No More Learning

--
Yet be advised your ruin to prevent: [_To_ AUR. _aside. _
You might be safe, if you would give consent.

_Aur. _ So to your welfare I of use may be,
My life or death are equal both to me.

_Emp. _ The people's hearts are yours; the fort yet mine:
Be wise, and Indamora's love resign.
I am observed: Remember, that I give
This my last proof of kindness--die, or live.

_Aur. _ Life, with my Indamora, I would chuse;
But, losing her, the end of living lose.
I had considered all I ought before;
And fear of death can make me change no more.
The people's love so little I esteem,
Condemned by you, I would not live by them.
May he, who must your favour now possess,
Much better serve you, and not love you less.

_Emp. _ I've heard you; and, to finish the debate, [_Aloud. _
Commit that rebel prisoner to the state.

_Mor. _ The deadly draught he shall begin this day:
And languish with insensible decay.

_Aur. _ I hate the lingering summons to attend;
Death all at once would be the nobler end.
Fate is unkind! methinks, a general
Should warm, and at the head of armies fall;
And my ambition did that hope pursue,
That so I might have died in fight for you. [_To his Father. _

_Mor. _ Would I had been disposer of thy stars!
Thou shouldst have had thy wish, and died in wars.
'Tis I, not thou, have reason to repine,
That thou shouldst fall by any hand, but mine.

_Aur. _ When thou wert formed, heaven did a man begin;
But the brute soul, by chance, was shuffled in.
In woods and wilds thy monarchy maintain,
Where valiant beasts, by force and rapine, reign.
In life's next scene, if transmigration be,
Some bear, or lion, is reserved for thee.

_Mor. _ Take heed thou com'st not in that lion's way!
I prophecy, thou wilt thy soul convey
Into a lamb, and be again my prey. --
Hence with that dreaming priest!

_Nour. _ Let me prepare
The poisonous draught: His death shall be my care.
Near my apartment let him prisoner be,
That I his hourly ebbs of life may see.

_Aur. _ My life I would not ransom with a prayer:
'Tis vile, since 'tis not worth my father's care.
I go not, sir, indebted to my grave:
You paid yourself, and took the life you gave. [_Exit. _

_Emp. _ O that I had more sense of virtue left, [_Aside. _
Or were of that, which yet remains, bereft!
I've just enough to know how I offend,
And, to my shame, have not enough to mend.
Lead to the mosque. --

_Mor. _ Love's pleasures, why should dull devotion stay?
Heaven to my Melesinda's but the way.
[_Exeunt Emperor,_ MORAT, _and train. _

_Zayd. _ Sure Aureng-Zebe has somewhat of divine,
Whose virtue through so dark a cloud can shine.
Fortune has from Morat this day removed
The greatest rival, and the best beloved.

_Nour. _ He is not yet removed.

_Zayd. _ He lives, 'tis true;
But soon must die, and, what I mourn, by you.

_Nour. _ My Zayda, may thy words prophetic be!
[_Embracing her eagerly. _
I take the omen; let him die by me!
He, stifled in my arms, shall lose his breath;
And life itself shall envious be of death.

_Zayd. _ Bless me, you powers above!

_Nour. _ Why dost thou start?
Is love so strange? Or have not I a heart?
Could Aureng-Zebe so lovely seem to thee,
And I want eyes that noble worth to see?
Thy little soul was but to wonder moved:
My sense of it was higher, and I loved.
That man, that god-like man, so brave, so great--
But these are thy small praises I repeat.
I'm carried by a tide of love away:
He's somewhat more than I myself can say,

_Zayd. _ Though all the ideas you can form be true,
He must not, cannot, be possessed by you.
If contradicting interests could be mixt,
Nature herself has cast a bar betwixt;
And, ere you reach to this incestuous love,
You must divine and human rights remove.

_Nour. _ Count this among the wonders love has done:
I had forgot he was my husband's son.

_Zayd. _ Nay, more, you have forgot who is your own:
For whom your care so long designed the throne.
Morat must fall, if Aureng-Zebe should rise.

_Nour. _ 'Tis true; but who was e'er in love, and wise?
Why was that fatal knot of marriage tied,
Which did, by making us too near, divide?
Divides me from my sex! for heaven, I find,
Excludes but me alone of womankind.
I stand with guilt confounded, lost with shame,
And yet made wretched only by a name.
If names have such command on human life,
Love sure's a name that's more divine than wife.
That sovereign power all guilt from action takes,
At least the stains are beautiful it makes.

_Zayd. _ The incroaching ill you early should oppose:
Flattered, 'tis worse, and by indulgence grows.

_Nour. _ Alas! and what have I not said or done?
I fought it to the last,--and love has won.
A bloody conquest, which destruction brought,
And ruined all the country where he fought.
Whether this passion from above was sent,
The fate of him heaven favours to prevent;
Or as the curse of fortune in excess,
That, stretching, would beyond its reach possess;
And, with a taste which plenty does deprave,
Loaths lawful good, and lawless ill does crave--

_Zayd. _ But yet, consider--

_Nour. _ No, 'tis loss of time:
Think how to further, not divert my crime.
My artful engines instantly I'll move,
And chuse the soft and gentlest hour of love.
The under-provost of the fort is mine. --
But see, Morat! I'll whisper my design.

_Enter_ MORAT _with_ ARIMANT, _as talking: Attendants. _

_Arim. _ And for that cause was not in public seen,
But stays in prison with the captive queen.

_Mor. _ Let my attendants wait; I'll be alone:
Where least of state, there most of love is shewn.

_Nour. _ My son, your business is not hard to guess; [_To_ MORAT.
Long absence makes you eager to possess:
I will not importune you by my stay;
She merits all the love which you can pay. [_Exit with_ ZAYDA.

_Re-enter_ ARIMANT, _with_ MELESINDA; _then exit. _ MORAT _runs to_
MELESINDA, _and embraces her. _

_Mor. _ Should I not chide you, that you chose to stay
In gloomy shades, and lost a glorious day?
Lost the first fruits of joy you should possess
In my return, and made my triumph less?

_Mel. _ Should I not chide, that you could stay and see
Those joys, preferring public pomp to me?
Through my dark cell your shouts of triumph rung:
I heard with pleasure, but I thought them long.

_Mor. _ The public will in triumphs rudely share,
And kings the rudeness of their joys must bear:
But I made haste to set my captive free,
And thought that work was only worthy me.
The fame of ancient matrons you pursue,
And stand a blameless pattern to the new.
I have not words to praise such acts as these:
But take my heart, and mould it as you please.

_Mel. _ A trial of your kindness I must make,
Though not for mine so much as virtue's sake.
The queen of Cassimere--

_Mor. _ No more, my love;
That only suit I beg you not to move.
That she's in bonds for Aureng-Zebe I know,
And should, by my consent, continue so;
The good old man, I fear, will pity shew.
My father dotes, and let him still dote on;
He buys his mistress dearly, with his throne.

_Mel. _ See her; and then be cruel if you can.

_Mor. _ 'Tis not with me as with a private man.
Such may be swayed by honour, or by love;
But monarchs only by their interest move.

_Mel. _ Heaven does a tribute for your power demand:
He leaves the opprest and poor upon your hand;
And those, who stewards of his pity prove,
He blesses, in return, with public love:
In his distress some miracle is shewn;
If exiled, heaven restores him to his throne:
He needs no guard, while any subject's near,
Nor, like his tyrant neighbours, lives in fear:
No plots the alarm to his retirement give:
'Tis all mankind's concern that he should live.

_Mor. _ You promised friendship in your low estate,
And should forget it in your better fate.
Such maxims are more plausible than true;
But somewhat must be given to love and you.
I'll view this captive queen; to let her see,
Prayers and complaints are lost on such as me.

_Mel. _ I'll bear the news: Heaven knows how much I'm pleased,
That, by my care, the afflicted may be eased.

_As she is going off, enter_ INDAMORA.

_Ind. _ I'll spare your pains, and venture out alone,
Since you, fair princess, my protection own.
But you, brave prince, a harder task must find;
[_To_ MORAT _kneeling, who takes her up. _
In saving me, you would but half be kind.
An humble suppliant at your feet I lie;
You have condemned my better part to die.
Without my Aureng-Zebe I cannot live;
Revoke his doom, or else my sentence give.

_Mel. _ If Melesinda in your love have part,--
Which, to suspect, would break my tender heart,--
If love, like mine, may for a lover plead,
By the chaste pleasures of our nuptial bed,
By all the interest my past sufferings make,
And all I yet would suffer for your sake;
By you yourself, the last and dearest tie--

_Mor. _ You move in vain; for Aureng-Zebe must die.

_Ind. _ Could that decree from any brother come?
Nature herself is sentenced in your doom.
Piety is no more, she sees her place
Usurped by monsters, and a savage race.
From her soft eastern climes you drive her forth,
To the cold mansions of the utmost north.
How can our prophet suffer you to reign,
When he looks down, and sees your brother slain?
Avenging furies will your life pursue:
Think there's a heaven, Morat, though not for you.

_Mel. _ Her words imprint a terror on my mind.
What if this death, which is for him designed,
Had been your doom, (far be that augury! )
And you, not Aureng-Zebe, condemned to die?
Weigh well the various turns of human fate,
And seek, by mercy, to secure your state.

_Ind. _ Had heaven the crown for Aureng-Zebe designed,
Pity for you had pierced his generous mind.
Pity does with a noble nature suit:
A brother's life had suffered no dispute.
All things have right in life; our prophet's care
Commands the beings even of brutes to spare.
Though interest his restraint has justified,
Can life, and to a brother, be denied?

_Mor. _ All reasons, for his safety urged, are weak:
And yet, methinks, 'tis heaven to hear you speak.

_Mel. _ 'Tis part of your own being to invade--

_Mor. _ Nay, if she fail to move, would you persuade?
[_Turning to_ INDA.
My brother does a glorious fate pursue;
I envy him, that he must fall for you.
He had been base, had he released his right:
For such an empire none but kings should fight.
If with a father he disputes this prize,
My wonder ceases when I see those eyes.

_Mel. _ And can you, then, deny those eyes you praise?
Can beauty wonder, and not pity raise?

_Mor. _ Your intercession now is needless grown;
Retire, and let me speak with her alone.
[MELESINDA _retires, weeping, to the side of the Stage. _
Queen, that you may not fruitless tears employ,
[_Taking_ INDAMORA'S _hand. _
I bring you news to fill your heart with joy:
Your lover, king of all the east shall reign;
For Aureng-Zebe to-morrow shall be slain.

_Ind. _ The hopes you raised, you've blasted with a breath:
[_Starting back. _
With triumphs you began, but end with death.
Did you not say my lover should be king?

_Mor. _ I, in Morat, the best of lovers bring.
For one, forsaken both of earth and heaven,
Your kinder stars a nobler choice have given:
My father, while I please, a king appears;
His power is more declining than his years.
An emperor and lover, but in shew;
But you, in me, have youth and fortune too:
As heaven did to your eyes, and form divine,
Submit the fate of all the imperial line;
So was it ordered by its wise decree,
That you should find them all comprised in me.

_Ind. _ If, sir, I seem not discomposed with rage,
Feed not your fancy with a false presage.
Farther to press your courtship is but vain;
A cold refusal carries more disdain.
Unsettled virtue stormy may appear;
Honour, like mine, serenely is severe;
To scorn your person, and reject your crown,
Disorder not my face into a frown. [_Turns from him. _

_Mor.
_ Your fortune you should reverently have used:
Such offers are not twice to be refused.
I go to Aureng-Zebe, and am in haste
For your commands; they're like to be the last.

_Ind. _ Tell him,
With my own death I would his life redeem;
But less than honour both our lives esteem.

_Mor. _ Have you no more?

_Ind. _ What shall I do or say?
He must not in this fury go away. -- [_Aside. _
Tell him, I did in vain his brother move;
And yet he falsely said, he was in love:
Falsely; for, had he truly loved, at least
He would have given one day to my request.

_Mor. _ A little yielding may my love advance:
She darted from her eyes a sidelong glance,
Just as she spoke; and, like her words, it flew:
Seemed not to beg, what yet she bid me do. [_Aside. _
A brother, madam, cannot give a day; [_To her. _
A servant, and who hopes to merit, may.

_Mel. _ If, sir-- [_Coming to him. _

_Mor. _ No more--set speeches, and a formal tale,
With none but statesmen and grave fools prevail.
Dry up your tears, and practice every grace,
That fits the pageant of your royal place. [_Exit. _

_Mel. _ Madam, the strange reverse of fate you see:
I pitied you, now you may pity me. [_Exit after him. _

_Ind. _ Poor princess! thy hard fate I could bemoan,
Had I not nearer sorrows of my own.
Beauty is seldom fortunate, when great:
A vast estate, but overcharged with debt.
Like those, whom want to baseness does betray,
I'm forced to flatter him, I cannot pay.
O would he be content to seize the throne!
I beg the life of Aureng-Zebe alone.
Whom heaven would bless, from pomp it will remove,
And make their wealth in privacy and love. [_Exit. _


ACT IV. SCENE I.

AURENG-ZEBE _alone. _

Distrust, and darkness, of a future state,
Make poor mankind so fearful of their fate.
Death, in itself, is nothing; but we fear,
To be we know not what, we know not where. [_Soft music. _
This is the ceremony of my fate:
A parting treat; and I'm to die in state.
They lodge me, as I were the Persian King:
And with luxuriant pomp my death they bring.

_To him,_ NOURMAHAL.

_Nour. _ I thought, before you drew your latest breath,
To smooth your passage, and to soften death;
For I would have you, when you upward move,
Speak kindly of me, to our friends above:
Nor name me there the occasion of our fate;
Or what my interest does, impute to hate.

_Aur. _ I ask not for what end your pomp's designed;
Whether to insult, or to compose my mind:
I marked it not;
But, knowing death would soon the assault begin,
Stood firm collected in my strength within:
To guard that breach did all my forces guide,
And left unmanned the quiet sense's side.

_Nour. _ Because Morat from me his being took,
All I can say will much suspected look:
'Tis little to confess, your fate I grieve;
Yet more than you would easily believe.

_Aur. _ Since my inevitable death you know,
You safely unavailing pity shew:
'Tis popular to mourn a dying foe.

_Nour. _ You made my liberty your late request;
Is no return due from a grateful breast?
I grow impatient, 'till I find some way,
Great offices, with greater, to repay.

_Aur. _ When I consider life, 'tis all a cheat;
Yet, fooled with hope, men favour the deceit;
Trust on, and think to-morrow will repay:
To-morrow's falser than the former day;
Lies worse, and, while it says, we shall be blest
With some new joys, cuts off what we possest.
Strange cozenage! None would live past years again,
Yet all hope pleasure in what yet remain;
And, from the dregs of life, think to receive,
What the first sprightly running could not give.
I'm tired with waiting for this chemic gold,
Which fools us young, and beggars us when old.

_Nour. _ 'Tis not for nothing that we life pursue;
It pays our hopes with something still that's new:
Each day's a mistress, unenjoyed before;
Like travellers, we're pleased with seeing more.
Did you but know what joys your way attend,
You would not hurry to your journey's end.

_Aur. _ I need not haste the end of life to meet;
The precipice is just beneath my feet.

_Nour. _ Think not my sense of virtue is so small:
I'll rather leap down first, and break your fall.
My Aureng-Zebe, (may I not call you so? ) [_Taking him by the hand. _
Behold me now no longer for your foe;
I am not, cannot be your enemy:
Look, is there any malice in my eye?
Pray, sit. -- [_Both sit. _
That distance shews too much respect, or fear;
You'll find no danger in approaching near.

_Aur. _ Forgive the amazement of my doubtful state:
This kindness from the mother of Morat!
Or is't some angel, pitying what I bore,
Who takes that shape, to make my wonder more?

_Nour. _ Think me your better genius in disguise;
Or any thing that more may charm your eyes.
Your guardian angel never could excel
In care, nor could he love his charge so well.

_Aur. _ Whence can proceed so wonderful a change?

_Nour. _ Can kindness to desert, like yours, be strange?
Kindness by secret sympathy is tied;
For noble souls in nature are allied.
I saw with what a brow you braved your fate;
Yet with what mildness bore your father's hate.
My virtue, like a string, wound up by art
To the same sound, when yours was touched, took part,
At distance shook, and trembled at my heart.

_Aur. _ I'll not complain, my father is unkind,
Since so much pity from a foe I find.
Just heaven reward this act!

_Nour. _ 'Tis well the debt no payment does demand;
You turn me over to another hand.
But happy, happy she,
And with the blessed above to be compared,
Whom you yourself would, with yourself, reward:
The greatest, nay, the fairest of her kind,
Would envy her that bliss, which you designed.

_Aur. _ Great princes thus, when favourites they raise,
To justify their grace, their creatures praise.

_Nour. _ As love the noblest passion we account,
So to the highest object it should mount.
It shews you brave when mean desires you shun;
An eagle only can behold the sun:
And so must you, if yet presage divine
There be in dreams,--or was't a vision mine?

_Aur. _ Of me?

_Nour. _ And who could else employ my thought?
I dreamed, your love was by love's goddess sought;
Officious Cupids, hovering o'er your head,
Held myrtle wreaths; beneath your feet were spread
What sweets soe'er Sabean springs disclose,
Our Indian jasmine, or the Syrian rose;
The wanton ministers around you strove
For service, and inspired their mother's love:
Close by your side, and languishing, she lies,
With blushing cheeks, short breath, and wishing eyes
Upon your breast supinely lay her head,
While on your face her famished sight she fed.
Then, with a sigh, into these words she broke,
(And gathered humid kisses as she spoke)
Dull, and ungrateful! Must I offer love?
Desired of gods, and envied even by Jove:
And dost thou ignorance or fear pretend?
Mean soul! and darest not gloriously offend?
Then, pressing thus his hand--

_Aur. _ I'll hear no more. [_Rising up. _
'Twas impious to have understood before:
And I, till now, endeavoured to mistake
The incestuous meaning, which too plain you make.

_Nour. _ And why this niceness to that pleasure shewn,
Where nature sums up all her joys in one;
Gives all she can, and, labouring still to give,
Makes it so great, we can but taste and live:
So fills the senses, that the soul seems fled,
And thought itself does, for the time, lie dead;
Till, like a string screwed up with eager haste,
It breaks, and is too exquisite to last?

_Aur. _ Heavens! can you this, without just vengeance, hear?
When will you thunder, if it now be clear?
Yet her alone let not your thunder seize:
I, too, deserve to die, because I please. [1]

_Nour. _ Custom our native royalty does awe;
Promiscuous love is nature's general law:
For whosoever the first lovers were,
Brother and sister made the second pair,
And doubled, by their love, their piety.

_Aur. _ Hence, hence, and to some barbarous climate fly,
Which only brutes in human form does yield,
And man grows wild in nature's common field.
Who eat their parents, piety pretend;[2]
Yet there no sons their sacred bed ascend.
To vail great sins, a greater crime you chuse;
And, in your incest, your adultery lose.

_Nour. _ In vain this haughty fury you have shewn.
How I adore a soul, so like my own!
You must be mine, that you may learn to live;
Know joys, which only she who loves can give.
Nor think that action you upbraid, so ill;
I am not changed, I love my husband still[3];
But love him as he was, when youthful grace,
And the first down began to shade his face:
That image does my virgin-flames renew,
And all your father shines more bright in you.

_Aur. _ In me a horror of myself you raise;
Cursed by your love, and blasted by your praise.
You find new ways to prosecute my fate;
And your least-guilty passion was your hate.

_Nour. _ I beg my death, if you can love deny.
[_Offering him a dagger. _

_Aur. _ I'll grant you nothing; no, not even to die.

_Nour. _ Know then, you are not half so kind as I.
[_Stamps with her foot. _

_Enter Mutes, some with swords drawn, one with a cup. _

You've chosen, and may now repent too late.
Behold the effect of what you wished,--my hate.
[_Taking the cup to present him. _
This cup a cure for both our ills has brought;
You need not fear a philtre in the draught.

_Aur. _ All must be poison which can come from thee;
[_Receiving it from her. _
But this the least. To immortal liberty
This first I pour, like dying Socrates; [_Spilling a little of it. _
Grim though he be, death pleases, when he frees.

_As he is going to drink, Enter_ MORAT _attended. _

_Mor. _ Make not such haste, you must my leisure stay;
Your fate's deferred, you shall not die to-day.
[_Taking the cup from him. _

_Nour. _ What foolish pity has possessed your mind,
To alter what your prudence once designed?

_Mor. _ What if I please to lengthen out his date
A day, and take a pride to cozen fate?

_Nour. _ 'Twill not be safe to let him live an hour.

_Mor. _ I'll do't, to show my arbitrary power.

_Nour. _ Fortune may take him from your hands again,
And you repent the occasion lost in vain.

_Mor. _ I smile at what your female fear foresees;
I'm in fate's place, and dictate her decrees. --
Let Arimant be called. [_Exit one of his Attendants. _

_Aur. _ Give me the poison, and I'll end your strife;
I hate to keep a poor precarious life.
Would I my safety on base terms receive,
Know, sir, I could have lived without your leave.
But those I could accuse, I can forgive;
By my disdainful silence, let them live.

_Nour. _ What am I, that you dare to bind my hand? [_To_ MORAT.
So low, I've not a murder at command!
Can you not one poor life to her afford,
Her, who gave up whole nations to your sword?
And from the abundance of whose soul and heat,
The o'erflowing served to make your mind so great?

_Mor. _ What did that greatness in a woman's mind?
Ill lodged, and weak to act what it designed?
Pleasure's your portion, and your slothful ease:
When man's at leisure, study how to please,
Soften his angry hours with servile care,
And, when he calls, the ready feast prepare.

From wars, and from affairs of state abstain;
Women emasculate a monarch's reign;
And murmuring crowds, who see them shine with gold,
That pomp, as their own ravished spoils, behold.

_Nour. _ Rage choaks my words: 'Tis womanly to weep: [_Aside. _
In my swollen breast my close revenge I'll keep;
I'll watch his tenderest part, and there strike deep. [_Exit. _

_Aur. _ Your strange proceeding does my wonder move;
Yet seems not to express a brother's love.
Say, to what cause my rescued life I owe.

_Mor. _ If what you ask would please, you should not know.
But since that knowledge, more than death, will grieve,
Know, Indamora gained you this reprieve.

_Aur. _ And whence had she the power to work your change?

_Mor. _ The power of beauty is not new or strange.
Should she command me more, I could obey;
But her request was bounded with a day.
Take that; and, if you spare my farther crime,
Be kind, and grieve to death against your time.

_Enter_ ARIMANT.

Remove this prisoner to some safer place:
He has, for Indamora's sake, found grace;
And from my mother's rage must guarded be,
Till you receive a new command from me.

_Arim.