g-Zebe must die.

_Ind._ Could that decree from any brother come?
Nature herself is sentenced in your doom.
Piety is no more, she sees her place
Usurped by monsters, and a savage race.
From her soft eastern climes you drive her forth,
To the cold mansions of the utmost north.
How can our prophet suffer you to reign,
When he looks down, and sees your brother slain?
Avenging furies will your life pursue:
Think there's a heaven, Morat, though not for you.

_Mel._ Her words imprint a terror on my mind.
What if this death, which is for him designed,
Had been your doom, (far be that augury!)
And you, not Aureng-Zebe, condemned to die?
Weigh well the various turns of human fate,
And seek, by mercy, to secure your state.

_Ind._ Had heaven the crown for Aureng-Zebe designed,
Pity for you had pierced his generous mind.
Pity does with a noble nature suit:
A brother's life had suffered no dispute.
All things have right in life; our prophet's care
Commands the beings even of brutes to spare.
Though interest his restraint has justified,
Can life, and to a brother, be denied?

_Mor._ All reasons, for his safety urged, are weak:
And yet, methinks, 'tis heaven to hear you speak.

_Mel._ 'Tis part of your own being to invade--

_Mor._ Nay, if she fail to move, would you persuade?
[_Turning to_ INDA.
My brother does a glorious fate pursue;
I envy him, that he must fall for you.
He had been base, had he released his right:
For such an empire none but kings should fight.
If with a father he disputes this prize,
My wonder ceases when I see those eyes.

_Mel._ And can you, then, deny those eyes you praise?
Can beauty wonder, and not pity raise?

_Mor._ Your intercession now is needless grown;
Retire, and let me speak with her alone.
[MELESINDA _retires, weeping, to the side of the Stage._
Queen, that you may not fruitless tears employ,
[_Taking_ INDAMORA'S _hand._
I bring you news to fill your heart with joy:
Your lover, king of all the east shall reign;
For Aureng-Zebe to-morrow shall be slain.

_Ind._ The hopes you raised, you've blasted with a breath:
[_Starting back._
With triumphs you began, but end with death.
Did you not say my lover should be king?

_Mor._ I, in Morat, the best of lovers bring.
For one, forsaken both of earth and heaven,
Your kinder st