SCENE VIII.

Enter HASAN, CARAZA, with mutes, who throw the black robe upon IRENE, and sign to her attendants to withdraw.

HASAN. 
Forgive, fair excellence, th’ unwilling tongue,
The tongue, that, forc’d by strong necessity,
Bids beauty, such as thine, prepare to die.

IRENE. 
What wild mistake is this!  Take hence, with speed,
Your robe of mourning, and your dogs of death. 
Quick from my sight, you inauspicious monsters;
Nor dare, henceforth, to shock Irene’s walks.

HASAN. 
Alas! they come commanded by the sultan,
Th’ unpitying ministers of Turkish justice,
Nor dare to spare the life his frown condemns.

IRENE. 
Are these the rapid thunderbolts of war,
That pour with sudden violence on kingdoms,
And spread their flames, resistless, o’er the world? 
What sleepy charms benumb these active heroes,
Depress their spirits, and retard their speed? 
Beyond the fear of ling’ring punishment,
Aspasia now, within her lover’s arms,
Securely sleeps, and, in delightful dreams,
Smiles at the threat’nings of defeated rage.

CARAZA. 
We come, bright virgin, though relenting nature
Shrinks at the hated task, for thy destruction. 
When summon’d by the sultan’s clam’rous fury,
We ask’d, with tim’rous tongue, th’ offender’s name,
He struck his tortur’d breast, and roar’d, Irene! 
We started at the sound, again inquir’d;
Again his thund’ring voice return’d, Irene!

IRENE. 
Whence is this rage; what barb’rous tongue has wrong’d me? 
What fraud misleads him? or what crimes incense?

HASAN. 
Expiring Cali nam’d Irene’s chamber,
The place appointed for his master’s death.

IRENE. 
Irene’s chamber!  From my faithful bosom
Far be the thought—­But hear my protestation.

CARAZA. 
’Tis ours, alas! to punish, not to judge,
Not call’d to try the cause, we heard the sentence,
Ordain’d the mournful messengers of death.

IRENE. 
Some ill designing statesman’s base intrigue! 
Some cruel stratagem of jealous beauty! 
Perhaps, yourselves the villains that defame me:—­
Now haste to murder, ere returning thought
Recall th’ extorted doom.—­It must be so: 
Confess your crime, or lead me to the sultan;
There dauntless truth shall blast the vile accuser;
Then shall you feel, what language cannot utter,
Each piercing torture, ev’ry change of pain,
That vengeance can invent, or pow’r inflict.
             [Enter Abdalla:  he stops short and listens.

SCENE IX.

IRENE, HASAN, CARAZA, ABDALLA.

ABDALLA, aside. 
All is not lost, Abdalla; see the queen,
See the last witness of thy guilt and fear,
Enrob’d in death—­Despatch her, and be great.