Ind. Poor princess! how I pity her estate, Wrapt in the ruins of her husband’s fate!  She mourned Morat should in rebellion rise; Yet he offends, and she’s the sacrifice.

Arim. Not knowing his design, at court she staid;
’Till, by command, close prisoner she was made. 
Since when,
Her chains with Roman constancy she bore,
But that, perhaps, an Indian wife’s is more.

Ind. Go, bring her comfort; leave me here alone.

Arim. My love must still he in obedience shown. [Exit ARIM.

  Enter MELESINDA, led by SOLYMAN, who retires afterwards.

Ind. When graceful sorrow in her pomp appears, Sure she is dressed in Melesinda’s tears.  Your head reclined, (as hiding grief from view) Droops, like a rose, surcharged with morning dew.

Mel. Can flowers but droop in absence of the sun,
Which waked their sweets?  And mine, alas! is gone. 
But you the noblest charity express: 
For they, who shine in courts, still shun distress.

Ind. Distressed myself, like you, confined, I live: 
And, therefore, can compassion take and give. 
We’re both love’s captives, but with fate so cross,
One must be happy by the other’s loss. 
Morat, or Aureng-Zebe, must fall this day.

Mel. Too truly Tamerlane’s successors they;
Each thinks a world too little for his sway. 
Could you and I the same pretences bring,
Mankind should with more ease receive a king: 
I would to you the narrow world resign,
And want no empire while Morat was mine.

Ind. Wished freedom, I presage, you soon will find; If heaven be just, and be to virtue kind.

Mel. Quite otherwise my mind foretels my fate: 
Short is my life, and that unfortunate. 
Yet should I not complain, would heaven afford
Some little time, ere death, to see my lord.

Ind. These thoughts are but your melancholy’s food;
Raised from a lonely life, and dark abode: 
But whatsoe’er our jarring fortunes prove,
Though our lords hate, methinks we two may love.

Mel. Such be our loves as may not yield to fate; I bring a heart more true than fortunate. [Giving their hands.

  To them, ARIMANT.

Arim. I come with haste surprising news to bring: 
In two hours time, since last I saw the king,
The affairs of court have wholly changed their face: 
Unhappy Aureng-Zebe is in disgrace;
And your Morat, proclaimed the successor,
Is called, to awe the city with his power. 
Those trumpets his triumphant entry tell,
And now the shouts waft near the citadel.

Ind. See, madam, see the event by me foreshown:  I envy not your chance, but grieve my own.

Mel. A change so unexpected must surprise:  And more, because I am unused to joys.