IRENE. 
Will not that pow’r, that form’d the heart of woman,
And wove the feeble texture of her nerves,
Forgive those fears that shake the tender frame?

ASPASIA. 
The weakness we lament, ourselves create;
Instructed, from our infant years, to court,
With counterfeited fears, the aid of man,
We learn to shudder at the rustling breeze,
Start at the light, and tremble in the dark;
Till, affectation ripening to belief,
And folly, frighted at her own chimeras,
Habitual cowardice usurps the soul.

IRENE. 
Not all, like thee, can brave the shocks of fate. 
Thy soul, by nature great, enlarg’d by knowledge,
Soars unincumber’d with our idle cares,
And all Aspasia, but her beauty’s man.

ASPASIA. 
Each gen’rous sentiment is thine, Demetrius,
Whose soul, perhaps, yet mindful of Aspasia,
Now hovers o’er this melancholy shade,
Well pleas’d to find thy precepts not forgotten. 
Oh! could the grave restore the pious hero,
Soon would his art or valour set us free,
And bear us far from servitude and crimes.

IRENE. 
He yet may live.

ASPASIA. 
Alas! delusive dream! 
Too well I know him; his immoderate courage,
Th’ impetuous sallies of excessive virtue,
Too strong for love, have hurried him on death.

SCENE II.

ASPASIA, IRENE, CALI, ABDALLA.

CALI to ABDALLA, as they advance. 
Behold our future sultaness, Abdalla;—­
Let artful flatt’ry now, to lull suspicion,
Glide, through Irene, to the sultan’s ear. 
Would’st thou subdue th’ obdurate cannibal
To tender friendship, praise him to his mistress.

[To IRENE.]

Well may those eyes, that view these heav’nly charms,
Reject the daughters of contending kings;
For what are pompous titles, proud alliance,
Empire or wealth, to excellence like thine?

ABDALLA. 
Receive th’ impatient sultan to thy arms;
And may a long posterity of monarchs,
The pride and terrour of succeeding days,
Rise from the happy bed; and future queens
Diffuse Irene’s beauty through the world!

IRENE. 
Can Mahomet’s imperial hand descend
To clasp a slave? or can a soul, like mine,
Unus’d to pow’r, and form’d for humbler scenes,
Support the splendid miseries of greatness?

CALI. 
No regal pageant, deck’d with casual honours,
Scorn’d by his subjects, trampled by his foes;
No feeble tyrant of a petty state,
Courts thee to shake on a dependant throne;
Born to command, as thou to charm mankind,
The sultan from himself derives his greatness. 
Observe, bright maid, as his resistless voice
Drives on the tempest of destructive war,
How nation after nation falls before him.

ABDALLA. 
At his dread name the distant mountains shake
Their cloudy summits, and the sons of fierceness,
That range uncivilized from rock to rock,
Distrust th’ eternal fortresses of nature,
And wish their gloomy caverns more obscure.