Ind. How you confound desires of good and ill. 
For true renown is still with virtue joined;
But lust of power lets loose the unbridled mind. 
Yours is a soul irregularly great,
Which, wanting temper, yet abounds with heat,
So strong, yet so unequal pulses beat;
A sun, which does, through vapours, dimly shine;
What pity ’tis, you are not all divine! 
New moulded, thorough lightened, and a breast
So pure, to bear the last severest test;
Fit to command an empire you should gain
By virtue, and without a blush to reign.

Mor. You show me somewhat I ne’er learnt before;
But ’tis the distant prospect of a shore,
Doubtful in mists; which, like enchanted ground,
Flies from my sight, before ’tis fully found.

Ind. Dare to be great, without a guilty crown;
View it, and lay the bright temptation down: 
’Tis base to seize on all, because you may;
That’s empire, that, which I can give away: 
There’s joy when to wild will you laws prescribe,
When you bid fortune carry back her bribe: 
A joy, which none but greatest minds can taste;
A fame, which will to endless ages last.

Mor. Renown, and fame, in vain, I courted long,
And still pursued them, though directed wrong. 
In hazard, and in toils, I heard they lay;
Sailed farther than the coast, but missed my way: 
Now you have given me virtue for my guide;
And, with true honour, ballasted my pride. 
Unjust dominion I no more pursue;
I quit all other claims, but those to you.

Ind. Oh be not just by halves! pay all you owe: 
Think there’s a debt to Melesinda too. 
To leave no blemish on your after-life,
Reward the virtue of a suffering wife.

Mor. To love, once past, I cannot backward move;
Call yesterday again, and I may love. 
’Twas not for nothing I the crown resigned;
I still must own a mercenary mind;
I, in this venture, double gains pursue,
And laid out all my stock, to purchase you.

  To them, ASAPH CHAN.

Now, what success? does Aureng-Zebe yet live?

Asaph. Fortune has given you all that she can give.  Your brother—­

Mor. Hold; thou showest an impious joy, And think’st I still take pleasure to destroy:  Know, I am changed, and would not have him slain.

Asaph. ’Tis past; and you desire his life in vain. 
He, prodigal of soul, rushed on the stroke
Of lifted weapons, and did wounds provoke: 
In scorn of night, he would not be concealed;
His soldiers, where he fought, his name revealed. 
In thickest crowds, still Aureng-Zebe did sound;
The vaulted roofs did Aureng-Zebe rebound;
Till late, and in his fall, the name was drowned.

Ind. Wither that hand which brought him to his fate, And blasted be the tongue which did relate!

Asaph. His body—­