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ACT I. - The Works of Voltaire, Vol. X The Dramatic Works Part 1 (Zaire, Caesar, The Prodigal, Prefaces) and Part II (The Lisbon Earthquake and Other Poems).

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ACT I. - Voltaire, The Works of Voltaire, Vol. X The Dramatic Works Part 1 (Zaire, Caesar, The Prodigal, Prefaces) and Part II (The Lisbon Earthquake and Other Poems). [1901]

Edition used:

From The Works of Voltaire, A Contemporary Version, (New York: E.R. DuMont, 1901), A Critique and Biography by John Morley, notes by Tobias Smollett, trans. William F. Fleming. Vol. X The Dramatic Works Part 1 (Zaire, Caesar, The Prodigal, Prefaces) and Part II (The Lisbon Earthquake and Other Poems).

Author: Voltaire
Translator: William F. Fleming
Notes: Tobias Smollett

Part of: The Works of Voltaire. A Contemporary Version, in 21 vols.

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ACT I.

SCENE I.

zaïre, fatima.

fatima.

I little thought to see the lovely Zaïre,
In all the pride of youth and beauty, thus
Calm and resigned submitting to her fate:
What sweet delusive hope hath pierced the cloud
Of grief that hung upon thee, and revived
Thy drooping heart? this peace of mind hath given
New lustre to thy charms: no longer now
Thy eyes are bathed in tears, no longer seek
Those blissful climes where brave Nerestan promised
To guide our steps; thou talkest not, as of late
We heard thee, of those seats of happiness
Where women reign, by willing slaves adored,
The queens, the idols of a polished people,
Though free yet chaste, and wise though unrestrained,
For social converse fit, and not to fear
Indebted for their virtue: sighest thou, Zaïre,
No more for this gay land of liberty?
Seest thou within these solitary walls
Aught that is lovely? is the name of slave
So grateful now, that to the banks of Seine
Thou wouldst prefer the gloomy Solyma?

zaÏre.

We cannot wish for joys we never knew:
’Twas heaven’s supreme degree to fix us here;
Custom hath made restraint familiar to me:
I look not now beyond the narrow bounds
Of this seraglio; every hour it grows
More pleasing to me, and the world beside
Is lost to Zaïre: to the noble Osman
I yield myself, to live beneath his power;
To honor and obey my royal master
Is my soul’s utmost hope, and its ambition,
All else is but a dream.

fatima.

Hast thou forgot
The kind Nerestan, he whose generous friendship
Promised so oft to free us from the yoke
Of bondage? how did we admire his virtues,
His matchless valor, and intrepid zeal!
The glory he acquired beneath the walls
Of Damas, where so many Christians fell
By Osman’s mighty hand! the conqueror then,
Thou mayest remember, pitied his brave foe,
And, on his word, permitted him to leave
The banks of Jordan; we expect him still
To pay the ransom of our liberty,
And set us free: must all our hopes be vain?

zaÏre.

Perhaps his promise might exceed his power;
Two years are past, and yet he’s not returned:
Alas! my Fatima, a captive stranger,
To gain his liberty, might promise more
Than he could e’er perform: he talked, thou knowest,
Of bringing ransom for ten Christian slaves,
Would break their fetters, or resume his own:
I was too credulous, and much admired
His forward zeal, but I shall think no more on it.

fatima.

If yet he should be faithful, and return
To keep his plighted faith, then wouldst thou not—

zaÏre.

It is not as it was, my Fatima,
The time is past.

fatima.

What sayest thou?

zaÏre.

I’ll not hide
The secret from my friend; perhaps the Sultan
May yet conceal it, but thy Zaïre’s heart
With safety may repose on Fatima:
Know then, some three months since, when thou wert absent,
Removed with other slaves from Jordan’s banks,
Kind heaven, to put a period to our woes,
Raised up a powerful friend—the mighty Osman—

fatima.

Well, what of Osman?

zaÏre.

He, the Sultan’s self,
The Christian’s haughty conqueror, is the slave
Of Zaïre; yes, he loves me, Fatima;
Nay, blush not, (for I understand thee well)
Think not I mean to stain my spotless honor,
Or stoop to be the mistress of a tyrant;
That I will ever hazard the quick change
Of transitory passion; no, my friend,
I am not so far lost to modesty,
And native pride, as to forget myself;
Rather than fall so low I would embrace
The milder fate of slavery and death;
But I shall more astonish thee: for know,
I have subdued his haughty soul to love
Most pure, and most refined: amidst the crowd
Of rival beauties that contend for Osman,
I, I alone have fixed his wandering heart,
And Hymen soon, in spite of all their deep
And dark intrigues, shall make the Sultan mine

fatima.

It is a conquest worthy of thy charms,
And of thy virtues: I am much surprised,
But more delighted; may thy happiness
Be perfect! I shall rank myself with joy
Amongst thy subjects.

zaÏre.

Be my equal still,
And share my fortune; royalty with thee
Divided will make Zaïre doubly happy.

fatima.

Pleased with thy choice, long may indulgent heaven
Smile on thy nuptial bed; may never grief
Intrude to poison the sweet cup of grandeur,
By us called happiness! alas, how little
Doth it deserve the name! but tell me, Zaïre,
Art thou at ease, and feelest thou naught within
To check thy joys? hast thou forgot that once
Thou wert a Christian?

zaÏre.

Ha! what sayest thou? why
Wouldst thou recall my sorrows, Fatima?
Alas! I know not who or what I am,
Not even who gave me birth.

fatima.

Nerestan oft
Hath said, thou wert the daughter of a Christian;
The cross, which in thy infant years adorned thee,
Confirms it; still that sacred pledge remains
Perhaps but to remind thee of the faith
Which thou hast quitted.

zaÏre.

I’ve no other proof;
Shall that alone persuade me to embrace
A faith detested by the man I love?
Our thoughts, our manners, our religion, all
Are formed by custom, and the powerful bent
Of early years: born on the banks of Ganges
Zaïre had worshipped Pagan deities;
At Paris I had been a Christian; here
I am a happy Mussulman: we know
But what we learn; the instructing parent’s hand
Graves in our feeble hearts those characters
Which time retouches, and examples fix
So deeply in the mind, that naught but God
Can e’er efface: but thou wert hither brought
A captive at an age when reason joined
To sage experience had informed thy soul,
And well-confirmed its faith: for me, a slave
Even from my cradle to the Saracens,
Too late the Christian light broke in upon me;
Yet far from wishing ill to laws so pure,
Spite of myself, I own to thee, that cross,
Whene’er I looked upon it, filled my soul
With reverential awe, and oft in secret
Have I invoked its holy aid, ere Osman
Possessed my heart: thine is a noble faith;
I honor much those charitable laws
Which old Nerestan many a time hath told me
Would wipe off every tear, and make mankind
One sweet united family of love:
A Christian must be happy.

fatima.

Wherefore then
Wouldst thou become their most inveterate foe,
And wed their proud oppressor?

zaÏre.

Wouldst thou have me
Refuse so fair a present as the heart
Of Osman? no: I will confess my weakness;
But for the Sultan, Zaïre had long since
Embraced thy faith, and been, like thee, a Christian:
But Osman loves me, and ’tis all forgotten:
My every thought, my every hope is fixed
On him alone, and my enraptured soul
Can dwell on naught but Osman: O, my friend,
Think on his lovely form, and graceful mind,
His noble deeds, his glory, and renown:
The crown he offers is not worth my care;
The poor return of gratitude would ill
Repay his passion; love would spurn the gift:
’Tis not to Osman’s throne, but Osman’s self,
That I aspire: perhaps I am to blame;
But trust me, Fatima, if heaven had doomed him
To Zaïre’s fate, if he were now, like me,
A wretched slave, and I on Syria’s throne,
Or love deceives me much, or I should stoop
With joy, and raise him up to me and empire.

fatima.

But hark, they come this way; perhaps ’tis Osman.

zaÏre.

It is; it must be he; my fluttering heart
Speaks his arrival; for these two long days
He hath been absent, but propitious love
Restores him to my wishes.

SCENE II.

osman, zaïre, fatima.

osman.

Virtuous Zaïre,
Ere Hymen join our hands, permit me here
To pour forth all my honest heart before you:
I follow not our eastern monarchs’ laws,
Nor act by their example; well I know
How wide a field is left by Mahomet
For luxury to range in, that at pleasure
I might command a crowd of kneeling slaves,
Receive their incense, and return their love;
From the Seraglio’s peaceful seats deal forth
My laws, and in the arms of indolence
Govern my kingdom; but that well I know
How sloth deludes us, tempting are her charms,
But fatal is their end: a hundred kings
Have I beheld, her tributary slaves,
Our prophet’s most unworthy successors,
Caliphs that trembled midst the splendid pomp
Of visionary power, and only held
The name of kings, who might have lived the lords
Of all mankind, the conquerors of the world,
Had they but been, like their great ancestors,
The masters of themselves: then Solyma
And Syria fell beneath the valiant Bouillon,
But heaven, to chastise the impious foe,
Upraised the arm of mighty Saladin:
My father conquered Jordan, and to him,
Unequal to the weight of empire, next
Succeeded Osman, the disputed lord
Of a weak kingdom: whilst the haughty Christians,
Thirsting for blood, thick from the western coast,
Pour in upon me; whilst the voice of war,
And the shrill trumpet heard on every side,
Call us to arms, shall Osman waste his hours
In the loose dalliance of a soft seraglio?
No, Zaïre, love, and glory, bear me witness,
To thee alone I swear eternal truth,
To take thee for my mistress, and my wife;
To live thy friend, thy lover, and thy husband;
Zaïre alone shall with the toils of war
Divide my heart: think not I mean to trust
Thy honor to our savage Asian guards,
Those shameless pandars to the lawless pleasures
Of their imperious masters; I esteem
As well as love thee, and to Zaïre’s self
Its fittest guard, commit my Zaïre’s virtue.
Thou knowest my heart, on thee alone thou seest
Osman has placed his hopes of happiness;
I need not add how wretched it would make
My future life, shouldst thou repay my fondness
With the poor cold return of gratitude;
I love thee, Zaïre, yes, with rapture love thee,
And hope to find in thee an equal claim:
I own, whate’er the heart of Osman seeks,
It seeks with ardor; I should think you hated,
Did you not love me, with excess of passion:
Such is my nature; if it suits with thine,
I am thy husband, but on this condition,
And only this, if marriage did not make
Thee happy, I were most supremely wretched.

zaÏre.

Wretched, my lord? O if thy happiness
Depends on Zaïre’s truth, and Zaïre’s love,
Never was mortal half so blest as Osman.
Yes; the fond lover, and the tender wife,
All thou canst wish for, shalt thou find in Zaire,
For thou hast raised her far above her sex,
Above her hopes; O what excess of bliss
To hold my life, my happiness from thee,
Such envied bounties from the man I love,
To be the work of thy creating hand!
But if among the crowd of rival hearts
Thy partial favor has selected Zaïre’s,
O if thy choice—

SCENE III.

osman, zaïre, fatima, orasmin.

orasmin.

My lord, that Christian slave,
Who, on his promise given, had thy permission
To visit France, is thence returned, and begs
An audience.

osman.

Let him enter.

fatima.

Gracious heaven!

osman.

Why comes he not?

orasmin.

My lord, he waits without;
I did not think a Christian might approach
Your royal presence in this sacred place.

osman.

In every place access is free to Osman;
I hate our eastern policy, that hides
Its tyrants from the public eye, to screen
Oppression: give him entrance.

SCENE IV.

osman, zaïre, fatima, orasmin, nerestan.

nerestan.

Generous Sultan,
Whose virtues even thy Christian foes admire,
I come, as bound in honor, to discharge
My vows, and bring with me the promised ransom
Of beauteous Zaïre, the fair Selima,
And ten more Christian prisoners; I have done
My duty to the captives, do thou thine,
And set them free; I have bestowed on them
My little all, and naught remains for me
But noble poverty; Nerestan still
Must be thy slave; I have preserved my honor,
Unblemished, and fulfilled my sacred word.

osman.

Christian, thy virtue merits my best praise;
But think not Osman e’er will be surpassed
In generosity; receive thy freedom,
Take back thy treasures; take my bounty with them;
I promised thee ten Christian slaves, I’ll give thee
A hundred more, demand them when thou wilt;
Let them depart, and teach their countrymen,
That even in Syria’s plains some virtues dwell;
Thence let them judge, if they or Osman best
Deserve to reign in Solyma; but know,
Old Lusignan must still remain a captive;
It were not safe to give him liberty;
Sprung from the royal blood of France, he claims
A right to govern here, and that alone
Condemns him to perpetual slavery,
To groan in chains, and never more behold
The light of day: I pity him, and yet
It must be so; cruel necessity
Compels me to this rigor: and for Zaïre,
She must remain with me; not all thy gold
Can purchase her; not the whole race of Christians,
With all their kings, shall ever force her from me:
You may depart.

fatima.

What do I hear?

nerestan.

My lord,
She is a Christian born; I have your word,
Your honor, and her own, that she should go
When I returned: poor Lusignan! could he
Offend thee? wherefore wouldst thou—

osman.

Christian, hence:
It is my will; therefore no more: thy pride
Offends me; go, and ere to-morrow’s sun
Shines on this palace, leave my kingdom.

fatima.

Heaven
Assist us now!

osman.

Go, Zaïre, and assume
Thy empire o’er my palace; there command
As my Sultana; I will hence, and give
My orders for our nuptials.

SCENE V.

osman, orasmin.

osman.

Didst thou mark,
Orasmin, that presumptuous slave; he sighed,
And fixed his eyes upon her.

orasmin.

O my lord,
Beware of jealousy.

osman.

Ha! jealous, sayest thou?
Thinkest thou the pride of Osman will descend
So low! to love as if I hated her?
Suspicion but provokes the crime it fears;
Zaire is truth itself; and O Orasmin
I love her to idolatry; if e’er
I could be jealous—if my foolish heart—
But I will think no more on it; let my soul
Dwell on the sweet idea of her charms:
Haste, my Orasmin, and get all things ready
For the dear happy moment that unites
Thy sovereign to the object of his wishes:
One hour I will devote to public cares,
The rest shall all be given to love and Zaïre.

End of the First Act.

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Return to Title Page for The Works of Voltaire, Vol. X The Dramatic Works Part 1 (Zaire, Caesar, The Prodigal, Prefaces) and Part II (The Lisbon Earthquake and Other Poems).

The Online Library of Liberty

A project of Liberty Fund, Inc.

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Also in the Library:

ACT I. - Voltaire, The Works of Voltaire, Vol. X The Dramatic Works Part 1 (Zaire, Caesar, The Prodigal, Prefaces) and Part II (The Lisbon Earthquake and Other Poems). [1901]

Edition used:

Part of: The Works of Voltaire. A Contemporary Version, in 21 vols.

About Liberty Fund:

Copyright information:

Fair use statement:

ACT I.

SCENE I.

fatima.

zaÏre.

fatima.

zaÏre.

fatima.

zaÏre.

fatima.

zaÏre.

fatima.

zaÏre.

fatima.

zaÏre.

fatima.

zaÏre.

fatima.

zaÏre.

fatima.

zaÏre.

fatima.

zaÏre.

SCENE II.

osman.

zaÏre.

SCENE III.

orasmin.

osman.

fatima.

osman.

orasmin.

osman.

SCENE IV.

nerestan.

osman.

fatima.

nerestan.

osman.

fatima.

osman.

SCENE V.

osman.

orasmin.

osman.