MAHOMET. 
What! think of peace, while haughty Scanderbeg,
Elate with conquest, in his native mountains,
Prowls o’er the wealthy spoils of bleeding Turkey! 
While fair Hungaria’s unexhausted valleys
Pour forth their legions; and the roaring Danube
Rolls half his floods, unheard, through shouting camps! 
Nor could’st thou more support a life of sloth
Than Amurath—­

CALI. 
Still, full of Amurath! [Aside.

MAHOMET. 
Than Amurath, accustom’d to command,
Could bear his son upon the Turkish throne.

CALI. 
This pilgrimage our lawgiver ordain’d—­

MAHOMET. 
For those, who could not please by nobler service.—­
Our warlike prophet loves an active faith. 
The holy flame of enterprising virtue
Mocks the dull vows of solitude and penance,
And scorns the lazy hermit’s cheap devotion. 
Shine thou, distinguish’d by superiour merit;
With wonted zeal pursue the task of war,
Till ev’ry nation reverence the koran,
And ev’ry suppliant lift his eyes to Mecca.

CALI. 
This regal confidence, this pious ardour,
Let prudence moderate, though not suppress. 
Is not each realm, that smiles with kinder suns,
Or boasts a happier soil, already thine? 
Extended empire, like expanded gold,
Exchanges solid strength for feeble splendour.

  MAHOMET. 
Preach thy dull politicks to vulgar kings,
Thou know’st not yet thy master’s future greatness,
His vast designs, his plans of boundless pow’r. 
  When ev’ry storm in my domain shall roar,
  When ev’ry wave shall beat a Turkish shore;
  Then, Cali, shall the toils of battle cease,
  Then dream of pray’r, and pilgrimage, and peace.
                                [Exeunt.

ACT II.—­SCENE I. ASPASIA, IRENE.

IRENE. 
Aspasia, yet pursue the sacred theme;
Exhaust the stores of pious eloquence,
And teach me to repel the sultan’s passion. 
Still, at Aspasia’s voice, a sudden rapture
Exalts my soul, and fortifies my heart;
The glitt’ring vanities of empty greatness,
The hopes and fears, the joys and pains of life,
Dissolve in air, and vanish into nothing.

ASPASIA. 
Let nobler hopes and juster fears succeed,
And bar the passes of Irene’s mind
Against returning guilt.

IRENE. 
When thou art absent,
Death rises to my view, with all his terrours;
Then visions, horrid as a murd’rer’s dreams,
Chill my resolves, and blast my blooming virtue: 
Stern torture shakes his bloody scourge before me,
And anguish gnashes on the fatal wheel.

ASPASIA. 
Since fear predominates in ev’ry thought,
And sways thy breast with absolute dominion,
Think on th’ insulting scorn, the conscious pangs,
The future mis’ries, that wait th’ apostate;
So shall timidity assist thy reason,
And wisdom into virtue turn thy frailty.