John Dryden

“ That love to others still remains unfix'd: Greatness, and Noise, and Show, are your delight; Yet wise men love you, in their own despight: And, finding in their native Wit no ease. Are forc'd to put your folly on to please.
Ind. Now you shall know what cause you have to rage; But to increase your fury, not asswage: I found the way your Brother's heart to move, Yet promis'd not the least return of Love. His Pride, and Brutal fierceness I abhor; But scorn your mean suspitions of me more. I ow'd my Honour and my Fame this care: Know what your folly lost you, and despair. ”

“ Such virtue is the plague of humane life: A virtuous Woman, but a cursed Wife. In vain of pompous chastity y'are proud: Virtue's adultery of the Tongue, when loud, I, with less pain, a Prostitute could bear, Than the shrill sound of Virtue, virtue hear. In unchaste Wives--- There's yet a kind of recompensing ease: Vice keeps 'em humble, gives 'em care to please: But against clamorous Virtue, what defence? It stops our mouthes, and gives your noise pretence.
Nour. Since Virtue does your indignation raise, 'Tis pity but you had that Wife you praise. ”

“ Some envious Devil has ruin'd us yet more: The Fort's revolted to the Emperor; The Gates are open'd, the Portcullis drawn; And deluges of Armies, from the Town, Come pow'ring in: I heard the mighty flaw, When first it broke; the crowding Ensigns saw, Which choak'd the passage; and, (what least I fear'd,) The waving Arms of Aureng-Zebe appear'd, Display'd with your Morat's: In either's Flag the golden Serpents bear, Erected Crests alike, like Volumes rear, And mingle friendly hissings in the Air. Their Troops are joyn'd, and our destruction nigh.
Nour. 'Tis vain to fight, and I disdain to flie. ”

“ But 'tis the distant prospect of a Shore, Doubtful in mists; which, like inchanted ground, Flies from my sight, before 'tis fully found.
Ind. Dare to be great, without a guilty Crown; View it, and lay the bright temptation down: 'Tis base to seize on all, because you may; That's Empire, that which I can give away: There's joy when to wild Will you Laws prescribe, When you bid Fortune carry back her Bribe: A joy, which none but greatest minds can taste; A Fame, which will to endless Ages last. ”

“ No prize but Fame, nor Mistris but the Wars. I scarce am pleas'd I tamely mount the Throne: Would Aureng-Zebe had all their Souls in one: With all my elder Brothers I would fight, And so from partial Nature force my right.
Emp. Had we but lasting Youth, and time to spare, Some might be thrown away on Fame and War: But Youth, the perishing good, runs on too fast: And unenjoy'd will spend it self to waste; Few know the use of life before 'tis past. ”

“ How vain is Virtue which directs our ways Through certain danger to uncertain praise! Barren, and aery name! thee Fortune flies; With thy lean Train, the Pious and the Wise. Heav'n takes thee at thy word, without regard; And lets thee poorly be thy own reward. The World is made for the bold impious man; Who stops at nothing, seizes all he can. Justice to merit does weak aid afford; She trusts her Ballance, and neglects her Sword. Virtue is nice to take what's not her own ”

“ Mortals, in sight of Angels, mute become; The Nobler Nature strikes th'Inferiour dumb.
Nour. The Palm is, by the Foes confession, mine; But I disdain what basely you resign. Heav'n did, by me, the outward model build: Its inward work, the Soul, with rubbish fill'd. Yet, Oh! th'imperfect Piece moves more delight; 'Tis gilded o'r with Youth, to catch the sight. The Gods have poorly robb'd my Virgin bloom, And what I am, by what I was, o'rcome. ”

“ Morat, or Aureng-Zebe must fall this day.
Mel. Too truly Tamerlain's Successors they, Each thinks a World too little for his sway. Could you and I the same pretences bring, Mankind should with more ease receive a King: I would to you the narrow World resign, And want no Empire while Morat was mine.
Ind. Wish'd freedom I presage you soon will find; If Heav'n be just, and be to Virtue kind.
Mel. Quite otherwise my mind foretels my Fate: Short is my life, and that unfortunate. Yet should I not complain, would Heav'n afford Some little time, ere death, to see my Lord. ”

“ Beauty is seldom fortunate, when great: A vast Estate, but overcharg'd with Debt. Like those whom want to baseness does betray: I'm forc'd to flatter him I cannot pay. O would he be content to seize the Throne: I beg the life of Aureng-Zebe alone. Whom Heav'n would bless, from Pomp it will remove, And make their wealth in privacy and Love. [Exit.
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ACT IV.
Aureng-Zebe solus.
Distrust, and darkness, of a future state, Make poor Mankind so fearful of their Fate. Death, in it self, is nothing; but we fear To be we know not what, we know not where. ”

“ The Traitor, and the Treason, known too late; The false Abas deliver'd up the Gate. Ev'n, while I speak, we're compass'd round with Fate. The Valiant cannot fight, or Coward flie; But both in undistinguish'd Crouds must die.
Aur. Then my Prophetic fears are come to pass: Morat was always bloudy; now, he's base: And has so far in Usurpation gone, He will by Paricide secure the Throne.
To them the Emperor.
Emp. Am I forsaken, and betray'd, by all? Not one brave man dare, with a Monarch, fall? Then, welcome death, to cover my disgrace; I would not live to Reign o'r such a Race. My Aureng-Zebe! ”

“ While you are living, I no right pretend; Wear it, and let it where you please descend. But from my Love, 'tis Sacrilege to part: There, there's my Throne in Indamora's heart.
Emp. 'Tis in her heart alone that you must Reign: You'll find her person difficult to gain. Give willingly what I can take by force: And know, Obedience is your safest course.
Aur. I'm taught, by Honour's precepts, to obey: Fear to Obedience is a slavish way. If ought my want of duty could beget; You take the most prevailing means, to threat. ”

“ But you, in me, have Youth and Fortune too. As Heav'n did to your eyes and form Divine, Submit the Fate of all th'Imperial Line; So was it order'd by its wise Decree, That you should find 'em all compris'd in me.
Ind. If, Sir, I seem not discompos'd with rage, Feed not your fancy with a false presage. Farther to press your Courtship is but vain: [525] A cold refusal carries more disdain, Unsetled Virtue stormy may appear; Honour, like mine, serenely is severe. To scorn your person, and reject your Crown, Disorder not my face into a frown. ”

“ Indamora, hide these fatal Eyes; Too deep they wound whom they too soon surprise: My Virtue, Prudence, Honour, Interest, all Before this Universal Monarch fall. Beauty, like Ice, our footing does betray; Who can tread sure on the smooth slippery way? ”

“ Indamora alone.
The night seems doubled with the fear she brings, And, o'r the Cittadel, new spreads her wings. The Morning, as mistaken, turns about, And all her early fires again go out. Shouts, cries, and groans, first pierce my ears, and then A flash of Lightning draws the guilty Scene, And shows me Arms, and Wounds, and Dying men. Ah, should my Aureng-Zebe be fighting there, And envious Winds distinguish'd to my ear, His dying groans, and his last accents bear!
To her Morat, attended.
Mor. The bloudy bus'ness of the Night is done, And, in the Cittadel, an Empire wonn. ”

“ It rises high, and menacing disdains. Even death's become to me no dreadful name: I've often met him, and have made him tame: In fighting fields, where our acquaintance grew, I saw him, and contemn'd him first for you.
Emp. Of formal duty make no more thy boast: Thou disobey'st where it concerns me most. Fool, with both hands thus to push back a Crown: And headlong cast thy self from Empire down. [500] Though Nourmahal I hate, her Son shall Reign: Inglorious thou, by thy own fault remain. Thy younger Brother I'll admit this hour: So mine shall be thy Mistris, his thy Pow'r. ”

“ The Clergy thrive, and the litigious Bar; Dull Heroes fatten with the spoils of War: All Southern Vices, Heav'n be prais'd, are here; But Wit's a luxury you think too dear. When you to cultivate the Plant are loath, 'Tis a shrewd sign 'twas never of your growth: And Wit in Northern Climates will not blow, Except, like Orange-trees, 'tis hous'd from Snow. There needs no care to put a Play-house down, 'Tis the most desart place of all the Town. We and our Neighbours, to speak proudly, are Like Monarchs, ruin'd with expensive War. ”

“ What can be sweeter than our native home! Thither for ease, and soft repose, we come: [275] Home is the sacred refuge of our life: Secur'd from all approaches, but a Wife. If thence we fly, the cause admits no doubt: None but an Inmate Foe could force us out. Clamours, our privacies uneasie make: Birds leave their Nests disturb'd, and Beasts their Haunts forsake. ”

“ Heav'n seems the Empire of the East to lay On the success of this important day: Their Arms are to the last decision bent, And Fortune labours with the vast event: She now has in her hand the greatest stake, Which for contending Monarchs she can make. What e'r can urge ambitious Youth to sight, She pompously displays before their sight: Laws, Empire, All permitted to the Sword, And Fate could ne'r an ampler Scene afford. ”

“ You cannot Love, nor pleasures take, or give; But life begin, when 'tis too late to live. On a tir'd Courser you pursue delight, Let slip your morning and set out at night. If you have liv'd, take thankfully the past: Make, as you can, the sweet remembrance last. If you have not enjoy'd what Youth could give, [350] But life sunk through you like a leaky Sieve, Accuse yourself you liv'd not while you might ”

“ Nature her self is sentenc'd in your doom. Piety is no more, she sees her place Usurp'd by Monsters, and a savage Race. From her soft Eastern Climes you drive her forth, To the cold Mansions of the utmost North. How can our Prophet suffer you to Reign, When he looks down, and sees your Brother slain? Avenging Furies will your life pursue: [475] Think there's a Heav'n, Morat, though not for you.
Mel. Her words imprint a terror on my mind. What if this death, which is for him design'd, Had been your Doom, (far be that Augury!) And you, not Aureng-Zebe, condemn'd to die? ”

“ Aur. I hate the lingring summons to attend, Death all at once would be the nobler end. Fate is unkind! me-thinks a General Should warm, and at the head of Armies fall. [300] And my ambition did that hope pursue, That so I might have di'd in fight for you. [To his Father.
Mor. Would I had been disposer of thy Stars; Thou shouldst have had thy wish, and di'd in Wars. 'Tis I, not thou, have reason to repine, That thou shouldst fall by any hand, but mine.
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Aur. ”

“ Virtue's no slave of Man; no Sex confines the Soul: I, for my self, th'Imperial Seat will gain, And he shall wait my leisure for his Reign. But Aureng-Zebe is no where to be found. And now perhaps in Death's cold arms he lies: [250] I fought, and conquer'd, yet have lost the prize.
Zayd. The chance of War determin'd well the strife, That rack'd you, 'twixt the Lover and the Wife. He's dead, whose love had sulli'd all your Reign, And made you Empress of the World in vain.
Nour. No; I my pow'r and pleasure would divide: The Drudge had quench'd my flames, and then had di'd. ”

“ He thought that, if his Characters were good, The Scenes entire, and freed from noise and bloud; The Action great, yet circumscrib'd by Time, The Words not forc'd, but sliding into Rhime, The Passions rais'd and calm'd by just Degrees, As Tides are swell'd, and then retire to Seas; He thought, in hitting these, his bus'ness done, Though he, perhaps, has fail'd in ev'ry one: But, after all, a Poet must confess, His Art's like Physick, but a happy ghess. Your Pleasure on your Fancy must depend: The Lady's pleas'd, just as she likes her Friend. ”

“ Whom with your pow'r and fortune, Sir, you trust; Now to suspect is vain, as 'tis unjust. He comes not with a Train to move your fear, But trusts himself, to be a pris'ner here. You knew him brave, you know him faithful now: He aims at Fame, but Fame from serving you. 'Tis said; Ambition in his breast does rage: Who would not be the Hero of an Age? All grant him prudent: prudence interest weighs, And interest bids him seek your love and praise. [225] I know you grateful; When he march'd from hence, You bad him hope an ample recompence: He conquer'd in that hope ”

“ Fear show'd you doubted of your own intent: And she who doubts becomes less innocent. Tell me not you could fear; Fear's a large promiser, who subject live To that base passion, know not what they give. ”

“ The day takes off the pleasure of the night.
Nour. My thoughts no other joys but pow'r pursue: Or, if they did, they must be lost in you. And yet the fault's not mine--- Though Youth and Beauty cannot warmth command; The Sun in vain shines on the barren Sand.
Emp. 'Tis true, of Marriage-bands I'm weary grown. Love scorns all ties, but those that are his own. Chains that are dragg'd, must needs uneasie prove: For there's a God-like liberty in Love. ”

“ That present service which you vaunt, afford. [225] Our two Rebellious Brothers are not dead: Though vanquish'd, yet again they gather head. I dare you, as your Rival in renown, March out your Army from th'Imperial Town: Chuse whom you please, the other leave to me: And set our Father absolutely free.
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This, if you do, to end all future strife, I am content to lead a private life: Disband my Army to secure the State, Nor aim at more, but leave the rest to Fate.
Morat. I'll do't. Draw out my Army on the Plain: War is to me a pastime, Peace a pain. ”