Mor. I’ll do it.—­Draw out my army on the plain!  War is to me a pastime, peace a pain.

Emp. Think better first.—­ [To MOR. 
You see yourself enclosed beyond escape, [To AUR. 
And, therefore, Proteus-like, you change your shape;
Of promise prodigal, while power you want,
And preaching in the self-denying cant.

Mor. Plot better; for these arts too obvious are,
Of gaming time, the master-piece of war. 
Is Aureng-Zebe so known?

Aur. If acts like mine,
So far from interest, profit, or design,
Can show my heart, by those I would be known: 
I wish you could as well defend your own. 
My absent army for my father fought: 
Yours, in these walls, is to enslave him brought. 
If I come singly, you an armed guest,
The world with ease may judge whose cause is best.

Mor. My father saw you ill designs pursue; And my admission showed his fear of you.

Aur. Himself best knows why he his love withdraws: 
I owe him more than to declare the cause. 
But still I press, our duty may be shown
By arms.

Mor. I’ll vanquish all his foes alone.

Aur. You speak, as if you could the fates command,
And had no need of any other hand. 
But, since my honour you so far suspect,
’Tis just I should on your designs reflect. 
To prove yourself a loyal son, declare
You’ll lay down arms when you conclude the war.

Mor. No present answer your demand requires;
The war once done, I’ll do what heaven inspires;
And while this sword this monarchy secures,
’Tis managed by an abler arm than yours.

Emp. Morat’s design a doubtful meaning bears:  [Aside.
In Aureng-Zebe true loyalty appears. 
He, for my safety, does his own despise;
Still, with his wrongs, I find his duty rise. 
I feel my virtue struggling in my soul,
But stronger passion does its power controul.—­
Yet be advised your ruin to prevent:  [To AUR. aside.
You might be safe, if you would give consent.

Aur. So to your welfare I of use may be, My life or death are equal both to me.

Emp. The people’s hearts are yours; the fort yet mine: 
Be wise, and Indamora’s love resign. 
I am observed:  Remember, that I give
This my last proof of kindness—­die, or live.

Aur. Life, with my Indamora, I would chuse;
But, losing her, the end of living lose. 
I had considered all I ought before;
And fear of death can make me change no more. 
The people’s love so little I esteem,
Condemned by you, I would not live by them. 
May he, who must your favour now possess,
Much better serve you, and not love you less.

Emp. I’ve heard you; and, to finish the debate, [Aloud. Commit that rebel prisoner to the state.