With that foul menace? Tyrant! dread'st thou not
Th' all-seeing eye of heav'n, its lifted thunder,
And all the red'ning vengeance which it stores
For crimes like thine?—Yet know, Zaphira scorns thee.
[crosses to R.
Though robb'd by thee of ev'ry dear support,
No tyrant's threat can awe the free-born soul,
That greatly dares to die. [Exit Zaphira, r.
Bar. (c.). Where should she learn the tale of Selim's death?
Could Othman dare to tell it?—If he did,