No More Learning

Say, to what cause my rescued life I owe.

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

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

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

_Enter_ ARIMANT.

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

_Arim. _ Thus love, and fortune, persecute me still,
And make me slave to every rival's will. [_Aside. _

_Aur. _ How I disdain a life, which I must buy
With your contempt, and her inconstancy!
For a few hours my whole content I pay:
You shall not force on me another day. [_Exit with_ ARI.

_Enter_ MELESINDA.

_Mel. _ I have been seeking you this hour's long space,
And feared to find you in another place;
But since you're here, my jealousy grows less:
You will be kind to my unworthiness.
What shall I say? I love to that degree,
Each glance another way is robbed from me.
Absence, and prisons, I could bear again;
But sink, and die, beneath your least disdain.

_Mor. _ Why do you give your mind this needless care,
And for yourself, and me, new pains prepare?
I ne'er approved this passion in excess:
If you would show your love, distrust me less.
I hate to be pursued from place to place;
Meet, at each turn, a stale domestic face.
The approach of jealousy love cannot bear;
He's wild, and soon on wing, if watchful eyes come near.

_Mel. _ From your loved presence how can I depart?
My eyes pursue the object of my heart.

_Mor. _ You talk as if it were our bridal night:
Fondness is still the effect of new delight,
And marriage but the pleasure of a day:
The metal's base, the gilding worn away.

_Mel. _ I fear I'm guilty of some great offence,
And that has bred this cold indifference.

_Mor. _ The greatest in the world to flesh and blood:
You fondly love much longer than you should.

_Mel. _ If that be all which makes your discontent,
Of such a crime I never can repent.

_Mor. _ Would you force love upon me, which I shun?
And bring coarse fare, when appetite is gone?

_Mel. _ Why did I not in prison die, before
My fatal freedom made me suffer more?
I had been pleased to think I died for you,
And doubly pleased, because you then were true:
Then I had hope; but now, alas! have none.

_Mor. _ You say you love me; let that love be shown.
'Tis in your power to make my happiness.

_Mel. _ Speak quickly! To command me is to bless.

_Mor. _ To Indamora you my suit must move:
You'll sure speak kindly of the man you love.

_Mel. _ Oh, rather let me perish by your hand,
Than break my heart, by this unkind command!
Think, 'tis the only one I could deny;
And that 'tis harder to refuse, than die.
Try, if you please, my rival's heart to win;
I'll bear the pain, but not promote the sin.
You own whate'er perfections man can boast,
And, if she view you with my eyes, she's lost.

_Mor. _ Here I renounce all love, all nuptial ties:
Henceforward live a stranger to my eyes:
When I appear, see you avoid the place,
And haunt me not with that unlucky face.

_Mel. _ Hard as it is, I this command obey,
And haste, while I have life, to go away:
In pity stay some hours, till I am dead,
That blameless you may court my rival's bed.
My hated face I'll not presume to show;
Yet I may watch your steps where'er you go.
Unseen, I'll gaze; and, with my latest breath,
Bless, while I die, the author of my death. [_Weeping. _

_Enter Emperor. _

_Emp. _ When your triumphant fortune high appears,
What cause can draw these unbecoming tears?
Let cheerfulness on happy fortune wait,
And give not thus the counter-time to fate.

_Mel. _ Fortune long frowned, and has but lately smiled:
I doubt a foe so newly reconciled.
You saw but sorrow in its waning form,
A working sea remaining from a storm;
When the now weary waves roll o'er the deep,
And faintly murmur ere they fall asleep.

_Emp. _ Your inward griefs you smother in your mind;
But fame's loud voice proclaims your lord unkind.

_Mor. _ Let fame be busy, where she has to do;
Tell of fought fields, and every pompous show.
Those tales are fit to fill the people's ears;
Monarchs, unquestioned, move in higher spheres.

_Mel. _ Believe not rumour, but yourself; and see
The kindness 'twixt my plighted lord and me. [_Kissing_ MORAT.
This is our state; thus happily we live;
These are the quarrels which we take and give.
I had no other way to force a kiss. [_Aside to_ MORAT.
Forgive my last farewell to you and bliss. [_Exit. _

_Emp. _ Your haughty carriage shows too much of scorn,
And love, like hers, deserves not that return.

_Mor. _ You'll please to leave me judge of what I do,
And not examine by the outward show.
Your usage of my mother might be good:
I judged it not.

_Emp. _ Nor was it fit you should.

_Mor. _ Then, in as equal balance weigh my deeds.

_Emp. _ My right, and my authority, exceeds.
Suppose (what I'll not grant) injustice done;
Is judging me the duty of a son?

_Mor. _ Not of a son, but of an emperor:
You cancelled duty when you gave me power.
If your own actions on your will you ground,
Mine shall hereafter know no other bound.
What meant you when you called me to a throne?
Was it to please me with a name alone?

_Emp. _ 'Twas that I thought your gratitude would know
What to my partial kindness you did owe;
That what your birth did to your claim deny,
Your merit of obedience might supply.

_Mor. _ To your own thoughts such hope you might propose;
But I took empire not on terms like those.
Of business you complained; now take your ease;
Enjoy whate'er decrepid age can please;
Eat, sleep, and tell long tales of what you were
In flower of youth,--if any one will hear.

_Emp. _ Power, like new wine, does your weak brain surprise,
And its mad fumes, in hot discourses, rise:
But time these giddy vapours will remove;
Meanwhile, I'll taste the sober joys of love.

_Mor. _ You cannot love nor pleasures take, or give;
But life begin, when 'tis too late to live.
On a tired courser you pursue delight,
Let slip your morning, and set out at night.
If you have lived, take thankfully the past;
Make, as you can, the sweet remembrance last.
If you have not enjoyed what youth could give,
But life sunk through you, like a leaky sieve,
Accuse yourself, you lived not while you might;
But, in the captive queen resign your right.
I've now resolved to fill your useless place;
I'll take that post, to cover your disgrace,
And love her, for the honour of my race.

_Emp. _ Thou dost but try how far I can forbear,
Nor art that monster, which thou wouldst appear;
But do not wantonly my passion move;
I pardon nothing that relates to love.
My fury does, like jealous forts, pursue
With death, even strangers who but come to view.

_Mor. _ I did not only view, but will invade.
Could you shed venom from your reverend shade,
Like trees, beneath whose arms 'tis death to sleep;
Did rolling thunder your fenced fortress keep,
Thence would I snatch my Semele, like Jove,
And 'midst the dreadful wrack enjoy my love.

_Emp. _ Have I for this, ungrateful as thou art!
When right, when nature, struggled in my heart;
When heaven called on me for thy brother's claim,
Broke all, and sullied my unspotted fame?
Wert thou to empire, by my baseness, brought,
And wouldst thou ravish what so dear I bought?
Dear! for my conscience and its peace I gave;--
Why was my reason made my passion's slave?
I see heaven's justice; thus the powers divine
Pay crimes with crimes, and punish mine by thine.

_Mor. _ Crimes let them pay, and punish as they please;
What power makes mine, by power I mean to seize.
Since 'tis to that they their own greatness owe
Above, why should they question mine below? [_Exit. _

_Emp. _ Prudence, thou vainly in our youth art sought,
And, with age purchased, art too dearly bought:
We're past the use of wit, for which we toil;
Late fruit, and planted in too cold a soil.
My stock of fame is lavished and decayed;
No profit of the vast profusion made.
Too late my folly I repent; I know
My Aureng-Zebe would ne'er have used me so.
But, by his ruin, I prepared my own;
And, like a naked tree, my shelter gone,
To winds and winter-storms must stand exposed alone. [_Exit. _

_Enter_ AURENG-ZEBE _and_ ARIMANT.

_Arim. _ Give me not thanks, which I will ne'er deserve;
But know, 'tis for a noble price I serve.
By Indamora's will you're hither brought:
All my reward in her command I sought.
The rest your letter tells you. --See, like light,
She comes, and I must vanish, like the night. [_Exit. _

_Enter_ INDAMORA.

_Ind. _ 'Tis now, that I begin to live again;
Heavens, I forgive you all my fear and pain:
Since I behold my Aureng-Zebe appear,
I could not buy him at a price too dear.
His name alone afforded me relief,
Repeated as a charm to cure my grief.
I that loved name did, as some god, invoke,
And printed kisses on it, while I spoke.

_Aur. _ Short ease, but long, long pains from you I find;
Health, to my eyes; but poison, to my mind.
Why are you made so excellently fair?
So much above what other beauties are,
That, even in cursing, you new form my breath;
And make me bless those eyes which give me death!

_Ind. _ What reason for your curses can you find?
My eyes your conquest, not your death, designed.
If they offend, 'tis that they are too kind.

_Aur. _ The ruins they have wrought, you will not see;
Too kind they are, indeed, but not to me.

_Ind. _ Think you, base interest souls like mine can sway?
Or that, for greatness, I can love betray?
No, Aureng-Zebe, you merit all my heart,
And I'm too noble but to give a part.
Your father, and an empire! Am I known
No more? Or have so weak a judgment shown,
In chusing you, to change you for a throne?

_Aur. _ How, with a truth, you would a falsehood blind!
'Tis not my father's love you have designed;
Your choice is fix'd where youth and power are join'd.

_Ind. _ Where youth and power are joined! --has he a name?

_Aur. _ You would be told; you glory in your shame:
There's music in the sound; and, to provoke
Your pleasure more, by me it must be spoke.
Then, then it ravishes, when your pleased ear
The sound does from a wretched rival hear.
Morat's the name your heart leaps up to meet,
While Aureng-Zebe lies dying at your feet.

_Ind. _ Who told you this?

_Aur. _ Are you so lost to shame?
Morat, Morat, Morat! You love the name
So well, your every question ends in that;
You force me still to answer you, Morat.
Morat, who best could tell what you revealed;
Morat, too proud to keep his joy concealed.

_Ind. _ Howe'er unjust your jealousy appear,
It shows the loss of what you love, you fear;
And does my pity, not my anger move:
I'll fond it, as the forward child of love.
To show the truth of my unaltered breast,
Know, that your life was given at my request,
At least reprieved. When heaven denied you aid,
She brought it, she, whose falsehood you upbraid.

_Aur. _ And 'tis by that you would your falsehood hide?
Had you not asked, how happy had I died!
Accurst reprieve! not to prolong my breath;
It brought a lingering, and more painful death,
I have not lived since first I heard the news;
The gift the guilty giver does accuse.
You knew the price, and the request did move,
That you might pay the ransom with your love.

_Ind. _ Your accusation must, I see, take place;--
And am I guilty, infamous, and base?

_Aur.
_ If you are false, those epithets are small;
You're then the things, the abstract of them all.
And you are false: You promised him your love,--
No other price a heart so hard could move.
Do not I know him? Could his brutal mind
Be wrought upon? Could he be just, or kind?
Insultingly, he made your love his boast;
Gave me my life, and told me what it cost.
Speak; answer. I would fain yet think you true:
Lie; and I'll not believe myself, but you.
Tell me you love; I'll pardon the deceit,
And, to be fooled, myself assist the cheat.

_Ind. _ No; 'tis too late; I have no more to say:
If you'll believe I have been false, you may.

_Aur. _ I would not; but your crimes too plain appear:
Nay, even that I should think you true, you fear.
Did I not tell you, I would be deceived?

_Ind. _ I'm not concerned to have my truth believed.
You would be cozened! would assist the cheat!
But I'm too plain to join in the deceit:
I'm pleased you think me false,
And, whatsoe'er my letter did pretend,
I made this meeting for no other end.

_Aur. _ Kill me not quite, with this indifference!
When you are guiltless, boast not an offence.
I know you better than yourself you know:
Your heart was true, but did some frailty shew:
You promised him your love, that I might live;
But promised what you never meant to give.
Speak, was't not so? confess; I can forgive.

_Ind. _ Forgive! what dull excuses you prepare,
As if your thoughts of me were worth my care!

_Aur. _ Ah traitress! Ah ingrate! Ah faithless mind!
Ah sex, invented first to damn mankind!
Nature took care to dress you up for sin;
Adorned, without; unfinished left, within.
Hence, by no judgment you your loves direct;
Talk much, ne'er think, and still the wrong affect.
So much self-love in your composure's mixed,
That love to others still remains unfixed:
Greatness, and noise, and shew, are your delight;
Yet wise men love you, in their own despite:
And finding in their native wit no ease,
Are forced to put your folly on, to please.

_Ind. _ Now you shall know what cause you have to rage;
But to increase your fury, not assuage:
I found the way your brother's heart to move.
Yet promised not the least return of love.
His pride and brutal fierceness I abhor;
But scorn your mean suspicions of me more.
I owed my honour and my fame this care:
Know what your folly lost you, and despair. [_Turning from him. _

_Aur. _ Too cruelly your innocence you tell:
Shew heaven, and damn me to the pit of hell.
Now I believe you; 'tis not yet too late:
You may forgive, and put a stop to fate;
Save me, just sinking, and no more to rise. [_She frowns. _
How can you look with such relentless eyes?
Or let your mind by penitence be moved,
Or I'm resolved to think you never loved.
You are not cleared, unless you mercy speak:
I'll think you took the occasion thus to break.

_Ind. _ Small jealousies, 'tis true, inflame desire;
Too great, not fan, but quite blow out the fire:
Yet I did love you, till such pains I bore,
That I dare trust myself and you no more.
Let me not love you; but here end my pain:
Distrust may make me wretched once again.
Now, with full sails, into the port I move,
And safely can unlade my breast of love;
Quiet, and calm: Why should I then go back,
To tempt the second hazard of a wreck?

_Aur. _ Behold these dying eyes, see their submissive awe;
These tears, which fear of death could never draw:
Heard you that sigh? from my heaved heart it past,
And said,--"If you forgive not, 'tis my last. "
Love mounts, and rolls about my stormy mind,
Like fire, that's borne by a tempestuous wind.
Oh, I could stifle you, with eager haste!
Devour your kisses with my hungry taste!
Rush on you! eat you! wander o'er each part,
Raving with pleasure, snatch you to my heart!
Then hold you off, and gaze! then, with new rage,
Invade you, till my conscious limbs presage
Torrents of joy, which all their banks o'erflow!
So lost, so blest, as I but then could know!

_Ind. _ Be no more jealous! [_Giving him her hand. _

_Aur. _ Give me cause no more:
The danger's greater after, than before;
If I relapse, to cure my jealousy,
Let me (for that's the easiest parting) die.

_Ind. _ My life!

_Aur. _ My soul!

_Ind. _ My all that heaven can give!
Death's life with you; without you, death to live.

_To them,_ ARIMANT, _hastily. _

_Arim. _ Oh, we are lost, beyond all human aid!
The citadel is to Morat betrayed.
The traitor, and the treason, known too late;
The false Abas delivered up the gate:
Even while I speak, we're compassed round with fate.
The valiant cannot fight, or coward fly;
But both in undistinguished crowds must die.

_Aur. _ Then my prophetic fears are come to pass:
Morat was always bloody; now, he's base:
And has so far in usurpation gone,
He will by parricide secure the throne.

_To them, the Emperor. _

_Emp. _ Am I forsaken, and betrayed, by all?
Not one brave man dare, with a monarch, fall?
Then, welcome death, to cover my disgrace!
I would not live to reign o'er such a race.
My Aureng-Zebe! [_Seeing_ AURENG-ZEBE.
But thou no more art mine; my cruelty
Has quite destroyed the right I had in thee.
I have been base,
Base even to him from whom I did receive
All that a son could to a parent give:
Behold me punished in the self-same kind;
The ungrateful does a more ungrateful find.

_Aur. _ Accuse yourself no more; you could not be
Ungrateful; could commit no crime to me.
I only mourn my yet uncancelled score:
You put me past the power of paying more.
That, that's my grief, that I can only grieve,
And bring but pity, where I would relieve;
For had I yet ten thousand lives to pay,
The mighty sum should go no other way.

_Emp. _ Can you forgive me? 'tis not fit you should.
Why will you be so excellently good?
'Twill stick too black a brand upon my name:
The sword is needless; I shall die with shame.
What had my age to do with love's delight,
Shut out from all enjoyments but the sight?

_Arim. _ Sir, you forget the danger's imminent:
This minute is not for excuses lent.

_Emp. _ Disturb me not;--
How can my latest hour be better spent?
To reconcile myself to him is more,
Than to regain all I possessed before.
Empire and life are now not worth a prayer;
His love, alone, deserves my dying care.

_Aur. _ Fighting for you, my death will glorious be.

_Ind. _ Seek to preserve yourself, and live for me.

_Arim. _ Lose then no farther time.
Heaven has inspired me with a sudden thought,
Whence your unhoped for safety may be wrought,
Though with the hazard of my blood 'tis bought.
But since my life can ne'er be fortunate,
'Tis so much sorrow well redeemed from fate.
You, madam, must retire,
(Your beauty is its own security,)
And leave the conduct of the rest to me.
Glory will crown my life, if I succeed;
If not, she may afford to love me dead. [_Aside. _

_Aur. _ My father's kind, and, madam, you forgive;
Were heaven so pleased, I now could wish to live.
And I shall live.
With glory and with love, at once, I burn:
I feel the inspiring heat, and absent god return. [_Exeunt. _


ACT V. SCENE I.

INDAMORA _alone. _

_Ind. _ The night seems doubled with the fear she brings,
And o'er the citadel new-spreads her wings.
The morning, as mistaken, turns about,
And all her early fires again go out.
Shouts, cries, and groans, first pierce my ears, and then
A flash of lightning draws the guilty scene,
And shows me arms, and wounds, and dying men.
Ah, should my Aureng-Zebe be fighting there,
And envious winds, distinguished to my ear,
His dying groans and his last accents bear!

_To her,_ MORAT, _attended. _

_Mor. _ The bloody business of the night is done,
And, in the citadel, an empire won.
Our swords so wholly did the fates employ,
That they, at length, grew weary to destroy,
Refused the work we brought, and, out of breath,
Made sorrow and despair attend for death.
But what of all my conquest can I boast?
My haughty pride, before your eyes, is lost:
And victory but gains me to present
That homage, which our eastern world has sent.

_Ind. _ Your victory, alas, begets my fears:
Can you not then triumph without my tears?
Resolve me; (for you know my destiny
Is Aureng-Zebes) say, do I live or die?

_Mor. _ Urged by my love, by hope of empire fired,
'Tis true, I have performed what both required:
What fate decreed; for when great souls are given,
They bear the marks of sovereignty from heaven.
My elder brothers my fore-runners came;
Rough-draughts of nature, ill designed, and lame:
Blown off, like blossoms never made to bear;
Till I came, finished, her last-laboured care.

_Ind. _ This prologue leads to your succeeding sin:
Blood ended what ambition did begin.

_Mor. _ 'Twas rumour'd,--but by whom I cannot tell,--
My father 'scaped from out the citadel;
My brother too may live.

_Ind. _ He may?

_Mor. _ He must:
I kill'd him not: and a less fate's unjust.
Heaven owes it me, that I may fill his room,
A phoenix-lover, rising from his tomb;
In whom you'll lose your sorrows for the dead;
More warm, more fierce, and fitter for your bed.

_Ind. _ Should I from Aureng-Zebe my heart divide,
To love a monster, and a parricide?
These names your swelling titles cannot hide.
Severe decrees may keep our tongues in awe;
But to our thoughts, what edict can give law?
Even you yourself, to your own breast, shall tell
Your crimes; and your own conscience be your hell.

_Mor. _ What business has my conscience with a crown?
She sinks in pleasures, and in bowls will drown.
If mirth should fail, I'll busy her with cares,
Silence her clamorous voice with louder wars:
Trumpets and drums shall fright her from the throne,
As sounding cymbals aid the labouring moon.

_Ind. _ Repelled by these, more eager she will grow,
Spring back more strongly than a Scythian bow.
Amidst your train, this unseen judge will wait;
Examine how you came by all your state;
Upbraid your impious pomp; and, in your ear,
Will hollow,--"Rebel, tyrant, murderer! "
Your ill-got power wan looks and care shall bring,
Known but by discontent to be a king.
Of crowds afraid, yet anxious when alone,
You'll sit and brood your sorrows on a throne.

_Mor. _ Birth-right's a vulgar road to kingly sway;
'Tis every dull-got elder brother's way.
Dropt from above, he lights into a throne;
Grows of a piece with that he sits upon;
Heaven's choice, a low, inglorious, rightful drone.
But who by force a sceptre does obtain,
Shows he can govern that, which he could gain.
Right comes of course, whate'er he was before;
Murder and usurpation are no more.

_Ind. _ By your own laws you such dominion make,
As every stronger power has right to take:
And parricide will so deform your name,
That dispossessing you will give a claim.
Who next usurps, will a just prince appear,
So much your ruin will his reign endear.

_Mor. _ I without guilt would mount the royal seat;
But yet 'tis necessary to be great.

_Ind. _ All greatness is in virtue understood:
'Tis only necessary to be good.
Tell me, what is't at which great spirits aim,
What most yourself desire?

_Mor. _ Renown and fame,
And power, as uncontrouled as is my will.

_Ind. _ How you confound desires of good and ill.
For true renown is still with virtue joined;
But lust of power lets loose the unbridled mind.
Yours is a soul irregularly great,
Which, wanting temper, yet abounds with heat,
So strong, yet so unequal pulses beat;
A sun, which does, through vapours, dimly shine;
What pity 'tis, you are not all divine!
New moulded, thorough lightened, and a breast
So pure, to bear the last severest test;
Fit to command an empire you should gain
By virtue, and without a blush to reign.

_Mor. _ You show me somewhat I ne'er learnt before;
But 'tis the distant prospect of a shore,
Doubtful in mists; which, like enchanted ground,
Flies from my sight, before 'tis fully found.

_Ind. _ Dare to be great, without a guilty crown;
View it, and lay the bright temptation down:
'Tis base to seize on all, because you may;
That's empire, that, which I can give away:
There's joy when to wild will you laws prescribe,
When you bid fortune carry back her bribe:
A joy, which none but greatest minds can taste;
A fame, which will to endless ages last.

_Mor. _ Renown, and fame, in vain, I courted long,
And still pursued them, though directed wrong.
In hazard, and in toils, I heard they lay;
Sailed farther than the coast, but missed my way:
Now you have given me virtue for my guide;
And, with true honour, ballasted my pride.
Unjust dominion I no more pursue;
I quit all other claims, but those to you.

_Ind. _ Oh be not just by halves! pay all you owe:
Think there's a debt to Melesinda too.