But now confirm'd, and swelling with his conquests, DEMETRIUS. What can reverse thy doom? CALI. The tyrant's death. DEMETRIUS. But Greece is still forgot. CALI. On Asia's coast, Which lately bless'd my gentle government, The Turkish pow'rs from Europe shall retreat, A galley mann'd with Greeks, thy charge, Leontius, DEMETRIUS. That vessel, if observ'd, alarms the court, And gives a thousand fatal questions birth: CALI. This hour I'll beg, with unsuspecting face, LEONTIUS. How can a single hand attempt a life, Which armies guard, and citadels enclose? CALI. Forgetful of command, with captive beauties, DEMETRIUS. In Sophia's temple!-What alarm!-Proceed. CALI. The sultan gaz'd, he wonder'd, and he lov❜d: DEMETRIUS. Celestial goodness! It must, it must be she;-her name? CALI. Aspasia. DEMETRIUS. What hopes, what terrours, rush upon my soul! O lead me quickly to the scene of fate; LEONTIUS. Did Mahomet reproach, or praise her virtue? CALI. His offers, oft repeated, still refus'd, At length rekindled his accustom'd fury, And chang'd th' endearing smile, and am'rous whisper To threats of torture, death, and violation. DEMETRIUS. These tedious narratives of frozen age Distract my soul;-despatch thy ling'ring tale; CALI. Just in the moment of impending fate, LEONTIUS. Nor found again the bright temptation fail? CALI. Trembling to grant, nor daring to refuse, What has the wretch, that has surviv'd his country, CALI. Life. DEMETRIUS. Th' inestimable privilege of breathing! Into the adverse scale, nor shakes the balance. CALI. At least, this day be calm-If we succeed, [Exeunt Demetrius and Leontius. SCENE III. CALI, MUSTAPHA. MUSTAPHA. By what enchantment does this lovely Greek CALI. Why should the sultan shun the joys of beauty, Love, that with sweet vicissitude relieves MUSTAPHA. Those pow'rful tyrants of the female breast, Fear and ambition, urge her to compliance; Dress'd in each charm of gay magnificence, Alluring grandeur courts her to his arms, Religion calls her from the wish'd embrace, Paints future joys, and points to distant glories. CALI. Soon will th' unequal contest be decided. Prospects, obscur'd by distance, faintly strike; Each pleasure brightens, at its near approach, And ev'ry danger shocks with double horrour. MUSTAPHA. How shall I scorn the beautiful apostate! How will the bright Aspasia shine above her! CALI. Should she, for proselytes are always zealous, With pious warmth receive our prophet's law— MUSTAPHA. Heav'n will contemn the mercenary fervour, Which love of greatness, not of truth, inflames. CALI. Cease, cease thy censures; for the sultan comes Alone, with am'rous haste to seek his love. |