Dr. Johnson's Works: Life, Poems, and Tales Part 27

Bold slave, I know them both--I know them traitors.

MUSTAPHA.

Perfidious!--yes--too well thou know'st them traitors.

IRENE.

Their treason throws no stain upon Irene.

This day has prov'd my fondness for the sultan; He knew Irene's truth.

MUSTAPHA.

The sultan knows it; He knows, how near apostasy to treason-- But 'tis not mine to judge--I scorn and leave thee.

I go, lest vengeance urge my hand to blood, To blood too mean to stain a soldier's sabre.

[_Exit_ Mustapha.

IRENE, _to her attendants_.

Go, bl.u.s.t'ring slave--He has not heard of Murza.

That dext'rous message frees me from suspicion.

SCENE VIII.

_Enter_ HASAN, CARAZA, _with mutes, who throw the black robe upon_ IRENE, _and sign to her attendants to withdraw_.

HASAN.

Forgive, fair excellence, th' unwilling tongue, The tongue, that, forc'd by strong necessity, Bids beauty, such as thine, prepare to die.

IRENE.

What wild mistake is this! Take hence, with speed, Your robe of mourning, and your dogs of death.

Quick from my sight, you inauspicious monsters; Nor dare, henceforth, to shock Irene's walks.

HASAN.

Alas! they come commanded by the sultan, Th' unpitying ministers of Turkish justice, Nor dare to spare the life his frown condemns.

IRENE.

Are these the rapid thunderbolts of war, That pour with sudden violence on kingdoms, And spread their flames, resistless, o'er the world?

What sleepy charms benumb these active heroes, Depress their spirits, and r.e.t.a.r.d their speed?

Beyond the fear of ling'ring punishment, Aspasia now, within her lover's arms, Securely sleeps, and, in delightful dreams, Smiles at the threat'nings of defeated rage.

CARAZA.

We come, bright virgin, though relenting nature Shrinks at the hated task, for thy destruction.

When summon'd by the sultan's clam'rous fury, We ask'd, with tim'rous tongue, th' offender's name, He struck his tortur'd breast, and roar'd, Irene!

We started at the sound, again inquir'd; Again his thund'ring voice return'd, Irene!

IRENE.

Whence is this rage; what barb'rous tongue has wrong'd me?

What fraud misleads him? or what crimes incense?

HASAN.

Expiring Cali nam'd Irene's chamber, The place appointed for his master's death.

IRENE.

Irene's chamber! From my faithful bosom Far be the thought--But hear my protestation.

CARAZA.

'Tis ours, alas! to punish, not to judge, Not call'd to try the cause, we heard the sentence, Ordain'd the mournful messengers of death.

IRENE.

Some ill designing statesman's base intrigue!

Some cruel stratagem of jealous beauty!

Perhaps, yourselves the villains that defame me:-- Now haste to murder, ere returning thought Recall th' extorted doom.--It must be so: Confess your crime, or lead me to the sultan; There dauntless truth shall blast the vile accuser; Then shall you feel, what language cannot utter, Each piercing torture, ev'ry change of pain, That vengeance can invent, or pow'r inflict.

[_Enter_ Abdalla: _he stops short and listens_.

SCENE IX.

IRENE, HASAN, CARAZA, ABDALLA.

ABDALLA, _aside_.

All is not lost, Abdalla; see the queen, See the last witness of thy guilt and fear, Enrob'd in death--Despatch her, and be great.

CARAZA.

Unhappy fair! compa.s.sion calls upon me To check this torrent of imperious rage: While unavailing anger crowds thy tongue With idle threats and fruitless exclamation, The fraudful moments ply their silent wings, And steal thy life away. Death's horrid angel Already shakes his b.l.o.o.d.y sabre o'er thee.

The raging sultan burns, till our return, Curses the dull delays of ling'ring mercy, And thinks his fatal mandates ill obey'd.

ABDALLA.

Is then your sov'reign's life so cheaply rated, That thus you parley with detected treason?

Should she prevail to gain the sultan's presence, Soon might her tears engage a lover's credit; Perhaps, her malice might transfer the charge; Perhaps, her pois'nous tongue might blast Abdalla.

IRENE.

O! let me but be heard, nor fear from me Or flights of pow'r, or projects of ambition.

My hopes, my wishes, terminate in life, A little life, for grief, and for repentance.

ABDALLA.

I mark'd her wily messenger afar, And saw him sculking in the closest walks: I guess'd her dark designs, and warn'd the sultan, And bring her former sentence new-confirmed.

HASAN.

Then call it not our cruelty, nor crime; Deem us not deaf to woe, nor blind to beauty, That, thus constrain'd, we speed the stroke of death.

[_Beckons the mutes_.

IRENE.

O, name not death! Distraction and amazement, Horrour and agony are in that sound!

Let me but live, heap woes on woes upon me; Hide me with murd'rers in the dungeon's gloom; Send me to wander on some pathless sh.o.r.e, Let shame and hooting infamy pursue me, Let slav'ry hara.s.s, and let hunger gripe.

CARAZA.

Could we reverse the sentence of the sultan, Our bleeding bosoms plead Irene's cause.

But cries and tears are vain; prepare, with patience, To meet that fate, we can delay no longer.

[_The mutes, at the sign, lay hold of her_.

ABDALLA.

Despatch, ye ling'ring slaves; or nimbler hands, Quick at my call, shall execute your charge; Despatch, and learn a fitter time for pity.