Classic Poem

ABDALLA.
And this is my reward--to burn, to languish,
To rave, unheeded; while the happy Greek,
The refuse of our swords, the dross of conquest,
Throws his fond arms about Aspasia's neck,
Dwells on her lips, and sighs upon her breast.
Is't not enough, he lives by our indulgence,
But he must live to make his masters wretched?

CALI.
What claim hast thou to plead?

ABDALLA.
The claim of pow'r,
Th' unquestion'd claim of conquerors and kings!

CALI.
Yet, in the use of pow'r, remember justice.

ABDALLA.
Can then th' assassin lift his treach'rous hand
Against his king, and cry, remember justice?
Justice demands the forfeit life of Cali;
Justice demands, that I reveal your crimes;
Justice demands--but see th' approaching sultan!
Oppose my wishes, and--remember justice.

CALI.
Disorder sits upon thy face--retire.

[Exit Abdalla; enter Mahomet.