Nour. What foolish pity has possessed your mind,
To alter what your prudence once designed?
Mor. What if I please to lengthen out his date
A day, and take a pride to cozen fate?
Nour. 'Twill not be safe to let him live an hour.
Mor. I'll do't, to show my arbitrary power.
Nour. Fortune may take him from your hands again,
And you repent the occasion lost in vain.
Mor. I smile at what your female fear foresees;
I'm in fate's place, and dictate her decrees.—
Let Arimant be called.[Exit one of his Attendants.
Aur. Give me the poison, and I'll end your strife;
I hate to keep a poor precarious life.
Would I my safety on base terms receive,
Know, sir, I could have lived without your leave.
But those I could accuse, I can forgive;
By my disdainful silence, let them live.
Nour. What am I, that you dare to bind my hand? [To Morat.
So low, I've not a murder at command!
Can you not one poor life to her afford,
Her, who gave up whole nations to your sword?
And from the abundance of whose soul and heat,
The o'erflowing served to make your mind so great?
Mor. What did that greatness in a woman's mind?
Ill lodged, and weak to act what it designed?
Pleasure's your portion, and your slothful ease:
When man's at leisure, study how to please,
Soften his angry hours with servile care,
And, when he calls, the ready feast prepare.
From wars, and from affairs of state abstain;
Women emasculate a monarch's reign;
And murmuring crowds, who see them shine with gold,
That pomp, as their own ravished spoils, behold.
Nour. Rage choaks my words: 'Tis womanly to weep: [Aside.
In my swollen breast my close revenge I'll keep;
I'll watch his tenderest part, and there strike deep.[Exit.