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.

_Mor._ The deadly draught he shall begin this day:
And languish with insensible decay.

_Aur._ I hate the lingering summons to attend;
Death all at once would be the nobler end.
Fate is unkind! methinks, a general
Should warm, and at the head of armies fall;
And my ambition did that hope pursue,
That so I might have died in fight for you. [_To his Father._

_Mor._ Would I had been disposer of thy stars!
Thou shouldst have had thy wish, and died in wars.
'Tis I, not thou, have reason to repine,
That thou shouldst fall by any hand, but mine.

_Aur._ When thou wert formed, heaven did a man begin;
But the brute soul, by chance, was shuffled in.
In woods and wilds thy monarchy maintain,
Where valiant beasts, by force and rapine, reign.
In life's next scene, if