SCENE III. _The Council Chamber.

_Enter_ Sultan, Haswell, _and_ Guards.

_Has._ Sultan, I have out-run your bounty in my promises; and one poor, unhappy female----

_Sul._ No--you named yourself the number to release, and it is fixed--I'll not increase it.

_Has._ A poor, miserable female----

_Sul._ Am I less miserable than she is?--And who shall release me from my sorrows?

_Has._ Then let me tell you, Sultan, she is above your power to oblige, or to punish.--Ten years, nay more, confinement in a drear cell has been no greater punishment to her, than had she lived in a pleasant world without the man she loved.

_Sul._ Hah!

_Has._ And freedom offered she rejects with scorn, because he is not included in the blessing.

_Sul._ You talk of prodigies!--[_He makes a sign for the Guards to retire, and they exit._]--and yet I once knew a heart equal to this description.

_Has._ Nay, will you see her?--Witness yourself the fact?

_Sul._ Why do I tremble?--My busy fancy presents an image----

_Has._ Yes, tremble, indeed! [_Threatening._

_Sul._ Hah! have a care--what tortures are you preparing for me?--My mind shrinks at the idea.

_Has._ Your wife you will behold--whom you have kept in want, in wretchedness, in a damp dungeon, for these fourteen years, because you wou'd not listen to the voice of pity.----Dread her look--her frown--not for herself alone, but for hundreds of her fellow sufferers--and while your selfish fancy was searching, with wild anxiety, for her _you_ loved, unpitying, you forgot others might love like you.

_Sul._ O! do not bring me to a trial which I have not courage to support.

_Has._ She attends without--I sent for her to thank you for the favour she declines.--Nay, be composed--she knows _you_ not--cannot, thus disguised as the Sultan. [_Exit_ Haswell.

_Sul._ Oh! my Arabella! could I have thought that your approach wou'd ever impress my mind with horror!--or that, instead of flying to your arms with all the love I bear you, terror and dread shou'd fix me a statue of remorse.

_Enter_ Haswell, _leading_ Arabella.

_Has._ Here kneel, and return your thanks.

_Sul._ My Arabella! worn with grief and anguish! [_Aside._

_Ara._ [_Kneeling to the_ Sultan.] Sultan, the favour you wou'd bestow, I own, and humbly thank you for.

_Sul._ Gracious Heaven! [_In much agitation._

_Ara._ But as I am now accustomed to confinement, and the idea of all the world can give, cannot inspire a wish that warms my heart to the enjoyment--I supplicate permission to transfer the blessing you have offered, to one of those who may have friends to welcome their return from bondage, and so make freedom precious.--I have none to rejoice at _my_ release--none to lament my destiny while a prisoner.--And were I free, in this vast world (forlorn and friendless) 'tis but a prison still.

_Sul._ What have I done?--[_Throwing himself on a sopha with the greatest emotion._

_Has._ Speak to him again.--He repents of the severity with which he has caused his fellow creatures to be used.--Tell him _you_ forgive him.

_Ara._ [_Going to him._] Believe me, Emperor, I forgive all who have ever wronged me--all who have ever caused my sufferings.--Pardon _you_!--Alas! I have pardoned even those who tore me from my husband!--Oh, Sultan! all the tortures you have made me suffer, compared to such a pang as that--did I say I had forgiven it?--Oh! I am afraid--afraid I have not yet.

_Sul._ Forgive it now, then, for he is restored.--[_Taking off his turban._]--Behold him in the Sultan, and once more seal his pardon.--[_She faints on_ Haswell.]--Nay, pronounce it quickly, or my remorse for what you have undergone, will make my present tortures greater than any my cruelties have ever yet inflicted.

_Ara._ [_Recovering._] Is this the light you promised?--[_To_ Haswell.]--Dear precious light!--Is this my freedom? to which I bind myself a slave for ever.--[_Embracing the_ Sultan.]--Was I _your_ captive?--Sweet captivity!--more precious than an age of liberty!

_Sul._ Oh, my Arabella! through the amazing changes of my fate, (which I will soon disclose) think not but I have searched for _thee_ with unceasing care; but the blessing to behold you once again was left for my kind monitor alone to bestow.----Oh, Haswell! had I, like you, made others' miseries my concern, like you sought out the wretched, how many days of sorrow had I spared myself as well as others--for I long since had found my Arabella.

_Ara._ Oh, Heaven! that weighest our sufferings with our joys, and as our lives decline seest in the balance thy blessings far more ponderous than thy judgements--be witness, I complain no more of what I have endured, but find an ample recompence this moment.

_Has._ I told you, Sir, how you might be happy.

_Sul._ ----Take your reward--(to a heart like yours, more valuable than treasure from my coffers)--this signet, with power to redress the _wrongs_ of all who suffer.

_Has._ Valuable indeed!----

_Ara._ [_To_ Haswell.] Oh, virtuous man!--to reward _thee_ are we made happy--to give thy pitying bosom the joy to see us so, has Heaven remitted its intended punishment of continued separation.

_Sul._ Come, my beloved wife!--come to my palace--there, equally, my dearest blessing, as when the cottage gave its fewer joys--and in him [_To_ Haswell.] we not only find our present happiness, but dwell securely on our future hopes--for here, I vow, before he leaves our shores, I will adopt every measure he shall point out--and that period of my life whereon he shall lay his censure, that will I fix apart for penitence.--[_Exit_ Sultan _and_ Arabella.--Haswell _bows to Heaven with thanks_.

_Enter_ Keeper.

_Keep._ An English prisoner, just now condemned to lose his head, one Henry Twineall, humbly begs permission to speak a few short sentences, his last dying words, to Mr. Haswell.

_Has._ Condemned to lose his head?--Lead me to him.

_Keep._ O, Sir, you need not hurry yourself--it is off by this time, I dare say.

_Has._ Off?

_Keep._ Yes, Sir--we don't stand long about these things in this country--I dare say it is off.

_Has._ [_Impatiently._] Lead me to him instantly.

_Guard._ O! 'tis of consequence, is it, Sir?--if that is the case---- [_Exit_ Keeper, _followed by_ Haswell.