_Emp._ What pleasure can there be in that estate, Which your unquietness has made me hate? I shrink far off, Dissembling sleep, but wakeful with the fright; The day takes off the pleasure of the night. _Nour._ My thoughts no other joys but power pursue; Or, if they did, they must be lost in you. And yet the fault's not mine, Though youth and beauty cannot warmth command; The sun in vain shines on the barren sand. _Emp._ 'Tis true, of marriage-bands I'm weary grown; Love scorns all ties, but those that are his own. Chains, that are dragged, must needs uneasy prove, For there's a godlike liberty in love. _Nour._ What's love to you? The bloom of beauty other years demands, Nor will be gathered by such withered hands: You importune it with a false desire, Which sparkles out, and makes no solid fire. This impudence of age, whence can it spring? All you expect, and yet you nothing bring: Eager to ask, when you are past a grant; Nice in providing what you cannot want. Have conscience; give not her you love this pain; Solicit not yourself and her in vain: All other debts may compensation find; But love is strict, and will be paid in kind. _Emp._ Sure, of all ills, domestic are the worst; When most secure of blessings, we are curst. When we lay next us what we hold most dear, Like Hercules, envenomed shirts we wear, And cleaving mischiefs. _Nour._ What you merit, have; And share, at least, the miseries you gave. Your days I will alarm, I'll haunt your nights. And, worse than age, disable your delights. May your sick fame still languish till it die, All offices of power neglected lie, And you grow cheap in every subject's eye! Then, as the greatest curse that I can give, Unpitied be deposed, and, after, live! [_Going off._ _Emp._ Stay, and now learn, How criminal soe'er we husbands are, 'Tis not for wives to push our crimes too far. Had you still mistress of your temper been, I had been modest, and not owned my sin. Your fury hardens me; and whate'er wrong You suffer, you have cancelled by your tongue. A guard there!--Seize her; she shall know this hour, What is a husband's and a monarch's power. [_Guard seizes her._ _Enter_ AURENG-ZEBE. _Nour._ I see for whom your charter you maintain; I must be fettered, and my son be slain, That Zelyma's ambitious race may reign. Not so you promised, when my beauty drew All Asia's vows; when, Persia left for you, The realm of Candahar for dower I brought; That long-contended prize for which you fought. _Aur._ The name of stepmother, your practised art, By which you have estranged my father's heart, All you have done against me, or design, Shows your aversion, but begets not mine. Long may my father India's empire guide, And may no breach your nuptial vows divide!