zamti.
[Alone.
Is nature silent?
O wretched father! still thou hearest that voice
So fatal and so dear: O drown it, heaven,
In sweet oblivion; do not let my wife
And her dear babe distract this heart; O heal
My wounded heart: but man is far too weak
To conquer nature: let thy aid divine
Support me, and assist my feeble virtue!
End of the First Act.
ACT II.
SCENE I.
zamti.
[Alone.
This tardy Etan, wherefore comes he not
To tell me—what I dread to hear? perhaps
Ere this the dreadful sacrifice is past:
I had not power to offer it myself.
O my dear child, how shall I ask my friend
The horrid question, how conceal my grief?
SCENE II.
zamti, etan.
zamti.
I see ’tis done; I know it by thy tears;
They speak too plainly.
etan.
Thy unhappy son—
zamti.
No more of that: speak of our empire’s hope,
The royal infant; is he safe?
etan.
He is:
Within the tombs of his great ancestors.
Concealed from every eye; to you he owes
A life begun in misery, perhaps
A fatal gift.
zamti.
It is enough, he lives.
O you, to whom I pay this cruel duty,
Forgive a father’s tears.
etan.
Alas! my lord,
You must not give away to sorrow here:
’Tis dangerous even to weep.
zamti.
And whither, Etan,
Must I transport my griefs? how bear the cries,
The bitter anguish, the despair, the rage,
The execrations of a frantic mother?
May we not yet deceive her for a time?
etan.
We seized him in her absence, and I flew
To guard the orphan king.
zamti.
A while, my friend,
We might impose on her credulity.
Couldst thou not say we had delivered up
The royal orphan, and concealed her son
In safety? Truth is often most destructive,
And still we love it, though it makes us wretched.
Come, Etan, let us home—O heaven! she’s here!
Observe her, what despair and terror dwell
On her pale cheek!
SCENE III.
zamti, idame.
idame.
Barbarian, can it be?
Could Zamti e’er command it? could he offer
The dreadful sacrifice? I’ll not believe it:
Thou couldst not be more cruel than the laws
Of our proud conquerors, or the Tartar’s sword.
Alas! thou weepest.
zamti.
Thou too must weep with Zamti.
But thou must join with him to save thy king.
idame.
What! sacrifice my child!
zamti.
It must be so:
Thou wert a subject ere thou wert a mother.
idame.
Has nature then lost all her influence o’er
A father’s heart?
zamti.
She has too much; but ne’er
Shall thwart my duty.
idame.
’Tis a barbarous virtue,
And I abhor it: I have seen, like thee,
Our empire lost, and wept our sovereign’s fate;
But why pour forth an infant’s guiltless blood,
Yet undemanded; why revere as gods
Your sleeping kings, that moulder in the tomb?
Hath Zamti sworn to them that he would kill
His darling child? alas! the rich and poor,
The monarch and the slave, are equal all
By nature; all alike to sorrow born,
Each has his share; and in the general wreck,
All duty bids us is—to save our own.
O had I fallen into the snare, and staid
A moment longer with the royal orphan,
My child had fallen into the cruel hands
Of ruffians; but I would have perished with him.
Nature and love recalled me, and I snatched
My lovely infant from the ravishers,
Preserved the son and mother; saved even thee,
Thou barbarous father.
zamti.
Doth my son then live?
idame.
He doth; and thou shouldst bend to gracious heaven
For goodness thus unmerited: repent,
And be a father.
zamti.
O almighty power,
Forgive the joy that, spite of all my firmness,
Thus mingles with my tears: alas! my love,
Vain are our hopes of happiness, and vain
Thy fond endeavors to prolong the life
Of our dear infant; these inhuman tyrants