Ind. The hopes you raised, you've blasted with a breath: [Starting back.
With triumphs you began, but end with death.
Did you not say my lover should be king?
Mor. I, in Morat, the best of lovers bring.
For one, forsaken both of earth and heaven,
Your kinder stars a nobler choice have given:
My father, while I please, a king appears;
His power is more declining than his years.
An emperor and lover, but in shew;
But you, in me, have youth and fortune too:
As heaven did to your eyes, and form divine,
Submit the fate of all the imperial line;
So was it ordered by its wise decree,
That you should find them all comprised in me.
Ind. If, sir, I seem not discomposed with rage,
Feed not your fancy with a false presage.
Farther to press your courtship is but vain;
A cold refusal carries more disdain.
Unsettled virtue stormy may appear;
Honour, like mine, serenely is severe;
To scorn your person, and reject your crown,
Disorder not my face into a frown.[Turns from him.
Mor. Your fortune you should reverently have used:
Such offers are not twice to be refused.
I go to Aureng-Zebe, and am in haste
For your commands; they're like to be the last.
Ind. Tell him,
With my own death I would his life redeem;
But less than honour both our lives esteem.
Mor. Have you no more?
Ind. What shall I do or say?
He must not in this fury go away.—[Aside.
Tell him, I did in vain his brother move;
And yet he falsely said, he was in love:
Falsely; for, had he truly loved, at least
He would have given one day to my request.
Mor. A little yielding may my love advance:
She darted from her eyes a sidelong glance,
Just as she spoke; and, like her words, it flew:
Seemed not to beg, what yet she bid me do.[Aside.
A brother, madam, cannot give a day;[To her.
A servant, and who hopes to merit, may.
Mel. If, sir—[Coming to him.
Mor. No more—set speeches, and a formal tale,
With none but statesmen and grave fools prevail.
Dry up your tears, and practice every grace,
That fits the pageant of your royal place.[Exit.