IRENE. Ambition is the stamp, impress'd by heav'n To mark the noblest minds; with active heat Inform'd, they mount the precipice of pow'r, Grasp at command, and tow'r in quest of empire; While vulgar souls compassionate their cares, Gaze at their height, and tremble at their danger: Thus meaner spirits, with amazement, mark The varying seasons, and revolving skies, And ask, what guilty pow'r's rebellious hand Rolls with eternal toil the pond'rous orbs; While some archangel, nearer to perfection, In easy state, presides o'er all their motions, Directs the planets, with a careless nod, Conducts the sun, and regulates the spheres. ASPASIA. Well may'st thou hide in labyrinths of sound The cause that shrinks from reason's pow'rful voice. Stoop from thy flight, trace back th' entangled thought, And set the glitt'ring fallacy to view. Not pow'r I blame, but pow'r obtain'd by crime; Angelick greatness is angelick virtue. Amidst the glare of courts, the shout of armies, Will not th' apostate feel the pangs of guilt, And wish, too late, for innocence and peace, Curst, as the tyrant of th' infernal realms, With gloomy state and agonizing pomp? SCENE IX. IRENE, ASPASIA, MAID. MAID. A Turkish stranger, of majestick mien, Asks at the gate admission to Aspasia, Commission'd, as he says, by Cali bassa. IRENE. Whoe'er thou art, or whatsoe'er thy message, [Aside. Thanks for this kind relief--With speed admit him. ASPASIA. He comes, perhaps, to separate us for ever; When I am gone, remember, O! remember, That none are great, or happy, but the virtuous. [_Exit_ Irene; _enter_ Demetrius. SCENE X. ASPASIA, DEMETRIUS. DEMETRIUS. 'Tis she--my hope, my happiness, my love! Aspasia! do I, once again, behold thee? Still, still the same--unclouded by misfortune! Let my blest eyes for ever gaze-- ASPASIA. Demetrius! DEMETRIUS. Why does the blood forsake thy lovely cheek? Why shoots this chilness through thy shaking nerves? Why does thy soul retire into herself? Recline upon my breast thy sinking beauties: Revive--Revive to freedom and to love. ASPASIA. What well-known voice pronounc'd the grateful sounds, Freedom and love? Alas! I'm all confusion; A sudden mist o'ercasts my darken'd soul; The present, past, and future swim before me, Lost in a wild perplexity of joy. DEMETRIUS. Such ecstasy of love, such pure affection, What worth can merit? or what faith reward? ASPASIA. A thousand thoughts, imperfect and distracted, Demand a voice, and struggle into birth; A thousand questions press upon my tongue, But all give way to rapture and Demetrius. DEMETRIUS. O say, bright being, in this age of absence, What fears, what griefs, what dangers, hast thou known? Say, how the tyrant threaten'd, flatter'd, sigh'd! Say, how he threaten'd, flatter'd, sigh'd in vain! Say, how the hand of violence was rais'd! Say, how thou call'dst in tears upon Demetrius!