[_Exit_ Murza.

This lucky stratagem shall charm the sultan, [_Aside_.

Secure his confidence, and fix his love.

DEMETRIUS.

Behold a boaster's worth! Now s.n.a.t.c.h, my fair, The happy moment; hasten to the sh.o.r.e, Ere he return with thousands at his side.

ASPASIA.

In vain I listen to th' inviting call Of freedom and of love; my trembling joints, Relax'd with fear, refuse to bear me forward.

Depart, Demetrius, lest my fate involve thee; Forsake a wretch abandon'd to despair, To share the miseries herself has caus'd.

DEMETRIUS.

Let us not struggle with th' eternal will, Nor languish o'er irreparable ruins; Come, haste and live--Thy innocence and truth Shall bless our wand'rings, and propitiate heav'n.

IRENE.

Press not her flight, while yet her feeble nerves Refuse their office, and uncertain life Still labours with imaginary woe; Here let me tend her with officious care, Watch each unquiet flutter of the breast, And joy to feel the vital warmth return, To see the cloud forsake her kindling cheek, And hail the rosy dawn of rising health.

ASPASIA.

Oh! rather, scornful of flagitious greatness, Resolve to share our dangers and our toils, Companion of our flight, ill.u.s.trious exile, Leave slav'ry, guilt, and infamy behind.

IRENE.

My soul attends thy voice, and banish'd virtue Strives to regain her empire of the mind: a.s.sist her efforts with thy strong persuasion; Sure, 'tis the happy hour ordain'd above, When vanquish'd vice shall tyrannise no more.

DEMETRIUS.

Remember, peace and anguish are before thee, And honour and reproach, and heav'n and h.e.l.l.

ASPASIA.

Content with freedom, and precarious greatness.

DEMETRIUS.

Now make thy choice, while yet the pow'r of choice Kind heav'n affords thee, and inviting mercy Holds out her hand to lead thee back to truth.

IRENE.

Stay--in this dubious twilight of conviction, The gleams of reason, and the clouds of pa.s.sion, Irradiate and obscure my breast, by turns: Stay but a moment, and prevailing truth Will spread resistless light upon my soul.

DEMETRIUS.

But, since none knows the danger of a moment, And heav'n forbids to lavish life away, Let kind compulsion terminate the contest.

[_Seizing her hand_.

Ye christian captives, follow me to freedom: A galley waits us, and the winds invite.

IRENE.

Whence is this violence?

DEMETRIUS.

Your calmer thought Will teach a gentler term.

IRENE.

Forbear this rudeness, And learn the rev'rence due to Turkey's queen: Fly, slaves, and call the sultan to my rescue.

DEMETRIUS.

Farewell, unhappy maid; may every joy Be thine, that wealth can give, or guilt receive!

ASPASIA.

nd when, contemptuous of imperial pow'r, Disease shall chase the phantoms of ambition, May penitence attend thy mournful bed, And wing thy latest pray'r to pitying heav'n!

[_Exeunt_ Dem. Asp. _with part of the attendants_.

SCENE VI.

[IRENE _walks at a distance from her attendants._]

_After a pause_.

Against the head, which innocence secures, Insidious malice aims her darts in vain, Turn'd backwards by the pow'rful breath of heav'n.

Perhaps, e'en now the lovers, unpursu'd, Bound o'er the sparkling waves. Go, happy bark, Thy sacred freight shall still the raging main.

To guide thy pa.s.sage shall th' aerial spirits Fill all the starry lamps with double blaze; Th' applauding sky shall pour forth all its beams, To grace the triumph of victorious virtue; While I, not yet familiar to my crimes, Recoil from thought, and shudder at myself.

How am I chang'd! How lately did Irene Fly from the busy pleasures of her s.e.x, Well pleas'd to search the treasures of remembrance, And live her guiltless moments o'er anew!

Come, let us seek new pleasures in the palace, [_To her attendants, going off_.

Till soft fatigue invite us to repose.

SCENE VII.

[_Enter_ MUSTAPHA, _meeting and stopping her_.]

MUSTAPHA.

Fair falsehood, stay.

IRENE.

What dream of sudden power Has taught my slave the language of command?

Henceforth, be wise, nor hope a second pardon.

MUSTAPHA.

Who calls for pardon from a wretch condemn'd?

IRENE.

Thy look, thy speech, thy action, all is wildness-- Who charges guilt, on me?

MUSTAPHA.

Who charges guilt!

Ask of thy heart; attend the voice of conscience-- Who charges guilt! lay by this proud resentment That fires thy cheek, and elevates thy mien, Nor thus usurp the dignity of virtue.

Review this day.

IRENE.

Whate'er thy accusation, The sultan is my judge.

MUSTAPHA.

That hope is past; Hard was the strife of justice and of love; But now 'tis o'er, and justice has prevail'd.

Know'st thou not Cali? know'st thou not Demetrius?

IRENE.