n her secrecy.
Bid her conceal my passion from my son:
Though Aureng-Zebe return a conqueror,
Both he and she are still within my power.
Say, I'm a father, but a lover too;
Much to my son, more to myself I owe.
When she receives him, to her words give law,
And even the kindness of her glances awe.
See, he appears! [_After a short whisper,_ ARIMANT _departs._

_Enter_ AURENG-ZEBE, DIANET, _and_ Attendants.--AURENG-ZEBE _kneels
to his Father, and kisses his hand._

_Aur._ My vows have been successful as my sword;
My prayers are heard, you have your health restored.
Once more 'tis given me to behold your face;
The best of kings and fathers to embrace.
Pardon my tears; 'tis joy which bids them flow,
A joy which never was sincere till now.
That, which my conquest gave, I could not prize;
Or 'twas imperfect till I saw your eyes.

_Emp._ Turn the discourse: I have a reason why
I would not have you speak so tenderly.
Knew you what shame your kind expressions bring,
You would, in pity, spare a wretched king.

_Aur._ A king! you rob me, sir, of half my due;
You have a dearer name,--a father too.

_Emp._ I had that name.

_Aur._ What have I said or done,
That I no longer must be called your son?
'Tis in that name, heaven knows, I glory more,
Than that of prince, or that of conqueror.

_Emp._ Then you upbraid me; I am pleased to see
You're not so perfect, but can fail, like me.
I have no God to deal with.

_Aur._ Now I find,
Some sly court-devil has seduced your mind;
Filled it with black suspicions not your own,
And all my actions through false optics shown.
I ne'er did crowns ambitiously regard;
Honour I sought, the generous mind's reward.
Long may you live! while you the sceptre sway,
I shall be still most happy to obey.

_Emp._ Oh, Aureng-Zebe! thy virtues shine too bright,
They flash too fierce: I, like the bird of night,
Shut my dull eyes, and sicken at the sight.
Thou hast deserved more love than I can show;
But 'tis thy fate to give, and mine to owe.
Thou seest me much distempered in my mind;
Pulled back, and then pushed forward to be kind.
Virtue, and--fain I would my silence break,
But have not yet the confidence to speak.
Leave me, and to thy needful rest repair.

_Aur._ Rest is not suiting with a lover's care.
I have not yet my Indamora seen. [_Is going._

_Emp._ Somewhat I had forgot; come back again:
So weary of a father's company?

_Aur._ Sir, you we