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ACT IV. - 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 IV. - 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 IV.

SCENE I.

zaïre, fatima.

fatima.

How I admire, and how I pity thee!
The Christian God inspires thee; let not then
Thy soul despair, for he shall give thee strength
To break the powerful chains of mighty love.

zaÏre.

When shall I make the glorious sacrifice?

fatima.

Thou suest to heaven for pardon, but mayest claim
Its justice; God will guard thy innocence,
And shield thy virtue.

zaÏre.

Zaïre never wanted
His kind protection more.

fatima.

The God thou servest
Will be a father to thee; he shall guide
Thy wandering steps, speak to thy doubting heart,
And take thee to his bosom: though the priest
Dare not attend thee here—

zaÏre.

Alas! my friend,
How have I pierced the soul of generous Osman,
And driven him to despair! a dreadful task!
But ’tis thy will, O God, and I obey:
Zaïre had been too happy.

fatima.

Wilt thou then
Hazard the victory after all thy toil?

zaÏre.

Unhappy victory, and inhuman virtue!
Alas! thou knowest not, Fatima, how dear
They cost me; all my hopes of happiness
Were fixed on love, and Osman: take my heart,
Accept my guilty tears, subdue my passion
Eternal God, and make me all thy own!
But O my friend, even now the lovely image
Of my dear generous Osman steps between
My God and me; that form is still before me,
Forever in my sight: ye race of kings
From whom I sprang, my father, mother, country,
And thou, my God, since you have taken him from me,
Finish a life that is not worth my care
Without him; let me die a blameless victim,
Let Osman close the eyes of her he loved!
But he has left me, left the wretched Zaïre,
Inquires not, thinks not of me; O I faint,
My Fatima, I never can survive it.

fatima.

Remember thou art the daughter of a king,
The favorite of heaven, the chosen of God;
And will not he protect thee?

zaÏre.

Will he not
Protect my Osman too? a God of mercy
Can never hate, can never persecute
A heart so just, so brave, so good as Osman’s;
What could he more, had he been born a Christian?
O that this holy minister would come,
This blest interpreter of heaven’s high will,
To ease my wounded heart, and give me comfort!
Still I have hope that kind benignant God,
Whose darling attribute is clemency,
Will not forbid our union, will forgive
The struggles of a heart so torn as mine;
Perhaps by raising Zaïre to the throne
Of Syria he might serve the Christian cause:
Great Saladin, thou knowest, whose potent arm
Robbed us of Jordan’s empire, who, like Osman,
Was famed for mercy, from a Christian sprung.

fatima.

Alas! thou seest not that, to calm thy soul,
Mistaken as thou art—

zaÏre.

I see it all;
See that my father, country, friends, condemn me;
See that I follow Lusignan, yet love.
Adore my Osman; see that still my life
Is linked with his: O I could wish to see him,
To throw me at his feet, and tell him all.

fatima.

That would destroy thy brother, and endanger
The Christians, who have no support but thee;
Thou wouldst betray that God who calls thee back
From error’s paths, and bids thee follow him.

zaÏre.

O didst thou know the noble heart of Osman!

fatima.

He is protector of the Mussulman,
Therefore the more he loves thee, doubtless, Zaïre,
Less willing must he be to have thee worship
A God his faith has taught him to abhor.
The priest, thou knowest, will visit thee in secret,
And thou hast promised—

zaÏre.

I will wait for him;
I’ve promised to preserve the secret still
From Osman; cruel silence! but to make
My woes complete, I am no longer loved.

SCENE II.

osman, zaïre.

osman.

There was a time when thy deluding charms
Inflamed my soul; a willing captive then
I gloried in my chains: I hoped indeed,
Vain hope! a sovereign sighing at thy feet
Might claim some kind return, and thought myself
Beloved by Zaïre; but I am undeceived:
Yet think not, madam, I will ever stoop
To mean complaints, or with the whining race
Of vulgar lovers vindicate my wrongs
By loud reproaches; no: I am above
Dissimulation, and am come to tell you
I mean to treat it with that just contempt
Which it deserves; think not by female arts,
Or subtle arguments, to color o’er
Thy conduct, I disclaim thee, know thee not;
And, for I would not make thee blush, desire
The hated cause may be a secret still;
I would not wish to know it: all is past:
Another may be found to fill the throne
Which you despise; another may have eyes
Perhaps for Osman’s merit, and a heart
For Osman’s love: I know ’twill cost me dear
To part from Zaïre, but I am resolved:
For I had rather lose thee, rather die
With anguish and despair, than make thee mine,
If but a sigh escaped thee for another,
And not for Osman: fare thee well; these eyes
Must ne’er behold thee more.

zaÏre.

It is thy will
O, God, to reign unrivalled in my heart,
And thou hast robbed me now of all:—my lord,
Since you no longer love me—

osman.

’Tis too true;
Honor commands it; I adored thee once,
But I must leave thee, must renounce thee, ’twas
Thy own request—beneath another law—
Zaïre, thou weepest!

zaÏre.

O think not, I beseech you,
Think not, my lord, I shall regret the pomp
And splendor of a throne; it is decreed
That I must lose thee, such is my hard fate:
But punish me forever, angry heaven,
If there be aught on earth I shall regret
But Osman’s heart!

osman.

Zaïre, thou lovest me!

zaÏre.

Love him!
O God!

osman.

Amazement? Zaïre said she loved me:
Why then thou cruel maid, why tear the heart
Of faithful Osman thus? in my despair,
Alas! I thought I could command myself
To love, or hate; but ’tis impossible:
Zaïre can never be forgotten; no:
Osman could never harbor such a thought,
To place another on his throne; forgive
My rage, my madness; ’twas affected all,
All false; I could not leave, I could not hate thee;
It was the only scorn thy tender heart
Ever experienced: O I love thee still,
And ever must: but wherefore thus delay
My happiness? speak, was it fond caprice,
Or was it fear, or artifice? but art
Was never made for thee; thou needest it not:
Even where it is most innocent, it looks
Like falsehood, and perfidiousness: O Zaïre,
Let it not break the holy tie that binds us:
I ever have abhorred it: Osman’s heart
Is full of naught but truth.

zaÏre.

Despair, and horror!
O thou art dear to me, indeed thou art,
Believe me, Osman; and the tender love
I feel for thee makes me supremely wretched.

osman.

Explain thyself: O heaven! and can it be?
But thou wert born to make me wretched.

zaÏre.

Why
Must I not speak?

osman.

What dreadful secret, Zaïre,
Dost thou keep from me? have the Christian slaves
Conspired against me? speak, am I betrayed?

zaÏre.

Who would betray so good so kind a master?
No, generous Osman, thou hast naught to fear;
Zaïre alone is wretched: but her griefs
Are to herself.

osman.

Great God! is Zaïre wretched?

zaÏre.

Permit me on my knees, my lord, to ask
One favor of thee.

osman.

Were it Osman’s life,
Thou mightest command it: speak, and it is thine.

zaÏre.

O would to heaven we could have been united!
But O, my lord, permit me this one day
To be alone; leave me to meditate
On my misfortunes, and to hide my griefs
From thee; to-morrow all shall be revealed:

osman.

O heaven! what woes dost thou inflict upon me!
Canst thou—

zaÏre.

If love still pleads for Zaïre, grant her
This one request! do not refuse me.

osman.

Well;
It must be so; I have no will but thine:
Remember that I sacrifice to thee
The dearest, happiest moments of my life.

zaÏre.

O talk not thus, my lord, it wounds my heart
Too deeply.

osman.

You will leave me, Zaïre?

zaÏre.

Yes:
I must; farewell.

SCENE III.

osman, orasmin.

osman.

So soon to seek retirement!
It is an insult o’er my easy heart;
The more I think, Orasmin, on her conduct,
The more am I perplexed; I cannot find
The hidden cause of this mysterious sorrow:
By Osman’s partial fondness raised to empire,
Even in the bosom of that happiness
Her soul desired, thus loving and beloved,
Yet are her eyes forever bathed in tears:
I hate her fond caprice, her discontent
And causeless grief—yet was not I to blame?
Did I not slight her? did I not offend
My Zaïre? wherefore then should I complain?
I must atone for my injurious transports
By double kindness, by indulging her
In every wish: it is enough that Osman
Is loved by Zaïre: her untainted soul
Is void of art; hers is the tender age
Of innocence and truth, when simple nature
Guides every thought, and dictates every word:
I will rely on her sincerity:
I know she loves me; in her eyes I read
The tender tale; whilst her impatient soul
Flew to her lovely lips and told me all:
Can there on earth be hearts so base as e’er
To boast a passion which they never feel?

SCENE IV.

osman, orasmin, melidor.

melidor.

My lord, the guards have stopped a letter sent
To Zaïre.

osman.

Give it me: who sent it to her?

melidor.

One of those Christian slaves whom you released,
Who, as he strove to enter the seraglio,
Was seized, and put in chains.

osman.

Ha! what do I read!
Leave me—I tremble—

SCENE V.

osman, orasmin.

orasmin.

This may clear up all,
And set your heart at ease.

osman.

Ha! let me read
Again; this letter must determine all,
And fix my fate—“Dear Zaïre, now’s the time
To meet us; near the mosque thou wilt perceive
A secret passage; unsuspected thence
Thou mayest escape, and easily deceive
Thy keepers; we must hazard all; thou knowest
My zeal: I wait impatient for thee; haste,
I cannot live, if thou shouldst prove unfaithful
What sayest thou, my Orasmin?

orasmin.

I, my lord?
I’m shocked, astonished at her.

osman.

Now thou seest
How I am treated.

orasmin.

O detested treason!
You must resent an injury like this:
You who so lately but on slight suspicion
So deeply felt the wound; a deed so black,
I hope, my lord, will cure you of your love.

osman.

Haste, my Orasmin, fly this instant, show her
That letter—let her tremble, and then plunge
The dagger in her faithless breast—no, stay,
Not yet—that Christian first—let him be brought
Before her—stay—I can determine nothing,
My rage o’erpowers me; O I faint, support me,
Orasmin.

orasmin.

’Tis indeed a cruel stroke!

osman.

’Tis all unfolded now, this dreadful secret,
That sat so heavy on her guilty heart:
Beneath the specious veil of modest fear
She left me for a while; I let her go;
She wept at parting; wept but to betray me;
O Zaïre, Zaïre.

orasmin.

Everything conspires
To make her doubly guilty: O my lord,
Fall not a victim to her arts, recall
Thy wonted courage, and deep sense of wrong.

osman.

This is the gallant, boasted, brave Nerestan,
The Christian’s hero, that proud son of honor,
So famed for his sublimity of virtue;
Admired, nay envied by the jealous Osman;
Who could not bear a rival in a slave,
And now he stoops to this vile treachery,
This base imposture: O but Zaïre—she
Is far more guilty, O a thousand times
More vile, more impious—a poor Christian slave,
I might have left her in her mean estate,
And not debased her; well she knows what Osman
Has done for her; ungrateful wretch!

orasmin.

My lord,
If midst the horrors of thy troubled soul
I might be heard—forgive me—but if—

osman.

Yes:
I’ll see, and talk to her—go, fetch her hither;
Fly, bring her, slave.

orasmin.

In this distracted state
What can you say to her?

osman.

I know not what;
But I must see her.

orasmin.

To complain, to threaten,
To make her weep, to let your easy heart
Again be softened by her tears, to seek,
In spite of all your wrongs, some poor pretence
To justify her conduct: trust me, sir,
’Twere better to conceal this paper from her,
Or send it to her by some hand unknown;
Thus, spite of all her arts, thou mayest discover
Her inmost thoughts, and unsuspected trace
The secret windings of her treacherous heart.

osman.

Dost thou indeed believe that Zaïre’s false?
But I will tempt my fate, and try her virtue;
I’ll try how far a bold and shameless woman
Can urge her falsehood.

orasmin.

O my lord, I fear,
A heart like thine—

osman.

Be not alarmed: alas!
Osman, like Zaïre, never can dissemble:
But I am master of myself, and know
How to restrain my anger: yes, Orasmin;
Since she descends so low—here—take this letter,
This fatal scroll, choose out a trusty slave,
And send it to her—go:—I will avoid her:
Let her not dare approach—just heaven! ’tis she.

SCENE VI.

osman, zaïre, orasmin.

zaÏre.

I have obeyed your orders, and attend you,
But own they much surprised me; whence, my lord,
This sudden message? what important business—

osman.

Business of moment, madam, of much more
Than you perhaps imagine; I’ve reflected
On our condition, Zaïre: we have made
Each other wretched, and ’tis fit we come
To explanations for our mutual interest:
Perhaps my care, my tenderness, my bounty,
The confidence my soul reposed on Zaïre,
My pride forgot, my sceptre at thy feet,
All my officious services demanded
Some kind return from Zaïre; nay perhaps
Forever courted, and forever pressed
By a fond lover, thy reluctant heart
Might yield, mistaking gratitude for love:
Let us be free and open to each other,
Answer with truth to my sincerity:
If love’s supreme unconquerable power
Pleads for another, if thy doubtful heart
Uncertain wavers ’twixt his claim and mine,
Avow it frankly, and I here forgive thee;
But pause not, let me know my rival, quick,
Now whilst I’m here, whilst I am speaking to thee,
A moment more will be too late for pardon.

zaÏre.

Is this a language fit for me to hear,
Or you to speak, my lord? I’ve not deserved it;
But know, this injured heart, which heaven hath tried
With sore affliction, could defy thy power,
Did it not feel its foolish weakness still
For Osman; were it not for my fond love,
That fatal passion, which I ought no more
To cherish, never should I thus descend
To justify my conduct: whether heaven,
That still hath persecuted wretched Zaïre,
Decrees that we shall pass our lives together,
I know not; but, whatever be my lot,
By honor’s sacred laws, that in my heart
Are deeply graved, I swear, were Zaïre left
To her own choice, she would reject the vows
Of powerful monarchs kneeling at her feet;
All would be hateful to her after Osman:
But I will tell thee more, will open all
My foolish heart, will own it sighed for thee
Long ere thy passion justified my own:
Never did Zaïre own another master,
Nor ever will: here, bear me witness, heaven!
If I offended, if I have deserved
Eternal wrath; if Zaïre has been guilty,
If she has been ungrateful, ’twas for thee.

osman.

Good heaven! she talks of tenderness and love,
Though I have proof before me of her falsehood;
O black ingratitude! O perjured Zaïre!

zaÏre.

What says my lord? you seem disordered.

osman.

No:
I am not, for thou lovest me.

zaÏre.

That fierce tone,
And wild demeanor, suit not with thy words;
Thou talkest of love, yet fillest my heart with terror.

osman.

Thou lovest me?

zaÏre.

Canst thou doubt it? yet thy eyes
Are red with anger; what indignant looks
They cast upon me; furies in thy aspect!
Thou dost not doubt me?

osman.

No: I doubt no longer:
You may retire: be gone.

SCENE VII.

osman, orasmin.

osman.

Didst thou observe her
Orasmin? how she braves it to the last
She glories in her crime; so artful too,
So calmly, so deliberately false:
But say, my friend, hast thou dispatched that slave,
That I may know the worst of Zaïre’s guilt,
And Osman’s shame?

orasmin.

I have obeyed your orders;
Now I may hope you will no longer sigh
For Zaïre and her treacherous charms; henceforth
You must behold her with indifference,
Unless you should at last repent your justice,
And love resume his empire o’er your heart.

osman.

Orasmin, I adore her more than ever.

orasmin.

Indeed, my lord? O heaven!

osman.

Methinks I see
A dawn of hope before me: this young Christian,
This hated rival, bold, presumptuous, vain
Full of his country’s levity, perhaps,
But thinks that Zaïre listened to his vows,
One look from her might easily deceive him:
He thinks himself beloved; and he alone
May be to blame, they may not both be guilty:
She never saw that letter, I have been
Too ready to believe myself undone.
Orasmin, mark me—at the dead of night,
When darkness lends her sable veil to hide
The crimes of mortals, soon as this Nerestan
Comes to the palace, instant let the guard
Seize him, and bound in fetters bring him to me:
Leave Zaïre free: thou knowest my heart; thou knowest
To what excess I love; thou knowest how fierce
My anger is, how cruel my resentment;
I tremble but to think on it myself;
O I have been most shamefully deceived;
But woe to those who have offended Osman.

End of the Fourth Act.

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ACT IV. - 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 IV.

SCENE I.

fatima.

zaÏre.

fatima.

zaÏre.

fatima.

zaÏre.

fatima.

zaÏre.

fatima.

zaÏre.

fatima.

zaÏre.

fatima.

zaÏre.

fatima.

zaÏre.

SCENE II.

osman.

zaÏre.

osman.

zaÏre.

osman.

zaÏre.

osman.

zaÏre.

osman.

zaÏre.

osman.

zaÏre.

osman.

zaÏre.

osman.

zaÏre.

osman.

zaÏre.

osman.

zaÏre.

osman.

zaÏre.

SCENE III.

osman.

SCENE IV.

melidor.

osman.

melidor.

osman.

SCENE V.

orasmin.

osman.

orasmin.

osman.

orasmin.

osman.

orasmin.

osman.

orasmin.

osman.

orasmin.

osman.

orasmin.

osman.