Ion [_rising proudly_]. To the pagan Mohammed,--he who with murderous hand hath bathed in blood the smiling plains of Greece; profaned her altars, enslaved her people, and filled the land with widows' tears and orphans' cries; he who by perfidy makes captives of his foes, refusing hostage and scorning honorable treaty; turns from all supplicants, closes his heart to mercy, and tramples under foot all pity and all justice,--the murderer, and the tyrant. Yes, king, I know to whom I plead. Moh'd. [_in great anger_]. Ho, without there, guards!--Selim! [_Enter_ Selim _and soldiers._] Away with the prisoner! Bind him fast; see he escape not. Mohammed stands not to be braved by a beardless boy! Hence! [_Guards approach with chains._] Ion. Lay not hands upon me,--I am no slave! One more appeal: May a son look once more upon his father ere death parts them forever? May I but for an hour speak with Cleon? Moh'd. Once more thou mayst look upon the rebel Greek. When he hangs from yonder battlement thou mayst gaze unbidden as thou will. Away! With to-morrow's sun, he dies. Ion. So soon, O king!--nay, the son of Cleon kneels not to thee again [_turns to go_]. Moh'd. Stay,--yield up thy sword! Bend thy proud knee, and surrender unto me the arms thou art unworthy now to bear. Ion [_drawing his sword_]. This, my sword, girded on by a mother's hand, pledged to the deliverance of a captive sire, dedicated to the service of my country, unstained, unconquered,--_thus_ do I surrender thee. [_He breaks the sword, and flings it down._] Moh'd. Again dost thou brave me! Away with the rebel! Bind him hand and foot. He shall learn what it is to be Mohammed's slave. Hence, I say! Ion. I am thy captive, but thy slave--never! Thou mayst chain my limbs, thou canst _not_ bind my freeborn soul! Lead on,--I follow. [_Exit_ Ion _and guards_. CURTAIN. SCENE THIRD. [_Tent of_ Zuleika; _guitar, ottoman, etc._] Zuleika [_pacing up and down_]. Night draweth on apace, and ever nearer comes the fatal hour. With to-morrow's dawn all hope is o'er, for Mohammed hath sworn the Greek shall die, and when was _he_ ere known to fail in his dread purpose? In vain have I wept before him, imploring him to have some mercy; in vain have I sought with golden promises to move the stony-hearted Hafiz,--all, all hath failed, and I am in despair. And that brave youth, his true heart filled with love's pure devotion, seeking by the sacrifice of his own life to save a father! And now each moment bringeth nearer the death-hour of that father, and he is mourning in solitude that he may not say farewell. Where can I turn for help? Ah, Hassan! my faithful slave. He is true, and loveth me like his own. He must aid me [_claps her hands_; _enter_ Hassan]. Hassan, thou lovest me, and would not see me grieve?