_Nour._ This wondrous master-piece I fain would see; This fatal Helen, who can wars inspire, Make kings her slaves, and set the world on fire. My husband locked his jewel from my view; Or durst not set the false one by the true. _Re-enter_ ZAYDA, _leading_ INDAMORA. _Zayd._ Your frighted captive, ere she dies, receive; Her soul's just going else, without your leave. _Nour._ A fairer creature did my eyes ne'er see! Sure she was formed by heaven, in spite to me! Some angel copied, while I slept, each grace, And moulded every feature from my face. Such majesty does from her forehead rise, Her cheeks such blushes cast, such rays her eyes, Nor I, nor envy, can a blemish find.-- The palace is, without, too well designed: Conduct me in, for I will view thy mind. [_To her._ Speak, if thou hast a soul, that I may see, If heaven can make, throughout, another me. _Ind._ My tears and miseries must plead my cause; [_Kneeling._ My words, the terror of your presence awes: Mortals, in sight of angels, mute become; The nobler nature strikes the inferior dumb. _Nour._ The palm is, by the foe's confession, mine; But I disdain what basely you resign. Heaven did, by me, the outward model build; Its inward work, the soul, with rubbish filled. Yet, oh! the imperfect piece moves more delight; 'Tis gilded o'er with youth, to catch the sight. The gods have poorly robbed my virgin bloom, And what I am, by what I was, o'ercome. Traitress! restore my beauty and my charms, Nor steal my conquest with my proper arms. _Ind._ What have I done thus to inflame your hate? I am not guilty, but unfortunate. _Nour._ Not guilty, when thy looks my power betray, Seduce mankind, my subject, from my sway, Take all my hearts and all my eyes away? My husband first; but that I could forgive; He only moved, and talked, but did not live. My Aureng-Zebe!--for I dare own the name, The glorious sin, and the more glorious flame,-- Him from my beauty have thy eyes misled, And starved the joys of my expected bed. _Ind._ His love so sought, he's happy that he's dead. O had I courage but to meet my fate, That short dark passage to a future state, That melancholy riddle of a breath! _Nour._ That something, or that nothing, after death: Take this, and teach thyself. [_Giving a Dagger._ _Ind._ Alas! _Nour._ Why dost thou shake? Dishonour not the vengeance I designed: A queen, and own a base Plebeian mind! Let it drink deep in thy most vital part; Strike home, and do me reason in thy heart. _Ind._ I dare not. _Nour._ Do't, while I stand by and see, At my full gust, without the drudgery. I love a foe, who dares my stroke prevent, Who gives me the full scene of my content; Shows me the flying soul's convulsive strife, And all the anguish of departing life. Disdain my mercy, and my rage defy; Curse me with thy last breath, and make me see A spirit, worthy to have rivalled me.