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Buf. I knew better—There is no want of fools at court. '*

Zetn. Will you be always in readiness?

Buf. When there is any thing to be given away.

Zem. I give but little to such as thou art;' • .jBuf. If you give only to the wise, your Ma* jesty gives little indeed.

Zem. All about my person are wise.

Buf. Then you must be very thinly attended;

Zem. Well, I admit you on trial.

Buf. Oh, bless you!

Zem. Take him hence, and attire him as becomes his station—Go, fellow, and learn to imitate your superiors.

- Buf. Let me once slip into the robes of office, 1^1- soon imitate them—I'll get a deputy to do my work, but take special caie to receive the salary myself. Lead on, slaves.

[£x?7 Buffardo, Abdaixah, &c.

.(zembuca speaks with Abuallah as KoRAC enters at the side, with papers). . Ko. Now, Allah, prosper my design—they are superscribed alike; but, should he read—

Zem. So,—are my orders executed ?—that dispatch—

Ko' Is here, Sir—shall I deliver it?

(Crosses Zembuca, and prepares to change the papers). ..\"m Zem. Hold! let me see it. ("KoRAC delivers it, and in his agitation, drops

the false paper). Right! it contains the doom of Selim. Let it be forwarded without delay. (Retiring).' Ko. All's safe!

(Putting the real paper in his bosom}. Ab. (Advancing to the paper). Mighty Sultan! Ko. (Perceiving it). Ah!

(Stamps his foot upon it).

Zem. What now?

Ab. Here is a paper, Sir.

Ko. That—that I carelessly let fall. (Picks it up, and shews it Zozembvca)—Your dispatch.

Zem• "To Selim." (Reading).

Ko. '* Late Aga of the Janissaries"—With »y official signature.

Zem. 'Tis well. [Exit Zem.

Ko. (To Abdallah). Away instantly—forward that paper—'tis by the Sultan's order—begone. [Exit Attendant. My project has succeeded—I have preserved my friend.—Prophet of the Just! thy spirit still direct me! [Exit.


Interior <j/"Min?a's CottageA large Window in the backA Door near the centre, and a Closet on the other side: the whole Apartment picturesque, being occupied by the various Implements of Net-making, &c.River and Fortress seen through the Window.


Enter Ebka, with Mesh and Netting-needle, as at jvork.

Ebra. (Throwing down her work). Just midday, and Mirza not come home! Why does he stay? Whenever he carries his nets to the palace, I am never easy till he returns. He hates Zembuca so cordially, and speaks his mind so freely, that I fear the indiscretion of his tongue may betray the secret workings of his hearts Would he were returned.


Mirz. (As he enters). Wife! Ebra! Ebra. Ah, my dear Mirza, why did you stay so long?

Mir. To hear the news—there's the old work going on at the palace.

Ebra. Indeed! you tremble.

Mir. Do I? 'tis with rage then. The Aga Selim is banished^ and Almazaide, whom he was to marry when he lreturned from the wars, pennrd up in the Harem. This Zembuca is the people's Scourge, not their blessing; even Korac, his chief friend and favourite, turns upon him at last.

Ebra. Mirza, remember, you are only a poor Net-maker:—This is no business of yours.

Mirz. No business of mine! 't is every honest man's business, however humble his station, to set his face against tyranny and oppression. But come, let's to dinner, for I am vex'd and weary.

Ebra. It is all prepar'd.

(A knock at the Door). Mirz. Who can that be? Ebra. 'Tis at our door. Min. Who knocks?

Voice. Enquire not, but open, I entreat you. Be speedy, or I am lost!

Ebra. 'Tis the cry of distress.

Mirz. The cry of distress !—open the door.


f (ebra opens the door, and Selim entersA Dervise's cloak, in which he is wrapped, falls back, and discovers his person. He c

leans, exhausted, against the door, which he closes hastily).

—Selira, the banish'd Ag'a!

Sel. Be silent! name trie not, I implore you.

Merz. Noble Sir, why are you here? know you not the consequence?

Sel. Too well;—and well I know the cause.

Ebra. Whatever be the cause, we are honour'd by your presence. Joy and welcome to you, Sir!

Sel. Joy I must never hope to find, 'till Almazaide be restor'd. Korac, by some friendly stratagem, apprized me of my danger; he informed me too, (you best can tell how truly), that should I enter the city, I might find security in Mirza's cottage.

Mirz. Did he—did Korac say that? His confidence has made me proud \

Ebra. We rejoice in proving thus our gratitude ;—to Korac's kindness we owe all that we possess.

Mirz. How can we serve you?

Sel. By suffering me to remain here 'till my purpose is accomplish'd.

Mirz. The house is yours; and for want of a better, I'll be your body-guard.

Ebra. And I, your servant.

Sel. Heaven will reward you—I cannot.

[Shouts heard without]


Ebra. Is the door fast?

fSiELiM rushei towards it, lays his hand upon the bolt, and with the other screens himself from the sight of tlie crowd, who are seen through the window, surrowtding the CryerJ.

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Ebra. Tis the Oyer—listen!

(mibza and Ebra stand apart near the front).

Cryer. " Take notice, all good Musselmen, "that his Sublime Highness the Sultan Zem"buca, having heard that Selim; the banished •' Aga, is now concealed within the city, pro"claims, through me, sentence of death to all "who may conceal him;—and to those who "may deliver him to the hands of justice, a reM ward of ten thousand sequins."

(The mob shout, and follow the CryerSe-
Lim lifts his arms in despair, and watches
the hesitation of Mibza and Ebra).

Mirz. Death to those who may conceal him !— Ebra. A reward for his discovery !—

Mirz. Ten thousand sequins! in old age a certain comfort.

Ebra. For my poor children what a change! from poverty to splendid independence! (Catches the eye of Mibza, who glances towards her)— Mirza!

Mirz. Ebra! (Advancing towards her).

Sel. By Heaven, they hesitate!

Mirz. Can those riches give comfort to our age, that have been obtained in our youth by the destruction of a fellow-creature?

Ebra. Can that wealth ever prosper, which is extracted from the groans, perhaps the blood, of a wretched captive? Never!

Mirz. Impossible!

Ebra. Yet 'tis an immense sum; and for us— Mirz. It cannot purchase happiness—our days would pass—

Ebra. In unavailing repentance.
Mirz. Our nights;—

Ebra. In agony, unutterable. Yet think,—
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