the wrong ?
Art thou a man, and dar'st thou use me thus ?

(ToBqjazet.)
Hast thou not torn me from my native country,
From (he dear arms of my lamenting friends,
From my soul's peace, and from my injur'd love ?
And driv'n 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 t —

Baj. V'ea, thoa hast thy sex's virtues,
Their affectation, pride, ill-nature, noise,
Proneness to change, e'en from the joy that pleaa'd

'em;
So gracious is your idol, dear variety,
That for another love you would forego
An angel's form, to mingle with a devil's.

Arp. Why Bought'st thou not from thy own im-
pious tribe
A wife like one of these f

Know, 1 abhor, detest the crime thou mention'Gt :
|tfot that I fear or reverence thee, thou tyrant ;
But that my soul, conscious of whence it sprung,
Sits unpolluted in its sacred temple,
And scorns to mingle with a thought so mean.

(Crosses to R..11. and retires up the stage.)

Tarn. Oh, pity ! that a greatness so divine
Shonld meet a fate so wretched, so unequal !
Though blind and wilful to the good that courts thee,
(ToBqjatet.)
With open-handed bounty heav'n pursues thee,
And bids thee (undeserving as thou mi,
And monstrous in thy crimes) be happy yet ;
Whilst iluiu, in fury, dost avert the blessing,
And art an evil genius to thyself.

Bqj. No— thou, thou art my greatest curiw on
earth !
Thou, who hast robb'd me of my crown and glory,

36 TAMERLANE.

And now pursu'st me to the verge of life,'

To spoil me of my honour : thou, thou hypocrite !

That wear'et a pageant outside shew of virtue,

To cover the hot thoughts that glow within !

Thou rank adulterer I

Tarn. Oh, that thou wert
The lord of all those thousands thnt lie breathless
On yonder field of blood, that 1 again
Might hunt the face of death and danger,
Through the tumultuous battle, and there force thee,
Vanquish'd and sinking underneath my arm,
To own thou hast traduc'd mc like a villain.

Baj. Ha ! does it gall thee, Tartar.' By revenge
It joys roe much to find thou fecl'st my fury.
Yes, I will echo to thee, thou adulterer !
Thou dost profane the name of king and soldier,
And, like a ruffian bravo, catn'st with force
To violate the holy marriage bed.

Turn. Wert thou not shelter 'd by thy abject state,
The cnplive of my sword, by my just anger,
My breath, like thunder, should confound thy pride,
And doom thee dead this instant with a word.

Bqj. 'Tis false ! my fate's above thee, and thou
dar'st not.

Tarn. Ha 1 dare not I Thou hast rais'd my pond'-

A guard there ! — Seize, and drag him to his fate I
Enter Guards, h.h. they seize Bnjazct.

Tyrant, I'll do a double justice on thee,
At once revenge myself, and all mankind.

Baj. Well dost thou, ere thy violence and lust

(Crossesto R.H.)
Invade my bed, thus to begin with murder :
Drown all thy fears in blood, and sin securely.
Tarn. Away !

Arp. {Advances and Kneels-) Oh, stay ! I charge
thee, by renown ;

By that bright "defy thy great soul pursues,
CaUbgcKtEe doom of death! 7

Turn. Fair injur'd excellence, (Raises her.)

Why dost thou kneel, arid waste such precious praxis
For one to gobdnebs lost, who first undid thee.
Vfho stiirpursues, and aggravates the wrong /

fl#. By Alha ! no^-I will not wear a life
Bought with such vile dishonour.— Death shall free

me
At once from infhmy, and thee, thou traitress !
Arp. No matter, though the whistling tf inds grow

loud,
And the rude tempest roars, 'tis idle rage :
Oh ! mark it not ; but let thy steady virtue
Be constant to its temper. Save his life,
And save Arpasia from the sport of talkers.
Think how the busy, meddling world, will toss
Thy mighty name about, in scurrfl mirth ;
Shall brand thv vengeance, as a foul design,
And make stich monstrous legends of our lives,
As, late posterity shall blush in reading.

Tarn. Oh, matchless virtue ! Yes, I will obey ;
Though laggard in the race, admiring yet,
I will pursue the shining path thou tread'st.
Sultan, be safe ! Reason resumes her empire,

(The Guards release Bqjaxet.)
And I am cool again.— Here break we off,
Lest farther speech should minister new rage*
Wisely from dangerous passions 1 retreat,
To keep a conquest which was hard to get :
And, on ! 'tis time I should for flight prepare,
A war more fatal seems to threaten there,
And all my rebel blood assists the fair :
One moment more, and I too late shall find ?
That love's the strongest pow'r that lords it o'er the

mind, [ftatl, n.u. followed by the Guards.
Bqj;To what new shame, what plague am ft I re-

serv'd ? {Crosses to l.h.)

Why hast thou fore'd this nauseous life upon me ?
Is it to triumph o'er me ?— But I will,

40 TAMERLANE,

I will be free ; I will forget thee all ;
Death shall expunge at once, and case my soul.
Prophet, take notice, I disclaim thy paradise,
Thy fragrant bow'rs, and everlasting shades;
Thou hast plac'd woman there, and all thy joye are
tainted. [Crosses and er" ~

Arp. A little longer yet, be strong, my her
A little longer let the busy spirits
Keep on their cheerful round.
And see, the poor Moneses comes, to take
One sad adieu, and then we part for ever.

Enter Monbses, l.h.

Man. Already am I onward on my way ;
Thy tuneful voice comes like a hollow sound
At distance, to my cars. My eyes grow heavy,
And all the glorious tights of heav'n look dim ;
'Tie the last office they shall ever do me,
To view thee once, and then to close and die.

Arp. Alas, how happy bave we been, Moues
Ye gentle days, that once were ours, what joys
Did every cheer nil morning bring along !
No fears, no jealousies, no angry parents,
That for unequal births, or fortunes, frown'd ;
But love, that kindly join'd our hearts, to bless i
Made us a blessing too to all besides.

Mon. Oh, cast not thy remembrance back, Arpa*
sial
'Tis grief unutterable ; 'tis distraction !
But let this last of hours be peaceful sorrow !
Here let me kneel, and pay my latest vows. {Ktieels.
Be witness, all ye saints, thou heav'n and nature,
Be witness of my truth, for you have known it 1
Be witness that I never knew a pleasure,
In all the world could offer, like Arpasia !
Be witness, that I liv'd but in Arpasia !
And, oh, be witness, that her loss has kill'd me.
(-B

Arp. Oh, my Moneses,

TAMERLANE.
While thou art speaking, life begins to fail,
And ev-'ry tender accent chills like death.
The last dear object of ray parting soul
Will be Moneses ; the last breath that lingers
Within my panting breast, shall sigh, Moneses.

Mon. It is enough ! Now to thy rest, ray soul,
The world and thou have made an end at once.

Arp. Fain wou'd I still detain thee, hold thee still :
Nor honour can forbid, that we together
Should share the poor few minutes that remain i
I swear, mcthinks this sad society
Has something pleasing in it, — Death's dark shades
Seem, as we journey on, to lose their horror ;
At near approach the monsters, form'd by fear,
Are vanish'd all, and leave the prospect clear :
Amidst the gloomy vale, a pleasing scene, "1

With flow'rs adorn'd, and never-fading green, >

Inviting stands, to take the wretched in :
No wars, no wrongs, no tyrants, no despair, S

Disturb the quiet of a place so fair, -- >

Bat injur' (1 lovers find Elysium there. [Exeunt, B.H.J

Enter Bajazet, Omar, Haly, and the Dbiivise,

Baj. Now, by the glorious tomb that shrines our
prophet,

By Mecca's sacred temple, here I swear,

Our daughter is thy bride ! and to that gift

Such wealth, such pswer, such honours will I add,

That monarchs shall with envy view thy state,

And own thou art a demi-god to them.

Tbou hast given me what I wish'd, — power of re-
venge ;

And when a king rewards, 'tis ample retribution.
Om, Twelve Tartar lords, each potent in his tribe,

Have sworn to own my cause, and draw their thou-
sands,

To-morrow, from th' ungrateful Parthiaii's side.

The day declining seems to yield to night,

TAMERLANE,
Ere little more than half her course be ended,
In an auspicious hour, prepare for flight:
The leaders of the troops through which we pass,
Rais'd by my power, devoted to my service,
Shall make our passage secret and secure.

Der. Already, mighty sultan, art thou safe,
Since, by yon passing torches' light, I guess,
To his pavilion Tamerlane retires,
Attended by a train of waiting courtiers.
All who remain within these tents are thine,
And hail thee as their lord. —
Ha ! the Italian prince,
With sad Moneses, are not yet gone forth.
lioj. Ha ! with our queen and daughter !
Om. They are ours :
1 mark'd the slaves who waited on Axalta ;
They, when the emperor pass'd out, press'd on,
And mingled with the crowd, nor miss'd their lord :
He is your pris'ner, sir : I go this moment,
To seize, and bring him to receive his doom.

[Exii t a.H.
Bqj. Haste, Haly ! follow, and secure the Greek;
Him, too, I wish to keep within my power.

[Exit Hali/) a.H.
Der. (l.h.) If my dread lord permit his slave to
speak,
I would advise to spare Alalia's life,
Till we are safe beyond the Parthian's power :
Him, as our pledge of safety, may we hold ;
And, could you gain him to assist your flight,
It might import you much.

Bqj. Thou counsell'st well ;
And though 1 hate him, (for he h a Christian,
And to my mortal enemy devoted)
Yet, to secure my liberty and vengeance,
I wish he now were ours.

Der, And see, they come !
Fortune repents ; again she courts your side;
And, with this first iair offering of success,
She woos you to forget her crime of yesterday.

TAUEHLANE. 43

Enter Omar, with Ax all a, prisoner, Selima/o^-
lowing, weeping, b.h.

Ax, (Crosses to centre.) I wo* not call thee villain,
'tis a name
Too holy for thy crime. To break thy faith,
And turn a rebel to bo good a master,
Is an ingratitude unmatch'd on earth.
The first revolting angel's pride could only
Do more than thou hast done. Thou copiest well,
And keep'st the black original in view.

Om. Do rage, and vainly call upon thy master
To save his minion. My revenge has caught thee.
And I will make thee curse that fond presumption
2'hiil set thee on to rival me in aught.

Baj. Christian, 1 hold thy fate at my disposal !

gne only way remains to mercy open :
e partner of my flight and ray revenge.
And thou art safe. The other choice is death.

Ax. Then briefly thus : death is the choice I make ;
Since, next to heaven, my master and my friend
Has interest in my life, and still shall claim it.

Beg. Then take thy wish. — Call in our mutes 1

Set. (Crostes to I..B. and kneels.) My father I
If yet you have not sworn to cast me off,
And turn me out to wander in misfortune;
If yet my voice be gracious in your ears,
If yet my duty and my love offend not j
Ob, call your sentence back, and save Axalla.

Btg. Rise, Selima !— (Raises her.) — The slave de-
serves to die,
Who durst, with sullen pride, refuse my mercy ;
Yet, for thy sake, once more I offer life.

Sei. Some angel whisper to my anxious soul,
What I shall do to save him ! — (Crosses to centre.)
Oh, my Axalla ! seem but to consent —

(Apart to Axalla.)
Unkind and cruel I will you then do nothing (
J find I am not worth thy least of cares.

Ax. Oh, labour not to hang dishonour on nic !

44 TAMERLANE.

I could bear sicknes, pain, and poverty,
Those mortal evils, worse than death, ior thee :
But this — it has the force of fate against us,
And cannot be.

3d. See, see, sir, he relents: (To Bqjazet.)

Already he inclines to own your cause.
A little longer, and he is all yours.

Bqj. Then mark, how far a father's fondness yields:
Till midnight 1 defer the death he merits,
And give him up, till then, to thy persuasion.
If by that time he meets my will, he lives;
If not, thyself shall own he dies with justice.

Ax. 'Tis but to lengthen life upon the rack.
I am resolv'd already.

Set. Oh, be still!
Nor rashly urge a ruin on us both :
'Tis but a moment more I have to save thee.
Be kind, auspicious Alha, to my prayer ; «%

More for my love, -than for myself, I fear ; L

Neglect mankind awhile, and make him all thy care. J

[Exeunt Axalla and Selima, h.n.

Bqj. Moneses— is that dog secur'd i

Om. He is.

Baj. 'Tis well. — My soul perceives returning great-
ness,
As nature feels the spring. Lightly she bounds*
And shakes dishonour, like a burthen, from her ; '
Once more imperial, awful, and herself.

[Exeunt, b.h.

END OF ACT IV.

ACTV.

SCENE l.—Bajazet's Tent.

Enter Arpasta, l.h.

Arp. Sure, 'tis a horror more than darkness brings,
That sits upon the night 1 Fate is abroad ;

TAMERLANE. 45

Some ruling fiend hangs in the dusky air,
And scatters ruin, death, and wild distraction,
O'er all the wretched race of man below.
Not long ago, a troop of ghastly slaves
Rush'd in, and forc'd Monescs from my sight;
Death hung so heavy on his drooping spirits,
That scarcely could be say, — Farewell — for ever !
And yet, mcthinks, some gentle spirit whispers, —
Thy peace draws near, Arpasia ; sigh no more !
And see ! the king of terrors is at hand ;
His minister appears, (Retires up the stage.)

Enter Bajazet and Halj, l.o.

Baj. (Aside to Jlaly.) The rest I leave
To thy dispatch : for, oh, ray faithful Haly !
Another care has taken up thy master.
Spite of the high-wrought tempest in my soul,
Spite of the pangs which jealousy has cost mc,
This haughty woman reigns within my breast.

Ha. Why wears my lord
An anxious thought for what his power commands ?
When, in an happy hour, you shall, ere long,
Have borne the empress from amidst your toes,
She must be yours, be only, and all yours.

Baj. On that depends my fear. Yes, I must have
her:
I own, 1 will not, cannot go without her.

[Exit Holy, l.u.
When last we parted, 'twas on angry terms ;
Let the remembrance die, or kindly think
That jealous rage is but a hasty flame,
That olazes out, when love too fiercely burns.

Arp. (Advances.) For thee to wrong me, and for
me to suffer,
Is the hard lesson that my soul has learnt,
Nor is it worth iny leisure to distinguish
If love or jealousy commit the violence :
Each have alike been fatal to my peace,
Confirming me a wretch, and thee a tyrant.

4G TAMEB.LANE.

Baj. Still to deform thy gentle brow with ftowns,
And still to be perverse, it is a manner
Abhorrent from the softness of thy sex ;
Women, like summer storms, awhile are cloudy,
Burst out in thunder, and impetuous showers ;
But straight the sun of beauty dawns abroad,
And all the Mr horizon is serene.

Arp, Then, to retrieve the honour of my sex.
Here 1 disclaim that changing and inconstancy :
To thee I will be ever as I am.

Baj. Thou say'st I am a tyrant ; think so still,
And let it warn thy prudence to lay hold
On the good hour of peace, that courts thee now.
Souls form'd like mine brook being scorn' d but ill.
Be well advis'd, and profit by my patience ;
It is a short-liv'd virtue.

Arp. Turn thy eyes
Back on the story of my woes, barbarian 1
Thou that hast violated all respects
Due to my sex and honour of my birth 1
Thou brutal ravisher, can I have peace with thee?
Impossible! First heaven and bell shall join;
They only differ more.

Baj. I see, 'tis vain
To court thy stubborn temper with endearments.
Resolve this moment to return my love,
And be the willing partner of my flight,
Or, by the prophet's holy law, thou diest.

Arp. And dost thou hope to fright me with the
phantom
Death? 'tia the greatest mercy thou canst give.
Know, I disdain to aid thy treach'rous purpose:
And, sbould'st thou dare to force me, with my cries
I will call heaven and earth to my assistance.

Baj, Confusion ! dost thou brave me ? But my
wrath
Shall find a passage to thy swelling heart,
And rack thee worse than all the pains of death.
That Grecian dog, the minion of thy wishes,
Shall be dragg'd forth, and butcher'd in thy Bight.

TAMEBLANE. 47

Thou shalt behold him when his pangs nre terrible,
Till thou shall rend thy hair, tear out tby eyes,
And cnrse tliy pride, while I applaud my vengeance.

Arp. Oh, fatal image ! all my powers give way,
And resolution sickens at the thought ;
Come, all ye great examples of my sex,
Chaste virgins, tender wives, and pious matrons ;
Come to my aid, and teach me to defy
The malice of this fiend 1 I feel, I feel
Your sacred spirit arm me to resistance !
Yes, tyrant, I will stand this shock of fate ;
Will live to triumph o'er thee, for a moment,
Tfaen die well pleas'd, and follow ray Moneses.

Bqj. Thou talk'st it well. But talking is thy pri-
vilege ;
'Tis all the Roasted courage of thy sex ;
Though, for thy soul, thou dar'st not meet the danger.

Arp. By all my hopes of happiness, I dare !

Bqj. This moment is the trial.

Arp. Let it come !
This moment, then, shall show 1 am a Greek,
And speak my country's courage in my sulTring.

Bqj, Here, Mercy, I disclaim thee! — Mark me,
traitress!
My love prepares a victim to thy pride,
And wheD it greets tbee next, 'twill he in blood.

[Exit, l.h.

Arp. My heart beats higher, and my nimble spirits
Ride swiftly through their purple channels round.
'Tis the last blaze of life. Nature revives,
Like a dim winking lamp, that flashes brightly
With parting light, and straight is dark for ever.
And see, my last of sorrows is at hand;
Death and Moneses come together to me ;
At if my stars, that had so long been cruel,
Grew kind at last, and gave me all I wish.

Mon. {Without.) I charge ye, O ye ministers of
fate!
Be swift to execute your master's will ;

48 TAMERLANE.

Bear me to my Arpasia ; let me tell her,
The tyrant has grown kind : —

Enter Monbses, guarded by some Mutes; other* at*
tending with a cup of poison and a bow-string, i*.h.

He bids me go,

And die beneath her feet.

Arp. Ifit be happiness, alas! to die,
To lie forgotten in the silent grave,
To love and glory lost, and from among
The great Creator's works expung'd and blotted ;
Then, very shortly, shall we both be happy.

Mon. There is no room for doubt ; 'tis certain btiw.
The tyrant's cruel violence, thy loss,
Already seem more light ; nor has my soul
One unrepented guilt upon remembrance,
To make me dread the justice of hereafter :
But, standing now on the last verge of life,
Boldly I view the vast abyss, eternity,
Eager to plunge, and leave my woes behind me.

Arp. By all the truth of our past loves, I vow,
To die appears a very nothing to me.
This very now 1 could put off my being
Without a groan ; but, to behold thee die ! —
Nature shrinks in me at the dreadful thought,
Nor can my constancy sustain this blow.

Mon. Since thou art arm'd tor all things after death,
Why should the pomp and preparation of it
Be frightful to thy eyes ? There's not a pain,
Which age or sickness brings, the least disorder
That vexes any part of this fine frame,
But's full as grievous. All that the mind feeb
Is much, much more : — and see, I go to prove it.

Enter a Mute, l.h.— He signs to the rest, who prof*
fer a bow-string to Moneses; he then exits, l.h.

Arp. Think, ere we part—

TAMERLANE.

49

Mon. Of what?

Arp. Of something soft,
Tender and kind ; of something wond'rous sad.
Oh, my full soul !

Mon. My tongue is at a loss ;
Thoughts crowd so fast, thy name is all I've left ;
My kindest, truest, dearest, best Arpasia !

{The Mutes struggle with him.)

Arp. I have a thousand thousand tilings to utter,
A thousand more to hear yet. Barbarous villains!
Give me a minute. Speak to me, Moneses!

Mori. Speak to thee ! — 'tis the business of my life,
'Tis all the use 1 have for vital air.
Siand oft", ye slaves ! — To tell thee that my heart
Is full of thee ; that even, at this dread moment,
My fond eyes gaze with joy and rapture on thee;
Angels, and light itself, are not so fai r ■ — ■

Enter Ba jazbt, Haly, and Attendants, l.h.

Bay. Ha! wherefore lives this dog? Be quick, ye
slaves !
And rid me of the pain.

Mon. For only death,
And the last night, can shut out my Arpasia.
( The Mutes strangle Moneses, and bear him off, l.h.)

Arp. Oh, dismal ! — 'tis not to be borne ! — Ye mo-
ralists !
Ye talkers ! what are all your precepts now ?
Patience! distraction! — Blast the tyrant I blast him,
Avenging lightnings 1 snatch him hence, ye fiends 1
I^ve ! Death! Moneses! {She sinks down — -dies.)

Baj. {Kneels down by the body.) Fly, ye slaves,
And fetch me cordials. No, she shall not die t
Spite of her sullen pride, I'll hold in life,
And force her to be blest against her will.

Ha. Already 'tis beyond the power of art ;
For see, a deadly cold has froze the blood,
The pliant limbs grow stiff, and lose their use,
And all the animating fire is quench'd.

50 TAMERLANE.

Bq/. Can it be possible !— (Rises.) — Can rage and
grief,
Can love and indignation be so fierce,
So mortal in a woman's heart ? Confusion !
Is she escap'd then } What is royalty,
If those that are my slaves, and should live for me.
Can die, and bid defiance to my power ?

[Exeuttt, l.u.

lie-enter Bajazet, l.h. and the Dervise, r.b.

Der. The valiant Omar sends to tell thy greatness
The hour of flight is come, and urges haste j
Since he descries, near Tamerlane's pavilion,
Bright troops of crowding torches, who from thence,
On either band, stretch far into the night,
And seem to form a shining front of battle.
Behold, e'en from this place thou may'st discern them.
(Looking out) B.n.)

Beg. By Alha, yea ! they cast a day around 'em,
And the plain seems thick set with stars, as heaven.
Ha ! or my eyes are false, they move this way;
'Tis certain so. Fly, Haly, to our daughter.

[Exit Haly, l.h.
Jjet some secure the Christian prince, Axalla :
We will begone this minute.

Enter Omar, r.h.

Om. Lost 1 undone !

Bqj. What mean'st thou c

Om. All our hopes of flight are lost.
Mir van and Zama, with the Parthian horse,
Enclose us round ; they hold us in a toil,

Baj. Ha I whence this unexpected curse of chance i

Om. Too late 1 learnt that, early in the night,
A slave was suffer'd, by your daughter's order,
To pass the guard. I clove the villain down,
- Who yielded to his flight ; but that's poor vengeance.
That fugitive has rais'd the camp upon us,

TAMERLANE.
And, unperceiv'd, by favour of Ihe night,
In silence they have march'd to intercept us.

Baj. My daughter ! Ob, the traitress !

Der. Yet, we nave
Axalla id our power ; and angry Tamerlane
Will buy his lav'rite's life on any terms.

Om. With these few friends I have, I for awhile
Can face their force: if they refuse us peace,
Revenge shall sweeten ruin. [Extt } r.h;

Enter Halt, with Sblima, weeping, l.h.

Baj. See, where she comes, with well-dissembled
innocence ;
With truth and faith so lovely in her face,
As if she durst e'en disavow the falsehood.

(Crosses to l.h.)
Hop'st thou to make amends with trifling tears,
For my lost crown, and disappointed vengeance?
Ungrateful Selima, thy father's curse t
Bring forth the minion of her foolish heart ;
He dies this moment.

Ha. Would I could not speak
The crime of fatal love t The slave who fled,
By whom we are undone, was that Axalla.

Baj. Ha ! say'st thou ? —

Ha. Hid beneath that vile appearance,
The princess found a means for his escape.

SeL I am undone ! e'en nature has disclaimed me !
My father ! have I lost you all J — My father!

Baj. Talk'st thou of nature, who hast broke her
bands?
Thou art my bane, thou witch, thou infant parricide !
But 1 will study to be strangely cruel;
I will forget the folly of my fondness ;
Drive all the father from my breast ; now snatch thee,
Tear thee to pieces, drink thy treacherous blood,
And make thee answer all my great revenge I
Now, now, thou traitress! (Offers to kilt her.)

Sel. Plunge the poniard deep ! (She embrace! him.)
b 2

52 TAMERLANE.

The life my father gave shall hear his summons,
And issue at the wound —

Since from your spring I drew the purple stream,
And I must pay it back, if you demand it.

Bqj. Hence from my thoughts, thou soil relenting
weakness ! —
Hast thou not giv'n me up a prey ? betrayed me ?

Sel. Oh, not for worlds ! not e'en for all the joys
Love, or the prophet's paradise can give !
Amidst the thousand pains of anxious tenderness,
I made the gentle, kind Axalla, swear,
Your life, your crown, and honour should be safe.

Bqj. Away ! my soul disdains the vile dependence !
No, let me rather die, die like a king !
Shall I fall down at the proud Tartar's foot,
And say, have mercy onme?— (SAowJ.)— Hark! they

come!
Disgrace will overtake my ling'ring hand ;
Die, then I thy father's shame and thine die with
thee ! ( Offers to kill her.)

Sel. For heaven, for pity's siike !

Bqj . No more, thou trifler !

(She catches hold of his arm.)
Ha ! dar'st thou bar my will ? — tear off her hold 1

Sel. What, not for life ! should I not plead for life !
Look on my eyes, which you've so often kiss'd,
And swore they were your best-lov'd queen's, my mo-
ther's ;
Behold 'em now, streaming for mercy, mercy !
Look on me, and deny me, if you can!,
'Tis but for life I beg ; is that a boon
So hard for me t' obtain, or you to grant?
Oh, spare me ! spare your Selima, my father !

Bqj. A lazy sloth hangs on my resolution :
It is my Selima ! — Ha ! — What, my child !
And can I murder her ? (Shout*.)

Again they come ! I leave her to my foes !
And shall they triumph o'er the race of Bajaset !
Die, Selima !— Is that a father's voice ?
Rouse, rouse, my fury ! Yes, she dies the victim

I

TAMERLANE. 53

To my lost hopes. Out, out, thou foolish nature !
Justly she shares the ruin she has made.

(Hashes the dagger to the ground, and crones to

R.H.)

Enter Mutes, l.h.

:ize bcr, ye slaves, and strangle her this moment!

(To tke Mutes.)

Sel. Oh, let me die by you • Behold my breast 1
1 wo' not shrink ! Oh, save me but from these 1

Bqj. Dispatch ! (The Mutes seize kei

Set. But for a moment, while I pray
That heaven may guard my father 1

Bqj. Dogs!

Set. That you may only bless me ere I die. (Shout.)

liaj. Ve tedious villains, then the work is mine 1

As Bajazet runs at Seiitna with his suord, enter Ta-
hkri.ane, Axalla,&c ii. n. Alalia gets between
Bajazet and Selima, whilst Tamerlane and the rts
drive Bajazet and the Mutes off tke stage, r.h.

Ax. And am 1 come to save thee? Oh, my joy !
This one success is more than all my wars,
The noblest, dearest glory of my sword.

StL Alas, Axalla ! death has been around me;
My coward soul still trembles at the fright,
And seems but half secure, e'en in thy arms.

Ax. Retire, my fair, and let me guard thee forth :
Blood and tumultuous slaughter are about us ;
Nor will the pleasure of my heart be full,
Till all my fears arc ended in thy safety.

[Exeunt, l.r

Enter Tamerlane, tke Prince o/Tanais, Zama
Mm van, and Soldiers, with Bajazet, Omar
and the Dbrvisk, prisoners t r.h.

Tarn. Mercy, at length, gives up her peacefu
sceptre,

54

TAMERLANE.

And Justice sternly takes her turn to govern
"Tis a rank world, and asks her keenest sword,
To cut up villaoy of monstrous growth.—
Zama, take care that, with the earliest dawn.
Those traitors meet the fate their treason merits.

(Pointing to Omar and the Demise; they are
taken out, l.ii.)
For thee, thon tyrant 1 — (To Bajazet.) — whose op-
pressive violence
Has ruin'd those thou should'st protect at home, —
What punishment is equal to thy crimes ?
The doom thy rage design'd for me, be thine :
Clos'd in a cage, Tike some destructive beast,
I'll have thee borne about, in public view,
A great example of that righteous vengeance
That waits on cruelty and pride like thine.

Baj. (L.B.) It is beneath me to decline my fate;
1 rtaiwl prepar'd to meet thy utmost hate :
Yet think not I will long thy triumph see :
None want the means, when the soul dares be free.
I'll curse thee with my last, my parting breath,
And keep the courage of my life in death ;
Then boldly venture on that world unknown, —
It cannot use me worse than this has done.

[Exit Bajazet, guarded, l.h.

Tarn. Behold the vain effects of earth-born pride,
That acoro'd heaven's laws, and all its power defied ;
That could the hand which form'd it first forget,
And fondly say, — I made myself be great !
Bui justly those above assert their sway, ■»

And teach e'en kings wbal homage they should pay, >
Who then rule best, when mindful to obey. J

Dispoiitwn of ike Characttri when the Curtain/alls.

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