nd enjoy thy wish--

ABDALLA.
I need not name it;
Aspasia's lovers know but one desire,
Nor hope, nor wish, nor live, but for Aspasia.

CALI.
That fatal beauty, plighted to Demetrius,
Heaven makes not mine to give.

ABDALLA.
Nor to deny.

CALI.
Obtain her, and possess; thou know'st thy rival.

ABDALLA.
Too well I know him, since, on Thracia's plains,
I felt the force of his tempestuous arm,
And saw my scatter'd squadrons fly before him.
Nor will I trust th' uncertain chance of combat;
The rights of princes let the sword decide,
The petty claims of empire and of honour:
Revenge and subtle jealousy shall teach
A surer passage to his hated heart.

CALI.
Oh! spare the gallant Greek, in him we lose
The politician's arts, and hero's flame.

ABDALLA.
When next we meet, before we storm the palace,
The bowl shall circle to confirm our league;
Then shall these juices taint Demetrius' draught,
[_Showing a phial_.
And stream, destructive, through his freezing veins:
Thus shall he live to strike th' important blow,
And perish, ere he taste the joys of conquest.

SCENE V.

MAHOMET, MUSTAPHA, CALI, ABDALLA.

MAHOMET.
Henceforth, for ever happy be this day,
Sacred to love, to pleasure, and Irene!
The matchless fair has bless'd me with compliance;
Let every tongue resound Irene's praise,
And spread the gen'ral transport through mankind.

CALI.
Blest prince, for whom indulgent heav'n ordains,
At once, the joys of paradise and empire,
Now join thy people's and thy Cali's prayers;
Suspend thy passage to the seats of bliss,
Nor wish for houries in Irene's arms.

MAHOMET.
Forbear--I know the long-try'd faith of Cali.

CALI.
Oh! could the eyes of kings, like those of heav'n,
Search to the dark recesses of the soul,
Oft would they find ingratitude and treason,
By smiles, and oaths, and praises, ill disguis'd.
How rarely would they meet, in crowded courts,
Fidelity so firm, so pure, as mine.

MUSTAPHA.
Yet, ere we give our loosen'd thoughts to rapture,
Let prudence obviate an impending danger:
Tainted by sloth, the parent of sedition,
The hungry janizary burns for plunder,
And growls, in private, o'er his idle sabre.

MAHOMET.
To still their murmurs, ere the twentieth sun
Shall shed his beams upon the bridal bed,
I rouse to war, and conquer for Irene.
Then shall the Rhodian mourn his sinking tow'rs,