What will they produce, but Zara's tears
To quench this fancied anger! Your lost heart,
Seduc'd against itself, will search but reasons
To justify the guilt, which gives it pain;
Rather conceal from Zara this discovery;
And let some trusty slave convey the letter,
Re-clos'd to her own hand-then shall you
learn,

Spite of her frauds, disguise, and artifice,
The firmness, or abasement of her soul.

Osm. Thy counsel charms me! We'll about it now.

"Twill be some recompense, at least, to see
Her blushes, when detected.-

Oras. Oh, my lord!
I doubt you in the trial-

for your heartOsm. Distrust me not-my love, indeed, is weak, [Zara. But honour and disdain more strong than Here, take this fatal letter-choose a slave Whom yet she never saw, and who retains His tried fidelity-Despatch-begoneNow, whither shall I turn my eyes and steps, The surest way to shun her: and give time For this discovering trial?-Heaven! she's here!

Enter ZARA.

[Exit ORASMIN.

So, Madam! fortune will befriend my cause,
And free me from your fetters.-You are met
Most aptly, to dispel a new-risen doubt,
That claims the finest of your arts to gloss it.
Unhappy each by other, it is time

To end our mutual pain, that both may rest:
You want not generosity, but love;
My pride forgotten, my obtruded throne,
My favours, cares, respect, and tenderness,
Touching your gratitude, provok'd regard;
"Till, by a length of benefits besieg'd,
Your heart submitted, and you thought 'twas
love:

But you deceiv'd yourself and injur'd me.
There is, I'm told, an object more deserving
Your love than Osman- -I would know his

name:

Be just, nor trifle with my anger: tell me Now, while expiring pity struggles faint; While I have yet, perhaps, the power to parGive up the bold invader of my claim, [don: And let him die to save thee. Thou art known; Think and resolve--While I yet speak, renounce him;

While yet the thunder rolls suspended, stay it; Let thy voice charm me, and recall my soul, That turns averse, and dwells no more on Zara.

Zur. Can it be Osman speaks, and speaks to Zara? Learn, cruel! learn, that this afflicted heart, This heart which Heaven delights to prove by tortures, [you. Did it not love, has pride and power to shun Alas! you will not know me! What have I To fear, but that unhappy love you question? That love which only could outweigh the

shame

I feel, while I descend to weep my wrongs.
I know not whether Heaven, that frowns upon

me,

Has destin'd my unhappy days for yours; But, be my fate or bless'd or curs'd, I swear By honour, dearer even than life or love, Could Zara be but mistress of herself,

She would with cold regard look down on kings.

And, you alone excepted, fly 'em all.

Would you learn more, and open all my heart?
Know then, that, spite of this renew'd injus-
I do not-cannot wish to love you less: [tice,
That, long before you look'd so low as Zara,
She gave her heart to Osman; yours, before
Your benefits had bought her, or your eye
Had thrown distinction round her; never had,
Nor ever will acknowledge other lover:
And to this sacred truth, attesting Heaven,
I call thy dreadful notice! If my heart
Deserves reproach; 'tis for, but not from Os-

Orasmin, she's perfidious, even beyond
Her sex's undiscover'd power of seeming;
She's at the topmost point of shameless artifice;
An empress at deceiving! Soft and easy,
Destroying like a plague, in calm tranquillity:
She's innocent she swears--so is the fire;
It shines in harmless distance, bright and
pleasing,

Consuming nothing till it first embraces.
Say, hast thou chosen a slave? Is he in-
structed?

Haste to detect her vileness and my wrongs. Oras. Punctual I have obey'd your whole

command;

But have you arm'd, my lord, your injur'd [heart, With coldness and indifference? Can you hear, All painless and unmov'd, the false one's shame?

Osm. Orasmin, I adore her more than ever. Oras. My lord! my emperor! forbid it, Heaven!

Osm. I have discern'd a gleam of distant hope; [France, This hateful Christian, the light growth of Proud, young, vain, amorous, conceited, rash, Has misconceiv'd some charitable glance, And judg'd it love in Zara: he alone, Then, has offended me. Is it her fault, If those she charms are indiscreet and daring? Zara, perhaps, expected not this letter; And I, with rashness groundless as its writer's, Took fire at my own fancy, and have wrong'd

her.

Now hear me with attention-Soon as night Has thrown her welcome shadows o'er the palace;

When this Nerestan, this ungrateful Christian, Shall lurk in expectation near our walls, Be watchful that our guards surprize and seize him; [shame, Then, bound in fetters, and o'erwhelmed with.

answer:

For I would gladly hear my brother's voice. Sel. Say rather you would hear the voice of Heaven.

'Tis not your brother calls you, but your God. Zar. I know it, nor resist his awful will; Thou know'st that I have bound my soul by oath;

But can I ought 1-to engage myself,
My brother, and the Christians, in this danger?
Sel. 'Tis not their danger that alarms your
fears;
[soul;
Your love speaks loudest to your shrinking
I know your heart of strength to hazard all,
But it has let in traitors, who surrender
On poor pretence of safety :-Learn at least,
To understand the weakness that deceives you :
You tremble to offend your haughty lover,-
Whom wrongs and outrage but endear the more;
Yes you are blind to Osman's cruel nature;
That Tartar's fierceness, that obscures his
bounties;

This tiger, savage in his tenderness,
Courts with contempt, and threatens amidst
softness;

Yet, cannot your neglected heart efface
His fated, fix'd impression!

Zar. What reproach

Can I with justice make him?—I, indeed,
Have given him cause to hate me !-

Was not his throne, was not his temple ready?
Did he not court his slave to be a queen,
And have not I declin'd it?--I who ought
To tremble, conscious of affronted power!
Have I not triumph'd o'er his pride and love?
Seen him submit his own high will to mine,
And sacrifice his wishes to my weakness?

Sel. Talk we no more of this unhappy pasWhat resolution will your virtue take? [sion:

Zar. All things combine to sink me to des pair :

From the seraglio death alone will free me.
I long to see the Christians' happy climes;
Yet in the moment, while I form that prayer,
I sigh a secret wish to languish here.
How sad a state is mine! my restless soul
All ignorant what to do, or what to wish:
My only perfect sense is that of pain.
Oh, guardian Heaven! protect my brother's
life,
For I will meet him, and fulfil his prayer:
Then, when from Solyma's unfriendly walls,
His absence shall unbind his sister's tongue,
Osman shall learn the secret of my birth,
My faith, unshaken, and my deathless love;
He will approve my choice, and pity me.
I'll send my brother word he may expect me.
Call in the faithful slave-God of my fathers!
[Exit SELIMA.

Let thy hand save me, and thy will direct.

Enter SELIMA and MELIdor.

Go tell the Christian who intrusted thee, That Zara's heart is fix'd, nor shrinks at danger;

And that my faithful friend will, at the hour,
Expect, and introduce him to his wish.
Away-the sultan comes; he must not find us.
[Exeunt ZARA and SELIMA.

Enter OSMAN and ORASMIN.
Osm. Swifter, ye hours, move on; my fury
glows
Impatient, and would push the wheels of time.
How now! What message dost thou bring?
Speak boldly-

What answer gave she to the letter sent her? Mel. She blush'd and trembled, and grew pale, and paus'd, [pale, Then blush'd, and read it; and again grew And wept, and smil'd, and doubted, and re

solv'd:

For after all this race of varied passions, When she had sent me out, and call'd me back, Tell him (she cried) who has intrusted thee, That Zara's heart is fix'd, nor shrinks at danger;

And that my faithful friend will, at the hour, Expect, and introduce him to his wish.

more.

Ösm. Enough-begone-I have no ear for [To the slave. Leave me, thou too, Orasmin.-Leave me, life, [To ORASMIN.

For every mortal aspect moves my hate:
Leave me to my distraction-I grow mad,
And cannot bear the visage of a friend.
Leave me to rage, despair, and shame, and

Th' unbreathing world is hush'd, as if it heard, And listen'd to your sorrows.

Osm. Oh, treacherous night!

Thou lend'st thy ready veil to every treason, And teeming mischiefs thrive beneath thy shade.

not

Orasmin, prophet, reason, truth and love!
After such length of benefits, to wrong me!
How have I over-rated, how mistaken,
The merit of her beauty!-Did
Forget was a monarch? Did I remember
That Zara was a slave?--I gave up all,
Gave up tranquillity, distinction, pride,
And fell the shameful victim of my love!
Oras. Sir, Sovereign, Sultan, my Imperial
Master!

Reflect on your own greatness,
The distant provocation.

Osm. Hark !-heard'st thou nothing?
Oras. My lord!

Osm. A voice, like dying groans!
Oras. I listen, but can hear nothing.
Osm. Again!-look out-he comes

Oras. Nor tread of mortal foot-nor voice

I hear :

The still seraglio lies, profoundly plung'd
In death-like silence! nothing stirs.-The air
Is soft as infant sleep; no breathing wing
Steals through the shadows, to awaken night.
Osm. Horrors a thousand times more dark
than these,

Benight my suffering soul-Thou dost not know
To what excess of tenderness I lov'd her:
I knew no happiness, but what she gave me,
Nor could have felt a misery but for her!
Pity this weakness-mine are tears, Orasmin,
That fall not oft, nor lightly.

Oras. Tears!-Oh, Heaven!

Osm. The first which ever yet unmann'd
my eyes!

Oh! pity Zara-pity me-Orasmin,
These but forerun the tears of destin'd blood.
Oras. Oh, my unhappy lord !-I tremble for

you

Osm. Do-tremble at my sufferings, at my love;

At my revenge too, tremble-for 'tis due,
And will not be deluded.

Oras. Hark! I hear

The steps of men, along the neighb'ring wall! Osm. Fly-seize him-'tis Nerestan! Wait no chains,

But drag him down to my impatient eye. [Exit ORASMIN.

Enter ZARA and SELIMA, in the dark. Zar. Where art thou, Selima? Give me thy It is so dark, I tremble as I step, [hand. With fears and startings, never felt till now! Osm. Damnation! 'tis her voice! the well known sound,

That has so often charm'd me into baseness!

Oh, the perfidious hypocrite!- -she goes
To meet th' inviting infidel!- -now, now,
[Drawing a dagger.
Revenge, stand firm, and intercept his wishes;
Revenge? on whom?-no matter-earth and
Heaven

Would blush, should I forbear: now--Zara,
now!
[Drops the dagger.

I must not, cannot strike; the starting steel, Unwilling, flies my hand, and shuns to wound her.

Zar. This is the private path-come nearer lead me

Are we not noticed, think'st thou !
Sel. Fear not, Madam;

It cannot now be long, ere we shall meet him.
Osm. That word has given me back my
ebbing rage-
[Recovers the dagger.

Zar. I walk in terror, and my heart forebodes.

Who's there!-Nerestan! Is it you?-O wel

-I will now

[her! Haste from this fatal place-I cannot leave Whom did I strike? Was this the act of love? Swallow me, earth!-She's silent-Zara's dead!

And should I live to see returning day, "Twill show me but her blood!-show me left joyless, [me, In a wide, empty world, with nothing round But penitence and pain-And yet 'twas just:Hark!-Destiny has sent her lover to me, To fill my vengeance, and restore my joy.

Enter ORASMIN with NERESTAN. Approach, thou wretch! thou more than curs'd come near

Thou who, in gratitude for freedom gain'd,
Hast given me miseries beyond thy own!
Thou heart of hero with a traitor's soul!
Go-reap thy due reward, prepare to suffer,
Whate'er inventive malice can inflict,
To make thee feel thy death, and perish slow.
Are my commands obey'd?

Oras. All is prepar❜d.

Osm. Thy wanton eyes look round, in search of her

Whose love descending to a slave like thee, From my dishonour'd hand receiv'd her doom. See! where she lies

Ner. Oh, fatal, rash mistake!

Osm. Dost thou behold her, slave?
Ner. Unhappy sister!

Osm. Sister!-Didst thou say sister? If thou didst,

Bless me with deafness, Heaven!
Ner. Tyrant! I did-

She was my sister-All that now is left thee,
Despatch From my distracted heart drain

next

The remnant of the royal Christian blood:
Old Lusignan, expiring in my arms,
Sent his too wretched son, with his last bles-
sing,

To his now murder'd daughter!-
Would I had seen the bleeding innocent!
I would have liv'd to speak to her in death!
Would have awaken'd in her languid heart,
A livelier sense of her abandon'd God:
That God, who left by her, forsook her too,
And gave the poor lost sufferer to thy rage.
Osm. Thy sister!-Lusignan her father!-
Selima,
[Zara?
Can this be true?-and have I wrong'd thee,
Sel. Thy love was all the cloud 'twixt her

and Heaven!

Ner. Why should a tyrant hesitate on murder?

There now remains but mine, of all the blood Which, through thy father's cruel reign and thine,

Has never ceas'd to stream on Syria's sands.
Restore a wretch to his unhappy race;
Nor hope that torments, after such a scene,
Can force one feeble groan to feast thy anger.
I waste my fruitless words in empty air;
The tyrant o'er the bleeding wound he made,
Hangs his unmoving eye, and heeds not me.
Osm. Oh, Zara!-

Oras. Alas, my lord, return-whither would grief

Transport your generous heart?-This Christian dog

Osm. Take off his fetters, and observe my will:

To him, and all his friends, give instant liberty: Pour a profusion of the richest gifts

On these unhappy Christians; and when heap'd

With varied benefits, and charg'd with riches, Give 'em safe conduct to the nearest port. Oras. But, Sir

Osm. Reply not, but obey.

Fly

-nor dispute thy master's last command, Thy prince, who orders-and thy friend, who loves thee!

Go lose no time-farewell-begone-and thou!

Unhappy warrior!-yet less lost than IHaste from our bloody land-and to thy own, Convey this poor, pale object of my rage. Thy king and all his Christians, when they hear

Thy miseries, shall mourn 'em with their tears; But, if thou tell'st 'em mine, and tell'st 'em truly,

They who shall hate my crime, shall pity me. Take, too, this poignard with thee, which my hand

Has stain'd with blood far dearer than my own;
Tell 'em-with this I murder'd her I lov'd;
The noblest and most virtuous among women!
The soul of innocence, and pride of truth:
Tell 'em, I laid my empire at her feet:
Tell 'em, I plung'd my dagger in her blood;
Tell 'em, I so ador'd-and thus reveng'd her.
[Stabs himself.

Reverence this hero and conduct him sate.

[Dies. Ner. Direct me, great inspirer of the soul! How should I act, how judge in this distress? Amazing grandeur, and detested rage? Even I, amidst my tears, admire this foe, And mourn his death, who liv'd to give me wo. [Exeunt omnes.

EPILOGUE.

|

HERE, take a surfeit, Sirs, of being jealous, And shun the pains that plague those Turkish fellows:

Where love and death join hands, their darts confounding :

Save us, good Heaven, from this new way of wounding.

woman

He. What then is its tuneful name,

Robinhood of the Greenwood tree? Or what good old ballad of fame Has he built into tra-ge-dy? She. Though he rails against songs, he thought fit,

Most gravely to urge and implore us, In aid of his tragical wit,

To erect ourselves into a Chorus.

[Laughing. He. A Chorus! what's that-a composing Of groans to the rants of his madness?

She. No-be hinders the boxes from dozing, By mixing some spirit with sadness. He. So then-'tis our task I suppose,

To sing sober sense into relish; Strike up, at each tragical close, And unheeded moral embellish. She. 'Twas the custom, you know, once in Greece,

And if here 'tis not witty, 'tis new. He. Well then, when you find an act cease, [Turning to the boxes. Tremble ladiesShe. And gentlemen, too- [To the men. If 1 give not the beaux good advice, [Merrily. Let me dwindle to recitative! He. Nor will I to the belles be more nice, When I catch 'em but here, to receive. She. If there's ought to be learn'd from the play,

I shall sit in a nook, here, behind, Popping out in the good ancient way, Now and then, with a piece of my

mind. He. But suppose that no moral should rise, Worth the ears of the brave or the fair! She. Why, we'll then give the word-and advise

Face about, and stand all as ye were.

'Tis the fault of you men, who, with flames of desire,

Set your palates on fire,

And dream not, that eating-will appetite tire;
So resolve in your heat,
To do nothing, but eat,

"Till, alas! on a sudden you sleep o'er your Therefore, learn, O ye fair!

He. And, you lovers, take care-
She. That you trust not beforehand-
He. That you trust not at all.
She. Man was born to deceive,
He. Woman form'd to believe.
Both. Trust not one of us all!

[meat

[fall.

For to stand on sure ground is the way not to

AFTER THE SECOND ACT.
MRS. CLIVE (sola) to a Flute.
I.

Oн, jealousy, thou bane of bleeding love!
Ah, how unhappy we!
Doom'd by the partial powers above,
Eternal slaves to thee!

Not more unstaid than lovers' hearts the wind!
This moment dying--and the next unkind.
Ah! wavering, weak desires of frail mankind!
With pleading passion ever to pursue,
Yet triumph, only to undo.

II.

Go to the deeps below, thou joyless fiend,
Nor you, ye heedless fair, occasions lend,
And never rise again to sow despair!
To blast your blooming hopes, and bring

on care.

Never conclude your innocence secure,
Prudence alone makes love endure.

[As she is going off, he meets her, and pulls
her back, detaining her while he sings what
follows.

He. Ever, ever, doubt the fair in sorrow, Mourning, as if they felt compassion: Yet what they weep for to-day-to-morrow, They'll be first to laugh into fashion. None are betray'd, if they trust not the charmer;

Jealousy guards the weak from falling; Would you never catch-you must often alarm her:

Hearts to deceive is a woman's calling. [After the song, he lets her go, and they join in a duet.

She. Come, let us be friends, and no longer
abuse,

Condemn, and accuse,
Each other.

He. Would you have us agree, you must
fairly confess,

The love we caress,

We smother.

She. I am loath to think that—