IBRAHIM, THE Thirteenth Emperor OF THE TURKS: A TRAGEDY.  
As it is Acted BY HIS MAJESTY'S SERVANTS.  
By Mrs. Mary Pix.  
LONDON, Printed for John Harding, at the Bible and Anchor in Newport-street, and Richard Wilkin, at the King's-Head in St. Paul's Churchyard, 1696.   

To the Honourable RICHARD MINCHALL, of Bourton, Esq.  
SIR,  
THat sweetness of temper I have had the Happiness to discover in the honour of your Company in the first place, and your favourable Opinion of my Play in the next, gives me Encouragement to claim your Protection.  
I am often told, and always pleased when I hear it, that the Works not mine; but oh I fear your Closet view will too soon find out the Woman, the imperfect Woman there. The story was true, and the action gave it Life; for I should be very rude not to own each maintained their Character beyond my hopes. Then that pretty Ornament, the ingenious Dialogue, these might divert you at the Theatre, but these avail not me; the reading may prove tiresome as a dull repeated tale: Yet I have still recourse to what I mentioned first, your good nature, that I hope will pardon and accept it. I only wish myself Mistress of Eloquence, Rhetoric, all the Perfections of the Pen, that I might worthily entertain Mr. Minchall.  
Your Noble Family has been long the Glory of my Native Country, and you are what I think no other Nation equal, a true English Gentleman, kind to the distressed, a Friend to all. I dare not proceed— my Weakness would too plainly appear in aiming at a Character which I can never reach: Therefore, I conclude, once more asking your Pardon, and leave to subscribe myself,  
SIR, Your most humble and Obliged Servant, Mary Pix.   

THE PREFACE.  
I Did not intend to have troubled the Reader with any thing of a Preface; for I am very sensible those that will be so unkind to Criticise upon what falls from a Woman's Pen, may soon find more faults than I am ever able to answer. But there happens so gross a mistake, in calling it Ibrahim, the Thirteenth &c. that I cannot help taking notice of it. I read some years ago, at a Relations House in the Country, Sir Paul Ricaut's Continuation of the Turkish History; I was pleased with the story and ventured to write upon it, but trusted too far to my Memory; for I never saw the Book afterwards till the Play was Printed, and then I found Ibrahim was the Twelfth Emperor. I beg Pardon for the mistake, and hope the Good-natured World will excuse that and what else is amiss, in a thing only designed for their Diversion.   

PROLOGUE Spoken by Mrs. Cross.  

I'M hither sent, but Heaven knows what to say,  
Or how t' excuse a dull Heroic Play;  
Here's nor poignant Repartee, nor taking Raillery,  
No Feast for Critic Pit, or Graduate Gallery.  
No Beau, who in his very affected Dress,  
Does all the Nonsense of his Character express;  
This Play on solid History depends,  
Old fashioned stuff, true Love, and faithful Friends.  
The Pit our Author dreads as too severe,  
The ablest Writers scarce find Mercy there;  
Her only hopes in yonder brightness lies,  
If we read praise in those Commanding Eyes:  
What rude Blustering Critic than will dare  
To find a fault, or contradict the Fair?  
Th' humble Offering at your Feet she lays,  
Nor wishes she to live without your Praise:  
Strict Rules of Honour still she kept in view,  
And always when she wrote, she thought on you.  
Then Ladies own it, let not Detractors say,  
You'll not protect one harmless, modest Play.  
The Hero to our Sex is still inclined,  
Securing you, we're sure of all Mankind.  
If in that charming Circle you will oft appear,  
An Empty House we sha'n't have cause to fear.    

Actor's Names.  
SUltan Ibrahim, 
Mr. Verbruggen.  Azema, Grand Visier, 
Mr. Disney.  The Mufti, 
Mr. Simpson.  Mustapha, Aga of the Janissaries, 
Mr. Mills.  Amurat his Son, General of the Emperor's Forces, 
Mr. Powel, Junior.  Solyman, his Friend, 
Mr. Harland.  Achmet, Chief of the Eunuchs. 
Mrs. Verbruggen.   

Several Officers belonging to the Court.  Morena, the Mufti's Daughter, beloved by Amurat, 
Mrs. Rogers.  Sheker Para, Favourite Mistress to Ibrahim, 
Mrs. Knight.  Zada, Morena's Chief Slave, 
Mrs. Mills.  Mirva, Sheker Para's Chief Slave, Guards and Attendants. 
Mrs. Cole.    

IBRAHIM THE Thirteenth Emperor of the Turks.  

ACT I.  At a distance: The Mufti and Mustapha appear. Near the Audience Achmet and several Eunuchs Enter. Ach. 
HAste each Attendant to perform his several charge  
With strictest diligence, and most observant care;  
Burn the Sabaean Gums, and all those rich Perfumes  
Where our great Master passes, till every Room  
Smell sweet as Altars laden with Incense  
To the Heathen Gods, spread the gay Persian Carpets  
For his Royal Feet, and you to the Apartments fly  
Of those Encloistered Virgin Roses, the select and chosen  
Beauties of the habitable World, bid 'em prepare,  
Quick let 'em in all their brightest glories be arrayed,  
For their Sun, the Mighty Ibrahim approaches.  [Exit Achmet, the Eunuchs follow. The Mufti and Mustapha come forward. Mufti. 
Now, by our Prophet, what's all this but gaudy Pageantry,  
Ill acted Scenes of Pomp and show, instead of real greatness:  
O my Friend it was not thus of old,  
The great Forefathers of this degenerate Man,  
Instead of treading on Persian Carpets,  
Trod upon the Necks of Persian Kings:  
Whilst now (cursed reverse of time) softness and ease,  
Flatterers and Women, fill alone our Monarch's Heart;  
Women enough to undo the Universal World  
Are here maintained, whole useless hundreds,  
And with such a train of Pride and Luxury,  
That Eyes before ne'er saw, nor can endless words describe:  
Would you believe it? the Vultures decked in Painted Plumes,  
So eager are for their vain trappings,  
That soon as a Merchant Ship salutes the Port,  
His Goods are seized, and brought to the Seraglio  
Without Account, Value, or Justice, yet at this  
The Pander Visier winks, whilst the poor Owner  
Waits in vain for Answer or Redress.  Must. 
Most just Observer, as well as Teacher of our Laws,  
By me in Friendship like a Brother loved,  
In counsel like a Father honoured,  
That what you have said is most undoubted truth,  
The Impartial World must own. But these complaints  
Alas, avail not, our Lord hates us his faithful Servants,  
And whatever we should offer, would certainly despise.  Muft. 
You are too good, my Must. to be a Favourite here,  
Though so long Married to the Royal Sister of our Emperor;  
Nay, in this base Court, your Son, the Godlike Amurat,  
But coldly is received, because his wondrous Youth  
Has so far outstripped their slothful Age—  
O! Pity! that the fairest branch of all the Ottoman Race,  
Sprung from a Female Root; yet I swear  
Were he Lord of all that our Tyrannic Master holds,  
I could not esteem him more, or love him better.  
Few Kings his Courage e'er obtained, or Virtues;  
O 'tis Nobler far a Crown to Merit, than a Crown  
To wear.  Must. 
Happy's my Son in such a Patron,  
Who never ceases to oblige; I know your kind Attendance  
Now is on his behalf, to speak his Actions  
In the Sultan's Ear, so as may obtain his Royal favour.  Muft. 
It is indeed my chief design—  
But oh! Manly Virtue, Courage unequalled,  
Fortitude, and all those Graces that adorn  
The glorious Amurat, are truths displeasing  
To our Ibrahim, whose soft Soul destructive  
Beauty charms into a sleep too sound  
For the Report of Noble Deeds to wake.  Must. 
The Visier is the Minion  
Hangs the darling of his heart,  
And with ill Counsel poisons  
Every design that tends towards Virtue.  Muft. 
Then that vile Woman, to whom  
He hath given the sweet Name  
Of Sheker Para, she, with the Visier,  
Joins to ruin Ibrahim—  Must. 
Whilst he, contrary to our Country's Laws,  
Exposes her to public view, le's her converse  
With Visier, Bashaws, or whom she pleases.  Muft. 
But that I have a Daughter,  
Whose early Virtue and sincere Obedience,  
Ties my Soul to dote upon:  
I for my Country's sake would Curse the Sex.  Must. 
That Daughter—  Muft. 
No more, the Emperor's Guards appear,  
And see the Visier, and the Woman at his Elbow.  Enter Ibrahim, the Grand Visier, Sheker Para, Achmet, and several Attendants. Ibrah. 
I say the Bashaws Treason is plain,  
Therefore Morat, attend him with the Bowstring,  
And my fatal Order— that without a murmur  
He surrender Life for his Illgotten Wealth.  
'Tis thine, my faithful, vigilant Azema.  Vis. 
O sacred Sir, whose Justice is Divine,  
And 'twould be Impious to affirm  
The Bashaw of Damascus hath one Grain of Innocence;  
Yet let me beg you would hold that bounteous hand,  
The only Wealth I covet is to be my Sultan's Slave.  
Besides, I have many Enemies, and these high favours  
Will I fear create me more.  Ibrah. 
Who dares to be thy Enemy? No, Visier,  
Whilst I protect thee, Kings shall for thy Friendship sue;  
And let thy Foes remember what I commanded last.  Vis. 
O let me throw myself beneath your Royal Feet,  
And kissing your honoured Robes, disclose  
The Adoration that my heart is full of.  Muft. 
Fawning Sycophant!  [Aside. Ibra. 
Rise, good Azema! no more!  Muft. 
Great Sir, I have a Suit to you.  Ibra. 
What is't, my Religious Councillor?  Muft. 
Not for myself, but one much more deserving,  
Your Godlike General Amurat, who brings  
Your Conquering Forces back from vanquished Babylon,  
Now lies Encamped near this Imperial City:  
Next Spring, by your Commands, and his desires,  
He goes to Candia, to punish that stubborn Town,  
Which dares resist the Ottoman Armies that are Invincible.  
By me he humbly prays your Royal Licence,  
That this Winter he may remain  
At his own Palace here in Constantinople.  Ibra. 
I'll consider his desires— but at this time  
Let all, except my Eunuchs, and my Sheker Para,  
Leave me—  [Exit etc. 
Come, my loved Sheker, what hast thou prepared  
To calm and tune my Soul, which these affairs  
Have ruffled from its own Sphere of  
Ease and Pleasure—  Shek. 
To charm my Monarch is the only study and  
Business of your Slave, and to that end,  
Twenty fair Virgins, whom yet your Eyes ne'er saw,  
I have picked and chosen from a thousand,  
And set in order for your view.  Ibra. 
Thanks my good Girl, 'tis by these obliging turns  
That thou secur'st the heart of Ibrahim.  
Give me that grateful Mistress,  
Who when her Lover, sated with that high  
Luscious Feast, Enjoyment, she for his  
Sickly Appetite  
Generously prepares fresh Viands;  
I but taste of them, my solid part,  
My Friendship that remains with thee.  Ach. 
Now let each Ambitious Maid disclose the Gifts  
Of Art and Nature, whether in Voice, or  
Tuneful Motion the taking beauty lies;  
With Emulation let it be practised o'er  
To charm the World's great Lord.  The Scene draws and discovers the Ladies set in Order for the Sultan's Choice, who takes out his Handkerchief, and walks round them; whilst Sheker Para talks to Achmet. Sheker. 
How different, Achmet, is this from the European stories;  
I have read there, twenty Heroes for the Ladies  
Burn and die, here twenty Ladies for the Hero.  Ach. 
It shows that Mankind maintains his Charter  
Better here, yet loses sure the sweetness  
Of submissive love; see, he seems sixt.  Shek. 
No— the Handkerchief is not dropped yet,  
And she's left to use her own.  Ach. 
Now 'tis resolved—  [The Sultan drops his Handkerchief, which the Lady falling prostrate, kisses, and takes up, and is led off by two Eunuchs; the Sultan following, the Scene shuts upon the rest. Shek. 
Oh Achmet! O my faithful Slave!  
If e'er thou lov'st thy generous Mistress  
Who has from nothing raised thee  
And placed thee in the highest Orb that thou canst move  
For wanting Manhood, though thy Soul's all Godlike,  
Yet thou canst not rise to greater honours,  
Help me now; thou know'st my raging fires  
How Passion like a Vulture preys upon my heart,  
And the hot flames of love drink up my Spirits,  
All this, I say, thou know'st, and yet bringst No  
Remedy.  Ach. 
True, when these Convulsive Fits are on ye,  
I from your rave learn you love the General Amurat,  
Nor have I been unmindful, even of those—  
Imperfect hints;  
But the Physician that pretends to administer a Cure,  
Must each particular of the Distemper know.  Shek. 
O! I have told thee, o'er and o'er.  
Repetition wrecks my Soul—  
Yet thou shalt hear't again,  
Full well thou know'st the Sultan gives me greater Privilege  
Than ever Woman had in the Ottoman Court;  
That has undone me, for there I have seen  
This Robber of my rest, this cruel charming Amurat.  Ach. 
Knows he his Happiness?  Sheck. 
Yes, Yes, for I have stole a thousand burning Glances,  
And sent them to his heart  
Besides sweet herbs, and Amorous Flowers  
(Those Hieroglyphics, and Emblems of our Countries love)  
In Boxes wrought with gold and set in Jewels  
Of unequalled value, he hath oft received;  
Yet still he Ignorance pretends, nor meets my Eyes  
But turns his own another way—  
Or else looks guilty down.  Ach. 
What stoic virtue rules in his cold Icy Veins,  
And gives him power to resist those Eyes?  
Or has another gained his heart?  Shek. 
Could I find out that, revenge would take the place  
Of Injured Love, and I should weep no more;  
Revenge, sweet Revenge, Injuries, Antidote,  
Wronged womens' darling Joy—  
The Emperor thinks perhaps,  
Because I share him with a hundred Rivals  
My Nature's tame. No, No!  
We easily give what we despise  
But should another be adored by my Amurat  
Whilst neglected I despair,  
How would I wrack her, how glut me  
With the ruin of their Loves, and them!  Ach. 
This I have observed, that since his Encamping near  
He often in disguise repairs to this great Town;  
But whether Ambition or Love bring him, I know  
Not, for I could never learn his Counsels.  Shek. 
That, dear Achmet, be thy future care,  
And name thy own reward. But how canst thou effect it,  
Hath thy prolific brain yet laid a form?  Ach. 
Yes, thus—  
You know our Princes for State  
Are still attended by their Mutes, who  
Follow into all their Privacies  
As being unable to divulge them; one of these  
Is near my Stature.  
Him will I draw aside, knock out his brains,  
And in his habit watch the Prince's Motions.  Shek. 
Now! Amurat— Excellent!  
The time draws near to quench these raging fires,  
In full possession of my fierce desires;  
Or else the ungrateful object I'll destroy,  
Which robbed my Nights of rest, my Days of Joy.   

ACT II.  Enter Amurat, Solyman. Soly. 
THis is not sure that Amurat  
Who foremost scaled the Walls of Babylon,  
And cried aloud, Come on, who fears to die,  
Deserves it— yet at a Lettet now pauses,  
Stops, turns pale, and seems to grow upon the  
Earth he treads.  Am. 
Thou art no judge, my Friend, you never loved,  
Nor sure none ever loved like me,  
If I acquired glory, 'twas for Morena's sake  
That she might not despise me—  
Nor have I more to do if she is lost.  Soly. 
You terrify yourself with groundless fears,  
Nor can I from the Mufti's Letter  
Discern a danger threatening towards your love  Am. 
Oh Solyman! forgive the frailty of your Friend,  
Forgive the follies that Imperious love creates,  
Here the Mufti writes, that on earnest business  
He craves my presence, if he hath discovered  
The Adoration that I pay his beauteous Daughter,  
And then forbid it, how lost a thing is Amurat,  
For I know well, though her poor Slave should suffer  
A thousand wracks, she'd tread the rigid paths of Duty,  
And let me die, rather than forfeit her obedience.  Soly. 
The Guard our Country lays on that fair charming Sex  
Causes my wonder, how you have loved thus long concealed.  Am. 
Kind Heaven who saw my faithful suffering heart,  
In pity thus disposed it, a trusty Slave at the  
Transporting hours of silent Night still gave  
Me admittance  
To a Garden, which her Apartment overlooked,  
There, at that awful distance, did I Kneel,  
Sent up my Vows with such an ardent zeal  
Till at length I melted the heart of my fair  
Listening Goddess;  
And she from thence, as from an upper Orb of bliss  
Sent down sweet words, and answering sighs,  
The long expected Manna, for which with such  
An Eagerness,  
I had prayed— Ah Soldier! could I impart  
But one grain of this fierce passion which invades  
My Soul, to thee; you no more would wonder  
If I almost Conquered Impossibilities to see Morena  
Mark, how the flushing joy leaps to my Cheeks,  
Oh! if her very name causes such boundings in my blood,  
What would her sight, what to press her in my Arms,  
And taste her rosy Lips! excess of Joy would work  
The Effects of grief; and I should fall a Victim  
At her feet.  Soly. 
Where Heaven gives the greatest hearts  
We still the greatest Passions find,  
And 'tis the brave alone love most and best.  Am. 
My Dear Indulgent Friend, farewell,  
At the usual Rendezvouz I'll be  
Within few hours; and we'll return  
Together to the Camp.  Soly. 
Prosperity attend your Wishes.  [Exeunt severally. Enter the Mufti, and Mustapha, Amurat meets them attended, amongst his Attendants Achmet. Muft. 
Welcome Noble Youth, you're most welcome here,  
Nor is your request forgot, though not obtained,  
For your appearing publicly.  Am. 
Where shall I pay my duty first?  
Or which way Kneel? each is a Father,  
And each too good for Amurat.  Must. 
Most sure my Son, you never can  
Enough acknowledge the bounties  
Of this Reverend Man; whose early care  
Sheltered thy tender youth—  
From the rough Blasts of Tyranny  
And Faction, and by his Eloquence  
Still rendered thee as now thou standest,  
Favourite to the Prince, and People.  Muft. 
My Friends, ye over-rate my Endeavours  
To serve, and kindly take the will where power is wanting.  
No, 'tis not I, 'tis our great Master, to whom  
Half the Earth bows down their servile Necks:  
Who, with one Almighty nod, can give a little World  
Away, 'tis he should Amurat reward, and bestow  
A Kingdom, as his Valour due; yet lovely  
Royal Warrior, if I have rightly found  
The secret of thy heart, there is a present  
In my power, which equal to a Crown you'll prize.  Morena Entering. Am. 
Ha!—  Muft. 
Come forth, Morena, my Age's Darling,  
And my heart's delight; Joy of my Eyes,  
Loved object of all my Earthly hopes,  
Lend me thy hand, and smile upon thy Father  
When he gives thee to thy Wishes.  Am. 
Where am I?  
Thou transporting Image that dances thus  
Before my dazzled Eyes, art thou real?  
Oh! that at the emptying half my Veins,  
I were convinced this is no Dream.  Muft. 
I saw your secret Love, watched the kindling fires,  
And blessed 'em as they sprang. Had I disapproved  
They had been prevented e'er risen to a mutual flame,  
But take her, Son, and Eternal Blessings Crown ye both.  Must. 
He is already blessed, what Monarch would not forego  
An universal sway for such a charming Maid?  Am. 
Speak Goddess, speak! Angel, speak!  
Let your sweet Voice confirm my Happiness,  
That my beating heart may force its passage  
Through my Breast, and fly to yours!  Mor. 
O Amurat! spare my Tongue and Cheeks  
The shame of owning what my Soul is full of;  
And by my past Love, judge my present Joy!  Ach. Aside. 
Thy future Misery I can read.  Am. 
'Tis so, and I am blessed above all human kind:  
Reign, reign, ye unenvied Monarchs!  
Fight for this Dunghill Earth, and let  
The blood of thousand thousand Wretches,  
Whom daily your Ambition Sacrifices,  
Lie heavy on your guilty heads,  
Whilst I, blessed with this fair Heaven of Innocence,  
This matchless, lovely, charming Creature,  
More Worth than Indies joined to Indies;  
Than all the Sun e'er sees: am Happier  
Than a fancied God.  Mor. 
Cease these transports, my loved Lord,  
Lest fate grow angry at our Joys Excess,  
And Dash them with Eternal Woes.  Muft. 
Make haste, my Son, in your return  
To the Camp, for fear the Emperor  
Should Discover our private meeting.  
Within few days,  
You will return with his Permission,  
And from my Arms, receive the loved Morena  
Into yours!  [Exeunt Mufti and Mustapha. Am. 
Oh Morena! my Morena, Now  
Permit me to approach, and swear  
Upon thy snowy bosom, how much  
I love thee, till with warm sighs  
I've thawed thy Virgin Icy Heart,  
And made it burn like mine.  Mor. 
What Maid can hear, and be unmoved,  
The Man she loves talk at this charming rate;  
But Oh! I've read, that Men are all by Nature  
False; and this dear pleasing tale of love,  
To which I listen with such rapture,  
Will hereafter be, perhaps, Word for Word  
Repeated to another.  Am. 
Never, Morena, never.  
No, here kneeling in the Face of Heaven  
I swear, that though our Law allows Plurality of Wives  
And Mistresses, yet I will never practise it;  
May Dishonour wrap my head with shame  
Instead of Laurels; may I be beaten  
Through the Army I command, and branded for a Coward,  
When I admit another Love into my Bed or Bosom;  
Let our great Master be Spectator of my Infamy,  
And after that let me live.  Mor. 
Hold, my dear Lord, fain would I say something too  
To answer all this wondrous love,  
Were there a Man Valiant, good like my Amurat,  
And greater than our mighty Sultan, yet would I  
Be torn in thousand pieces, rather than  
Break my Plighted Faith.  Am. 
No more my Life, what need of Oaths  
When Love Cements our Hearts,  
O! let me taste a parting Kiss,  
The sweet memory of which  
Win wing my swift return.  Mor. 
What mean these tremblings here?  
Why come these sighs uncalled?  
I know— I think I know  
You wonot break your Vow.  Am. 
Shall I swear again,  
Never yet closer to thy heart.  
By all these Virgin favours, never.  
Here I set up my rest, and plant my Endless Joys  
On this fair work of Nature;  
When thou was't formed, curious Heaven  
Smiled at the Exact Creation,  
And every power was pleased. Oh! I am fixed  
For ever, till glory force me from thy Arms,  
Then in all the Hazards of tempestuous War,  
Thou, the Auspicious Star that I'll invoke,  
Morena's Name shall guide my Sword to Conquest,  
And after those Laborious Toils, eager and longing  
For my bliss, the Laurels I have gained,  
At thy feet I'll lay, Crowned with thy love  
And reigning in thy heart;  
Such Raptures my transported Soul will seize,  
I here shall find our Mahomet's Paradise.  [Exeunt. Enter Sheker Para, and Mirva her Slave. Shek. 
Now is fate at work for me:  
Achmet the busy Engine, that darling useful Eunuch,  
Close as his genius traces my Hero's secret steps,  
And on his Discovery my tortured Life depends.  
If Amurat's aspiring Soul is only full of Plots  
To raise him higher, sixt above the Viziers Power,  
And faster in our Empire's Honours, I am happy,  
For I can further his Ambition; and he in gratitude  
Must pay me back with Love, but Oh! I fear  
The Victorious Prince full of charms, and blooming youth,  
Is rather on the chase of Beauty, than he obtains  
The glorious quarry, for though cast in a Celestial Mould  
How could a Nymph Divine resist him?  Mir. 
Madam whilst you talk as if in dreams  
Of Heavenly, and Imaginary Beauty,  
You forget your own; the Prince I dare  
Presume to affirm, fears to offer, doubting,  
What he wishes, your Encouragement, and  
Dreading our Sultan. You, Madam, know  
'Tis safer far Razing Imperial Cities  
Than aiming at a Mistress possessed,  
And valued by the mighty Ibrahim.  Shek. 
True, Mirva, I have charmed the wandering God  
More variable than the Heathens Jove,  
He darts but like a falling Star upon  
The yielding fair, dissolves, and then  
To her is seen no more; yet his Soul  
Is riveted to mine, hangs on the Music  
Of my tongue, nay late at my request  
For the first blossoms of the early year, he gave  
The obliging donor, the rich Kingdom of Anatolia:  
I look down on the Sultana Queens, despise  
Their Pregnancy, and want of power.  Mir. 
The Astonished World sees your amazing height,  
And justly pays to you their Adoration.  Shek. 
Ah Flatterer, to what hast thou betrayed me,  
Whilst my boasting tongue swells with this  
Vain story; my trembling foolish loving heart  
Beats a sad Alarm, and presages all my hopes destroyed.  Enter Achmet, in a Mutes Habit. 
Ha! Achmet, thy dress, thy looks, thy haste,  
Discover thy Faith and Diligence— Oh  
Quickly ease my tortured Soul!  Ach. 
Madam, your last and Chief desire was  
To see the Prince: if that's Effected  
You must not stay to hear what I have learned;  
He passes this moment through the remotest Gallery  
That leads towards the Bosphorus, there  
I suppose his Galley waits him, this Key  
Shortens your walk, and you may  
Meet him in the open space.  Shek. 
Fly Achmet, to my Cabinet, and shift thee there  
Then wait till my return—  
I dare not ask thee— is he a Lover?  Ach. 
Madam, he is; if you stay to hear more  
You cannot see him.  Shek. 
Yes, I will see him; though ten thousand's ruin  
Hung upon the fatal Interview!  [Exit. The Scene changes to the prospect of the Sea. Enter Amurat Muffled in his Robe. Am. 
to one Attend. See here abouts for Solyman.  [Sheker Para, meets him. 
Cursed accident— how shall I avoid her.  Shek. 
Ha! Mirva? is not that our Coelebrated General?  Mir. 
Doubtless, Madam, his very motion shows him  
He cannot shroud his Glories.  Am. 
Excuse me Ladies; a business  
Relating only to myself, called me for some  
Moment's hither, without our Lord's Permission.  Shek. 
And is this the way we receive our Conquerors?  
Old Rome granted Ovations Triumphs  
To such exalted Virtue, drawn in the gaudy Chariot  
The Noble warriors marched a long, kindling  
In the bright gazing Virgins loves soft fires,  
And in the wandering youths Wars sierce  
Martial Heats, if through our crowded streets  
Mounted high on Persian ruins,  
Successful Amurat were to pass (Pardon  
My blushes) when I say I think not Rome's  
Famed Caesar, or her darling Pompey, could  
Be more admired, esteemed, or loved.  Am. 
When a Lady praises, I am Dumb.  
Should a Man say this, I must call it  
Flattery, and I'll resent it.  Shek. 
Fame's Trumpet blows aloud, I  
Catch but the Echo, and repeat it faintly,  
Yet I could wish myself an Emulator  
In your glory, a Man, your Companion  
In the War, for something I would do  
To gain your Friendship; prevent  
The lifted Arm of fate, and in my Breast  
Receive some wound designed for you.  Am. 
War, with its rough Idea, ought not Madam,  
To Disturb your gentler mind, by varying  
Nature ordered the sweet mansion of love  
And soft desires.  Shek. 
But Almighty Nature sometimes sills  
Our Souls with both: as I Ambitious  
Look up to War, so you methinks,  
Too Godlike Hero, might look down to love.  Am. 
'Tis looking upwards, Madam, surely  
When we think of love; for beauty  
The resemblance bears of Heaven,  
Love is a pleasing Theme, but I must  
Indulge my Ears no longer, lest  
I forget my Duty, which in my swift  
Returns expressed.  [Is going. Shek. 
Fly not with such unwelcome haste.  
If you are pleased with any thing  
That I can say, I'll take care for  
Your excuse, or stay.  Am. 
Madam, I have left the Army without  
Their necessary Orders, I cannot now  
Accept your offered favour.  Shek. 
Let Confusion be Instead of Order  
If your heart's like mine; for mine is all  
Tumultuous, Oh General!  
A we me not with thy blushes,  
For I have loved thee long— You  
Perhaps despise the Jewel, because 'tis offered,  
But know Visier Bashaws, the greatest  
Of our Port, in vain have begged a smile.  Am. 
To the greatest in the Port, and World;  
Your smiles are due, and I injure him  
When I hear this. Farewell.  [Exit. Shek. 
Gone! O Devil!  
Keep down, thou swelling Heart!  
Or higher rise, that I may tear  
Thee with my teeth! Mirva!  
Break all the flattering Mirrors!  
Let me ne'er behold this rejected Face again!  
Have I seen Sceptered Slaves kneeling  
At my feet, forgetting they were Kings,  
Forgetful of their Gods, calling alone on me;  
Passing whole days and hours as if measured  
With a Moment's Sand, and now refused  
By a Cursed Beardless Boy! my Arms too  
Opened, all my Charms laid forth! (for  
The Joys of Love are double, when our  
Sex desires) heedless and cold he flew  
From my Embrace; swift as I will do  
To form his ruin — Achmet! I come!  
'Tis he must raise this raging Tempest higher,  
Though cold to me, his Bosom's sure on fire.  [Exeunt.  

ACT III.  Enter Sheker Para, followed by Achmet. Shek. 
ENough, Oh Achmet!— Hold! for I can bear no more,  
And yet the Inquisitive Soul, set on mischief,  
And bent for ruin, hangs on the fatal story,  
Though every Period gives me Death.  
— Was my Cursed Rival Fair?  
For of her Beauty, you have nothing said;  
Or else I left that part unheeded.  Achm. 
Fair!— not opening Flowers,  
Not the first streaks of rising Day,  
Not Painted Angels are half so Charming!  
Eternal smiles still Grace her Cheeks,  
And Majesty her Eyes; a Thrilling Music  
Is in her Voice; which touches every vital,  
And teaches hearts to dance.  Shek. 
I have it now! Her Beauty then be her destruction;  
But— Create Talkers seldom Act, and mighty words  
Are mighty nothings; like the Crackling Thunder,  
Which makes Women fear but seldom harms:  
'Tis the thinking Mind that in her own dark Cell  
Revolves, and then performs—  
Where's the Sultan and the Visier?  Achm. 
The Sultan's retired to his Repose;  
The Visier in his Apartment alone.  Shek. 
Faithful Achmet! take this Jewel—  
And think thy wretched Mistress loves thee,  
Though her thoughts are now too full  
To Express it—  
Thrown, like a neglected Flower from the Bosom,  
Where I would have flourished,  
How quickly shall I fade! Yet—  
With the First Angels Expelled I'll try  
To draw Morena down, that Saint above,  
To my black Region of Despair!  Achm. 
Though she has Charms, would stop the fury  
Of our Barbarous Troops, when they take  
A Christian Town; yet I could flay her lovely Face  
With my Keen Dagger; extinguish those  
Shining Lights, her Eyes, to Revenge my Patroness!  Shek. 
Yes, Rival!—  
Of thy Vowed Constancy, I'll trial make;  
And thou shalt suffer, for thy Lover's sake!  
If Amurat Thou Lovest to that degree,  
My sweet Revenge will then completed be;  
For I'll take care to spoil the Worshipped Shrine,  
And tear Thy Heart, as thou hast tortured mine!  The Visier sitting by a Table, whereon lie Books of Account, Riser. Vis. 
What is't to amass these mighty sums of Wealth,  
To be daily crowded with presents from European Kings,  
To Command on Land, and Sea, next to our Lord,  
Whilst yet I stand unsafe between these Rocks  
Of Regulating the People, and a Tyrant Prince!  
All those bitter curses which they dare not shoot  
At Ibrahim, fall thick on me, the Mufti,  
And Mustapha, that Aga of the Janissaries,  
Are two I hate, the first, because  
Like other Churchmen, instead of Prayers,  
He studies Politics; in vain they Preach  
Humility, and teach us to look up for Crowns above:  
When we behold them fixed on these below,  
And more ambitious than the Kings that wear 'em.  
The Aga's Son, that hot-brained Youth, Amurat,  
Who dares fight, and therefore scorns to bow,  
Or seek my favour: These have censured me,  
And on these I'll be revenged—  Enter Sheker Para behind him. Shek. 
On whom is't thou art studying revenge,  
Old Statesman! wouldst thou have it bitter,  
Deep and secure; take a Woman with thee!  
— Or Bloody, as thy remorseless Heart can frame,  
Still take a Woman's Counsel! But—  
Say, Azem, who is marked for Vengeance?  Vis. 
To you, I think, I may disclose— For  
All your Foes are mine, and mine are yours—  
The Mufti and Mustapha look awry on our Actions,  
Sowing Sedition instead of wholesome Doctrine.  Shek. 
By Heaven! The very same these are,  
Those I would destroy— And for that purpose  
Sought you now— I've laid a Train—  
Which wants but your assistance to overthrow 'em all.  Vis. 
Name it, fair Charmer, quickly!  Shek. 
This old Crafty Priest conceals a Daughter,  
Whose Beauty, I am told, without the help of Flattery,  
(Excels her Sex) to Ibrahim.  
The Charming wonders I'll relate!  
And set his Amorous Soul on Fire.  Vis. 
Hold Madam! have you considered what you say?  
— Is this the vowed Revenge— to make  
His Daughter a Sultana Queen?  Shek. 
Short Sighted Politician!—  
Had he designed her for our Lord, why was she  
Thus close concealed? Besides; I know  
The Mufti hates our Licentious Emperor; his late  
Attempt upon the Relict of Morat;  
His despising all his Queens when once enjoyed;  
Three Sons already bless the Imperial Line,  
And make succession sure. Therefore  
Should her Womb prove fertile; the Royal Innocents  
Are only Born for Sacrifice— these Reasons  
Weighed as soon he'd give his Daughter  
To a Brothel, as the Sultan's Arms.  Vis. 
I yield.— Let it but provoke him, or his Friends  
To Murmur, and I'll strangle Rebellion in their Throats.  Shek. 
Come with me, and attend the Sultan;  
As we go, I'll instruct you, how  
This Contrivance reaches the Aga, and his Son,  
Breaking all their Measures.  Vis. 
I wait upon you.  [Exeunt. [The Sultan upon a Couch, Achmet by him. Ibra. 
From troubled Dreams my tortured Fancy Starts:  
Sleep, meant nature's refreshing Friend, sits heavy  
On my Soul, as Death her most inveterate Foe.  
Achmet! my faithful Boy! art thou there!  [See Achmet. Achm. 
Dread Sir the Music waits without!  
Prepared by the Italian Masters— Their Melody  
May Chase these Melancholy Fumes away.  Ibr. 
Admit 'em.  

A SONG.  
IMperial Sultan, Hail,  
To whom Great Kingdoms bow,  
Whose Vast Dominion shall prevail O'er all below,  
Commanding Woman here  
An Humble Vassal shall appear,  
No thunder in her Voice we prize,  
Or Lightning in her Eyes,  
When our Terrestrial God draws near.  
Under our Prophet's Influ'nce Live,  
While wondering Nations view  
The deeds your Conquering Armies do  
And Christians to be made your subjects strive.   

A Dialogue Song. Supposed to be between an Eunuch Boy and a Virgin. Made for Boyn and Mrs. Crosse.  Written by Mr. D'URFEY. She 
FLY from my Sight, fly far away;  
My Scorn thou'lt only purchase by thy Stay,  
Away, Fond Fool, away  He 
Dear Angel no,— no no no no,  
Here on this Place I'll rooted grow.  
Those Pretty Eyes have Charmed me so:  
I cannot Stir, I cannot go.  She 
Thou Silly Creature, be advised  
And do not stay to be despised,  
By all my Actions thou may'st see  
My Heart can spare no room for thee.  He 
Why dost thou hate me, Ah confess:  
Thou sweet disposer poser of my Joys?  She 
The Reason is, I only guests,  
By something in thy Face and Voice,  
That thou art not made like other Boys.  He 
Why, I can Kiss, and I can Play,  
And tell a Thousand Pretty Tales;  
And I can Sing the livelong Day;  
If any other Talon fails  She 
Boast not thy Music, for I fear  
That Singing Gift has cost thee dear,  
Each warbling Linnet on the Tree  
Has far a Better Fate than thee,  
For they Life's happy pleasures prove,  
As they can Sing, so they can Love.  Chorus of Both. He 
Why so can I:  She 
No no, poor Boy.  He 
And taste Love's Joy.  She 
No no, poor Boy.  He 
Why cannot I?  She 
Pish pish— Oh Fie!  He 
Pray do but try?  She 
No no, not 1.  He 
I know, I know, no reason why?  She 
You know, you know, you know You lie.   Enter Visier and Shekar Para. Shekar kneeling. 
— Health to the Ruler of the World;  
Success attend his Armies: whilst  
His own happy Hours, with surprising Joys  
Are ever Crowned; and long Life proves  
A Seraphic Cordial, without Alloy or Dregs.  Visier. 
May all the mighty Ibrahims, and  
Our Prophet's Foes fall beneath his Feet;  
And every Slave bear a Heart—  
Obedient and Fond as mine  Sult 
As Heaven hath given me a Despotic  
And unbounded Power: so shall my Pleasures be.  
But oh! the Earth's too little; and its Pleasures  
Too few! I cannot keep my mind  
In a continued Frame of Joy; tho' the Slaves  
That serve me, vie with the stars for number!  
Nay, tho' you, my Charming Mistress,  
Whose very conceptions, like your Wit, Divine,  
And like your Beauty pleasing: tho' you, I say,  
Set your Invention on the Wrack, for my Diversion;  
Yet still, to day's like yesterday: tomorrow like to day.  
And tho' my Paths lie all through Paradise:  
Yet being still the self-same Road, I grow uneasy.  Shek. 
Alas! Dread Sir! we've been mistaken;  
In vain we've searched Persia, and  
Armenia, and Ransacked Greece in vain;  
Whilst within your own Royal Gates  
Of this Seraglio lives a Helen, whose.  
Lovely Face strikes Envy dumb.  
Late I saw her at the Baths;  
But, Heavens, such a Creature  
My astonished Eyes ne'er viewed before.  
A Skin clear as the upper Region.  
Where Thickening Clouds can never mount:  
And strewed with Blushes, like the glorious space  
Of Summer's setting Suns.  
Her large Black Eyes shot Rays intermingled  
With becoming Pride, and taking Sweetness.  The Sultan Rises hastily Sult. 
— Here in our Palace— impossible  
— Of what Name? what Quality?—  Shek. 
Morena, only Daughter to the Mufti— But  
For what cause concealed I am ignorant.  Vis. 
Had I Daughter, or Wife, whose Attractions  
Could draw the Sultan's Eyes; how quickly should she be offered!  Sult. 
By Heaven! I'll see her, see her this very moment;  
And if she answers your Description,  
She's mine; first with Prayers, and Mildness  
We'll proceed; but, if the surly Fool denies;  
He soon shall find that Prayers are  
Needless, when Power is infinite.  Vis. 
I humbly beg to be excused, because  
The Mufti bears me mortal bate.  Sult. 
Come thou, my Shekar, Para,  
Thy Eloquence may be useful,  
Tho' few persuasions sure will  
Prevail, to make a Woman Reign.  Exeunt Attended. The Scene changes to the Mufti's Apartment: He sits Reading. A Servant Enters hastily. Seru. 
Oh! Sir— I saw the Sultan pass the Long Gallery.  
That parts the Old Seraglio from the New;  
And bend his steps directly hither— He's ' e'en at my Heels!  Muft. 
What can this visit mean?  
But I am armed with Innocence  
And therefore know no fear.  Enter Ibrahim, Sheker Para Achmet, and several Attendants. Muft. 
Sacred Sir! I am amazed—  
At these unwonted Honours; and if I fail  
In the expressions of my Joy; let my  
Confusion plead my excuse.  Ibr. 
'Tis all well, and the visit meant in kindness:  
I think when last I saw you,  
You asked for Amurat's appearance at our Port—  
Selim go thou to the Imperial Camp  
And tell the Youth he shall be Welcome  
There as soon as he pleases.  Muft. 
Let me kiss your Sacred Robe,  
In thankfulness.— Oh! mighty Sultan,  
Who deigns thus to oblige his Vassals.  Ibr. 
Mufti— I hear thou hast a Daughter—  
Why dost thou start, Old Man?—  
If Fame may be believed thou needest not shame  
To own the Beauteous Maid—  
Send for her hither, for I will see her.  Muft. 
Oh! Pardon me Emperor, the Girl is most unfit  
For you to see, Bred up in Cells, and Grottoes:  
Thomas so near a Court, wholly unacquainted with its Glories.  
Heaven not Blessing me with a Male, I have tried  
To mend the Sex; and she, instead of (coining looks)  
And learning little Arts to please, hath Read  
Philosophy, History, those rough Studies:  
And will appear like a neglected Villager  
To those bright Beauties that attend the happy Port.  Ibr. 
Ha! Is this our entertainment— to be denied  
What we desire! go some of you and fetch the Maid.  Exeunt two Eunuchs. Muft. 
Tho' you are Lord of all, and may without control  
Command, yet Emperor, Remember,  
My Daughter is no Slave, and our holy Law  
Forbids that you should force the free,  
Therefore if the unhappy Girl should please,  
And then refuse the offered Greatness; our Prophet's Curse  
Falls heavy, if you proceed to Violation.  Enter Morena Veiled. Muft. 
Kneel Daughter, to the Commander of the World.  Ibr. 
Take off her Veil— by Heavens—  
A charming Creature!  
Raise thee from the Earth, and lift thy eyes to Glory,  
A Crown will well become that Brow; Destiny  
Hath marked thee for Command— I see  
Prevailing modesty is in her eyes;  
The shining springs are full of tears—  
I'll urge to farther now; but leave my  
Sheker Para, to prepare for the Excelling honours  
I design her; Mufti, come you with me, and let us  
far consult of this Important business.  Exeunt the Sultan Mufti and Eunuchs: except Achmet. Shek. 
Hail! Happy Maid! whom Fate has blessed;  
Whose Illustrious Eyes have caught  
The Monarch of the Earth, Ibrahim!  
Companion to the Sun, and Brother to the Stars!  
His Sacred presence strikes an universal awe;  
And next to the Immortals he is worshipped here.  
What a long Train of glory is opening to your view,  
Mounting on shining Thrones your beauty's Merit!  
Whilst thousand ready slaves stand watching  
The Motions of your eyes, and e'er you form  
Your breath into command, 'tis done.  Mor. 
Cease Madam, you use your Eloquence in vain,  
Menaces, Prayers, and Promises are lost on me.  
Already I have Slaves, who wait on my desires,  
And fulfil whatever I command: more is but superfluous;  
No Crown I covet, but that which honour gives;  
And my Ambition terminates in the contented paths  
Of virtue. All your Efforts to alter me,  
Like waves against a Rock, will dash themselves,  
But stir not my Foundation.  Shek. 
Why do ye view me with that haughty  
Regardless Air, as if I were your Enemy?  
When I so long! to be your Friend.  Mor. 
Oh! mistake me not,— If my looks  
Carry a disdain, 'tis on the Crowns you offer;  
Not on you, Alas! you only can be my Friend;  
And divert the Emperor from the pursuit  
Of this short-lived passion; you do not know  
The secret pleasing cause that will, I am sure,  
Inspire me rather to die than yield.  Shek 
(aside) Too well I know it!  
— If I could assist, tho' your desires are strange,  
Yet, you have something so engaging,  
If I could, I say, I would.  Mor. 
Oh! 'tis greatly in your power—  
Tell the Sultan you have discovered,  
As you easily may a thousand Imperfections  
That I am sickly, peevish, ill Bred, and  
Of a hateful disposition.—  Shek. 
I cannot so deny your Excellencies;  
But I will do my best, that you shall hear of this no more.  Mor. 
And now, fair Oratrix,  
Who plead'st too well for such a cause;  
Apply thy Rhetoric to Ibrahim;  
And defend Morena's Life and Honour.  Shek. 
Rest secured, I am wholly yours,  
Retire fair Innocence, for I see  
This surprise has discomposed ye.  
The Lively Red forsakes the charming Circle  
Of your cheeks, and fainting paleness takes its place:  
Retire, and let this Rancontre never trouble your repose.  Exit. Morena, 
Poor easy Fool! blush Amurat  
At thy ill choice!— take me  
For her Friend! yes to her destruction  
I'll prove a constant one.  
Achmet!—  Ach. 
Madam.  Shek. 
I go to seek the Sultan, choose some  
Of the Eunuchs you command, and fetch  
Morena to him, if you meet resistance,  
Bring her by force: I saw Ibrahim  
Fasten his Eyes upon her, and I know  
The present will be welcome, now if delay  
The roving desires of that unsteadfast Prince  
May fix elsewhere, and my designs be lost;  
Make haste, her Father is not yet returned,  
And you may do it with much ease  Ache 
It shall be done ere you have time to think the consequence.  Exit Shek. 
Revenge! how quick and lively are thy Joys?  
Love is a sweetness, that but tasted cloys;  
Love must be fondled with a gentle hand  
Revenge is God like all, and shows command.  Exit. The Sultan Enters; the Visier following him; Sult. 
Wou'dst thou believe it Azema—  
This crabbed Priest does in effect  
Deny his Daughter; curses he denounces  
If I compel her will, and seems  
To know she 'll prove unwilling.  Vis. 
In this his disloyalty too plain appears  
What other Grandee o'th' happy Port  
But with open arms would embrace the honour  
And lay his Daughter prostrate at your Royal feet.  Sult. 
True, therefore we'll on and fathom  
His Designs, the Maiden's Beauty  
Has inflamed me— who dares oppose  
When I resolve Enjoyment?  Enter Shek. Par. 
What News, my Sheker, hast thou brought her?  Shek. 
O no! with Roman Courage, and most  
Unequalled Resolution she repulsed  
Whatever I could offer, nor would a Diadem,  
Or the Crown Imperial tempt her.  Sult. 
How comes the lovely Maid to bear a Heart  
Thus stubborn! and look so sweetly mild?  Vis. 
'Tis her Father who has transferred  
His own traitorous Principles to her,  
Taught her early Disobedience  
(That I live to speak it!)  
Taught her to abhor your Royal Person.  Shek. 
But your Majesty now may mould her as you please,  
Within a moment she'll be here;  
I took the opportunity of her Father's absence,  
And ordered Achmet, with his Fellows, to bring  
Her hither.  Sult. 
You have done well,  
Shall my almighty Will  
Which half the Universe obeys,  
Without dispute be contradicted  
By a Woman?  Shek. 
I hear 'em coming  Achmet brings Morena, who speaks entering. Mor. 
Whither? Ah! Whither?  
Do ye drag me, Audacious Slaves  
Am I to be thus used?  Vis. 
Madam, silence and awe best becomes  
This place which the dread Majesty of all the World contains,  
Nay our Law's so strict  
That an outrageous Noise near the Sacred presence  
Is punished with immediate Death.  Mor. 
Death I despise as I do thee,  
Who art not worth my answering,  
But to mine and my Country's Lord  
I cast me with an obedient heart:  
Deign Mighty Sultan to hear with Mercy  
What your weeping Slave can say!  
Far be it from your humble Handmaid  
To refuse the vast Honour of your offered Love  
Through pride— Oh! no!  
Holy binding vows are passed already  
And horrid imprecations, which if I break,  
Distraction despair eternal ruin  
Straight will seize me— I know  
Your royal heart is full of soft humanity  
And God like Justice; you cannot take  
Another's right— a thousand willing beau ties  
Will with Joy, Embrace those favours  
I must ever fly—  Ibr. 
If thou hast vowed, I cancel it,  
My Subjects are my slaves, who e'er  
Pretends a right to what I desire  
Is a Traitor, and shall so be punished  
If thus perverse you must be forced  
To your own happiness—  
— Achmet—  Mor. 
O spare me Emperor! spare me!  
And all my future life I'll spend  
In prayers for Ibrahim!  
Each morning as I bless the rising day  
I'll cry aloud, this I'd seen no more,  
Had not my God like Master heard:  
I'll never eat, nor sleep, nor  
Ought of life enjoy, before I have prayed for  
And after praised our Lord!  Ibr. 
Achmet— bear her to the royal bed.  Mor. 
Hold! yet a moment— hold!  
I have one thing more to say  
As I have often heard my wretched Father tell  
— When sierce Morat, your Predecessor  
Doomed his brothers, even all the young Princes  
Of the Imperial race, to sudden death,  
They died: my Father begged for you:  
Begged till he prevail`d: Oh! if this merit ought  
Punish my disobedience with Wracks with Gibbets,  
With any thing but loss of honour!  
Tear out my eyes, stab, mangle my face;  
Till it grow horrible to Nature  
And the amazed world gaze with terror,  
Not delight: burn me! heap torture  
Upon torture! and if I murmur a complaint  
Fulfil the bitter'st curse— Release,  
And bear me to your bed!  Shek. 
Speak Visier, he stands confounded.  Vis. 
Dread Sir, what stops your wishes?  
This is nothing but a gust of Passion,  
Plain Woman, her will is crossed,  
And so she raves! e'er while you mourned  
Your pleasures were too much alike;  
Fate hath now obliged ye:  
This beauteous Maid resists: and all  
You ever had before, were willing.  Ibr. 
And there may be a new unknown delight  
To conquer all these struggle,  
Something Poignant, that will relish Luxury—  
Do as I Commanded—  1 of the Eunuchs. 
Wou`d our worshipped Lord free this  
Mourning Fair; I'd search the  
Earth's bounds, to find another,  
That might please as well.  Ibr. 
Taught by my Slave!  
Take that, presuming fool.  Stabs him. Mor. 
Murder, and Rapine!  
What a horrid place is here!  
My turn is next—  She catches hold of the Sultan's naked Scimitar. Ibr. 
Let go rash Maid,—  
Or I shall hurt thee.  Mor. 
Never, never, I'll leap, and  
Fix it to my breast, while some kind God  
That sees the anguish of my Soul  
Shall help my weakness, and send it to my heart!  Ibr. 
Some of you unlose her hold—  Mor. 
Then thus I quit it.  Draws it through her hands. 
See Emperor, see, are these hands  
Fit to clasp thee? judge by this,  
My resolution— death hath a  
Thousand doors; Sure Morena, cursed Morena  
May find out one—  Ibr. 
Slaves, why dally ye thus?  
By Heaven rage is mixed with love,  
And I am all on fire!  
Drag her to yond Apartments!  Mor. 
Do Tyrant! but 'tis thy last of mischiefs  
If thou dost not kill me—  
With dishevelled hair, torn Robes, and  
These bloody hands, I'll run through all thy Guards  
And! Camp, whilst my just complaints, compel rebellion!  Vis. 
Yet here! force her way!  Mor. 
I will not stir, sixt upon Earth,  
I'll rend obdurate Heaven with piercing  
Cries; till I have forced their mercy!  
Help! help! open thou Earth to hide me!  
Have my woes not weight enough to sink me  
To the Centre?— at length 'tis come;  
My spirits are decayed, Oh Amurat!  
Where art thou? and where (alas) am I?  Swoons. Vis. 
She faints, convey her quickly in,  
Your Majesty has  
Will soon revive her.  Ibr. 
Threatening Danger shall never bar my way,  
I'll rush through all, and seize the trembling prey:  
Risle her sweets, till sense is fully cloyed;  
Then take my turn to scorn what I've enjoyed.  Exit.  

ACT IU.  The Muft. Apartment. Enter Muft. and Mustap. Muft. 
IN vain you soothe me with these promises,  
I'll tear my sacred Vestments; make bare  
My hoary head, and of these Janissaries  
Myself beg present Aid,— was there but one  
In all this mighty Empire, chaste, and must  
The Licentious Tyrant seize her?  Must. 
I have not flattered ye— the Janissaries  
As one man, are bent to right your wrongs  
A moment's patience— before to morrow's Sun  
The Seraglios forced— the Villain Visier  
Torn, limb from limb, and the fair unfortunate restored  
— Ha— see where the lovely Mourner comes.  Enter Morena led by Achmet, her hair down, and much disordered in her dress. Ach. 
The Emperor hath sent your Daughter back,  
You must tutor her better, teach her  
A more complying Nature, than  
Perhaps he may again receive her.  Muft. 
I lence Pandarus! accurst by Heaven,  
Hence! left (tho' unarmed) with  
My hands I throttle thee, tell  
Thy ungrateful Master the saving  
Of his life, is well rewarded—  
— Tell him— I thank him  
And he shall hear it loud!  Exit Achmet. Mor. 
Oh Sir!—  Muft. 
My poor Girl!—  Must. 
Cease Daughter, cease to mourn!  
Here are your Friends— Friends  
That will revenge ye—  Mor. 
O violated Honour!  
Ruin, Despair, and Death's my Lot,  Must. 
No Morena, No, thy Fame's secured!  
And succeeding Ages shall as a Miracle  
Relate thy Constancy,— yes, injured fair,  
To the last Periods of recording Time,  
Thy fragrant Name will bless the World!  
Thou, the brightest Star, that  
Ever graced the East!  Muft. 
Answer me Prophet, Author of our Law,  
What have I done, what horrid crimes committed,  
That my aching Eyes are punished  
With this doleful sight!  Mor. 
The Grave will hide me, Sir!  
Then you shall see this Wretch no more!  Muft. 
Live my beloved unfortunate!  
Let death and ruin fall upon  
Those Fiends that thus have wronged thee.  Mor. 
The Visier, (my Father)  
The Devil-Visier— when my piercing prayers,  
Seemed to stop the lustful Sultan:  
He blew again the hellish fire—  
And with his poisonous breath  
Urged the satal act.—  Must 
We'll drag the Infernal Dog through the City  
While, in Howling, he surrender his hated life,  
Amidst the Injuries and Curses of the People.  
— Dear Friend, haste and encourage  
Thy willing Janissaries! lead 'em  
To force the Palace  
For this accursed; I Authorised  
By Heaven will send a Summons to the cruel Emperor;  
That he appear before our great Divan  
And give account for this unexampled  
Breach of our holy Law, the forcing of my Daughter.  
Amurat, I know will instantly be here—  
Come in, my Dear, and I will instruct  
Thee to receive him—  Mor. 
Oh!—  Must. 
Why dost thou sigh? my Son knows  
The Heroic virtue of thy spotless Soul,  
And will, I'm sure, to death adore thee.  Mor. 
Lend me your hands, for I am weak  
And want support: let me look up  
And thank remorseless Heaven  
That I again behold the face of  
Reverend goodness! for ay,  
(Alas) have been in Hell!  Exit led. Enter Amurat, Solyman, Attendants. Soly. 
A Bridegroom's haste is in your steps,  
And in your Eyes a Bridegroom's joy.  
Now— we've reached the happy place!  Amur. 
The Sultan received me with a Noble  
Condescension, yet Skeker Para  
That wretch, unworthy of her Sex,  
Cast a malicious smile, and perplexed me  
With words I cannot comprehend,  
But why do I employ a thought on the  
Vile Creature, when I am so near  
My own Heaven of Perfection?  Enter Mufti. 
Behold the blessed Parent of my Love!  
At length my Wishes are complete,  
I come, dear Sir, to pay my thankful  
Vows, and receive the only valued Treasure  
That the Earth contains—  
How fares my Goddess?  Muft. 
Oh! wondrous well!  
— Young man— I think th'Ambition  
That fills thy veins, is only  
How to serve thy Master well,  
Nor would offered Crowns tempt thee  
To a Disloyal act—  Am. 
My Father! to merit this discourse,  
What have I done? by all my hopes  
I swear— should Sultan Ibrahim  
Send the Bowstring, Now, Now, when  
Pleasure beats thick upon my heart,  
And the transporting Joys of yielding Love  
Are in my view; yet on my obedient knees  
I'd fall; and whilst my breath could form  
Itself to words; Dying bless the Emperor,  
Oh! I know not whether I, the Sultan  
Most Revere, or my Morena Love?  Muft. 
'Tis well:— suppose then  
This loved Morena torn from her  
Helpless aged Father's Arms— dragged to  
The presence of your honoured Emperor,  
Whilst his Cheeks glow with Lust—  
His fiery Eyes dart on the frighted Maid,  
His fatal resolution— suppose  
Her prayers, her tears her cries,  
Her wounding supplications all in vain,  
Her dear hands in the Conflict cut and mangled,  
Dying her white Arms in Crimson Gore,  
The savage Ravisher twisling his  
In the lovely Tresses of her hair,  
Tearing it by the smarting Root,  
Fixing her, by that upon the ground:  
Then— (horror on horror!)  
On her breathless body perpetrate the fact.  Am. 
What alteration's here?  
Chilling Tremblings seize throughout,  
And leave my heart as cold as Death:  
Oh! Sir! why have you spoke this  
Horrid supposition, with such an Emphasis?  
— Suppose it true—  
Not burning Bulls, not breaking Wheels,  
Not all the Cruelties, Witty Tormentors  
Could practise with Fire, Water, Steel, or  
Poison, would equal half my Wracks.  The Scene draws, and discovers Morena upon the ground disordered as before. Muft. 
Cast thy Eyes that way, and there behold  
Thy wretched Fate and mine!  Am. 
Oh! Friend! Is this the sight  
I promised— are these my  
Expected Joys— my Eyes!  
Fix on the Object you have loved  
Thus tenderly, and weep till you are blind!  
Oh! cruel Emperor! have I for this  
Thought toil a pleasure? watching  
A delight? Held it a crime to groan  
When hundred Aching Wounds were dressed,  
Because I had 'em in thy service?  
— And am I thus rewarded?—  Soly. 
At this Scene the Soldier leaves my heart  
And I feel the Woman in my Eyes!  Am. 
Compassion is a grief of little note,  
But I have Woes that tear my Lion heart,  
And drink the gushing Blood!  
— Speak lovely Mourner, speak—  
To thy kneeling Slave; Hath Nature  
Formed a Monster, who durst with violence  
Approach thy Snowy virtue? which  
I with a Devotion pure as that we pay  
To Heaven, have ever worshipped?  Mor. 
Oh Prince! No Tongue, no Language,  
Not severest sorrow, whose broken accents  
Were all made up of sighs, that rend the trembling  
Heart which formed 'em, can express Morena's sufferings,  
Forced from my Heaven of Peace and Innocence,  
Through what various Scenes of Woe I have passed?  
Raging Seas, devouring Flames, and Pestilential Fires,  
May be the work of chance; and Nobly born:  
But mine's a Fate strips me of all Patience,  
Even of the last, and dearest Comfort, Hope.  
Oh! 'tis my Curse that sense remains,  
The Dire Vision is ever present with me  
On this side ghastly Murder, on that  
Rapine dressed in Pomp, and Power,  
Ruinous resistless Power! my head  
Grows giddy with the Loathed Reflection,  
Lead me, my Zaida, to Darkness, solid,  
Thick, substantial Darkness, where  
Not one Ray of the all-cheering Light  
May peep upon me, prepare an Opiate Draught  
To lull my sorrows, or some desperate compound  
That may turn my brain—  Zaida. 
Heaven calm these sad disquiets, and give  
The Best of Women Peace—  Mor. 
Your Pardon, Reverend Sir, and thine I ask  
Thou illustrious Figure of unseigned Despair,  
I am not used to rage, my Nature ever gentle  
At but the reading of a dismal story,  
My Eyes would flow, my Heart would rise,  
And sympathetic sorrow reign.  
But now I am by wrongs, a Fury grown  
Holy Prophet, is it a sin to heave these  
Bleeding bands to thee, and Amurat, for Justice?  
Yes, yes, it is, for Justice leads to sharp revenge  
That to horrid Mischiefs— away— away—  
Give me Death, Distraction, any thing, but Thought.  Exit. The Scene shuts upon her. Am. 
Revenge thee! yes— we'll set  
This Royal City in a blaze, till its bright  
Flames mount high as thy Chastity,  
And reach at Heaven!— tear up  
The Foundation of this Imperial Nest  
Of Luxury; and in its Ruins overwhelm  
The World I— wilt  
Thou not assist me, Friend?  Soly. 
Whilst I wear this— Nor  
Shall I fear to purge the contagious  
Veins of Majesty in such a cause.  Must. 
'Tis not by Raving we accomplish  
Our Designs; if, for my constant  
Friendship, I have aught deserved,  
In our honourable proceedings you will join:  
Come with me to your Father who is now consulting  
With the Officers— there I'll inform ye  
Who were the hateful Wretches, that set  
The Sultan on to do this fatal mischief.  Am 
I go — Solyman, fly to the Camp,  
And bring from thence my select Troops,  
I'll take care at Night to give you safe admittance;  
Oh World! uncertain always, false, and vain,  
Through mighty Toils our wishes we obtain.  
And hard we struggle for the expected gain:  
But when in view o'th' end of all our care,  
Some awkward Fate hurls back to deep Despair.  
Thus to th' Abyss, in sight of Heaven, I fall.  
And lose my Love, my Honour, Life and all.  Exeunt. Enter Ibrahim, the Visier, Sheker Para, Achmet, who seems talking to the Sultan. Ach. 
He threatened me with Death,  
And said, he'd tell his Wrongs aloud,  
Till Neighbouring Nations heard heard.  Ib. 
Saucy— and Arrogant!  Skek. 
How long shall the Imperial Race,  
Whilst the mistaken World deems them  
Absolute, be subject to the crafty  
Priesthood?— Do at once,  
A just bold act, and set by  
Your Example the great Successors free,  
Send the Executing Mutes, and  
Strangle this Ambitious Mufti.  Vis. 
Strangle the Mufti! Oh horror!  Ibr. 
Why thou Viper, whom my breast  
Has fostered, till the rank poison—  
Hath made me all Infectious—  
Was it not you that urged  
The cruel Rape I last committed?  
By Heaven! The only deed that  
Ever moved my Soul to a Repentance!  
And dost thou now shrink back?  
Thou whose face is stamped so plain  
With Villain, every child may read it,  
Canst thou draw thy Distorted features,  
Into a look of pity? and, as if Murder  
Were News, cry out, Oh Horror!  
I tell thee, Visier, and mark it well,  
Watch the first rising of Rebellion,  
For should it grow too high; thou art  
The fittest Sacrifice to atone the Popular Fury.  Vis. 
Sacred Sir, you cannot mean the  
Cruel thing you say— must  
My Life pay for my sincere Obedience  
To your Royal Will?  Enter one of the Guard. Guard. 
A Messenger from the Divan  
Rudely presses to your Presence.  Ibr. 
Admit him—  Enter Messenger. Mess. 
Sultan!— the Mufti and the  
Whole Divan Assembled, have sent me  
To thee with the Mufti's Fatfa.  
That you instantly appear to answer  
The breach our Holy Law has suffered,  
In violating Morena, A Freeborn Maid.  Ibr. 
Is then the Mufti the Dervishes, and  
All the canting Tribe together met  
Hatching Treason, and brooding in  
Their loved Element Rebellion?  
Now every petty Priest struts,  
Looks big; tells a long tale  
Of grievances, Models Governments,  
and Censures Kings— let your  
Ring leader know, that I despise  
His Traitorous Summons, and  
Trample it beneath my feet—  
Yet, Hold— thou art not fit  
To bear a Message back from—  
Ibrahim, who darest to bring him  
Such a one; take hence the Villain,  
And strange him immediately.  Mess. 
Oh! Mercy! Mercy!  Ibr. 
Away with him!—  
Visier, Double our Guards, and  
From the Army draw all, whose Loyalty  
You think untained— be Vigilant—  
For on thy Life depends thy care—  
Weep not, my Sheker Para—  
We yet shall brave this Storm—  
By Heaven!—  
I to the Last my glory will maintain,  
Or, absolute I'll be, or, cease to Reign!  
That easy King, whose People gives him Law,  
Flatters himself with Majesty and awe;  
The Royal Slave the daring rout commands,  
And force his Sceptre from his feeble Hands.  Exeunt.  

ACT V.  Enter Ibrahim, Visier, Sheker Para, Attendants. Ibr. 
WHY Coward dost thou creep thus near me,  
Still leaving my Orders unperform'd?  Vis. 
Oh! Sacred Sir! The Mutinous janissaries  
Bar each Gate o'th' Palace, nor can I  
Pass with Life!  Enter Achmet. Ach. 
Our woes redouble with the coming Night,  
The Impetuous janissaries pour on us  
Like a devouring Flood, whilst your  
Faint-hearted Guards scarce dare Resist,  
Aloud they curse the Visier, and  
Unanimously swear his ruin.—  Ibr. 
Poor trembling Wizard— if thou hast  
Raised a Storm beyond thy Magic Power  
To lay, it must overwhelm thee—  
Here— throw to these Ravenous Hunters  
The Baited Prey; and let 'em gorge  
Their revengeful Maws.  Vis. 
Ha!  Ibr. 
Stop his mouth, and bear him off.  Vis. 
Sultan, Ibrahim—  
Cruel Lord! Wilt thou not hear me!  forced off. Ibr. 
ay, stand next the mark of fate!  
Evil Councillors the plausible pretence  
Of Rebels, colours their Treason—  
But— 'tis at Sovereign power they aim,  
Nor will they cease, till they have bathed  
In Royal Gore; the Victim's seized—  
Hark how the Bloodhounds ring his Death!  A shout without. Shek. 
Oh! That I were a Man to face  
These Devils, and save my Lord!  Ach. 
Retire Dear Sir, to some more remote  
Apartment, whilst I together draw  
Your Eunuchs; all whom Prayers  
Or Promises can engage, to save  
Your precious Life, tho' I lose my own.  Ibr. 
Faithful Achmet! ay, who  
But yesterday commanded Armies,  
Whose numbers outstripped Arithmetic,  
And left them unaccountable:  
Have now but one poor trusty slave  
An Eunuch, who for his unhappy  
Lord, will venture Life!—  Exeunt. Enter Solyman and Soldiers. Soly. 
Where is this Barbarous Prince—  
I warrant Fellow-soldiers;— Hid  
The cruel are still Effeminate:  
There's scarce a Man left, that  
Asserts his cause,— I'll search him out,  
And whilst my injured friend's preventing  
The plunder o'th' City; do a deed,  
At which his nicer virtue shrinks.  Exeunt. Ibrahim, and Sheker Para. Ibr. 
Flatterers, that curse of Courts have  
Ruined me!— through their false  
Optics, I viewed my greatness—  
And when I thought myself a God;  
Am more wretched than my meanest Slave:  
Unregarded Now's the Frown, that  
Marked my foe for Slaughter; or the  
Gracious smile which gave my kneeling  
Supplicant, a Kingdom—  
Disobeyed, forsaken, friendless, and alone!  
Yet the inborn greatness of my Soul remains!  
And I will die with all my Majesty about me,  
— Go wretched Woman— Herd amongst  
Thy Sex, and let that protect thee!  Shek 
I will a while retire; watch this feared event,  
And if you fall;— boldly come forth and die.  Exit. Enter Solyman driving in Achmet. Soly. 
Eunuch! Pander! dar'st thou stop my way?  
That for thy impudence— that for the poor Morena!  Ach. 
O Sultan! our Prophet guard thee,  
I can no more  Dyes. Ibr. 
What bold slave art thou, who  
Throwing off the Sacred ties of Duty,  
Allegiance, dar'st with offensive  
Arms approach thy lawful Prince!  Soly. 
My Prince!—  
I'd sooner serve a Russian Bear,  
Whose inhuman paw, when I was  
Most Assiduous, marked me still  
With Indignation— such a Monster  
So unaccountable art thou!  
Oh! Ibrahim! Didst thou but hear.  
Thy long injured, and at length revolting  
People, how they curse thee,— what  
A dire Catalogue of crimes repeat:  
Hadst thou left one grain of Honour,  
Thou wouldst turn thy wounded ears away!  
And beg me use my Sword; but talk no more.  Ibr. 
Traitors are ever loud—  
And to colour their own detested sin  
Rebellion; with impudence, and calumnies  
Bespatter the Throne, they dare attack.  Soly. 
Was there a Slave throughout thy wide  
Dominions, whom blind fate had cursed  
With Wealth: His forfeit— Head  
Paid for his crime: Whilst his extorted  
Treasure silled thy coffers, and supplied  
New Luxury. Did virtue Reign in  
Any Man, a life Austere; or active Valour  
Like our great Progenitors: Straight you,  
And your Minious thought, this looked  
With a Reflecting Eye on your Debauches:  
Dispatched the pious Wretch, and sent him  
To his Friends above; then Women  
You monopolised— let her be Wife  
Or Virgin, fair as Heaven, or monstrous as Hell:  
Witness your Armenian Mistress; all served  
As fuel to that consuming fire your Lust;  
Nay, even the Relic of our late glorious  
Emperor, was not free from your Attempt,  
But that her Lion Resolution made your  
Coward Heart shrink back.  Ibr. 
What!— ho!—  
Is there none to secure this Traitor?  Soly 
I tell thee, Lost degenerate King,  
There's not a Soul will move a Tongue  
Or Finger, in thy Defence; thou stand'st  
Forsook by Heaven, and Human Aid—  
Think now upon the fair Morena!  
And if thy heart of Adamant unmoved  
Could hear an Angel pray; if the angry Powers  
So punished her spotless Innocence: What  
Horrors must remain for thee; who bend'st  
Beneath the weight of thousand thousand Ills?  Ibr. 
Come on, thou Rebel!—  
No Soldier sure thou art!  
Thy Tongue's thy sharpest Weapon— yet  
If thou were't; and did thy acts excel the  
Foremost of my Royal Race; thy Ignoble  
Tomb must blush to hold thee, the name of Rebel  
Would blot out the Hero, and leave thy Fame  
Detested, to the honest World; as thou  
Hast Represented mine!  Soly. 
My injured Friend, and that unhappy Beauty  
Whom thy Lust hast ruined, gives justice to  
My Javelin's point, and sends it to thy heart!  Fight. Ibr. 
'T has reached it too, nor am I far from thine.  Soly. 
Oh feeble Arm! Oh Amurat!  Both fall. 
Could I do no more for thee!  Ibr. 
I am no longer now the sport of Fate,  
This Atom which our unseen Rulers  
Thus alternately have tossed, now will rest  
For ever; my first best part of Life,  
Even all my Youth, to Dungeons, Dark  
And Loathsome as my Grave, a jealous  
Brother close confined: then slattered  
A while with Empire, Comer like,  
I made a glorious dreadful blaze;  
Yet thanks to my Niggard Stars, I Pressed  
The golden fruit of Power, and Drank  
The very Quintessence, the Vision  
Was too full of Rapture long to last:  
In a moment the gaudy Scene is vanished,  
And to my endless Prison, I in haste return.  Dies. Enter Amurat, who speaks to his followers Entering. Am 
Sheath all your Swords, here  
Let Murder cease; and whilst in sad complain  
I move my Royal Master's heart—  
Let no rude breath offend him—  
Ha! stretched on the sloor!—  
My Friend! hast thou done this?  Sees sees. Soly. 
To higher Judges I am summoned to appeal,  
Where I reward or punishment shall find  
For this act; which excessive friendship forced:  
If thou in honour, as in valour still excell'st,  
Forgive thy overloving Friend: and with a sigh  
Remember all my faults, and Death.  Dies. Am. 
Ye inauspicious Planets! which at my birth.  
Shot your intermingled Rays; and on my Infant  
Head, dropped the poisonous Influence:  
Oh! that I could curse ye from your Malignant  
Spheres! Was ever such a Wretch as Amurat?  
My Mistress Ravished,— the cruel Ravisher  
My emperor's dead,  
My Friend, the Author; and punished too with death!  Enter the Mufti and Mustapha, and several Commanders. 

See Fathers, see the fatal end of  
Our Commotions!   Muft. 
'T was Heavens will, and therefore grieve no more;  Must. 
All Eyes are sixt on you, nor doth the  
Empire yield an honour, which you may not claim.  Am. 
Oh! mistake not the heart of Amurat!  
Think not Ambition led me on! no;  
Had not Love forced my backward Hand,  
This Breast had been a Rampart to Guard.  
The Life of Ibrahim; and my Sword  
Destroyed even you, my Father, had.  
Ye attempted it!— On the  
Illustrious Head of the young Mahomet  
Let's six the Imperial Crown! May  
It be larger, and happier than his  
Departed Fathers! and with Hearts,  
From whence this Voice proceeds, Ring out  
The Acclamation— Long live Mahomet  
The Fourth! Emperor of the true Believers!  Omnes. 
Long live Mahomet the Fourth, etc.  
Amurat our great Deliverer!  Muft. 
Bear the Body to the Royal Mosque, whilst I,  
With Mustapha, wait on the Sultana Queens;  
Dispel their fears, and cause the perturbed State  
To reassume a Face serene.  Exeunt Muft. and Mustaphia. Enter Sheker, Para. Shek. 
Turn, Traitor, Turn! and here behold  
Thy Fate!— 'Twas I disclosed the  
Cloistered Maid, and forced her on the King  
That good Turn I owed for your Disdain.  
Then— If you loved Morena, wreak  
On me your Vengeance; and strike  
Your Poniard to my Heart!  Amur. 
There are things, which by Antipathy  
We hate; and such wert ever thou.  
The contaminated Blood shall never  
Stain the Sword of Amurat.  
Live! Detested Creature! Loaded  
With Shame and Infamy! Be it  
Thy Curse to live! whilst  
Pointing Fingers, and busy Tongues  
Proclaim thee, if thou appear'st, hunted  
Through the City like a Beast of prey;  
And shunned by all, whoever heard  
The Name of Goodness!  Shek: 
Look back! and see! how vain thy Curses are!  
Thus!— I defy thy Malice!  (Stabs her sef.) 
Oh! Ibrahim! if in the other World  
The faithful Sheker can be useful:  
Lo she comes— Disdaining Life  
When thou art gone!  Amur. 
Bear the polluted Wretch away,  
Whist I seek my afflicted Fair:  
And recount the Wonders Revenge has done.  Exeunt. Enter Morena Dressed in White. Mor. 
Dressed in these Robes of Innocence,  
Feign would I believe my Virgin Purity remains;  
But oh! Memory the wretched'st Plague,  
Still goads me with the bated Image of my wrong.  
My Soul grows weary of its polluted Cage,  
And longs to wing the upper Air, where  
Uncorrupted Pureness dwells.  Enter Zayda. 
Come near, my Zayda, why dost thou  
Tremble so? Oh! hadst thou known  
The Horrors, thy poor Mistress has,  
Thou wouldst have left to fear!  Zayd. 
Who can express the Terrors of this dismal Night!  
The mad janissaries up, and raging for Revenge,  
Put private Broils upon the public score,  
Murder and Rapine, with Fury uncontrolled  
Rang through the City, and make the Devastation  
Horrible, the mangled Visier they have  
Piecemeal torn; nor has their Vengeance  
Stopped here: The Life of the Empire, the Man  
We worshipped like a God, for whom  
We still were taught to pray; even  
The mighty Ibrahim is no more!  Mor. 
Is Ibrahim dead?— Oh Amurat!  
I fear thou hast gone too far; and lest  
Our Prophet, should punish thy Disloyalty;  
I will, of myself, an Offering make!  
Morena, the unhappy cause of all these Woes;  
Morena the Atonement—  
Go to my Closet; bring from thence  
The Golden Bowl— This News  
Has much disordered me—  
There is in that a sovereign Cordial!  Exit Zayda. 
Look down ye Roman Ladies  
Whose tracks of Virtue I with care,  
Have followed— Behold! a  
Turkish Maid— who to the last,  
Your great Example imitates:  
Scorts to survive when Honour's lost!  Enter Zayda with the Bowl. 
I know my avenging Friends will instantly  
Be here gay in their Purple Ruins, thinking to glad  
My Soul with the fatal story; but like a sad Wrecth,  
Whose loss is irrepparable, I must never aim  
At comfort more! Deeply I'll taste this precious Juice,  
And seek that sound long sleep, where sorrow,  
Tormenting care those restless Anxieties  
That keep in Dreams the mind awake, approach no more!  Drinks the Poison. Enter Amurat. Amur. 
Hail my beloved and charming fair!  
Oh! I have been, where Blood and Desolation Reigned,  
Where horror in a thousand shapes appeared:  
But 'tis past: And I am arrived at the desired Land  
Of Peace— Thou the Dovelike Emblem, whose  
Longed for sight Calms the rough Tempests  
Of my Soul, and tunes my Heart to Joy!  Mor. 
That thou hadst stayed, some moments longer.  Amur 
Why! My loved dear one!  Mor. 
I shame to cast my eyes towards thine  
Wherewith such pleasure I was wont to steal  
A glance, my Revenge is now complete;  
I know it, and am yet alive—  
Lucretia died before!  Amur. 
Inhuman fair!  
Death in the Person of my Friend!  
Hath touched my heart too near;  
And now, to crown my misery,  
Cruelly you talk of yours!  Enter the Mufti, Mustapha and several others. Muft. 
The wrongs that Tyrrannick Ibrahim  
Had heaped on the Sultana Queen's  
Causes 'em jointly to rejoice;  
They call you their preserver,  To Amurat. 
And send by me the Empire's Seal  
With the Title of Prime Visier:  
Begging you would protect the Infant  
King, whom you have so justly Raised.  Amur. 
All Honours, Titles, Glories, at the Feet  
Of my Adored I lay, if she will bless me  
With the sweets of Love, I am, what  
They please, else nothing.  Mor. 
Can the great Amurat submit so low,  
To talk of Fruition when 'tis past,  
Or to his Arms receive pollution?  Amur. 
Name it no more! The Royal Blood  
Of the ossender hath cleansed and washed out  
Thy Honours Stains, and white as thy  
Robes, thy Innocence appears.  
Shall I forsake the Crystal Fountain,  
Because a Rough-hewn satire there  
Has quenched his Thirst? No! The  
Spring, thy Virgin Mind was pure!  Mor. 
Talk on, methinks I taste of Heaven,  
To hear thee! Let thy kind Breath  
Proceed: Waft me from one Paradise  
To another!  Amur. 
Distraction seize me! Either  
My sight deceives me; or my Love  
Looks exceeding pale; she Staggers too!  
Help! Help! Remorseless Powers drive not  
The Wretch you formed to the Blasphemous  
Sins Dispair may utter!  Must. 
My Daughter! what hast thou done!  Zayd. 
Oh! my unhappy Mistress!  
I fear that fatal Cordial!  Amur. 
Inveterate Stars! Now you've stretched  
Your power to the last degree, and  
Ye can curse no more!  
Oh! Morena! more savage—  
Than our Lord! for ever thou  
Hast Robbed my Life of Joy, deprived  
My Eyes of Happiness; which, till  
They close, must gaze on Thee!  
What hath my Love deserved for such  
A punishment? Morena! unkind!  
Cruel! unkind!  Mor. 
My Father! draw near; forgive this  
First last act of Disobedience!  
You taught me. Sir, that Life no longer  
Was a good, than a clear Frame attended it;  
My Dishonour Rings through the Universe—  
Pardon my quitting it!—  
Now Amurat! To thee— Here will I  
Lean a Moment, where I thought to Reign  
A whole contented Age— I fear the Cordial  
Will prove too strong! Antidote the Poison,  
And let me live!  Amur. 
Thou shalt live! since this Barbarous  
Climate has wronged such worth;  
I'll Raise another Empire large as this,  
And fix thee there!—  Mor. 
Fix me in thy Heart! more dear to me  
Than gaudielt Thrones! Be that  
The sacred Urn, where thy Morena rests;  
Nor ever let the Face of newer brighter  
Beauty drive her thence!—  
Oh! Farewell!—  [Dier. Amur. 
Oh! speak! speak once again!—  
Open those rosy Doors! Dart from  
The fairest Eyes that ever blessed the World,  
One Ray though 'tis a dying one!—  
Oh! 'Tis impossible! Is there  
A Dungeon, Galley, Bedlam, can  
Produce aught so miserable as Amurat!  Must. 
Dead, my loved Daughter!—  
Angry Prophet! when will thy vengeance cease!  Amur. 
Oh! never let it! now let  
Earthquakes shake the Basis of this Foundation,  
And whirlwinds drive us like dust about!  Must. 
Have Patience, Son! Honour was  
The Mistress of thy Youth! Fair  
Morena hath formed the bright Idea  
To the Life, Copy her, and court only Glory.  
Now let the great Business of the Empire  
Divert thy Sorrow?—  Amur. 
Ye say I am Visier, Guardian to the  
Infant King; with Power unlimited  
Command a World, almost as large as  
Alexander's— Oh! Morena! once my  
Living Mistress, now my dead Saint,  
My Ever Worshipped Dear: I do remember  
What I promised: no Crowns, Laurels, nor  
The greatest height Ambition raises,  
Should ever mount me above thy Slave—  
Thus— thus I keep my word—  [Stabs himself. 
Slighting all offers here I prostrately;  
No life so happy, as with thee to die!  Must. 
Oh! fatal deed!  Muft. 
Rash Act!  Must. 
Where shall I hide me from  
This Scene of Woe!— No sorrow  
equal that which to the Dead we pay!  
Because there's no Room left for  
Hope of Friend!  Muft. 
Let's not through grief neglect the public care  
Since in the change we had so large a share;  
On the Empire's charge let's our sad thoughts employ,  
There must be room for that, though none for Joy.  [Exeunt.   

EPILOGUE.  

THE Play is past, the danger is to come,  
Critics, in pity give a gentle doom.  
To Conquer those who can their Cause maintain  
Is Glorious; here the labour would be vain:  
By the great Rules of Honour all Men know  
They must not Arm on a Defenceless Foe.  
The Author on her weakness, not her strength relies,  
And from your Justice to your Mercy slies.   
FINIS.   

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THE Inhuman Cardinal, or, Innocence betrayed. A Novel, 12. Written by Mrs. Pix. Printed for John Harding and Richard Wilkin.