Mor. I did not only view, but will invade. 
Could you shed venom from your reverend shade,
Like trees, beneath whose arms ’tis death to sleep;
Did rolling thunder your fenced fortress keep,
Thence would I snatch my Semele, like Jove,
And ’midst the dreadful wrack enjoy my love.

Emp. Have I for this, ungrateful as thou art! 
When right, when nature, struggled in my heart;
When heaven called on me for thy brother’s claim,
Broke all, and sullied my unspotted fame? 
Wert thou to empire, by my baseness, brought,
And wouldst thou ravish what so dear I bought? 
Dear! for my conscience and its peace I gave;—­
Why was my reason made my passion’s slave? 
I see heaven’s justice; thus the powers divine
Pay crimes with crimes, and punish mine by thine.

Mor. Crimes let them pay, and punish as they please;
What power makes mine, by power I mean to seize. 
Since ’tis to that they their own greatness owe
Above, why should they question mine below? [Exit.

Emp. Prudence, thou vainly in our youth art sought,
And, with age purchased, art too dearly bought: 
We’re past the use of wit, for which we toil;
Late fruit, and planted in too cold a soil. 
My stock of fame is lavished and decayed;
No profit of the vast profusion made. 
Too late my folly I repent; I know
My Aureng-Zebe would ne’er have used me so. 
But, by his ruin, I prepared my own;
And, like a naked tree, my shelter gone,
To winds and winter-storms must stand exposed alone. [Exit.

  Enter AURENG-ZEBE and ARIMANT.

Arim. Give me not thanks, which I will ne’er deserve;
But know, ’tis for a noble price I serve. 
By Indamora’s will you’re hither brought: 
All my reward in her command I sought. 
The rest your letter tells you.—­See, like light,
She comes, and I must vanish, like the night. [Exit.

  Enter INDAMORA.

Ind. ’Tis now, that I begin to live again;
Heavens, I forgive you all my fear and pain: 
Since I behold my Aureng-Zebe appear,
I could not buy him at a price too dear. 
His name alone afforded me relief,
Repeated as a charm to cure my grief. 
I that loved name did, as some god, invoke,
And printed kisses on it, while I spoke.

Aur. Short ease, but long, long pains from you I find;
Health, to my eyes; but poison, to my mind. 
Why are you made so excellently fair? 
So much above what other beauties are,
That, even in cursing, you new form my breath;
And make me bless those eyes which give me death!

Ind. What reason for your curses can you find?  My eyes your conquest, not your death, designed.  If they offend, ’tis that they are too kind.

Aur. The ruins they have wrought, you will not see; Too kind they are, indeed, but not to me.