Those tears, those shrieks, that animated grief,
Defying danger, all declare th' effect
Of nature's workings in a parent's heart.
Then let me pay my filial duty here,
Kneel to her native dignity, and pour
In tears of joy, the transport of a son.

Man. Thou art, thou art my son; thy father's face; His ev'ry feature blooming in his boy.

Oh! tell me, tell me all; bow hast thou liv'd
With virtuous Morat? how did he support

In dreary solitude thy tender years?

How train thy growing virtue? quickly tell me;
Oh! tell me all, and charm me with thy tongue.

Hamet. Mysterious pow'rs! have I then liv'd to this? Thus on the brink of death to find a parent,

In virtue firm, majestic in distress,

At length to feel unutterable bliss

In her dear circling arms?

Re-enter OCTAR, with TIMURKAN, &c.

Tim. Where is this wild,

This frantic woman, who with headlong grief
Suspends my dread command? tear them asunder-
Send her to some dark cell to rave and shriek,
And dwell with madness; and let instant death
Leave that rash youth a headless trunk before me.
Man. Now, by the ever-burning lamps, that light
Our holy shrines, by great Confucius' altar,
By the prime source of life, and light, and being,
This is my child, the blossom of my joys.
Send for his cruel father; he, 'tis he
Intends a fraud; he, for a stranger's life,
Would give his offspring to the cruel axe,

And rend a wretched mother's brain with madness.

Re-enter ZAMTI.

Zamti. Sure the sad accents of Mandane's voice

Struck on my frighted sense.

Tim. Once more, thou traitor! Who is that stubborn youth?

Zamti. Alas! what needs

This iteration of my griefs?

Man. Forbear,

Thou marble-hearted father!-'tis your son;

And wouldst thou see him bleed?

Zamti. On him-on him

Now, tyrant, now I beg to live; lo! here

I plead for life; not for the wretched boon

[Faints.

[frame.

Hamet. Support her, heaven! support her tender

To breathe the air, which thy ambition taints,

But oh! to ease a mother's woes; for her,

For that dear object, let me live for her.

Tim. Spite of their frauds, the truth begins to dawn: In her wild vehemence of grief, I hear

The genuine voice of nature.

Man. [Recovers] Where's my child?

Oh, let me strain him to my heart; thy hard,
Thy cruel father shall not tear thee from me.

Tim. Hear me, thou frantic mourner; dry those tears;
Perhaps you still may save your darling son.
Man. Oh! quickly give the means.

Tim. Resign your king,

Your phantom of a king, and save your child.

Hamet. No, my much-honour'd mother, never hear The base, the dire proposal; let me rather Exhaust my life-blood at each gushing vein! Mandane then-then you may well rejoice To find your child; then you may truly know The best delight a mother's heart can prove, When her son dies with glory.

Tim. Curses blast

The stripling's pride.

[Talks apart with Octar.

Zamti. Ye powers, enthron'd above!

You never meant entirely to destroy

This groaning land, when your benignant care
Lends us a youth like him.-Let me enfold
That lovely ardour in his father's arms.

My brave, my gen'rous boy!

Tim. Dost thou at length

Confess it, traitor?

Zamti. Yes, I boast it, tyrant;

Boast it to thee, to earth, and heaven I boast,
This, this is Zamti's son.

Hamet. At length the hour,

The glorious hour is come, by Morat promis'd,
"When Hamet shall not blush to know his father."
Zamti. Oh! thou intrepid youth, what bright reward
Can your glad sire bestow on such desert?

The righteous gods, and your own inward feelings,
Shall give the sweetest retribution. Now,
Mandane, now my soul forgives thee all;
Since I have made acquaintance with my boy;
But oh! I charge thee, by a husband's right-
Tim. A husband's right! a traitor has no rights;
Society disclaims him. Woman, hear,

And mark my words: abjure the mandarin,
Renounce all bymeneal vows, reveal

This mystery, and still your sou may live,
While justice whirls that traitor to his fate.
Man. Thou vile adviser!-what, betray my lord,
My honour'd husband; turn a Scythian wife;
Forget the many years of fond delight,

In which my heart ne'er knew decreasing love,
Charm'd with his noble, all-accomplish'd mind?
No, tyrant, no; with him I'll dare to die;
With him in ruin more supremely blest,
Than guilt upon a throne triumphant.
Zamti. Now,

Inhuman Tartar, I defy thy power.

Lo! here-the father, mother, and the son!
Try all your tortures on us-here we stand,
Resolv'd to leave a track of bright renown
To mark our being; resolv'd all to die,
The votaries of honour!

Tim. Then, by heaven!

Your doom is fix'd. This moment seize the slaves;
Deep in some baleful dungeon's midnight gloom

Let each apart be plung'd; and Etan too-

Let him forthwith be found-he too shall share
His father's fate.

Mir. Be it my task, dread sir,

To make the rack ingenious in new pains;
Till even cruelty almost relent

At their keen, agonizing groans.
Tim. Be that,

Mirvan, thy care. By the immortal Lama,
I'll wrest the secret from them, or once more
My rage is up in arms-'gainst Corea's chief
I will unfurl my banners; his proud cities
Shall dread my thunder at their gates, and mourn
Their smoking ramparts; o'er his verdant plains
And peaceful vales I'll drive my rapid car,

And ne'er know rest, ne'er sheathe th' avenging sword, Till their king fall, and treason is no more.

[Exit. Octar. Mirvan, bear hence those miscreants to their

fate;

Thou, Zamti, art my charge.

Zamti. Willing I come.

My son, thy father doubts not of thy fortitude.
Mandane, summon all thy strength; the gods,
Who try thy virtue, may reward it still.

[Exit, with Octar,

Man. Hamet! restor❜d and lost again!

Hamet. Alas!

[Struggles with the Guards.

No means to rescue thee! inhuman villains!

And will you tear me from her? [He is dragged off. Man. Ŏh! my child!—

Now then, barbarians, you have seiz'd on all

My soul holds dear.-What have I now to dread?
1 gave him being; in the hour of peril

I flew to rescue him; I could no more.
If he must fall, I'll emulate his virtues;
True to the solemu vow I've breath'd to heaven,
True to my sovereign still!-in honour's cause
The mother from her son shall learn to die.

[Exeunt,

SCENE I. A Prison. HAMET lies stretched on the Ground, in Chains.

Enter ZAPHIMRI, in a Tartar Dress, and MIRVAN. Mir. There, stretch'd at length on the dank ground, he lies,

Scorning his fate: your meeting must be short.
Zaph. It shall.

Mir. And yet I tremble for th' event.

Zaph. Mirvan, no more: I will hold converse with Though death were arm'd against the interview. [him,

Hamet. What wouldst thou, Tartar?
Zaph. Rise, thou gen'rous youth!

No vulgar errand mine.

[Exit Mirvan.

[stabber,

Hamet. [Rises] Now speak thy purpose.

Zaph. To these lone walls, where oft the Scythian

With murd'rous stride hath come; these walls that oft

Have seen the assassin's deeds, I bring a mind

Firm, virtuous, upright Under this vile garb
Lo! here a son of China.

Hamet. Yes, thy garb

Denotes a son of China, and those eyes
Roll with no black intent.-Say on.