TAMERLANE THE GREAT. A TRAGEDY. As it is Acted by their Majesty's Servants AT THE Theatre Royal  
By C. SAUNDERS, Gent.  
— Neque adhuc virtus in floribus ulla est,  
Transit in AEstatem post Ver robustior annus,  
Fitque Valens Juvenis—  Ovid. Metam. 
LONDON. Printed for Richard Bentley and M. Magnes in Russel Street near Covent-Garden, 1681.   

THE PREFACE.  
THIS Play, as it was Writ only for my divertisement at Vacant Hours, or Recreation after severer Studies, was never designed to see the light, at least not betray the weakness of its Author so publicly on the Stage, or more universally in Print, had not the Communication of it to one or two Friends spread the rumour of it so far about the Town and University, that running like Wildfire through every place, it kindled a general expectation in all that either knew me in myself, or by my Friends to see it in Public.  
Nevertheless, their persuasions and inducements could not make me Presume, to trust so far to my own small abilities, or to rely so much on my own weak judgement, as to send it forth into the World, until it had passed the Censures of some (I may say) the greatest part of the Witty and judicious Men of the Town; until it had received some Rules for Correction from Mr. Dryden himself, who also was pleased to Grace it with an Epilogue, to which it owes no small part of its success.  
After this, I thought I might safely enough commit it to its Fortune, and having had the Approbation of the Greater, I presume it was Protected from falling under the Censure of the Lesser, and half Witted judges.  
But no sooner can a young Writer appear in the World, but he is looked upon by those squint-eyed Pretenders, to wit, no less than some Notorious Malefactor, or Branded Outlaw, whom all may Prosecute, Attaint, judge, Condemn, or what they please, cum Privilegio.  
For passing by some, whose more nice judgement, or rather prying appetite, can find faults where few others would suspect them, some whose sharper Wit is Satirically employed in turning the best thoughts into Ridicule, to Ruin a Writer, as it were betwixt jest and Earnest; There are others who wanting the sense to discern, what is, and where a true Fault lies, nay, sometimes to distinguish it from a Beauty, will yet in spite of Stupidity have their share too in Damning the Reputation of an Author; and the means they took, was to give out, that this was only an Old-Play Transcribed.  
But I hope I may easily unload myself of that Calumny, when I shall testify that I never heard of any Play on the same Subject, until my own was Acted, neither have I since seen it, though it hath been told me, there is a Cockpit Play, going under the name of the Scythian Shepherd, or Tamburlaine the Great, which how good it is, any one may judge by its obscurity, being a thing, not a Bookseller in London, or scarce the Players themselves, who Acted it formerly, could call to Remembrance, so far, that I believe that whoever was the Author, he might e'en keep it to himself secure from invasion, or Plagiary; But let these who have Read it Convince themselves of their Errors, that this is no second Edition, but an entirely new Play.  
Moreover, utterly to overthrow this Objection, I must acquaint you that I drew the design of this Play, from a late Novel, called Tamerlane and Asteria, which I'm sure bears not half the Age of the Tragedy before mentioned, and I am confident the Characters are quite different.  
The last and worst aspersion is cast upon me, is, that I was helped by others in the performance. But if I have not Friends that can clear me of this also, I hope the Congruity of the Style throughout the whole Play will testify the simplicity of the Author.  
This I think may satisfy my more equal judges, that this Trifle is mine own, or if you will, honestly begotten between me, and my Muse, which I hope is yet so chaste, and her Reputation so sound, as not to have her Issue Branded with Plurality of Fathers.  
Thus we see what kind of Critics we have nowadays, that can lie by the whole sale, and Damn a Play in a Breath, that we may the more easily bear with them who pique at word by word, and thought by thought, in a more modest retail manner.  
I shall not now strive to defend this Trifle in any particular Circumstances, but leave it to those of a more impartial judgement; hoping first they may not find as many faults, as they expect, next that they would be so kind as to wink at those which do occur, attributing them to the Youth of the Author, and consequently his want of experience, and judgement.   

To my ingenious Friend Mr. Charles Saunders, on his Play of Tamerlane.  
WHen Night has thrown her sable Vest away,  
And the Sun's mounted on the Wings of day,  
Bright as Parnassus all around he Guilds,  
First the young Trees, and then the Mother Fields,  
To Youth, and Morn such Glories offers he,  
Which Age can only wonder at and see,  
But when the God has reached the middle way,  
He the World visits with a courser Ray,  
Whips his dull Steeds, and hastens to the Sea,  
Cooling his Tresses on the Amber Shore,  
Then hates what he so well did love before:  
Or as an Infant spring, that from the side  
Of some lone Hill does through the Meadows glide,  
Whose Crystal Waters as they silent pass,  
Aford the Nymphs both Dress, and Looking Glass,  
Who take the yellow Sands that lie below,  
And on their Heads the Golden Powder throw,  
Whilst the Rich Flood most prodigally decks  
With Rings their fingers, and with Pearls their necks  
In whose clear Stream the heavens' delight to play  
Phoebus to waste the tedious Summer's Day,  
The Moon and Stars, the livelong Night away,  
Beneath 'tis Spring, above, Eternal Ray,  
It's Winter Bloom, and every Season May.  
But tract these Beauties, and before they've run  
More Miles than Youth has years, they all are gone,  
Strong Tides molest its ' wanton Course and o'er  
Its hoary swelling Head huge Tempests roar,  
And all its Glebes are Sandy like its Shore.  
Till sick with Storms and every surly Blast,  
'Tis forced to make the Sea its Grave at last.  
On then brave Youth with Harp Divinely strung,  
And sing more sweet than ever Ancients sung,  
Than Orpheus, Homer, or than Cowley Young;  
ere Age shall come and thou shalt live to see  
That Fumbling time of Love and Poetry.  
Now of the Young, you all the vigour show,  
And of the Old the solid judgement too:  
To you the Merits of 'em both belong,  
Not Alexander fought so very Young,  
Nor Conquered he the mighty World so soon  
As you have charmed, and all the Muses won;  
And wise Minerva, like a Mother fond,  
With her own Wreaths thy darling Temples Crowned,  
Has thee o'er all thy Elder Brothers placed,  
And with a Benjamins' large Portion graced.  
But let me not in wondering at your Youth,  
Forget what's due to Friendship and to Truth.  
Know Wit, like Beauty, pleases where it harms;  
A Chequered Serpent 'tis with Sting and Charms:  
And happy's he that never thinks at all,  
And far more happy is that lavish Fool,  
That dully wastes his Fortunes on a Whore,  
Than he that splits upon this dangerous Shore.  
Not Spencer dead, nor Spencer now alive  
Could ever find a way by Wit to thrive:  
It is a Dream of Wealth, a Fairy Land,  
A fickle Treasure grasped like Golden Sand,  
Which, as 'tis held, does vanish through the Hand.  
The Lethargy of the best natured Mind,  
A Foe to Business, and to all unkind;  
Like that too kills insensible and sure:  
For he with Verse diseased, does still the more  
Court his loved Plague, and itches to be poor;  
A Mark where vile Pretenders lose their aim,  
And even the best get but an empty Name.  
Launch out young Merchant new set up of Wit,  
The World's before thee, and thy Stock is great,  
Sail by thy Muse, but never let her guide,  
Then without danger you may safely glide  
By happier Studies steered, and quickly gain  
The promised Indies of a hopeful Brain,  
Bring home a Man betimes that may Create  
His Country's Glory in the Church, or State.  
J. Banks.   


dramatis Personae.  
Tamerlane Emperor of the Tartars.  
Bajaset Emperor of the Turks.  
Sons to Tamerlane. 

Arsanes  
Mandricard    
Counsellors. 

Odmar  
Abdalla    
Friends to Arsanes. 

Axalla  
Zanches     

Women.  
Asteria Daughter to Bajaset  
Ispatia Wife to Mandricard  
Zayda Confident of Asteria.  
Priests, Guards, Attendants, etc.   
Scene Samarkand.   

PROLOGUE.  
HOw modern Prologues differ from the Old!  
Those sued and prayed, but these huff, rail, and scold.  
Now sure the Poets of our age presume  
They have outdone the wits of Greece and Rome;  
Who by ill-natured satire strive t'obtain  
What they by low submission sought to Gain.  
What bold Offender ever yet found Grace  
By spitting vilely in his judge's Face?  
Yet they so fondly do themselves esteem,  
They hiss at you, yet think you should Clap them.  
Nay Branding you for Fools in open Pit,  
Hold it your Duty to cry up their Wit.  
Volleys of Curses on your heads they send,  
Damn one of them, They injured right pretend;  
And with unreasonable Confidence  
Excuse their Failings by your want of Sense.  
Some things you may not understand, 'tis true;  
'Tis more than Oedipus himself can do.  
None of your Actions can their Censure pass  
Your Cravat, Wig, French-dress, or Pocket-glass,  
No not so much as Whore—  
Do you dress well? then rudely they Suppose  
Your Tailor made your Wit, as well as clothes.  
Have you a well-becoming Wig, They'll Swear  
You Bought Your falser Senses in false Hair.  
Thus turn your Wit to Scorn, yet think it much  
If you their husky Farce, or puffy Bombast touch.  
Thus Malcontents would Laws to Rulers give,  
But think it Tyranny if they receive.  
Let not their rail Loyal Poets blind  
That you're no Fools we by your Patience find  
Fools will be Angry, but you still are Kind.  
Then in that Old, not this New-fangled way  
To you our Author does his Thanks repay  
For your kind meeting on this happy Day  
If he Offend he does your Grace Implore,  
And Swears to mend, or Trouble you no more.  
Theives for one Crime have often Scaped the Rope,  
Nay Priests, and Plotters are not out of Hope.  
Then Spare our Author for a Nobler Fate  
He yet deserves your Pity, not your Hate.   

〈…〉 Magnes, in Russel-Street, near Covent-Garden.  
ALL the Tragedies and Comedies of Francis Beumont and john Flesher, in one Volume, containing fifty one Plays.  
Tartuff, or the French Puritan.  
Forced Marriage, or the Jealous Bride.  
English Monsieur.  
All Mistaken, or the mad Couple.  
Generous Enemies.  
Andromacha; A Tragedy.  
Calisto: or the Masque at Court.  
Country-Wit. A Comedy.  
Destruction of jerusalem, 2 parts.  
Miseries of Civil War.  
Henry 6. with the Murder of the Duke of Gloucester.  
Nero, a Tragedy.  
Gloriana, a Tragedy.  
Sophonisba, or Hanibals overthrow.  
Alexander the Great, or the Rival Queens.  
Mithridates' King of Pontus.  
Caesar Borgia, Son of Pope Alexander 6.  
Oedipus, King of Thebes.  
Theodosius, or the Force of Love.  
The Plain Dealer.  
The Town-Fop, or Sir Timothy Taudry.  
Abdullazar, or the Moors Revenge.  
Madam Fickle: or the Witty False one.  
The Fond Husband, or the Plotting Sisters.  
The Virtuous Wife, or good luck at last.  
The Fool turned Critic, a Comedy.  
Squire Oldsap, or the Night Adventurers.  
The Mistaken Husband, a Comedy.  
Mr. Limberham, or the Kind Keeper.  
Notes and Observations on the Empress of Morocco.  
The Orphan, or unhappy Marriage.  
The Soldier's Fortune.  
Sertorius. A Tragedy.  
Tamberlane the Great.  
King Lear.  

Novels Printed this Year, 1680.  
The Amours of the King of Tamaran.  
The Amours of the French King and Madam Laniler.  
The Amours of Madam and the Count de-Guich.  
The Pilgrim: A Satirical Novel on the horrible Villainies of those Persons.  
The Secret History of the Earl of Essex and Queen Elizabeth.  
The Policy of the Clergy of France, to suppress the Protestants of that Kingdom.    

Tamerlane the Great.  
ACT I. Scene I.  The Curtain being drawn up discovers the Temple of Mahomet, in it Tamerlane, Mandricard, Odmar, Abdalla, and Priests who sing the following Hymn. Pr. 
SIng we, Alha, Lord of Fate,  
Father, Ruler of this State,  
In whose hand are War and Peace,  
Overthrows and Victories  
Sing we to thy Power Divine  
At whose Nod the Heaven's Bow,  
To whom God's Allegiance owe,  
Whose just Favour Kings doth Crown,  
Monarchs perish at whose Frown,  
Sing we at thy Holy Shrine.  Ch. 
Accept our Thanks, accept our Praise  
Our solemn Vows, our Eulogies,  
The Altars which our Hearts do raise  
Accept the humble Sacrifice.  Pr. 
To thee, Alha, Virgins Sing  
To thee Tune each Tender String,  
Carried by an Holy Zeal  
Of the Pious Matrons tell  
To thy Grace Triumphant Youth  
To thee glad Old Age doth Kneel,  
Nor do Kings, thy Power Conceal.  
But all admire, all Confess  
iTs thou Cursest, thou dost Bless  
To thee owe their Rise, and Growth.  Ch. 
Accept our Thanks, etc.  Pr. 
See the Trophies see the Spoils  
The glad Harvest of our Toils  
See the Scythian Majesty  
Crowned with Peace and Victory  
To his Sceptre Turk given;  
To him Conquered Asia bows  
To him th' Earth her Freedom owes.  
Fear we now no blow of Fate,  
'Tis Just Alha rules our State,  
And our King's the Care of Heaven.  Ch. 
Accepted are our thanks our Praise  
Our Solemn Vows our Eulogies  
‛ The Altars which our Hearts do raise  
Accepted is the Sacrifice.  After the Hymn Tamerlane, Mandricard, Odmar, Abdalla, with Guards, come forward on the Stage, and the Scene changes to the Palace. Tam. 
After our Sacred Rites to Alha paid  
'Tis fit we show our second Thanks in Joy  
And Triumphs which to Victory are due.  
Let Scythia now Arrayed in all the Pride  
Of Conquered Asia dart her Glory to  
The utmost Gades, and to the utmost Ind.  
Let all her sleeping Monarchs rise and see,  
How far her new-got Liberties Extend.  
And as of Old her Virtue has alone  
Assyrian and Pellaean Arms withstood,  
Nor dared the flying Parthian to look back  
Upon his Enemy, but by retreat  
Sought Life, not Conquest. Our Faimed Ancestors  
Then boasted how they could a Foe repel,  
Far greater's our Renown in Glorious Arms,  
Who know to Conquer too, enlarge our sway,  
And Teach the Haughty Ottoman to bow.  Man. 
Needless, Great Sir, was that far Boasted Gift  
That Law which to your Tartary entailed  
The Turkish Empire, when their Kingly Line  
For want of Heirs should cease, you scorned to wait  
The slow Event; (or should it be) to take  
Even Empire at a Gift; but Gazing on  
The Golden Prey, you thought it looked too great  
To be so cheaply Bought, then Seizing it  
With Danger, and the famous Lot of War  
Made it your Merits due, and Valours right.  Abd. 
That Man who threatened all the World with ruin  
That fierce, that yet unconquered Bajaset,  
Whose dreadful Name so oft shook Greece with Terror  
And struck her Princes Dumb with fear, That Man  
To whom all Asia Bowed, has Learned to Kneel,  
To Tamerlanes more Mighty Power; Avert  
Ye Gods, all Nations Cry, from us the Hand  
Of the all-Conquering Godlike Tamerlane.  Odm. 
Abdalla, no; the World is pleased and silent,  
Amazed, and wondering at the sudden Change,  
The happy change of Monarchs, Bless their Stars  
By whose kind influence doubtful Victory  
Flew where Desert, and working Virtue called.  
While to your Arms all Nations wished Success,  
To you who should Revenge the Injured Earth  
And for a Tyrant give the World a King.  Tam. 
Stain not with flatteries the famous Day  
But rather let our Victory appear,  
By her own Trophies absolute, and sure.  
Let Blaze through all our Streets the Captive Moon  
That Superstitious Idol of the Field.  
In Solemn Process March our Slaves of War  
Each Tartar to his Turkish Prey a Guard,  
Your Heads with Laurel Crowned, your Hands with Spoils,  
Filling with welcome Joy the shouting Crowd.  
For a Just Trophy to our own Ambition  
Call here the Captive Monarch to our sight.  
I would Survey each Limb of that Great Man,  
Try his fierce Temper, see what awful Pride  
Held in such fear the Subject Nations.  Bajaset and Asteria are brought in Bound. Baj. 
Death,  
I've viewed thee in a Thousand, Thousand Shapes,  
When not the fear of all thy Murdering Engines,  
ere shook my Soul so much, as now the thought  
Of this Tongue-Combat— give me Patience, Alha!  Tam. 
What Mutters he?  Baj. 
Infectious be my Breath,  
And Blast thee ere thy Taunts can vex my Soul,  
For I conceive I shall be talked to Death.  Tam. 
Think not, O King, we come in Proud Disdain  
To thy fallen State, or scorn thy Ebbing Fortunes,  
Or with Vain Glory to Commend our Deeds  
Which of themselves do loudly Praise the Doer.  
But as thy Conqueror and Prince to claim  
A just Submission to our Power; Live,  
But to our Mercy owe the Life we Give.  Baj. 
And dost thou think the Glorious Bajaset  
Can stoop so low? speak, Alha, say, my Stars  
Is't just that I who held the fate of Kings  
In this Right Hand, and scattered Death's among  
The Tyrants of the World, as fast as words  
Could mingle them; at last should hold my Life  
On any upstart Power? First shall th' Enfeebled Sun  
Stoop down, and Borrow from the Earth his Heat,  
The Stars from Northern Fires take their Light,  
And Gods of Kings shall Mortal Blessings ask  
ere I to thy scorned favour own a Debt.  Tam. 
Talk on, fond Slave, and Glut thyself with thinking,  
For words and thoughts are all thy Weapons now,  
Which yet thy Abject State shall prove but Vain  
And make thee a much greater—  Baj. 
Emperor!  
The Brave are always so; nor can the Fates  
Debase an inborn Virtue, Oh that Frown  
That Frown suits wondrous well the baleful Brow  
Of an Exalted, Stern, fate-looking Tyrant!  
So stretch thyself Ambitious Arrogance,  
Stretch on the Wheel of Pride thy straightened Nerves  
Till thy Cramped Limbs yield Music to my Ears,  
Proud, Vain Usurper—  Tam. 
Such was Ottoman  
He Built his Throne by Virtue, and I mine  
Speak, if thy Pride can give a Vent to Truth  
Which is the Nobler Title, fairer Name,  
A Crowned Usurper, or a Captive King?  Baj. 
Gods! that I live to hear that vile Reproach▪  
By Alla 'tis too much— Now could I fly  
Like some Fierce Lion scaped the Hunter's Hand  
(His Strength by Rage Improved, Rage by Despair)  
Against my Victor— ha, Inform me Slaves  
Who, or from whence was that bold Son of War  
Who durst with me in dreadful Combat Join?  
That Chief in sable Arms! for yet I see not  
His Face in all this Crowd.  Tam. 
Behold thy Greatest  
Most Dreadful Foe, see me heavens' fatal Scourge  
Sent from above to Purge the sickly Earth  
By Blood from Bloody Tyrants.  Baj. 
No, fond Man,  
Mistake me not; that Conqueror was one  
One Nobler far, and fairer to behold  
Then any thy thronged Court does to my Eyes display.  Tam. 
Spiteful and false thy base Reproaches are,  
Say Odmar, speak the Valiant Mandricard,  
The Mighty nothing of that Strangers Acts.  Man. 
Not Sir, to Lessen or Eclipse your Fame  
Do I to that brave Strangers high Desert  
Due Honours pay, not that the Fierce Abdalla,  
Wise Odmar, or the Valiant Aldegar  
Did less than Godlike acts; yet Sir, to speak  
His Worth I Envy, not those Numerous Bands  
To Conquest by your Royal▪ Conduct led  
equaled that Hero's Fame, who followed by  
A Guard of Horse in Mournful Black Arra'id  
O'er ran our fainting Enemies; none durst  
Withstand him but their Warlike Emperor,  
Whose rashness caused his Fate, the brave unknown  
With force Superior drew him to our Camp,  
Threw him into my wide-spread Arms, and Cried  
Take here a Present from the Man you hate;  
Then adds, I ask but this for my Reward  
He was a King, be sure you use him so.  Tam. 
Gods! I shall jealous of my Conquest grow!  Odm. 
Nor he, nor Heaven your Glory could obscure!  
Since Mandricard was sharer in the War:  
For by him fell the great Ortobulus  
The Hopes of Turkey, and the Prop of Battle!  
Him did he Disinherit with his Sword,  
And snatched his Birthright World as his Reward.  Man. 
Curse on thy Tongue! what Frenzy broke thy silence?  [Aside to Od. 
Thy Breath has Blasted me, and for a flash  
Of Honour, Damned me to Eternal Flames.  Tam. 
My Noble Son—  Baj. 
'Tis false, ye spiteful Powers,  
Ortobulus (I'll ne'er believe it) slain  
By that weak Arm, what Millions backed the Coward?  Tam. 
Fair Virtue was his Guard, approach me nigh,  
Embrace me round; now claim thy just Reward  
Ask freely; for the Glory of the Act deserves  
What e'er thy Swollen Ambition can Demand.  
What Will not Conquerors on the Brave bestow?  
What sad Disorder moves my Mandricard?  
What foolish Passion dares disturb my Son?  Man. 
Who can withstand the vastness of such Hopes?  Tam. 
Have we not given our Word, and can we Lie?  Man. 
Far-beeed from me such Blasphemy to think.  Tam. 
Odmar, Abdalla, witness to my Vow,  
If ought I can deny to him! I Love  
Above the World, which he can ask with Honour,  
Sudden Destruction seize my Perjured Soul.  
Faith is the brightest Jewel of a Crown.  Man. 
Speak my Souls great Ambassador, my Tongue,  
Pronounce thy Message loud; a King Commands:  
O speak what thou desirest most to speak,  
pardon Sir, my too rude Carriage,  Tam. 
Say Noble Youth.  Man. 
Low as the Earth two Monarchs I Implore,  
Rather two Gods in saving pity great,  
As Heaven may bless your Throne with Victory,  [To Tam. 
As Heaven may raise you higher by your Fall,  [To Baj. 
I beg this Princess from your Royal hands.  Ast. 
With all the force a Virgin's Tears can press  
On any Soul, I here implore my Death  
Ten thousand Deaths ere yield my Innocence  
To be polluted by his loathed Embraces.  Baj. 
Curse him, Asteria, curse the fatal Source  
Of thine, of mine, of the World's wretched State,  
Upon a Father's blessing curse the Race  
Of Perjured Tamerlane, there's poison in it  
And rank Infection, and consuming Plagues.  Man. 
Is she not Fair, my Lord!  
Is she not Innocent as Babes new Born?  Tam. 
Mean Soul, degenerate Boy, I charge thee cease,  
Canst thou behold this haughty slave in Chains  
Outdare our Power, and scorn our offered favours,  
Nay Curse thee to thy Face, and hold thee worthless  
The gift thou ask'st? deny thee with Contempt?  
And thou yet stoop to him, kneel, pray to him?  
Wipe off, rash boy, thy growing Glories stain  
Or quit the Name of Son—  Man. 
How all things to my ruin do concur?  
Father, and Daughter, Emperor all are joined  
To make me wretched, O the killing Flames,  
Of a despairing passion, oh my heart!  Baj. 
My Miseries have given me leave to smile  
To see thee Traitor find an Hell on Earth.  Man. 
Approach my Fair.  Ast. 
Oh I am ruined, stained,  
With hands scarce cool from my dear Brother's blood  
He catches at the Sister for reward  
And I'm become a partner in the Murder.  Baj. 
Oh the bold Ravisher, that he should dare  
To touch her— purge then Villain with thy blood  
Her sullied beauties, die.  [Snatching a Sword from the Guards. Tam. 
Disarm the Traitor,  
Presumptuous Fool, this Act has forfeited.  
The Life we gave.  Baj. 
Have I driven Troops before me  
And am I thus held in by a crowd of Slaves?  
Vile, fearful Mice to pluck the bristled Main  
Of a bond Lion, rise, my Passion, rise  
Swell every Vein up to an Artery.  
Return the famous Lightning of my Eyes,  
Work, Oh my Heart, my Soul, in my revenge,  
For I am killed, choked with disdain and fury.  Tam. 
He Raves and we lose time to hear him, haste,  
Take, force him from my sight.  Baj. 
Do not think me King,  
One that has nothing but a Life to lose;  
Death! 'tis the common Scourge of coward minds,  
A Goblin hatched to fright base vulgar Spirits.  
Life I contemn; nor would I stoop so low  
Beneath my Majesty to take it up,  
Though with my Empire it might be redeemed,  
Since he must grant it whom I scorn and hate.  
A Grace from Tamerlane would load with shame  
My inward memory far more than all  
My rifled Crowns, or the base name of Slave.  
Now, Tyrant, to thy last destruction hear  
What Alha moving in my breast Commands  
Me speak, thy Glory, Tartar, is short lived,  
There are a Royal Race of Ottemans,  
(See thy Guards tremble at their very Name)  
And so must thou, I see thy Glory sink  
And Heaven in Arms against thy Perjured Soul  Tam. 
A way to Death to speedy Torture with him  
His boasted courage this last Act shall fry.  Baj. 
Yes, I will make a Trial of my Heart  
I'll bear my wrongs with such a noble Courage  
So far Transcending mean Tartarian spirits  
That thou shalt burst with envy to my Fate.  [Is led off. Man. 
Thus doth the Naked Beggar gazing stand  
On great men's wealth and starves, O cursed spite.  
That I must perish all my Joys in sight.  [Exit. A Wood Arsanes, Axalla. Ars. 
Urge me no more, my Lord, my fate is sealed,  
And heavens' fixed will stands uncontrolled by chance,  
Now to return (by Heaven I never will)  
Were as to seek a second Banishment,  
Or Death the lesser evil for returning.  Ax. 
Yet Sir the King—  Ars. 
Is most unjust and cruel  
Lead by the voice of every fawning Traitor,  
And gives all power to him that Flatters most.  
My Brother! Yes, by all that's good it was  
That fatal Brother, that ambitious Boy,  
With the deep plotting Odmar wrought my ruin,  
And built their greatness on my ill-timed Virtue,  
While I—  Ax. 
While you here in inglorious sorrow  
Quit your just Title to your Father's Throne.  Ars. 
A Throne Axalla, can it yet be news  
My Father owns no Son but Mandricard?  
He shares his Crowns of Laurel and of Gold,  
And all the shining Sceptres of each Clime,  
Where if a friend but chance to name Arsanes,  
Or fetch an inward sigh for his misfortunes,  
A pointed frown marks the kind Spirit dead,  
And chokes with mournful groans his pious wishes.  
Oh my Nerina!—  Ax. 
That fever still, my Lord?  Ars. 
It like the Liver of the Earthborn Monster  
O'erspread nine Furlongs of the burning Lake  
Feeds on the fiery Diet of fond hope,  
To be renewed a prey to black despair.  Ax. 
Yet Sir she may be found  Ars. 
She may! O trifler, may!  
May be is quite impossible to Love;  
She must— ye Gods, appoint the happy time,  
Like that when softest Hours in Greece I drew  
Then when the Hospitable Emperor  
Saluted us as Princes, treated us  
At no less rate though both by Law enslaved,  
An exile I, and she a Pirates prey.  
Long in that state we lived in Bliss and Love,  
I Adanaxus, she Nerina called.  
But Oh, my Friend, that Golden Age is past!  Ax. 
Ah, my dear Lord—  Ars. 
Speak, Friend—  Ax. 
If any charm  
Of specious truth your passion can o'er sway  
And raise belief in your distracted Breast,  
The sight of her—  Ars. 
Do not Delude me thus.  Ax. 
No false Delusion, or diverting Fable  
Can here reside, take, take the naked truth,  
Axalla in her rifled Tent beheld,  
Gazed on, and knew the fair Nerina's charms.  Ars. 
But did you see her like Nerina? bright  
As the first Sun when on the Eastern Shore  
He Rises fresh, and Decks the Infant Day.  
Did you behold among the Beauteous Crowd  
One by all envied, and by all admired?  
A Triple Goddess, Fair, Majestic, Wise?  Ax. 
she's all, my Lord, that even your Love can speak her;  
And though all bashed and shrouded o'er with Tears  
Yet could not even those thickening Clouds of sorrow  
Obscure the shining lustre of her Eyes.  Ars. 
Methinks, my Friend, I see those Pearly drops  
When taking on my Breast her last farewell,  
She cast her Ivory Arms about my Neck,  
And cried, my Love; Oh should we meet again,  
Nor spoke she this with the least sign of Bliss,  
For with a Smile she promised it a truth.  Ax. 
As great and faithful as the Sibyls Voice,  
And can you then, my Lord, leave all those Joys  
For want of seeking them? Think, think, Arsanes,  
When this hot Fever has dried up to Ashes  
Your slaming Heart, and Parched your vital Spirits,  
Than you will cry (but oh 'twill be too late)  
What mass of Golden Treasure have I lost?  
Then curse yourself for your unkind distrust,  
Your little Faith to your Axalla's Counsels,  
That ruined the unfortunate Arsanes.  
But let's behold, the faithful Danches comes  [Enter Danches'. 
From your Great Father's Court, his joyful look  
Denotes some glad Discovery— The News?  Zan. 
Great Prince! what still may please, and make you happy,  
I went to Samarkand; but I passed,  
Me thought, through Streets blocked up with moving Castles,  
So thick, so numberless the People stood:  
While they with Voices undistinguished filled  
The Air, that Echoed nothing but the Stranger,  
The Stranger is the business of the Court:  
The Sweet Discourse of every Lady's Mouth  
Is, what the Stranger did; to you they owe  
Their Trophies and their Fame.  Ars. 
And is the Court so monstrously infectious,  
That scarce an hour gone thou'st learned to flatter?  
Speak, speak thy Errand, what of the fair Nerina?  Zan. 
Great Sir! the Lady which your Friend discovered  
Is Daughter to th' impetuous Bajaset,  
The tender sharer of her Father's Fate.  Ars. 
Ha! Withers not my Hand, start not my Eyes  
From their cursed Orbs?  
Am I not all an Ague? So loud a Clap  
Of sudden Thunder, and yet live? Ye Gods!  
Have I to ruin her my Sword employed,  
My greatest Strength her Country to destroy?  
Was it her Father too whose Fate I sought?  
Then on myself, my more than hellish act  
I thus Revenge.  [Draws his Dagger, which Axalla wrists from him. Ax. 
Dear Sir.  Ars. 
'Twas friendly done:  
For I confess a death so quiet, and  
So short, had been a Balm to ease my Heart,  
Rather than punishment to expiate  
My great offence; to die? perhaps the News  
Might satisfy some Relics of the War,  
That their great Enemy is dead— What then?  
What had I done for Bajaset? what for  
His ruined House, his flaming Palace? what  
In lieu of all his pillaged Sceptres, Crowns?  
What for Nerina's wrongs, whose every Tear  
Deserves a Life? No, no, Axalla, that  
Which can but once be done, let it be long  
In doing.  Zan. 
Dear, my Lord, divert those thoughts  
And go where Piety and Honour call.  
The Royal Slave not brooking his disgrace,  
And yielding not himself to Tamerlane,  
Is most unfaithfully condemned to Die.  Ars. 
To Die? Shall than Nerina's Father Die?  
Basely and poorly be a prey to Fate?  
And leave his weeping Daughter all alone,  
'Midst a rude Multitude of Savage Men?  Ax. 
Arsanes cannot think a thought like that.  Ars. 
No, my Axalla, hast we from this place  
With all the swiftness of a Love in fear,  
That he shall come too late, and lose the Prize,  
The Beauteous Prize, for which all that have Souls  
Must needs be Rivals; Guide me, O my Stars,  
Shorten my Journey to my Paradise.  
By all my hopes Nerina's Father lives;  
Then snatching to myself the Glorious Prize,  
I'll reap the Fruit of all my Victories.  [Exeunt.  

ACT II. Scene I.  Bajaset is discovered on a Scaffold, an Executioner with an Axe, and others with Hallbirds, Swords, etc. Enter Tamerlane, Mandricard, Odmar, Abdalla. The Executioner being about to strike; Enter in haste Arsanes, and Axalla. Ars. 
HOld, stay thy bloody hand, I charge thee strike not.  Tam. 
What bold Invader dares thus countermand me?  
Speak, say, what art?  Ars. 
Lay down, O mighty Prince!  
A little of thy Thunder, and I'll speak.  
O thou to whose high care Heaven doth intrust  
The Rule of Nations, Monarch of the Earth,  
So may you Laurels bear from either Pole,  
As you to them shall peaceful Olives join,  
And in your Conquests Godlike Mercy show.  Tam. 
The Accent of that Voice I sure have known;  
Nor am I unacquainted with that Face:  
All day I could with patience hear thy Story.  Ars. 
Not to recount the Changes of my Life,  
Which but for one, one only happy Fate  
Does not deserve a Name; yet, Sir, I'll tell you,  
There's Glory in that Fate, and to have done  
You Loyal Service, is a Noble Bliss.  Tam. 
By all my Laurels the Triumphant Stranger!  
O Prince! for I consider thee no less;  
What shall I, what Reward can I repay  
To thy great Virtue?  Ars. 
Not a Thirst of Wealth,  
Or Sacred Famine of Reward, or yet  
A vain Ambition to commend my Deeds,  
Made me presume to meet your Royal Eyes.  
But since, Great Sir, you do esteem my Acts  
Worthy a price, O hear the Prayers I make;  
By Alha, by the Soul of Mahomet,  
By the ne'r-cancelled Bond of your strict Vow  
In heavens' bright Eye, I do conjure thee spare  
The Royal Captives Life.  Tam. 
Thou couldst not ask  
A thing but this, we could not grant.  Ars. 
O Heaven!  
If with a Prince's Life you needs must Seal  
The Glory of your Conquest, rip these Veins,  
And draw what Blood is left in expiation  
For his dear Life— Oh hold me not in doubt.  Tam. 
Did I but think I did the Slave a favour,  
Spite of my Vow by Heaven he should not live;  
But as 'tis that he fears far worse than Death,  
I by one Act will wisely satisfy  [Aside. 
This Strangers hopes, and glut my own Revenge,  
Yes he shall live; remove the Fatal Pomp,  
And lead him to our Palace; but know, Slave,  
'Tis to this generous Prince thou ow'st thy Life.  Baj. 
For me his Prayers; ye Stars shed ruin on him,  
Beg in my Cause? Precacious Fool, be silent.  [Too Ars. 
Hazzard! Villain! why's my Fate so long delayed,  [To the Exec. 
Is the Axe not sharp enough? or am I held  
Here to be gazed at for a Mark, a Show,  
A Property to please the Idle Vulgar?  
Strike Villain, or I'll spurn thee into Ashes.  
Ha, ha, ha, ha, O I could burst with laughter,  
To see these Apes, these mistaken Fools,  
Who think they have been generous and kind,  
While they are dully cruel; Tyrant, blush,  
And know, were't thou my Slave, thus would I glut  
Myself with vengeance on thee, so farewell,  
And some Plague seize thee e'er we meet again.  [Is led off. Tam. 
Thus to your Prayers we sacrifice our Justice,  
And to your mighty Merits our Revenge.  [To Arsan. Ars. 
Thus at your Royal Feet I cast myself,  
And may those Powers that raised and guard your Throne  
Reward you for this greatest highest favour,  
For which I vow you everlasting Service.  Man. 
Hail, O great Soul of War, matchless in Might!  Odm. 
Fair Guardian Angel of the Scythian Throne.  Abd. 
Desire of Nations, Bulwark of this State.  Ars. 
Your Vassal, Princes, knows not to bear  
These loads of Praise, unable to repay  
Your noble kindness even in Thanks.  Man. 
So may  
You always knit fresh Laurels to your Brow,  
As we to you our Turkish Conquests owe.  Tam. 
'Tis true, I as a Warrior must adore  
Thee in thy Virtues, thy Success admire,  
Thy Actions love, reward thy Loyalty.  
But something nearer calls thee to my Breast,  
Stamps thy dear Image on my Soul, and tells me,  
There is a mightier reason for my love  
Than any I have yet alleged. O Nature,  
My Eyes, my Heart, both challenge thee, my Son!  Ars. 
Father, if I may dare to use that Name,  [Pulling off his disguise. 
Behold your wretched Son, your Darling once;  
Now less than Stranger to you, banished, spoiled  
Of all my Honours, Father, Country, Name,  
By their vile Arts, who with false Counsels armed  
Against my Innocence your mildest Nature.  
Here could I wish I were for ever fixed,  
Here breathe my last, and leave my flying Soul.  Tam. 
Ye Powers, my Son, the wronged Arsanes here!  
Heaven knows with what regret I rob my Throne of  
So great a Pillar, my Kingdom of so good  
A Prince; Heaven knows how I have mourned thy absence,  
And cursed my fond belief to busy Flatterers.  
Credit me, Prince, I always thought thee injured.  Odm. 
O damned, deceitful, spiteful Queen of Chance.  Man. 
Hell, that I as a Basilisk could dart  
Poison from my Eyes, and blot his growing Greatness.  [Aside. Tam. 
O Mandricard! my other Blessing, share  
This mass of Joy that fills my heaving Breast.  Man. 
And can the Stranger prove so near a Friend?  
A Brother? Oh that Name! Now by my Arms,  
If ever hate were grounded in my Breast,  
You Valiant Deeds have dispossessed it all.  
Such Virtue ne'er can find an Enemy:  [Embraces coolly. 
Now all the subtlest Plagues of Hell prevent thee.  [Aside. Ars. 
O happy day! the whitest of my Life.  Tam. 
All who are present at this Solemn Meeting,  
Behold your Prince, your wished for Prince Arsanes;  
In whose just Cause you have so often mutinid,  
And even assailed our Throne for his revenge▪  
Receive, take, share with me his Royal Heart,  
And with loud shouts of Joy accompany  
Us to our Palace: Thus from their sad Urn  
Thy Phoenix Virtues to new Glories burn.  [Exeunt. Odmar manet solus. Odm. 
Furies and Death, and all the Family  
Of dark Infernal Powers, can you see,  
So tamely see me your Chief Instrument  
Sworn to your Counsels, so lost, so successless?  
For this?  
Have I trod in all Paths that Hellward led?  
Has Envy lost her Snakes, and Fraud forgot  
Her Art? Is Malice satisfied so soon  
To glare, and snarl, and not destroy? for this  
Have Guilty Thoughts disturbed my Nights, and Blood  
Started my Soul in Fancies, broke my Sleeps.  
Bled the King's Son committed to my charge,  
An Infant to nopurpose; is it nothing  
That my Themyre supplies his Place, and Name?  
But doth Arsanes still prevent us? Nay,  
He's grown much higher by his fall; our Plots  
To tread him down to Earth have mounted him  
Above the Clouds. This must not on, again  
Brain whet thy sweet Invention, while he climbs,  
That he may fall, and set the World in Flames.  [Exit. Asteria's Apartment. Asteria, Zayda. Ast. 
Give, give my Passion vent, or I shall burst;  
Yes, yes, ye Powers 'twas he, 'twas Adanaxus  
That ruined me, my Father, Country, all.  
'Tis the same charming Tongue moves Tamerlane,  
That caught Nerina's Heart, just so he wept,  
And knelt, and prayed for Mercy at my Feet  
For his own Life; as for my Father's, now  
▪ 'tis the same Rival of Andronicus,  
The same Triumpher o'er the Grecian Slaves,  
Turkey destroyed. I and this faithless Man,  
Crowned with the Pleasures of a Smiling Field,  
While we each others Story did relate  
So tenderly, and with so much concern,  
Promiscuously we gave our Hearts away,  
Born on the Wings of interchanged Discourse.  
Then first we sighed and smiled, and smiled and sighed,  
And looked, and wondered, and discoursed again,  
While the young God stood laughing on the Plain,  
And wondered at our Sympathy of Souls.  
Would you believe it? This same Under-Lover,  
This very Adanaxus, from the World,  
From all Mankind, was chose to work my ruin.  Zay. 
Has he not saved your Captive Father's Life?  Ast. 
Did he not make him so? O trifling Comfort!  
How now, what Air, what Heaven is this, what Sky,  
What Country? whither am I led? alas,  
What am I now become? Still, still my Eyes  
Behold those various Images of Death,  
And Fatal Ruin they in Prutia saw.  
All pale, and shivering there my Mother lies,  
And there my Royal Brother bleeding groans;  
All this and more this dear, this traitorous Man,  
This smiling false Deceiver has performed.  To them Arsanes, Axalla. Ax. 
See there, my Lord, and think on what your Friend  
Advised you to.  Ars. 
I see my Heaven near,  
Am ravished with the light, wish, and admire,  
Court and hope, yet dare not enter in  
With such a clog of guilt encumbered round,  
I tremble at the Presence of my Judge.  Ax. 
If Conquest were a Crime it was the Gods,  
Not yours; nor can she blame your hidden fate;  
How full of Fears is Love?  Ast. 
Bless me my Stars,  
Oh I'm betrayed, look, Zayda, see that Man,  
Oh let us shun that swearing, perjured Man,  
And never let me trust my Heart again.  Ars. 
Madam—  Ast. 
What means this rude Assault?  Ars. 
Thus low I fall  
To Beauties and to Mercies Shrine, while from  
Their Oracle I learn my Life or Death,  
Present Despair or Happiness.  Ast. 
Expound  
These Riddles, Heaven!  Ars. 
Ha! am I grown so strange  
So altered, neither known, nor understood?  
Or rather are you so forgetful grown?  
If so, let these recall your Memory,  [A Bracelet. 
The Tender Labour of your busy Love.  
This witness of your Vows.  Ast. 
What shall I say, or do?  
Ungrateful Man!— but let me not recall  
My Grief with Words, and stab my bleeding Wounds.  
The Gods revenge my Injuries—  [Is going out. Ars. 
Oh hear  
Your Guilty Penitent his Crime confess.  Ast. 
Some weak Evasion, or deluding Fable;  
Oh what excuse, or wile, can you invent,  
In recompense of all my Sufferings?  Ars. 
Her every word a bleeding Heartstring cuts,  
Her every Tear a Vein; your Sufferings?  
Oh cast on me the burden of 'em all;  
For I can bear for my. Nerina's quiet  
The Pains of Hell, with Heavenly delight.  Ast. 
Ill shall I trust so known an Enemy.  Ars. 
An Enemy! what Horrors seize my Soul?  
Oh clear, clear me of that wretched Name.  
Who could have thought the Riddling Fates and meant  
I should have sinned in bringing help to him:  
Who gave me birth?  Ast. 
'Tis plain you have betrayed,  
For empty Duty have betrayed your Love.  
What Name could make Nerina to forget  
Her Adanaxus thus—? ah cruel Man!  Ars. 
Forget you? had I drunk dull Lethe dry,  
Its Waters had on me wrought small effect.  
Nerina always was, is present here,  
My Mind, my Soul is nothing but Nerina.  
This very impious Act was for Nerina,  
When losing her, I sought in dreadful Battle  
My long wished End.  Ast. 
Excuses are but vain;  
For by your Actions I your kindness weigh▪  
Captivity, and shameful Bands are all  
The mighty Gifts of your protested Vows.  
Have I not heard you say? yes, I have heard,  
To me the Tribute of the World was due,  
How fit I was to be a Queen, how well  
A Diadem would with my Beauty Suit.  Ars. 
Oh my Nerina, if I then must stand  
Guilty of all the malice of the Stars,  
And what great Heaven decreed, if it be nothing  
That by my Prayers your Royal Father lives:  
Yet sure I've loved, and for your love despised  
All dangers, opposed Princes in your Cause;  
Witness the Fury of Andronicus;  
Nerina may remember too some Month's  
Imprisonment, harsh Chains, and hardest usage.  Ast. 
How quickly passes a Woman's Rage that loves!  [Aside. 
Now could I lay on Fortune all his Crimes,  
Oh Adanaxus— but I have been wronged.  [Turning from him. Ars. 
Then Heaven o'ertake me with thy swiftest Justice;  
While from your Mouth I here beg leave to die.  Ast. 
Oh how I melt to Tenderness and Love!  
I cannot now dissemble with my Heart,  
Nor curb my Passion with a seeming Fierceness.  
Ah, my dear Lord—  Ars. 
Pronounce the Fatal Sentence.  Ast. 
While your Nerina lives you must not die,  
Your Life is linked with hers.  Ars. 
And can I hope  
For Absolution?  Ast. 
If you've any Faith,  
See, see it Sealed, while I due Thanks repay  
To Heaven, which has restored my dearest Lord;  
By this one Gift my Stars have recompensed me,  
For Mother, Brother, Father, Country, all.  Ars. 
Such words as these mixed with that Grace of Speech,  
Would charm the praying Hermit from his Cell,  
And draw the rigid Cynicks Heart to Love.  Ast. 
But see, we are observed—  [Mandricard passes over the Stage. Ars. 
'Tis Mandricard,  
That Raven bodes ill Fate.  Man. 
Ha! what so close  
Billing? believe me Brother, 'tis too much.  Ast. 
Did not you mark his black disordered Looks?  
Between his gnashing Teeth what silent Curses  
He muttered forth, and threatened us with Frowns?  Ars. 
Though he were armed with Lightning we'd not fear.  Ast. 
Again than we must part—  Ars. 
So willingly?  Ast. 
Part now to meet again with greater Joys,  
More Ravishing Delights; mean while we'll live  
On hope.  Ars. 
And nourish Nature with the Thoughts  
Of Joys to come; now drive thy Chariot, Time,  
Incumbent on the Wings of all the Winds;  
Nor cease thy flying Pages to maintain,  
While I and my Nerina meet again  [Exeunt. A Garden belonging to the Palace. Mandricard alone. Man. 
Dull, Coward Heart, weak Flesh, and what is worse,  
A Mind ambitious, yet without revenge.  
Rise, Mandricard, let not thy Glory sink  
In vain Complaints, and feeble Murmurings.  
By this I should have filled the World with Ruin,  
And on its Fall my early Glory built:  
By all my Fury I could laugh to feel  
The ruined Palace crush my burdened Limbs,  
So that Arsanes might partake my Fate.  To him Odmar, Abdalla. Odm. 
A happy Morning to my Gracious Lord!  Man. 
Gods, that I live to see this hateful day!  
No Serpent winged, or Dragon-breathing-flame  
Could raise my Soul to this unbounded rage,  
As doth Arsanes Presence; O ye Furies  
Prepare some sudden deadly Pest to blast him.  Odm. 
He's fired, and now to blow him into Flames—  
Busie, my Lord, and full of rolling thoughts?  Man. 
Dost thou not see Revenge hang on my Brow?  Odm. 
Divide the heavy burden of your Breast,  
And witness for me, Hell, there's not a Path  
That leads to your Ambition, vast desires,  
Your Odmar dares not tread to make you happy,  
Though with the fatal hazard of his Life.  Abd. 
Speak but the word, and I'm a true born Son  
Of Scythian breed, can strangle, poison, kill,  
When e'er your Interest shall arm my Fury.  Man. 
Now these are Men according to my wish,  [Aside. 
First swear to keep the Secret—  Both. 
Should it be  
To blaspheme Mahomet, we swear.  Man. 
Why sticks  
My Tongue to speak the happy Deed my Mind  
Long since has acted? were you bred in Blood,  
And nursed with Milk of Tigers, have you each  
Murdered your Thousands?  Abd. 
All my Life has been  
But a continual practice how to kill  
Most silent, and most sure,  Odm. 
I from my Youth  
Have conversant in Plots and Treasons been,  
And artfully have studied by the fall  
Of Men above me, how to raise myself  
To highest Place, and Power.  Man. 
Instruments  
As fit as Hell cou d make, for my Design.  
How long shall I, like some vile Shrub beneath  
A spreading Oak, stand overshadowed by  
Arsanes mighty Power?  Abd. 
Does it hit there? this Steel  
Has entered Brass, and cut through Coats of Mail,  
And will serve still to lop or branch or so  
From that tall Oak.  Odm. 
We'll take it by the Roots.  Man. 
His Heart.  Odm. 
And drink his Blood.  Abd. 
And eat the Corpse.  Man. 
Like Tartars spoke; the Means?  Abd. 
By force of Arms.  Odm. 
By Stratagem, Fate-working Stratagem.  
Then first the Captive Princes, to deceive  
Must be our care, that she in spite of all  
The tenderness she to Arsanes bears,  
Be brought into your Arms a Glorious Prey.  Man. 
That serves but for one half of my revenge,  
That for my Love, but what for my Ambition?  Odm. 
You have no sooner thought, but I have acted;  
Lies are the steps by which black Treason climbs  
Confederacy with Turkey, dark Designs  
With Bajaset, and contracts with the Princess.  
This Head, that Hand can fail in no Attempt.  Abd. 
Where you the Platform lay, I swear to build.  Man. 
My Noble Lords, now you are Friends indeed,  
I envy not Arsanes now with all  
His crowd of supple Flatterers, that cringe  
And buzz about his new-reviving Greatness;  
Let them speak Friendship which you act, and now  
To our great Charges silent as the night,  
And hushed as our Designs, we go; Farewell.  [Exeunt Odm. Abd. 
'Tis sure, these Men with Traitorous Designs  
To the destructive part may much avail.  
But on what Ground to build my happy Love,  
And how to gain the Fair Asteria's Heart,  
Instruct me, Alha; O Prince, 'tis enough,  
Enough thou seest to gain her mortal hate,  
That by thy cursed Hand her Brother fell;  
What will she say?— but oh what canst thou say  
In thy excuse? when by thy Hellish Arts  
She hears Arsanes basely, poorly Murdered?  
Yet, Mandricard, cheer up thy drooping Spirits,  
She loves the Man that sought her Father's ruin,  
By Heaven her Brother's Murderers less in fault.  
'Tis fixed; and on that hope I build my Bliss.  To him Ispatia. Isp. 
I would not harbour such a jealous thought  
Within my Breast; can Mandricard prove false  
To his Ispatia, O unequal Gods!  
Prevent this mischief; what disastrous chance  
Has summoned me to this unhappy place  
With Eyes and Ears, to see and hear his falsehood,  
To which my Soul could never credit give?  
But yet I'll smother it, and try if words,  
With all the force of Tears, may turn his mind.  
Health to my Noble Lord, Great Mandricard,  
How fares your Highness?  Man. 
Well, Ispatia, well,  
The better that I hear thee ask me so;  
But I am busy now, leave me, Ispatia.  Isp. 
My Lord!  Man. 
I prithee leave me,  
We shall have idle hours enough for Love.  Isp. 
How, my dear Lord? I little did expect  
To meet you thus on this Triumphant Day.  Man. 
Blame then the Fates, not me.  Isp. 
Doth any Wound  
Disturb your Rest, my Lord? If so, behold  
Your weak Physician, do not scorn my help.  Man. 
Thanks to your care, your Mandricard is whole.  Isp. 
My Care? O trifling word— He should have cast  
Away that cool Endearment on the Crowd  
That fawned, and welcomed him at his return.  
Are all my longing Wishes come to this?  
And is it, is it thus, I must receive you,  
Is this the Fruit of all my early Moans,  
And Midnight-sighs, when shall I hope for Rest  
If I must now despair?  Man. 
The Curses of  
A Wife are most unsufferable, now could I—  Isp. 
Are not my broken Slumbers worth a Look?  
Not one kind word for all my long Complaints?  
One Smile would be as much as I dare claim,  
Though I could wish for Millions.  Man. 
Give me leave  
I prithee to repose myself a while;  
'Twill add a fresh, and stronger Life to Love.  
heavens'! is she senseless?  Isp. 
And can Mandricard  
Think me unwilling to partake his Grief  
That I have always done; and when I heard  
Of any Prince's Fate, half dead with fear,  
I listened with impatience for the Truth  
Of all the Story of my Life or Death,  
Lest Mandricard should prove that hapless Prince.  
But still those fears did joyfully deceive  
My Heart, reviving with the welcome News,  
The dear, dear hopes of seeing you again,  
So Great, so Glorious!  Man. 
Oh that my inward Prayers  
Could move with pity some relenting Power  
To raise a Mountain, or a Sea betwixt us;  
And snatch me from the Daggers of her Tongue.  Isp. 
Believe me, Prince, you over-load my Soul  
With Thoughts of what should move such discontent,  
Knowing the innocency of my Breast.  Man. 
You're not in fault, Ispatia, give me leave  
To think on those who are.  Isp. 
If to be freed  
From your Ispatia's company be Rest,  
Then I'll not rob you of those pleasing Minutes;  
Though I could willingly for Ages gaze  
O'er all that Field of awful Majesty,  
And wonder how it ever open lay  
To entertain so poor, so mean a Love.  
I go, my Lord, and leave you to your Rest;  
For which I would all Joy, all Bliss resign,  
Your Rest which me delights, for it is mine.  [Exit. Man. 
So, is she gone at last, then farewell Wife,  
And welcome Love, thou highest Bliss of Life.  
While through my Rival's Heart I cut my way,  
And with a Mistress my past dangers pay.  
And this fond Wretch shall the sweet War begin,  
Arsanes shall conclude the Bloody Scene,  
I'll, while they groan in death, enjoy my Queen.   

ACT III.  Ispatia sola, Isp. 
HE's gone, he's fled like Water shrunk away,  
The more I strove to hold him fast; Cursed Fate!  
When every Matron sprightfully with fresh Joys,  
And every Virgin full of harmless mirth,  
Share the glad Pastimes of this happy day;  
Happy to all but me, whom one would think  
Its Triumphs most concerned, since Mandricard  
Bears all its mighty weight of crowding Honours,  
The haughty Conqueror Tartary adores.  
Yet after all his far-blown Victories,  
I blush to say this Great, this Glorious Man  
Is vanquished, vanquished even by his Slave,  
And wears the Fetters of a Captive Maid.  
But sure I have misconstrued all he said;  
He did but try me, my Eyes dazzled  
When I beheld his Gestures, when I thought  
I see him frown, I'll not believe my Thoughts,  
Poor womens' Thoughts are wandering jealousies;  
We fancy, dream, and real things suppose.  
Yet go thou silent trial of my Fate,  [The Letter. 
Her Characters I've here exactly drawn,  
And every Letter subtly have copied,  
Which might I think deceive Arsanes self,  
Which he might see, and not perceive the Cheat.  
But oh why do I thus delay my Wishes!  
Within there, Hamzeh, trusty Slave, appear.  [Enter Hamzeh. Ham. 
Most Honoured Princess, what's your great Command?  Isp. 
Provide this Letter carefully be sent,  
As from Asteria, to your Royal Lord,  
Be gone; and wing to Mandricard your way,  
Each minute seems an hour, each hour a day.  [Exeunt. The Palace. Enter Tamerlane, Odmar, Abdalla. Tam. 
Make me believe as soon the Stars are fallen.  Abdella, 
Yet, Sir, with any but a Father's Eyes  
Black discontent is seen to hover o'er  
His darkened Brow, his wild unstable Looks  
May render him suspicious.  Tam. 
Wash thy Mouth▪  
Thou foul Fomenter of suggested Lies,  
And politic Deceit, think not you, Slaves,  
We're ignorant from whom this Message comes.  Abd. 
See what your Plotting comes to.  [To Odmar aside. Odm. 
Dreaded Prince!  
This Tongue was never known to fill your Ears  
With painted fraud, and poisonous deceit,  
My Counsels hitherto even you have thought  
Loyal and wise, and grave as Cicero's,  
And have preserved your Happiness as much  
As his did Rome's— yet, Sir, your Slave  
Confesses all his Projects had been vain,  
Had not your Virtue perfected those Actions,  
Of which we but the bare Idea showed.  Abd. 
What's all this to Arsanes?  [Aside. Tam. 
Speak thy Thoughts,  
And do not flatter, nor thyself, nor me,  
Thy Words fly wide from all thy former Sense;  
Thou namedst Arsanes, tedious Slave, proceed.  Odm. 
Now witness for me all ye Powers Divine,  
And thou that know'st the Secrets of my Heart,  
Punish me strangely, Alha; if I speak  
Aught that I feared to speak before the Altar,  
Or swear it on the Alcoran for truth.  Abd. 
He's at his Prayers now, sure his Conscience bites him,  
Heaven, he'll confess, we're ruined.  Tam. 
Odmar, rise,  
Give me but patience, Gods, to hear him out.  Odm. 
Though loath, I must unfold the burning Secret,  
Both for my Conscience, and my Country's sake;  
The proud Arsanes, jealous of the Love  
You show deservedly to Mandricard,  
Bears mighty Projects in his labouring Brain,  
Envy, Revenge, with all that natural hate  
He owes his Brother, stir him up against  
The Laws of Man, and Nature; his Ambition  
Flies Sir no lower a pitch, than at your Crown.  Abd. 
Ha! I begin to find him, he talks Sense!  Tam. 
Now, Villain, give me Proof, substantial Reason.  
For what the poison of thy Gall has vented,  
Or else by Heaven thou diest.  Abd. 
Ha! goes it so;  
Villain, and Death! Plague of your Stratagems.  Odm. 
Scars will remain after their Wounds are whole;  
The highest Palaces stand most to view,  
And are most looked at, when their Lustre fades.  
Arsanes cannot brook his late disgrace,  
And thou forgiven, blushes with disdain  
That he was banished; scarce an hour ago  
The Valiant Mandricard in Pious Suit  
Sought Reconcilement with his raging Brother.  Abd. 
This does not sound like truth, it has no face  
Of Probability.  [To Odm. Odm. 
When in a lone  
And vacant place we found your Royal Son.  
But oh how changed from what he fain would seem,  
mustering up such a train of impious words,  
And bitter curses; Heaven, we could scarce believe  
It had been he; but straight approaching nigher,  
We overheard him in a murmuring Tone  
Say thus; The House of Ottoman shall soon regain  
Its Empire by that Arm it newly fell;  
Hearing all this, the pious Mandricard  
Came near, saluted low the proud Arsanes;  
He frowned, and lifted high his haughty Head,  
Then flung away, and left us in amazement.  Tam. 
'Twas done as to his well-known Enemies,  
And, Traitor, was it not that Loyal Son,  
That brave Arsanes? (whom by Heaven I'm proud  
That he should call me Father) was't not he,  
Who spite of all the base indignities,  
Under whose load he sunk to banishment,  
Came with new Strength so wonderfully fierce?  
So unexpected was all kind of Succour,  
Not one among our gazing Troops,  
Scarce I myself, but thought him Mahomet.  Odm. 
Too well, dread Prince, he fought, if all were known,  
He has already half eclipsed your Fame,  
Witness all Tartary, which bowing low,  
Kisses the very Ground on which he treads.  
Do not you hear Arsanes mighty Name  
Echoed through every Street, long live Arsanes,  
A Thousand Voices even in your Court reply,  
While Tamerlane must stand neglected by,  
And wait upon the Triumphs of his Son.  Abd. 
By Hell thou art the very Soul of lying.  Odm. 
Nay more I fear, it is no false report,  
The specious Acts he wrought in your defence,  
Cut but his way into your People's Hearts,  
And a wide Path to his Ambition made.  
This I may safely swear, my Lord, he's false.  Abdella 
The same swear I  Tam. 
You both are Villains,  
False, treacherous, perjured, damned Villains,  
Whose spotted Souls regard not Innocence,  
Nor Conscience trembles, when you dare accuse it.  
And now to let you know how little Faith  
Your seeming Counsels fix upon my Soul,  
Call here the Prince Arsanes— spite of yours  
And Mandricards more hateful Policies,  
I'll Crown his Virtue with Rewards so large,  
Shall raise your envy high, as is his Fate.  Enter Arsanes. 
Come to my Arms my best, my Loyal Son,  
Let me embrace thee all, my long-wished Joys  
At last are come; rise my better self:  
See there the Authors of thy former woes,  
See them, that would renew thy Miseries;  
Villain, is this a Face shows discontent,  
What wild unstable looks are here, what frown,  
What gesture that may render him suspected?  Ars. 
I always thought those Men my Enemies;  
Yet I confess, Great Sir, I have deserved  
All that their envy or your juster wrath  
Have made me suffer: For whom e'er he be  
So just a Prince thinks false, or but suspects,  
By Heaven he's false; nay then 'tis a Crime,  
A Crime unpardonable in innocence  
To say she's wronged.  Abd. 
He has a Tongue as smooth  [To Odmar aside. 
As yours, pray Heaven it may but prove as fatal.  Tam. 
You false, believe me; nor thy Conqueror  
Your injured Virtue claims a Recompense  
So large, with guilty thoughts I blushing hear,  
That now to share that Empire you have saved,  
With that your Arms have won, will be a light,  
An empty Offering to your vast deserts;  
Men style us Scythians barbarous and wild,  
But I appeal to the Immortal Powers,  
If ever Rome in all her Pomp could show  
An Act like what Arsanes has performed.  
An Act so good, Athens would blush to hear,  
As wanting fit example to compare.  
An Act to brave the Heroes from their Orbs,  
The famous Senate of unconquered Minds,  
Start back, and think their Glory faintly won,  
So much Arsanes has surpassed their Deeds.  
An Act—  Ars. 
Of which I thought the insolence  
Might rather raise your Anger, than your Love,  
To see an Exiled Slave, who durst return  
Uncalled to share the Trophies of your Fame.  
Yet let me plead but this in my defence,  
My Duty to so just a Father, and  
So good a Prince, worked high my ravished Soul,  
Nor could my Blood be chilled with outward fear,  
Or inward grief, but boiling in my Veins,  
As one should say 'twas part of Tamerlanes,  
Stirred me to go where Fame and Duty called.  Abd. 
Ruined as handsomely as Hell could wish us.  Tam. 
Now in the Face of thy worst Enemies  
Receive the highest Honours we can give;  
Let lose thy vast Ambition, let it fly  
At Riches, Honour, Love, or once at all.  
Your Word shall guide our Heart, your Wishes bind  
Our Will; your Prayers command what e'er they crave,  
Ask, and believe it granted ere you speak.  Abd. 
Now could I cut thy Throat instead of his.  [To Odm. Ars. 
Laurels, and Crowns are Tamerlanes alone,  
And the Rich Entrails of the Golden Earth  
Serve but to fill the Lustre of his Name.  
It is, Great Sir, a light Request I make,  
And yet in my esteem worth Worlds, so great  
A Prize the fair Asteria seems to me,  
That were I seated on the Scythian Throne,  
With swarms of Tributary Kings about me,  
And subject Princes waiting my Commands,  
By all my wishes I should scarce enjoy  
One moment's rest, without the beauteous Bride.  Tam. 
Ye Gods, that ever such antipathy  
Should be united; Oh could I but taste  
The sleepy Waters of dull Lethe's Lake,  
That I might now forget those hateful words.  
I tell thee, Prince, thy fond Request is vain,  
Which nor consists with Duty, nor with Honour.  
She is thy Enemy, Arsanes, cease  
To think of her.  Odm. 
Take Heart, Abdalla, see,  
The Prince is Planetstruck, and Tamerlane  
Pursues his ruin.  Ars. 
Duty bids me not  
Dispute your dread Commands, yet I must blame  
The coldness of my Stars, and too hard Fate.  Tam. 
It is not fancy sure disturbs my mind,  
And leads my wavering thoughts to jealousy;  
Yet I could shun thee now, Arsanes, here  
Thy dark Request sticks deep: Farewell, and when  
You make your next, if not as a Son,  
Ask what is fitting for a Friend.  [Exit. Abd. 
'Tis just,  
As Hell and we could wish.  Odm. 
Now is our time,  
To shed out all our Poison on his Soul,  
Which Heaven nor Arsanes may control.  [Exeunt. Ars. 
Now from a fairest Heaven of surest hope  
Am I thus fallen? O sudden turn of Fortune!  
Quite ruined ere I scarce perceived a Change.  
Thus stands some mighty Tower, the Bulwark of  
A Nation, shooting up her lofty Head  
Above the Clouds, gazed and wondered at,  
But in a moment see to Ashes turned  
Its tottering pride on some base Traitor's Guilt,  
And scarce the marks of all its Glory left.  
Thus— But oh the Star that guilds my days.  
She comes; and now my fading sorrows pass,  
Like showry Clouds before the Glorious Sun.  Enter Asteria. Ast. 
My dearest Lord, so may you find all Joys  
My Heart can wish you, as you shall unfold  
The Mystic Secret of that sad Complaint  
Just now you sent to Heaven.  Ars. 
Most impious were I  
Could I while I possess those numerous Worlds  
Of fullest pleasures hanging o'er your Brow,  
Those endless Comforts basking in your Eyes,  
And all the Charms which wait upon your Smile,  
Ungratefully and foolishly complain.  
pardon me ye Powers, if I have offended,  
For to Arsanes you are wondrous kind,  
Most bountiful, who in the fair Nerina  
All I can ask, all I can wish, have given.  Ast. 
Yes, Adanaxus, we are free to love,  
And I without a crime can give a Heart,  
With Honour, Duty, and a Fathers Will.  Ars. 
What is't I hear? what sudden happiness  
Raps my glad Soul?  Ast. 
'Tis true, as strange.  Ars. 
O Bliss!  
O Harmony! but how the wondrous Change  
Was wrought, dulls all my busy thoughts to guests.  Ast. 
Then first I knelt, and wept, and kissed his Feet,  
And told how I had been his Darling from  
My very Infancy, and what Delights  
My Childish Sports afforded him— how dear  
He prized my Mother, made him sensible  
Of his past Joys with her, and then conjured him  
By her blessed Ashes, and Eternal Name,  
To have compassion on me.  Ars. 
Words like these  
Would charm the ravening Wolf with hunger pinched,  
With a strange softness to forego his Prey,  
And make him tender as the panting Lamb.  Ast. 
But yet the joyful Grant he had not sealed,  
When once again I did embrace his Knees,  
And called to his remembrance how he lived  
By your kind intercession, though he scorns  
The Life you gave; yet frankly he confessed  
It was a Noble pity in a Mind  
So great as yours.  Ars. 
Oh the Angelic Sound!  
Could yet the moving Argument be vain?  Ast. 
It was, my Lord, till turning to a Theme  
Of more concern, I told him I loved,  
How I was loved, with what a generous Flame  
You answered my Affections, how by you  
I was protected from the violence  
Of rash Andronicus; and then he smiled  
And said 'twas nobly done, and as a Lover.  Ars. 
And yet could he deny? Oh what remained,  
What could you farther urge?  Ast. 
Your Noble Acts,  
Your constant Virtue, and unviolate Faith,  
How weighing not your wrongs then thick upon you,  
Banished by your great Fathers jealous rage,  
Your Loyal Virtue still unshook, unconquered,  
Brought Kingdoms to his Throne, and Laurels to his Head.  
This he was strangely taken with, and lost  
Much of his fury; wondered, and grew kind,  
And swore he could not be a Foe to Virtue  
Of so sublime a Nature, than he rose,  
And gave a soft Command, and charged me love you,  
Not as a Prince, not as the Tyrant's Son,  
But something more than Man, and nearer to the Gods.  Ars. 
Thus kneel kind Angels at the Feet of Heaven,  
When ready to destroy the impious World,  
They with soft Prayers recall the bolted Thunder,  
And even o'ertake the swiftest Lightnings Course.  
Blessed that I am in thy most charming, sweet,  
Prevailing Oratory; thus could we move  
But Tamerlanes far more obdurate Heart,  
Then were we blessed.  Ast. 
Then were we blessed indeed.  Enter Zayda confusedly, and in haste. Zay. 
O dismal Chance, O fatal Destiny!  Ast. 
What means this dreadful Voice, not Croaking Ravens,  
With Midnight-shreiks, ere thus disturbed my Soul.  Zay. 
Your Father—  Ast. 
Say, what can his ill-timed Fate,  
Malicious Chance, and inauspicious Stars,  
Do to advance his full-blown Spring of Sorrow?  Zay. 
Unheard-of Cruelty! the Faithless Tyrant,  
Incensed by your great Fathers haughty Rage,  
Who though in Chains, with his great Spirit frights  
The Jealous King, and with a Princely scorn  
Vexes his raging Soul; which to Revenge,  
Fierce Tamerlane (O cruel Artifice!)  
Locked in an Iron Cage his Rival Slave,  
While he in barbarous Triumph mounted on  
His Shoulders to his Chariot.  Ars. 
Savage Prince.  Ast. 
O Cruelty! Oh more than Hellish Torment!  Zay. 
Impatient of his wrongs, the Royal Captive,  
As he through Samarcanda's Streets was led  
A public Trophy in his moving Prison,  
Against the massy Bars with rage he dashed  
His Royal Head, while from the fatal Wound  
Gushed out that Blood, which long the greatest Life  
The World could ever proudly boast preserved,  
Who in a Storm of—  Ast. 
O I faint, I faint,  
To hear you out will send my Soul away,  
ere I can to his Fate my Duty pay.  
Farewell, my Lord.  Ars. 
O my dearest Life,  
Let me, let me support thy fainting Beauties.  Ast. 
O Adanaxus, now we're lost again.  Ars. 
Unhappy Fate! thus ever in our Joys  
A sudden Thunderbolt divides us.  [Exeunt severally. Enter Mandricard alone with a Letter. Man. 
What shall I do? shall I not go? not now?  
When thus the true Idea of that Face  
Calls my glad Soul, which we adore in Angels?  
(Great Mandricard, I'll sing thee in my Lap)  [Reading. 
I come, I come, Asteria, Mercury,  
Lend me thy winged Buskins, that in thought  
I may in swiftness penetrate the Air.  
O welcome, welcome be thou to my Soul,  
I kiss thee for her sake, whose Ivory Hands  
Have deep engraved these Golden Characters.  To him Ispatia unseen. Isp. 
So now, Ispatia, thou hast viewed his Heart,  
And seen it flaming with another Dart;  
Then to complete the Sum of all my Pains,  
Death is the only Torment that remains.  Exit. Man. 
To thee, sweet Saint, I come, I fly to thee.  
But what ill Fates have intercepted me?  [Enter Arsanes. 
Arsanes here? would Hell it were his Ghost,  
Now by my Arms a far more welcome sight.  
Yet now for my defence a well-forged Lie,  
With a false show of Penitential Kindness,  
Will be most exquisite.  [Coming near and bowing to Arsanes. Ars. 
What would this Woman?  Man. 
Ha!  Ars. 
Art thou  
Offended with the Name, then change the Art:  
For all I yet can see in thee is Woman,  
Forced Tears, feigned Flatteries, and deep Dissembling,  
These seldom sure possess a Manly Breast.  Man. 
If aught I've done, can be by what I'll do—  Ars. 
There's death in thy deceitful Eyes and Tongue.  Man. 
Deceit, and Death, what mean those Mystic words,  
Which strike like double Daggers to my Heart?  Ars. 
Art thou not false?  Nan. 
Destructive Fame, thy worst  
Blow all thy lying Trumpets through the World,  
And to all Ears pronounce me false, yet not  
The blasting Breath of all thy hundred Mouths  
Can on my injured Virtue cast a blot.  Ars. 
The Careful Pilot riding on the Main,  
May tack about, and shun the highest Rocks;  
But those he fears which skulk beneath the Waves,  
The unseen Instruments of grinning Death.  
You work my ruin, not with Hand, but Heart,  
The lurking Treasure of black Designs.  Man. 
Had I by any other Man been drawn  
In such a Character, so much unlike,  
So inconsistent with a Princely Mind,  
That Man had with his final ruin brought  
Swift vengeance on himself for what he said;  
By Heaven! had he but thought it, he had died:  
With you quite otherwise I beg my peace,  
Nature commands you seal my happiness.  Ars. 
Ha! are the Wounds I bear so light?  Man. 
What Wounds?  
This Tongue, this Heart, and Hand are innocent.  Ars. 
Ask'st thou what Wounds? So did fell Atreus ask  
His fainting brother, drunk with humane Blood,  
And heavy with the weight of his own Bowels  
Set to him as a Banquet; what he ailed.  
I tell thee Brother, 'twas wretched thing,  
An exiled Slave, and Heir to Tamerlane.  Man. 
Is that not blotted out? I'll hear no more;  
Since you my Friendship, and my love contemn,  
I scorn all Treaties of a further Peace.  
Come on, Revenge; like Wolves, and spotted Tigers  
We'll live together in perpetual strife,  
And when we meet it must be always War.  
Of which be this the Sacred, binding Gage.  Throw him the Letter and Exit. Ars. 
'Twas boldly spoke, and much unlike himself,  
He ne'er professed himself my Foe till now.  To him Axalla. Ax. 
Saw you not Mandricard, my Lord?  Ars. 
I did;  
Behold this witness of his treacherous hate.  [Opening the Letter. 
Dazzle my Eyes? or is it from Asteria?  
What sudden madness seizes my lost Senses?  
And makes me think what is impossible?  
'Tis all delusion— Ha— from my Nerina!  
Directed too to Mandricard? Oh Heaven!  
At her Apartment.  Ax. 
Oh the Monster Woman!  Ars. 
'Tis sure some feigned device!  Ax. 
Her own false Hand,  
Her Hand that writes her Hearts unconstant Love.  Ars. 
How oft have I such tender Characters,  
Of the same size and make, locked in my Breast,  
And kissed and worshipped 'em like little Idols.  
They're like— what though they are? so polished Glass  
Resembles Crystal mimically Fair,  
And is not so.  Ax. 
But Women are most Women.  
When they are truly Hypocrites.  Ars. 
But my Nerina, glory of her Sex,  
How have I always thought her more than Woman!  
In whom th' Almighty Painter had expressed  
The Fairest Pattern of exactest Angels,  
Her Soul he drew the very Lively Image  
Of some blessed Saint, or ever-happy Martyr;  
But oh she of that Rank of Angels Proves,  
Whose due Commission's only to destroy,  
Armed with fierce Judgements of the Wrath Divine.  Ax. 
Then shun those Judgements which you see so nigh,  
So plain, so manifest, and now should you—  Ars. 
I cannot, and I pray thee do not curse her,  
'Tis punishment enough sh'as given herself  
To one that is unconstant as herself,  
And I with pity leave her to her choice.  Ax. 
O the glad Sound! and will you quit this fondness,  
And follow Honour, and hunt after Fame?  Ars. 
No, my Axalla, think not I can see  
Her Beauties in my presence ravished from me,  
And all the Sacred Store profanely rifled.  Ax. 
Then work your just Revenge, on him, on her,  
On all—  Ars. 
Be hushed, and dare not name Revenge;  
The Name of Brother awes my rising Fury,  
And for Nerina, she is yet so dear,  
I'll suffer all things for her, quit my Honours,  
My hopes of Sceptres, and my right to Crowns,  
Nay her dear self for her more certain ease.  Ax. 
Strangely resolved!  Ars. 
Like Love undone by Fate,  
Oh could I tell where blear-eyed Sorrow dwells,  
Where bellowing out her Soul in discontent,  
The empty Walls reverberate her woe.  
To some such place, Axalla, let us fly;  
There will I on some cold hard Stone lay down  
My mournful Head, while from my furrowed Cheeks  
My frequent Tears promiscuously fall;  
One day I will bewail my own misfortunes,  
Another will I kindly dedicate  
To the loved Memory of Nerina's Father.  
Whole Months and Years in tedious sorrow pass,  
For my Nerina, that false, much-loved Maid,  
Complain of all my angry Foes above,  
With mournful sighs the hollow Echoes move,  
And the last Groans of a departing Love.  
To Heaven these only Vows, these Prayers I'll make,  
Nerina may her fatal Choice forsake,  
And from her bosom cast the lurking Snake.  [Exeunt.  

ACT IU.  A Councel-Table. Enter Tamerlane, Odmar, Abdalla, with other Lords and Attendants. Tam. 
'TIs time to look about me, I have slept  
Too long, lulled into visionary Dreams  
Of fleeting pleasures, which I waking, find  
Most dangerous, and for a seeming Son  
My Bosom has received the worst of Foes.  
Arsines fled? and Conference with Turkey?  
O Viper, Parricide, but say, my Friends.  
What timely Fortune has his Crimes revealed.  Abd. 
Even that which ruins all Conspiracies,  
A squeamish Conscience, and a light Reward.  
The Ministers he hired to his Designs  
Stand Witnesses against him.  Tam. 
Bring 'em forth.  Exit Odmar, and reenters with two Slaves. Odm. 
Now act the Villains home, now is your time.  [Aside to Slaves. Tam. 
Friends to our Crown, for Friends you seem to be,  
Whose care has been employed to serve our State  
From those apparent Dangers threatened it.  
We charge you in our Holy Prophet's Name  
Lay forth the Traitor's Heart before our Eyes.  Odm. 
Swear on the Alcoran your Accusations  
Are just and true— Oh the unhappy Prince.  Abd. 
S'heart, well played Fox, he seems to hear with grief  
What he suborns false Witnesses to swear.  [Aside. 1. Slave. 
By all the Orders of Tartarian Powers  
Bound by Allegiance to our Sovereign,  
We here are present to accuse and swear  
Arsanes guilty of these Articles:  
No more than which himself did testify,  
And gave us in Commission to perform.  
First that this Prince holds private Conference  
With the surviving Race of Bajaset.  
That with the fair Asteria's Love inflamed,  
He seeks his Rival Brother's hated Life;  
Then with Axalla that he doth combine,  
To Poison Tamerlane our Royal Master,  
And with Asteria to usurp his Throne.  Tam. 
Treach'ry unheard beyond the Thought of Man!  
But tell me, Friend, where bides the Traitor?  Odm. 
Speak,  
Say any where.  [Aside to the Slave. Sl. 
n a lone Wood, my Lord,  
After a long Complaint against the Prince▪  
His Royal Brother; full of envious hate  
And proud disdain; after he had rehearsed  
All his pretended wrongs in Banishment  
Received; blushing Scarlet deep with Shame,  
He rose to an Arraignment of the State,  
And our established Laws—  
Then impiously against his Father raged,  
And swore Revenge.  Abd. 
Methinks now Stratagem  
Comes on to something.  [Aside. Odm. 
These are practised Villains.  2. Sl. 
Himself he said was straight for Prusia bound,  
Where the young Rebel Princes wait his coming.  Tam. 
Perdition on the Viper! how he bites!  
Could ere such baseness spring from Tamerlane.  
Is this his Piety so far renowned?  
That Loyalty which seemed inviolable?  
Those Oaths that could have forced all Heaven believe him?  
Is this his scorn of Honours and Rewards?  
And did he starve his hungry Appetite,  
That with a stronger Fury he might run  
Wolf-like upon our Life and Diadem?  
And gaping, swallow all the Golden Prey.  
Fly, fly, Arsanes, breath on what Soil thou wilt  
Thy hated Life, though every Sea should join  
In one vast Ocean, their assistant Floods  
To part us ever, though thy adverse Feet  
In unknown Tracks kick at our upper Earth,  
Though o'er the Starry Pole thou soaring fliest  
Above old Winter, and deep Beds of Snow,  
Our painted Vengeance shall pursue thy Soul,  
And spy thee in thy darkest Caverns hid,  
Pierce through thy Mansion with our sharp Revenge,  
Or send our Curses, where we cannot reach.  [Exit. Odm. 
See there, Arsanes, how the rolling Waves  
Come on amain, and dash thee on the Rock.  Abd. 
Methinks we two now like the Sea-born Giants,  
Great Otus, and tall Ephaltes' stand,  
And grow out all their Acres in a moment.  Odm. 
Our Fortune's Friend in this vast Enterprise  
Have made us free to give the Scythian Throne  
To whom we please; Come, Mandricard, and claim  
Thy vast Possessions, ask us Heaven next,  
And we'll do more with these two Fertile Brains,  
Then e'er Briareus with his hundred Hands.  [Exeunt. Asteria's Apartment. Who is discovered lying on a Couch, a Cupid in Soft Music descends over her and Sings. 

Song.  

HOw pleasant Virtue are thy Slumbers,  
Sound thy Sleeps, and sweet thy Dreams,  
While thee no Fear, no Guilt incumbers,  
Danger frights, or Thought condemns?   

2.  
Thou naked with resistless Armour  
Dost thyself revenge, and shield,  
Thou silent art so sweet a Charmer,  
To thy Reasons all must yield.   

3.  
On thy fair Brow sits smiling Honour,  
justice waits thy awful Voice,  
Thou Heir to Blessing's art, thou Owner  
Of Rich Fortune's Richest joys.   

4.  
Thou, what is heavens' greatest Blessing,  
Art the Darling Child of Love,  
Though Heaven yet hinder from possessing,  
It will all thy Pains remove.    [The Cupid ascends. Asteria awakes in great disorder. Ast. 
What Mystic Objects entertain my Soul,  
And hold me in amazement? how confused  
Are all my Thoughts, kind Joys with Troubles mixed,  
Hope with dread Fear, disordered mass of Fancy!  
The End seemed good, but oh that End is vain,  
As fleeting as its Shade, as womanish  
And fond a Dream, as to my wearied Eyes  
Thought could suggest, or Mimic Fancy play.  Is going out. Enter Mandricard staying her. Man. 
So on fair Paphos' Isle the wanton Queen  
Her Shelly Chariot drawn with sporting Doves,  
Had lightly entered in a smiling Calm,  
Ready to cruise upon her Parent Seas,  
When from afar the Warlike God espied her,  
And brought her back to more substantial Pleasures.  Ast. 
What means this fatal Comet to our House,  
Near what new birth of mischief does he shine?  Man. 
At length my Prayers are heard, my Vows have reached  
The Deity, to which they were addressed.  
Accept, O Fairest Power, from a Prince,  
The Faithful Sacrifice of Humblest Thanks,  
For all the Blessings you have poured upon him.  Ast. 
What Blessings, or what Prince? yet should there be  
Any my tenderness has gratified,  
He's chose an ill Ambassador I'm sure  
To pay his just Acknowledgements, which needs  
Must taste ungrateful from the Man I hate.  Man. 
Heaven, how discordant are her Hand and Tongue!  
Think not, Asteria, Mandricard could trust  
To any Second his most Bosom Secret,  
I the Receiver-kneel to pay the Debt.  Ast. 
If you from me a Kindness did receive,  
I'm sure 'twas small, and may be paid with ease.  Man. 
How unconcerned she speaks, and looks disdain!  
Yes, Madam, Heart for Heart is easy change;  
Flames will meet Flames, and Fires join with Fires,  
Ravage through all, and leave no middle space.  Ast. 
Ravest thou, or do my Ears drink in a Sound  
As real, as 'tis monstrous? Oh my Stars,  
Protect me, and remove the hateful Object.  Man. 
Yet Princess, your fair Hand has otherwise  
Deciphered me— the Glorious Mandricard—  Ast. 
My Hand!  Man. 
Your Hand, which on the happy Paper pressed  
The Praises of your much loved Mandricard.  Ast. 
Cursed be that Hand that writes thee aught but Fiend,  
Cursed be that Tongue that speaks thee aught but Monster.  Man. 
Unfold, Great Alha, this Mysterious Secret!  
Come, you dissemble, and a modest shame  
Defers our Joys.  Ast. 
I'd clasp a Serpent sooner;  
Had my base Hand e'er thus belied my Heart,  
As an infectious Limb I'd tear it from  
My tainted Body, for the Wild Beasts, or Flames.  Man. 
You need not now, Asteria, use such Language,  
There are no Oaths, no Promises, no Vows  
To be kept now: Sure Death has swallowed all,  
And cold Arsanes in their ruin lies.  Ast. 
Yes, I will keep 'em still to punish thee,  
My Faith shall be the Scourge of my Revenge,  
My Constancy shall keep thee on a Rack  
Of Everlasting Torments, and my Oaths  
Shall one by one strike thee with mad despair;  
Thou art my Slave, and thou shalt live like one.  
Thinkest thou, fond Fomenter of my Grief,  
I do not hate that Man to Death, nay Hell,  
That caused Arsanes Ruin? Proud Prince, I do;  
Remember, Sir, my Brothers, Fathers Wrongs,  
And blush to ask a Grace of me; to love?  
No not to look, or visit me with Monsters.  Man. 
You treat me, Fair one, so severe a way,  
As forces me to plead in my defence.  
If in the War your Brother fell, not I,  
But Fortune guiding my far-wandring Steel,  
Cut off the forward Youth—  
For your Great Fathers, and Arsanes Wrongs,  
I'm innocent as harmless Infants are.  Ast. 
You innocent! so's Hell; so is your Train  
Of Fellow-Villains, Infernal Ministers,  
Are they not Prince?  Man. 
What e'er you'll have 'em be  
They are, they must; and which of 'em but dares  
Offer to plead his Innocence, he dies.  Ast. 
Fine Flatterer! thus did that supple Tongue  
Sooth Tamerlane to hate the best of Princes:  
Nor have you ended there, but cherish still  
Your Breast with thinking with what subtle Art  
You spread your Snares to catch the Prey designed,  
And glory in the Murderous Success.  Man. 
How sweet her Looks, yet dreadful to approach!  
Madam, a Prince repentant begs your Pardon,  
And as the Fury of the Scythian Sword  
Is now assuaged, untaught to hurt or kill,  
So let your Anger be allayed with mildness;  
So will the World in peaceful Triumph sit,  
And smiling, palls the envious Fates designs.  To them Ispatia. 
Ha! whence that Hellish Fury like herself  
Has brought her here? Curse on the twining Serpent!  
Shall I ne'er shake her off! by Heaven it comes!  
A swift Contrivance whets my sudden Thought,  
Which shall divide us ever, far as Heaven,  
Or far as Hell their Centre hold from Earth.  [Exit. Isp. 
Art thou the watery Source from whence this Stream,  
These daily gushing of my Mourning Eyes  
Burst forth, and almost drown my fainting Heart?  
Are those the Comets, whose dire Influence  
Sheds Ruin on me; is there in that Voice  
So sweet an Harmony, so full of Charms,  
It can bewitch the Sense of Mandricard?  Ast. 
Yes, Mandricard has learned to stoop to me,  
And at my Feet his daily Homage pay,  
Which thus I scorn, and spurn even into Wind.  Isp. 
Unsufferable Creature, does she scorn him?  
Oh more, far more than this, I could endure  
Her Love; contemn him? nay that is not all,  
She Rivals me, and yet professes scorn;  
Is't not enough you have ensnared his Love?  
Caught with a Golden Bait his yielding Heart?  
But you must on his Honour raise contempt,  
And make him cheap— Oh Torture, Oh my Soul!  Ast. 
Know then, Ispatia, if you are resolved  
To sound my Heart, I frankly must confess  
I hate him, hate my Brother's Murderer  
To death, and pray the Gods he may so love,  
So burn with Passion, till I pity him,  
Which Furies first shall do unto the Damned.  
Nay do not rage, but thank me that I hate him,  
For had I loved, Ispatia, had I loved,  
You might have found him locked within my Arms,  
Not prostrate at my Feet, nor had you e'er  
Have been admitted to reprove me for it,  
As now you do.  Isp. 
'Tis like I should not, Captive,  
Nor am I now perhaps, by your good leave;  
Yet I'll maintain the happiness I've sought,  
Stay here and pierce through either Heart, as far  
As Sharp eyed Jealousy can look.  Ast. 
Complete  
With this one Promise then my Happiness,  
To hold him ever after from my sight.  
But see, he comes—  [Enter Mandricard with a Priest. Isp. 
A Priest! what Omens now  
Swell big that holy Harbinger of Fate?  Man. 
This holy Man, Ispatia, as of old  
He joined our Hands before the smiling Gods,  
So would he now our Hearts; one Kiss upon  
The Sacred Alcoran, and our Love is Sealed.  Isp. 
Blessed Alteration!  Ast. 
O thrice happy Hour!  Isp. 
What sudden Ague seizes my chilled Limbs?  
How my Eyes dazzle, and my Senses swim!  
What have we done, my Lord?  Man. 
O nothing, nothing,  
'Tis but a Fit, a Qualm, a certain Scout,  
Or flying Messenger from Death's Tribunal,  
To summon thee to Everlasting Rest.  Isp. 
What means my Lord?  Man. 
Oh 'tis a Sovereign Balm,  
A Cure to all Distempers— to be plain,  
The Book was poisoned, and thou hast drunk the Venom.  Isp. 
O Traitor! yet ere I expire, hear me.  Man. 
Speak quickly then.  Isp. 
Not long ago, my Lord, you did receive  
A Letter from that Princess.  Ast. 
Me!  Isp. 
With all  
The Power of Penitence I here implore  
Your Pardon.  Man. 
What means the Fury?  Isp. 
In her Name  
You took, embraced it, locked within your Bosom  
The outward Manuscript, within your Heart  
The sweet Contents.  Man. 
Which do enrich my Soul!  Isp. 
But now, ungrateful Man, be't spoke at last.  
To fright thy Lawless Passion be it spoke;  
I, not Asteria, wrote those Fatal Words  
Which cause my Death.  Man. 
Then would to Mahomet  
They may prove thy Damnation too.  Ast. 
Oh Heaven!  Isp. 
Well, Traitor, thou hast had thy Fatal Wish,  
As it is sure I die; but know base Poisoner,  
Thy wily Treasons have not set thee free,  
Nor will Ispatia leave thee even in Death,  
I'll fright thee in thy Dreams, I'll haunt thee waking,  
I'll scourge thy Conscience with Whips of Remorse.  
The Sting of Serpents shall be nothing to it.  
Yes, I will have Revenge, I will; I'll strike  
Thee mad with terror, when thou dar'st approach  
My Rivals Beauties; Clasp her, and I'll glide  
All Cold between, and dash the fancied Joy.  
O Alha, Mahomet, O Courteous Heaven,  
Give me but Power as here I yield my Soul  
Up to your Mercy in Death's cruel Pangs.  [Dies. Man. 
Remove the hated Body from my sight.  Ast. 
And are there Powers in Heaven, and can they see  
This Sacrilegious Mischief go unpunished?  Man. 
What ever Deities in Heaven there are,  
They prove the Deed, and smile upon the Doer.  
And thus by giving thee reward it; now Priest.  [Mandricard and the Priest take her up, and are carrying her off. Ast. 
Look down, O Mahomet, from Heaven, behold  
My hard distressed Fortune; save, oh save  
A Virgin's Chastity, unsoiled, unstained,  
And right with Miracles thy Power contemned.  Enter Axalla and Zanches, their Swords drawn. Ax. 
This way, this way the mournful Echo calls.  
Oh the bold Traitors, Sacrilegious Villains.  [They fight, Mandricard and the Priest are beaten off. 
They run, they fly; now injured Virtue, seek  [To Ast. 
Thy safe Retreat, while I pursue the Villains.  [Exeunt. Ast. 
Who e'er you be just Mahomet reward you.  [Exit. SCENE a Wood Arsanes sitting melancholy on a Green Bank, while his Page sings this SONG. 

BEhold ye Sylvans that frequent  
This silent, sighing, mourning Grove;  
Behold the Fountains, Birds lament,  
Unhappy Damon's fatal Love.  
Chloris to him her Heart denies,  
For which the gentle Shepherd dies.  
Ch. Chloris to him etc.   

Bright Chloris fairest of her kind,  
That charmed with Smiles the yielding Swain,  
False Chloris falser than the Wind,  
That turns his Fairy joys to Pain.  
Her Vows, her Oaths which tired Heaven,  
Were for so many Curses given.  
Ch. Her Vows, her Oaths etc.   

Then fill with hollow Sighs the Day,  
With Cypress strew the mourning Green;  
Let nothing fresh, let nothing gay  
O'er all the fading Plain be seen;  
for see the Swain lies bleeding there,  
Wounded by Love, dead with Despair.  
Ch. For see the Swain etc.   Ars. 
Thus in a Chaos of cold discontent  
I pass the weary Minutes, breathing forth  
My daily Passions from my wasted Spirits;  
Unhappy, wretched Prince, how Destiny  
Allots unjust misfortunes to thy Youth!  
Which to others is a flowing Spring of good,  
To thee's a frosty Winter of cold Sorrow.  
Oh my Nerina! how thy doubtful Faith  
Strikes deep my Heart; nor can I think thee false  
To thy false Hand against thy Virtue plead.  
So, thus— I may gaze here till I am blind,  [Looking on the Letter. 
But never here shall satisfaction find.  [Throwing it away. Enter in haste Axalla and Zanches. Ax. 
Live, live Arsanes.  
In just Obedience to your great Commands  
I went to the Apartment of Asteria;  
Where first I heard what seized my Soul with horror,  
And numbed my Senses with a Marble Fear;  
I heard, Arsanes, your Nerina shrieking,  
With all the Struggle of a Ravished Maid.  
When from her Chamber rushed in furious haste  
The Villain Mandricard, and the prophaner  
Villain a Priest, who grasped the Sacred Store.  
Raised by the Power of so just an Anger,  
Your Old Man's Blood glowed with a Youthful Heat,  
While with our Swords I and the Faithful Zanches  
Pursued the Traitors, forced 'em quit their Treasure,  
And made 'em thankful to their Stars for Life.  Ars. 
O Golden Minute! Thanks O Gracious Heaven!  
And thou its kindest happiest Instrument.  Ax. 
What Past before her fair Hand will unfold,  
This Letter to your Hand she charged me bring.  Ars. 
They're welcome on what ever Errand sent,  
Axalla, see the wondrous mighty Proof  [Reading. 
Of her wronged Innocence, she writes, not she,  
But fond Ispatia, as dying she confessed,  
Was Author of those Lines which drove us hither  
In so much Fury, and so much Despair.  Ax. 
'Tis as Axalla's Heart could wish it should be.  Ars. 
How could I trust these Characters which are  
Unlike, as Faith and Falsehood, Love and Hate,  
Hope and Despair; and should I then have cursed,  
Cursed her sweet Virtue for another's Crime?  
Such words would sure have blasted me, such words  
Had gave my Heart the lie, had swollen my Tongue  
With its own Venom, nay had pressed and gripped  
My thoughtful Sense with wrecks of dire remorse,  
And the black Scourge of self-tormenting Conscience.  Ax. 
But see, my Lord, the tenderest words she writes!  
See at the end of her Complaints her Prayers,  
She begs Protection from your Royal Hands.  Ars. 
Protect her! yes, against the Universe,  
Brother, and Father; Fortunes Darts, and Fates  
Decrees, the business of our Watchful Eyes  
Shall be to mark her Enemies, our Strength  
And well-collected Virtue be her Guard  
Where e'er she moves: Let us not waste in words  
One moment of our Life, these happy Hours,  
A swift Obedience calls our Hearts and Hands,  
For from Nerina came the soft Commands.  [Exeunt.  

ACT V.  Arsanes, Asteria. Ars. 
WIth equal Joy, as when the first-born Man  
Through a sweet Paradise led his Infant Bride,  
With all the Pleasures of a welcome Love  
Do I unsatiate with Asteria's Charms  
Pass the glad day.  Ast. 
Did not my Father's Fate  
Oppose the sweet delights of growing Love,  
This day I could with mighty Queens dispute  
The Number of blessed Minutes.  Ars. 
Oh my Soul.  Ast. 
My Heart, I can profus'dly wish!  Ars. 
My all that I can ask, and Heaven can give.  Enter Abdalla, with Guards. Abd. 
Or I'm mistaken, or  
This is the Traitor, apprehend him.  Ars. 
Whom?  Abd. 
Arsanes, Sir, me thinks you much resemble  
That great, outwitted Statesman Prince.  Ars. 
'Tis he; Slave, speak thy Errand.  Abd. 
From Tamerlane.  Ars. 
No more; 'tis Blasphemy  
To ask, or to dispute the Cause, I go  
Where e'er he calls to shameful Bands, or Death.  
Lead on— but oh, my Heart, forget her not  
Asteria—  Ast. 
My Lord—  Abd. 
We must not wait  
Fond Lovers tedious part's; Lead away.  Ars. 
Farewell, Fair Star, for ever.  [Is led off. Ast. 
He's gone, he's gone;  
Hurried away by Traitors to his Death,  
And oh, ye Powers, I had not power to speak  
My last Farewell; I'll follow though, and pierce  
Without regard of Life or Being, through  
All that does, can oppose me; break through Fire,  
Through Flames, o'er Mountains pass, and swelling Seas,  
Through Files of Tartars, Swords, Lances, Javelins.  
Armed with resistless Love, and Rage, I'll fly  
Like Lightning in a moment to his Cell,  
With all the force of parting Love embrace him.  
Bath with my Widow-Tears his panting Breast,  
Bask in his Eyes, share that Eternal Rest  
His Noble Soul shall claim among the Blessed.  Exit. Mandricard is discovered asleep, the Ghost of Ispatia by him with a Dagger in her Hand, threatening him. Gh. 
Rest, rest, my Soul, at last great heavens' Care,  
Let never Innocence of Heaven despair.  
Thus sent, thus armed, an injured Shade I come  
To scourge thee, Prince, for thy untimely Doom.  
Thy Conscience thus just Alha does unseal,  
And to thee all the horrors of thy Crimes reveal.  
With Frenzy shalt thou rage, with Sorrow groan,  
And in deep thought thy dazzled Senses drown.  
An inward Hell thee, Poisoner, shall burn▪  
Nor shalt thou ever to thyself return.  Exit. Mandricard rises frighted and raging. Man. 
I would have torn her, and have sacrificed  
Her Members to Ispatia's wandering Ghost;  
Nay haunt me not, dear Shade, I've sworn to do it,  
With as much Art I'll work thy Rival's Fate,  
As th' wiliest Devil of 'em all can wish.  
What Sorcery this Turkish Beauty bears!  
Ha! where so swiftly fled! have Harlot's Wings?  
Then to the Icarian Flood I'll steer my Course,  
Drain it, and rob the unexperienced Boy  
Of his ill-managed Quills, born on whose Force  
I'll mount, and catch her in her hottest Chase.  Enter Odmar, Abdalla. Odm. 
My Lord, Lord Mandricard.  Man. 
Did not you see a Monster up the Hill.  
Sharp radiant Arrows armed her Magic Eyes,  
Her Face, or no Face, or her double Face,  
Showed crooked, Nature shrouded by false Art,  
These well-known marks make ill for her escape.  
hay follow, seek, 'tis worth our pains, and more,  
Millions to one but we shall seize the Witch.  
See ho! see there o'er yonder Plain she fleets!  
O for an Arrow from Diana's Quiver!  
Spread wide your Nets, mark where to Autumn Grace  
The verdant Spring is changed, that, that's her Road,  
Made hoary by her Sorcery and Charms.  
She's near, she's near; my Nostrils draw the Scent  
Of Paints, of Powders, Daub, strong Perfumes,  
A Whore will scent a Mile— so nimble— ha,  
'Tis noble Sport, so hei, follow, so hei.  [Runs up and down, and out. Odm. 
Was ever such a Change in Nature wrought!  
So sudden, yet so perfect!  Abd. 
This your Plots,  
Your Stratagems have done, had I been heard,  
He had e'er this have worn a Crown by Arms  
Nobly achieved.  Odm. 
Thine were the means to sure  
Destruction, this we may amend.  Abd. 
Ha, ha!  
Dost thou not see our hopes in frenzy drowned?  
Brave had you fell my way, as shameful this.  Odm. 
We'll follow him—  Abd. 
In vain.  Odm. 
Our Counsels may—  Abd. 
Make him a Fool, as they have made him mad.  Odm. 
What shall I do?  Abd. 
Die in the Act like Men.  Odm. 
Or live, and work more Ruin.  Abd. 
And be found  
Traitors at last, most infamous and base.  A Noise of Fighting. Odm. 
What Noise is that?  Abd. 
'Tis the dear Shout of Battle,  
Abdalla, to thy loved Vocation.  [Exit Odm. 
Go,  
I'll follow, and thy dangerous Fortune's share.  [Exit. The Scene opening, discovers Tamerlane, Odmar, Abdalla, encountering Axalla, Zanches, and others. Ax. 
Arsanes, live; or perish all thy Friends.  Peo. 
Revenge, Revenge our Prince Arsanes wrongs.  Ax. 
They fly, they fly; see, O the wronged Arsanes,  
Thy Succour nigh.  [Tam. and his Party give back▪ Abd. 
We must not thus give up  
To Slaves our Laurels while Abdalla lives.  Ax. 
Die then perfidious, base, eternal Villain!  [Kills Abdalla. A Retreat is sounded on Tamerlanes side, the Scene closes. Enter Tamerlane, Odmar. Tam. 
Dead or alive he will my Ruin prove.  Odm. 
Dispatch him straight.  Tam. 
You're rash, and unadvised;  
Prove thyself worthy of the Name thou bear'st  
Our Counsellor, or die.  Odm. 
Your Slave's Advice  
Meets your Commands; let, Sir, Arsanes live;  
Free him.  Tam. 
Ha! sayst thou!  Odm. 
These Reports will quell  
Th' incensed Crowd; while I in Ambush laid  
In some dark secret Corner of the Palace,  
Rush on him swelled with pride, and reeling with  
The drunkenness of Love, end him, my Lord,  
Big with large expectations of delight,  
And from your Royal Sceptre take the Guilt.  Tam. 
Thou art my Soul, my Empire's Prop, and Refuge,  
Who hast revived it sinking from its Ashes;  
Next to our own, when thy Blessed Hand performs  
The happy Work of thy projecting Brain,  
I'll Crown thy Head with Laurel and with Gold,  
Boasting of thee our Life and Throne to hold.  [Exit. Odm. 
Now Odmar, for thy share expect no less  
Than Sceptres for thy dear contriving Wit;  
Ha, ha, ha, ha, to see the Shallow King  
Expect Security and Bliss from me.  
Vain Fools who think we work for any Ends  
But for our own— How tamely the dull Crowd  
Lay down their Arms, and leave their Prince defenceless;  
Die, die, Arsanes, and live Mandricard,  
And I thy happy Father; with what ease  
Odmar a Crown has purchased to his Race!  
Me thinks I see my numerous Royal Offspring  
Steal softly by, all Crowned; no more, let others  
By Blood and Civil Wars an Empire gain.  
'tis Fraud alone false Titles can maintain.  [Exit. A Chamber. Enter Arsanes. Ars. 
I wonder how the Grave and Wise define  
Th' uncertain motions of ambiguous Chance,  
While equally she flatters, and destroys.  
'Tis true I'm free, live, have large promises  
To Love and Reign, as my high Birth requires.  
But oh, what safety's in that Freedom found  
From the sweet quiet of the Mind exiled!  
That I in Chains!  [Enter Axalla. Ax. 
My Lord!  Ars. 
What hast my Friend,  
To view this Load of Shame?  Ax. 
Ha, Prince.  Ars. 
I said my Shame.  
Am I not marked in every Limb a Villain?  Ax. 
This Temper suits not with your Fate, my Lord,  
Thick Crowds of Friends expect you at the Court,  
Waiting to Crown your vast Desert with Honour.  
Which Tamerlane by me commands you take.  Ars. 
What sort of Honour is to Rebels due?  Ax. 
Rebels?  Ars. 
Am I not one? how came I here?  Ax. 
Leave those jealous Thoughts:  
Ranked in long Rows the gazing People stand  
An endless Multitude; while smiling Virgins  
From Windows, mixed with Joyful Matrons, lean,  
All hoping, and all wishing, praying too  
For your Approach; Arsanes is the Sound,  
The only Sound the Gods can hear from Earth.  Ars. 
Triumphant Villain that I am!  Ax. 
Ha! Villain!  
Fool that I am to court a dreaming Zealot  
To sublime Honours; stupid, thankless Prince;  
Is this the Character our love deserves?  
Traitors and Villains! Oh the hateful Name!  
Go, Prince, and as thy unmanned Soul requires,  
Neglecting Palaces, in Dungeons die,  
Slave-marking Iron press with vilest pain  
Those Limbs, which Sword, Steel, Fire have sustained.  
Farewell, Arsanes, neither Prince, nor Man.  Ars. 
Hold, Noble Friend; pardon, oh Axalla, pardon  
A few rash words; the Act in you was good,  
Friendlike, and Just; and were it not forbid,  
Forbid by Duty, it were so in me;  
But oh!  Ax. 
Still dreaming?  Ars. 
Oh my Innocence  
Thou sacred fort, fair Guardian of my Breast,  
Where art thou fled? me thinks I'm left alone,  
Disarmed, defenceless, since I saw thee last.  Ax. 
Still in the tedious maze of fearful doubts!  Ars. 
Where e'er I turn I see my Ruin nigh.  Ax. 
Mark then your surest way to Life or Death,  
Bright Honour, or base Shame; the King, Arsanes,  
Brooks heavily the scorn of his Commands,  
Your Friends their ill accepted Love repent,  
And sad Nerina all in Tears protests  
She never thought Arsanes could deny  
Her any thing.  Ars. 
Hold, thou hast said enough;  
Words of such wondrous sense, so moving, full  
With Arguments of such prevailing Power,  
Would raise the dull Lethargic from his Dream;  
That Threefold Chain of Duty, Friendship, Love,  
Would bind the Roving Sylvan Honours Slave;  
Faith draws the Wills of Men to my defence,  
Duty and Love Auxiliary Gods.  [Exeunt. Odmar solus. Odm. 
Traitor! 'tis a Name of vast import!  
Not armed with furbished Brass, nor locked in Steel,  
He bears the noiseless Weapons of Deceit.  
Lies politic, and subtle Flatteries  
Raise him to trust; what cannot Villains trusted?  
We change, destroy, make Princes, and unmake.  
Unenvied be henceforth Cassander famed,  
Dire Sylla, Close Sejanus, Cruel Marius,  
Seditious Gracchi, Godlike Catiline,  
With all the Glorious Traitors of each Age;  
Not the false Smerdis with his Magic Train  
Could sound the dark Abyss of Odmars' Plots.  Peop. 
Long live Great Tamerlane, and Prince Arsanes.  [Shout within. Odm. 
Hark, now me thinks I see this Lover come  
Hot with desire; see how the too rash Fool  
With what large hasty steps he meets half way  
My Dagger's Point; now, Heart, for thy Revenge!  
Heaven guide my Hand where I resolve to strike!  
Here will I make my Vigilant Retreat,  
All Passages but through this Gate are barred  
To the dear Lodgings of his loved Asteria;  
While the dark Night shall shroud me and my Guilt.  [Retreats. Enter Mandricard. Man. 
No not so much as one poor Cypress Torch  
To light her to her Grave— ah the much-wronged Ispatia!  [Odmar rushes on him and stabs him with a Poniard. Odm. 
As sure a Thrust as ever Malice made.  
Lie there thou empty Blaze of Fame; while I  
Run with false Tears, devulger of thy Fate.  
Oh how the Crowd will fret! the Prince Arsanes,  
The Noble Prince lies murdered in the way.  
Help, help, the Prince is murdered. oh, oh, oh, oh.  [Exit. Man. 
Darkness and Horror! whither am I going?  
What greedy Horseleech sucks my Vital Blood,  
And draws me to a Being like Ispatia's?  
Laugh, laugh, ye Furies, and ye Devils grin,  
Scourge me with Scorpions, punish me with Flames,  
Eternal Flames; tear, consume, devour me,  
Let Hell surround me with her greatest Torments,  
Severest Plagues prepared for blackest Souls;  
But turn the wronged Ispatia from my sight,  
Ispatia's Presence is a Thousand Hells.  [Dies. Re enter Odmar with a dark Lantern. Odm. 
But to be sure thou'rt dead, it much concerns.  
By Heaven 'tis Mandricard, Death, Furies, Hell,  
And thou, cursed Hand, false Author of my woe,  
Thou Traitor to my Will, and Rebel to my Aim;  
Oh the black Curse of Chance—  
And plague of Accidents! so gross an Error  
Was wrought sure by the envy of the Stars.  
My Mandricard, my Son, oh, oh, my Son.  Enter Tamerlane. Tam. 
Keep back the Rabble, and yourselves retreat,  
While I survey and mourn my hapless Son.  
Well, Friend, thou'st done the business.  Odm. 
Very well,  
To make the Strumpet Fortune frisk and laugh.  Tam. 
What mean you Friend?  Odm. 
I mean there is in Heaven  
A Jubilee among Arsanes Stars.  Tam. 
That he's come there—  Odm. 
That he is not come there.  Tam. 
Thy Mystic Speech I cannot comprehend,  
Nor sound thy Sense, no nor thy Ghastly Looks.  Odm. 
This will explain 'em all—  [Points to Mandric. Tam. 
By all the Gods  
'Tis Mandricard, Cursed Villain— Oh my Son.  Odm. 
Ha, ha, ha.  Tam. 
What would thy Mirth?  Odm. 
Seeing once a Corpse  
On a Black Beer to gloomy Pluto born.  
●laught to see the sympathetic Crowd  
Howl, yell, lament, as they were Parents all.  
What was the Corpse to them, or they to it?  Tam. 
Yet Riddling, Slave? what hoa my Guards— who waits?  
Seize there the Murderer.  [Enter Guards. Odm. 
I scorn to perish by a Fate so base.  
Thus do the Noble die—  [Stabs himself. 
What mean those Tears?  [Too Tam. 
Know, King, thou shouldst have shed those very Tears  
Some twenty years ago, when Mandricard  
Your Son, my Charge, a tender Infant died;  
Then the wished Glory of my days began;  
He deyed; I to his room my Son advanced,  
My own Themyre, supposed your Mandricard.  
My swelled Ambition yet did higher aim,  
A King, at least the Father of a King  
I was resolved to raise myself. Think, Sir,  
By me how oft Arsanes has been made  
By me a Traitor, never of himself.  
This was the last unlucky Cheat I acted,  
Which the cursed Fates had otherwise decreed,  
And turned on me the Ruins of my Wish.  
Scarce can I more; my Death comes swiftly on;  
While from my Actions I this Glory draw,  
None could but Odmar, Odmars' Plots destroy.  [Dies. Tam. 
Remove the wretched Bodies from my sight,  
The hated Traitor, and the cursed Impostor!  
First let 'em hang a public Spectacle  
In our high Road which to the Palace leads,  
Then when all Eyes are glutted with the sight,  
Cast 'em to Birds and Beasts a welcome Prey.  Enter an Officer. Off. 
Prepare, Great Tamerlane, for your defence,  
Uproars and Tumults every where are risen.  
Fame of Arsanes Death has armed the Crowd,  
With Fury, Rage, Suspicions, Frenzies, Fears,  
Yourself the sole Promoter of his Fate  
Are sworn, arraigned, on you they vow Revenge.  Tam. 
Hast quickly, and with Trumpets Sound pronounce  
The Rumour false; their loved Arsanes lives;  
By blessed mistake 'tis Mandricard is fallen.  [Exit off. 
Call to my Arms the Noble Prince Arsanes,  
And his fair Mistress; at last my Eyes are open,  
Unsealed to Truth, I see and am confirmed  
No close Conspiracy, or black Design,  
But Love, and only Love, their Hearts did join.  Enter Arsanes and Asteria. Tam. 
Thanks, O Propitious Heaven, thanks my Stars,  
And all ye Angels Guards of Innocence,  
Which have restored, and brought into his Right  
The wronged Arsanes, welcome O my Son,  
Thy Enemies are dead, the Impostors dead,  
And with them all Suspicions of thy Faith,  
Thy Injuries are dead— Oh my Arsanes,  
A Father in the Face of Heaven salutes thee  
A happy Bridegroom, from a Father's Hand,  
Receive thy Fairer Virtues, Fair Reward.  Ars. 
O Ecstasy! Oh Paradise of Joy!  
I come scarce hoping for a pardon, and find  
A full Reward, Inestimable Treasure,  
Eternal Bliss; nor is it Fairy Treasure!  
No, no, I have it here, I hold it, grasp it,  
A Real Pleasure, and Substantial Good.  
But oh let not the fullness of my Joy  
Make me unmindful of the Noble Giver.  
Oh, my Asteria—  Ast. 
My Lord!  Ars. 
Thus let us kneel,  
With Thanks unto our Father.  Ast. 
Our Preserver!  Ars. 
Our new Creator, thus let us lie prostrate,  
And wonder at our sudden Happiness.  Tam. 
Rise and believe it granted; now witness Heaven,  
And ye kind Stars, that smile upon our Throne,  
With what untroubled Joy I join the Hands  
Of the blessed Loyal Pair.  
The Sacred tie just Alha shall confirm,  
And as we Sign, Seal your Eternal Loves.  Ars. 
Thanks O our Royal Father, Godlike Prince,  
And double Author of my happy Being.  
So may Great Alha all your Actions Crown,  
And with Eternal Blessings Guard your Throne.  
As I your worthy Praises loudly sing,  
The Kindest Father, and the Justest King.  [Exeunt.  

EPILOGUE, By Mr. DRYDEN.  

LAdies, the Beardless Author of this Day,  
Commends to you the Fortune of his Play.  
A Woman Wit has often graced the Stage,  
But he's the first Boy-Poet of our Age.  
Early as is the Year his Fancies blow,  
Like young Narcissus peeping through the Snow;  
Thus Cowley Blossomed soon, yet Flourished long,  
This is as forward, and may prove as strong.  
Youth with the Fair should always Favour find,  
Or we are damned Dissemblers of our kind.  
What's all this Love they put into our Parts?  
'Tis but the pit-a-pat of Two Young Hearts.  
Should Hag and Graybeard make such tender moan,  
Faith you'd e'en trust 'em▪ to themselves alone,  
And cry let's go, here's nothing to be done.  
Since Love's our Business, as 'tis your Delight,  
The Young, who best can practise, best can Write.  
What though he be not come to his full Power,  
He's mending and improving every hour.  
You sly She-Iockies of the Box and Pit,  
Are pleased to find a hot unbroken Wit,  
By management he may in time be made,  
But there's no hopes of an old battered jade;  
Faint and unnerved he runs into a Sweat,  
And always fails you at the Second Heat.   
FINIS.