AURENG-ZEBE. If you are false, those epi- Nature took care to dress you up for sin— 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. 465 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. INDAMORA. No, 'tis too late. I have no more to say. If you'll believe I have been false, you may. AURENG-ZEBE. I would not, but your crimes too plain appear; 471 That love to others still remains unfixed. Greatness, and noise, and show, are your delight; Yet wise men love you, in their own despite: 501 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 th'occasion thus to break. INDAMORA. Small jealousies, 'tis true, inflame desire; Too great not fan, but quite blow out the fire. 520 INDAMORA. (Giving him her hand) Be no, . Ungrateful—could commit no crime to me. more jealous! I only mourn my yet uncancelled score; You put me past the pow'r of paying more. That-that's my grief, that I can only grieve, 576 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. EMPEROR. Can you forgive me? 'tis not fit you should. 580 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? And blasted be the tongue which did relate! ASAPH. His body MORAT. Cease to enhance her misery; Pity the queen, and show respect to me. "Tis ev'ry painter's art to hide from sight, And cast in shades what, seen, would not delight. (To her) 148 Your grief in me such sympathy has bred,I mourn and wish I could recall the dead. Love softens me, and blows up fires which pass Through my tough heart, and melt the stubborn mass. INDAMORA. Break, heart! or choke, with sobs, my hated breath! 153 |