Confess your crime, or lead me to the Sultan ; [Enter ABDALLA: he stops short and listens. SCENE IX. IRENE, HASAN, CARAZA, ABDALLA. ABDALLA, aside. All is not lost, Abdalla; see the queen, CARAZĄ. Unhappy fair! compassion calls upon me ABDALLA, Is then your sov'reign's life so cheaply rated, X 4 Perhaps 3 1 Perhaps her malice might transfer the charge; IRENE. O let me but be heard, nor fear from me ABDALLA. I mark'd her wily messenger afar, And saw him skulking in the closest walks: I guess'd her dark designs, and warn'd the Sultan, HASAN. Then call it not our cruelty, nor crime; Deem us not deaf to wo, nor blind to beauty, IRENE. O, name not death! Distraction and amazement, Let me but live, heap woes on woes upon me, Could we reverse the sentence of the Sultan, But But cries and tears are vain; prepare with patience To meet that fate we can delay no longer. [The Mutes at the sign lay hold of her, ABDALLA. Despatch, ye ling'ring slaves; or nimbler hands, IRENE. Grant me one hour, O grant me but a moment, CARAZA. The prayer I cannot grant-I dare not hear. Guilt and Despair, pale spectres! grin around me, Be charg'd upon my soul. O, mercy! mercy ! } SCENE X. [Mutes force her out. ABDALLA, HASAN, CARAZA. ABDALLA, aside. Safe in her death, and in Demetrius's flight, Abdalla, bid thy troubled breast be calm. Now Now shalt thou shine the darling of the Sultan, HASAN to CARAZA. Does not thy bosom (for I know thee tender, CARAZA. Her piercing cries yet fill the loaded air, ABDALLA, Frame your report with circumspective art; CARAZA. What need of caution to report the fate 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 trait'ress? Where's this smiling mischief, Whom neither vows could fix, nor favours bind? HASAN. Thine orders, mighty Sultan! are perform'd, MAHOMET, Your hasty zeal defrauds the claim of justice, Was this the maid whose love I bought with empire? Play'd on her cheek-So shone the first apostate- Just as the rack forc'd out his struggling soul, r MUSTAPHA. His breath prolong'd but to detect her treason, |