Dr. Johnson's Works: Life, Poems, and Tales Part 28

IRENE.

Grant me one hour. O! grant me but a moment, And bounteous heav'n repay the mighty mercy, With peaceful death, and happiness eternal.

CARAZA.

The pray'r I cannot grant--I dare not hear.

Short be thy pains. [_Signs again to the mutes_.

IRENE.

Unutterable anguis.h.!.+

Guilt and despair, pale spectres! grin around me, And stun me with the yellings of d.a.m.nation!

O, hear my pray'rs! accept, all-pitying heav'n, These tears, these pangs, these last remains of life; Nor let the crimes of this detested day Be charg'd upon my soul. O, mercy! mercy!

[_Mutes force her out_.

SCENE X.

ABDALLA, HASAN, CARAZA.

ABDALLA, _aside_.

Safe in her death, and in Demetrius' flight, Abdalla, bid thy troubled breast be calm.

Now shalt thou s.h.i.+ne, the darling of the sultan, The plot all Cali's, the detection thine.

HASAN _to_ CARAZA.

Does not thy bosom (for I know thee tender, A stranger to th' oppressor's savage joy,) Melt at Irene's fate, and share her woes?

CARAZA.

Her piercing cries yet fill the loaded air, Dwell on my ear, and sadden all my soul.

But let us try to clear our clouded brows, And tell the horrid tale with cheerful face; The stormy sultan rages at our stay.

ABDALLA.

Frame your report with circ.u.mspective art: Inflame her crimes, exalt your own obedience; But let no thoughtless hint involve Abdalla.

CARAZA.

What need of caution to report the fate Of her, the sultan's voice condemn'd to die?

Or why should he, whose violence of duty Has serv'd his prince so well, demand our silence?

ABDALLA.

Perhaps, my zeal, too fierce, betray'd my prudence; Perhaps, my warmth exceeded my commission; Perhaps--I will not stoop to plead my cause, Or argue with the slave that sav'd Demetrius.

CARAZA.

From his escape learn thou the pow'r of virtue; Nor hope his fortune, while thou want'st his worth.

HASAN.

The sultan comes, still gloomy, still enraged.

SCENE XI.

HASAN, CARAZA, MAHOMET, MUSTAPHA, ABDALLA.

MAHOMET.

Where's this fair traitress? Where's this smiling mischief, Whom neither vows could fix, nor favours bind?

HASAN.

Thine orders, mighty sultan, are perform'd, And all Irene now is breathless clay.

MAHOMET.

Your hasty zeal defrauds the claim of justice, And disappointed vengeance burns in vain.

I came to heighten tortures by reproach, And add new terrours to the face of death.

Was this the maid, whose love I bought with empire?

True, she was fair; the smile of innocence Play'd on her cheek--So shone the first apostate-- Irene's chamber! Did not roaring Cali, Just as the rack forc'd out his struggling soul, Name for the scene of death, Irene's chamber?

MUSTAPHA.

His breath prolong'd, but to detect her treason, Then, in short sighs, forsook his broken frame.

MAHOMET.

Decreed to perish in Irene's chamber!

There had she lull'd me with endearing falsehoods, Clasp'd in her arms, or slumb'ring on her breast, And bar'd my bosom to the ruffian's dagger.

SCENE XII.

HASAN, CARAZA, MAHOMET, MUSTAPHA, MURZA, ABDALLA.

MURZA.

Forgive, great sultan, that, by fate prevented, I bring a tardy message from Irene.

MAHOMET.

Some artful wile of counterfeited love!

Some soft decoy to lure me to destruction!

And thou, the curs'd accomplice of her treason, Declare thy message, and expect thy doom.

MURZA.

The queen requested, that a chosen troop Might intercept the traitor Greek, Demetrius, Then ling'ring with his captive mistress here.

MUSTAPHA.

The Greek, Demetrius! whom th' expiring ba.s.sa Declar'd the chief a.s.sociate of his guilt!

MAHOMET.

A chosen troop--to intercept--Demetrius-- The queen requested--Wretch, repeat the message; And, if one varied accent prove thy falsehood, Or but one moment's pause betray confusion, Those trembling limbs--Speak out, thou s.h.i.+v'ring traitor.

MURZA.

The queen requested--

MAHOMET. Who? the dead Irene?

Was she then guiltless! Has my thoughtless rage Destroy'd the fairest workmans.h.i.+p of heav'n!

Doom'd her to death, unpity'd and unheard, Amidst her kind solicitudes for me!

Ye slaves of cruelty, ye tools of rage, [_To_ Hasan _and_ Caraza.

Ye blind, officious ministers of folly, Could not her charms repress your zeal for murder?