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Though mine's a little all, yet were it more, Ev'n now my heart beats high, I languish for thee, And betler far, it should be left for thee, My transports are as fierce, as strong my wishes, And all that I would keep should be Horatio. As if thou ne'er hadst bless'd me with thy beauty. So, when a merchant sees his vessel lost, Cal. How didst thou dare to think that I Though richly freighted from a foreign coast,
would live Gladly, for life, the treasure he would give, A slave to base desires and brutal pleasures, And only wishes to escape, and live: To be a wretched wanton for thy leisure, Gold and his gains no more employ his mind;) To toy and waste an hour of idle time with? But driving o'er the billows with the wind, My soul disdains thee for so mean a thought. Cleaves to one faithful plank, and leaves the) Loth. The driving storm of passion will rest behind. [Ereunt.
And I must yield before it. Wert thou calm, ACT IV.
Love, the poor criminal whom thou hast doom'd,
Has yet a thousand tender things to plead, SCENE I.-A Garden.
To charm thy rage, and mitigate his fate. LOTHARIO and CALISTA discovered. Loth. Wcep not, my fair; but let the god
Enter ALTAMONT behind. of love
Alt. Ha! do I live and wake? Aside Laugh in thy eyes, and revel in thy heart, Cal. Hadst thou been true, how happy had Kindle again his torch, and hold it high,
I been! To light us to new joys. Nor let a thought Not Altamont, but thou, hadst been my lord. Of discord, or disquiet past, molest thee; But wherefore nam'd I happiness with thee? But to a long oblivion give thy cares, It is for thee, for thee, that I am curs'd; And let us melt the present hour in bliss. For thee my secret soul each hour arraigns me, Cal. Seek not to sooth me with thy false Calls me to answer for my virtue stain'd, endearments,
My honour lost to thee: for thee it haunts me To charm me with thy softness: 'tis in vain: With stern Sciolto vowing vengeance on me, Thou canst no more betray, nor I be ruin’d. With Altamont complaining for his wrongsThe hours of folly and of fond delight, Alt
. Behold.him here— Coming forward. Are wasted all, and fled; those that remain Cal. Ah!
[Starting Are doom'd to weeping, anguish, and repentance. Alt. The wretch! whom thou hast made. I come to charge thee with a long account Curses and sorrows bast thou hcap'd upon him, Of all the sorrows I have known already, And vengeance is the only good' that's lelt. And all I have to come; thou hast undone me.
[Drawing Loth. Unjust Calista! dost thou call it ruin Loth. Thou hast ta'en me somewhat unaTo love as we have done; to melt, to languish,
wares, 'tis true: To wish for somewhat exquisitely happy, But love and war take turns, like day and night
, And then be blest ev'n to that wish's height? And little preparation serves my turn, To die with joy, and straight to live again; Equal to both, and arm'd for either field, Speechless to gaze, and with tumultuous trans- We've long been foes; this moment ends our port
quarrel; Cal. Oh, let me hear no more; I cannot Earth, heav'n, and fair Calista, judge the combat bear it;
[They fight; Lothario fulls 'Tis deadly to remembrance. Let that night, Oh, Altamont! thy genius is the stronger! That guiliy night, be blotted from the year; Thou hast prevaitd.-My fierce, ambitious sou For 'twas the night that gave me up to shame, Declining droops, and all her fires grow pale To sorrow, to the false Lothario.
Yet let not this advantage swell thy pride, Loth. Hear this, ye pow'rs! mark, how the I conquer'd in my turn, in love I triumphd. fair deceiver
Those joys are lodg'd beyond the reach of fate Sadly compiains of violated truth;
That sweet revenge comes smiling to She calls me false, ev’n she, the faithless she,
thoughts, Whom day and night, whom heav'n and earth, Adorns my fall, and cheers my heart in dying have heard
[Die Sighing to vow, and tenderly, protest,
Cal. And what remains for me, beset wit Ten thousand times, she would be only mine;
shame, And yet, behold, she has giv'n herself away, Encompass'd round with wretchedness? There Fled from my arms, and wedded to another, But this one way to break the toil, and 'scape Ev'n to the man whom most I hate on earth.
[She catches up Lothario's Sword Cal. Art thou so base to upbraid me with
and offers to kill herself; Alle a crime,
mont runs to her, and wrests Which nothing but thy cruelty could cause ?
from her. If indignation raging in my soul,
Alt. What means thy frantic rage? For thy unmanly insolence and scorn,
Cal. Oil! let me go. Urg'd 'me to do a deed of desperation, Alt. Oh! thou hast more than murder'd m And wound myself to be revengd op thee,
yet still, Think whom I should devote to death and hell, Still art thou here! and my soul starts with horn Whom curse as my undoer, but Lothario; At thought of any danger that may reach the Hadst thou been just, not all Sciolto's pow'r, Cal. Think'st thou I mean to'live? to Not all the vows and pray'rs of sighing Altamont,
forgiven? Could have prevail'd, or won me to forsake thee. Oh, thou hast known but little of Calista!
Loth. How have I fail'd in justice, or in love? If thou hadst never heard my shame, if on Burns not my flame as brightly as at first? The midnight moon and silent stars had seen
I would not bear to be reproach'd by them, Where ugly shame hides her opprobrious head, But dig down deep to find a grave beneath, And death and bell detested rule maintain; And bide me from their beams.
There howl out the remainder of thy life,
Cal. Is it the roice of thunder, or my father? Cal. Yes, I will fly to some such dismal place,
Stretch'd at my length, and dying in my cave,
On that cold 'earthI mean shall be my grave, Sci. Ero now Rossano leap'd the garden Perhaps you may relent, and sighing say, wall
Al length her tears have wasb'd her stains away; Ha! death has been among you-Oh, my fears! At length 'tis time her punishment should cease; Last night thou badst a diff'rence with thy friend, Die, thou poor sufforing wretch, and be at peace. The cause thou gar'st me for it, was a damn'd one.
fExit. Didst tbou not wrong the man who told thee Sci. Who of my servants wait there?
truth? Answer me quick
Enter two or three Servants. Alt Oh! press me not to speak; Raise that body, and bear it in. On your lives Er’a nee my heart is breaking, and the mention Take care my doors be guarded well, that none will lay me dead before you. See that body, Pass out, or enter, but by my appointment. And guess my shame! my ruin! Oh, Calista! [Exeunt Servants, with Lothario's Body. Sci
. It is enough! but I am slow to execute, Ait. There is a fatal fury in your visage, And justice lingers in my lazy hand; It blazes fierce, and menaces destruction. Thus let me wipe dishonour from my name, I tremble at the vengeance which
meditate And cut thee from the earth, thou stain to On the poor, faithless, lovely, dear Calista. go odness
Sci. Hast thou not read what brave Virgi[Offers to kill Catisla; Altamontholds him.
nius did? Alt
. Stay thee, Sciolto, thou rash father, stay, With his own hand he slew his only daughter, Or turn the point on me, and through my breast To save her from the fierce Decemvir's lust. Cut out the bloody passage to Calista ; He slew her yet unspotted, to prevent So shall my love be perfect, while for her The shame which she might know. Then what I die, for whom alone I wish'd to live.
should I do? Cal. No, Altamont; my heart, that scorn' But thou hast ty'd my hand. - I wo'not kill her; thy love,
Yet, by the ruin she has brought upon us, Shall never be indebted to thy pity.
The common infamy that brands us both, Thus torn, defac'd, and wretched as I seem, She sha'not 'scape. Still I bave something of Sciolto's virtue. Alt. You mean that she shall die then ? Yes
, yes, my father, I applaud thy justice ; Sci. Ask me not what, nor bow I have resolvid, Striké bome, and I will bless thee for the blow; For all within is anarchy and uproar. Be merciful, and free me from my pain ; Oh, Altamont! what a vast scheme of joy "Tis sharp, 'lis terrible, and I could 'curse Has this one day destroy'd? Well did I hope The cheerful day, men, earth, and heav'n, and This daughter would have bless'd my latter days; thee,
That I should live to see you the world's wonder, Er'a thee, thou venerable, good, old man, So happy, great, and good, that none were For being author of a wretch like me. Sci
. Thy pious care has gir'n me time to think, While I, from busy life and care set free, Andsav'd me from a crime; then rest, my sword; Had spent the evening of my age at home, To bonour have I kept thee ever sacred,
Among a little prattling race of yours : Nor will I stain thee with a rasb revenge. There, like an old man, talk'd awhile, and then But
, mark me well, I will have justice done; Laid down and slept in peace. Instead of this, Hope not to bear away thy crimes unpunish’d: Sorrow and shame must bring me to my grave— 1 sl see justice executed on thee,
Oh, damn her! damn her!
Enter a Servant.
Has gather'd in the street a band of rioters, То groan beneath your scorn and fierce up- Who threaten you and all your friends with ruin, braiding,
Unless Lothario be return'd in safety. [Exit. Dads to be reproach'd, and have my misery Sci. By heav'n, their fury rises to my wish, At morn,' at noon, at night, told over to me? Nor shall misfortune know my house alone; s this
, is this the mercy of a father? But thou, Lothario, and thy race shall I only beg to die, and he denies me. For all the sorrows which my age is curs'd with. Sci. Hence from my sight! thy father cannot I think my name as great, my friends as potent, bear thee;
As any in the state; all shall be summond; Fly with thy infamy to some dark cell, I know that all will join their hands to ours, Where, on the confines of eternal night, And vindicate thy vengeance. When our force Mouraing, misfortune, cares, and anguish dwell; Is full and arm’d, we shall expect thy sword
To join with us, and sacrifice to justice. [Exit. By cares on earth, and by my pray’rs to hear'n,
. There is a heavy weight upon my senses; Were little for my fondness to bestow;
Sci. Hadst thou been honest, thou hadst
been a cherubim; Now that is quench'd, the mass forgets to move, But of that joy, as of a gem long lost, And longs to mingle with its kindred earth. Beyond redemption gone, think we no more.
[Exit. Hast thou e'er dar'd to meditate on death? ACT v.
Cal. I have, as on the end of shame and
sorrow. Scene I.- A Room hung with black; on one Side Lothario's Body on a Bier; on
Sci. Ha! answer me! Say, bast thou coolly the other a Table, with a Scull and other Tis not the stoic's lessons got by rote,
thought? Bones, a Book and a Lanıp on it.
The pomp of words, and pedant dissertations, Calista is discovered on a Couch, in black; That can sustain thee in that hour of terror;
her Hair hanging loose and disordered. Books have taught cowards to talk nobly of it, After soft Music she rises and comes But when the trial comes they stand aghast; forward.
Hast thou consider'd what may happen after it? Cal. 'Tis well! these solemn sounds, this How thy account may stand, and what to pomp of borror,
[Throwing awny the Book. And tell thee all my purpose; but it sticks I have more real anguish in my heart, Here at my heart, and cannot find a way. Than all their pedani discipline e'er knew. Cal. Then spare the telling, if it be a pain, What charnel has been rifled for these bones? And write the meaning with your poniard here. Fie! this is pageantry;—they look uncouthly. Sci. Oh! truly guess'd-seest thou this trembBut what of that, if he or she that own'd 'em
ling hand? Safe from disquiet sit, and smile to see
[Holding up a Dagger. The farce their miserable relics play? Thrice justice urg'd—and thrice the slack’ning But here's a sight is terrible indeed!
It must, it must be so- -Oh! take it then,
[Giving the Dagger. In all your diff'rent dreadful shapes ascend,
And know the rest untaught. And match the present horror, if you can.
Cal. I understand you.
It is but thus, and both are satisfied.
[She offers to kill herself ; Sciolto Sci. This dead of night, this silent hour of
catches hold of her arm. darkness,
Sci. A moment, give me yet a moment's space. Nature for rest ordain'd, and soft repose; The stern, the rigid judge has been obey'd; And yet distraction and tumultuous jars, Now nature, and the father, claim their turns. Keep all our frighted citizens awake: I've held the balance with an iron band, Amidst the gen’ral wreck, see where she stands, And put off ev'ry tender human thought,
'[Pointing to Calista. To doom my child to death ; but spare my eyes Like Helen, in the night when Troy was sack’d, The most unnat'ral sight, lest their strings crack, Spectatress of the mischief which she made. My old brain split, and I grow mad with horror.
Cal. It is Sciolto! Be thyself, my soul, Cal. Ha! is it possible? and is there yel
in thee, Sci. Thou wert once
Whatjoys thou gar’st mein thy prattling infancy, My daughter.
Thy sprightly wit, and early blooming beauty; Cal. Happy were it I had dy'd,
How have I stood and fed my eyes upon thee And never lost that name.
Then, lifting up my hands and wond'ring Sci. That's something yet;
bless'd thee; Thou wert the very darling of my age: By my strong grief, my heart er'n melts with I thought the day too short to gaze upon thee, That all the blessings I could gather for tbce, 'I could curse nature, and that tyrant, bonour For making me thy father and thy judge; That, were I not abandon'd to destruction, Thou art my daughter still.
With thee I might have liv'd for ages bless'd, Cal. For that kind word,
And died in peace within thy faithful arms. Thus let me fall, thus humbly to the earth,
Enter HORATIO. Weep on your feet, and bless you for this goodness.
Hor. Now mourn indeed, ye miserable pair!
Attended but by few, and those unbidden.
su'd him ; And life without it were not worth our taking : But found him compass'd by Lothario's faction, Come then,
Almost alone, amidst a crowd of foes. Thou meagre shade; here let me breathe my last, Too late we brought him aid, and drove them Charm'd with my father's pity and forgiveness,
back; More than if angels tun'd' their golden viols,' Ere that, bis frantic valour had provok'd And sung a requiem to my parting soul. The death he seem'd to wish for from their swords. Sai, I'm summond hence; ere this my
friends Cal. And dost thou bear me yet, thou paexpect me.
tient earth? There is I know not what of sad presage,
Dost thou not labour with thy murd'rous weight? That tells me I shall never see thee more; And you, ye glitt'ring, heav'nly host of stars, If it be so, this is our last farewell, Hide your fair heads in clouds, or I shall blast you; And these the parting pangs, which nature feels, For I am all contagion, death, and ruin, When anguish reads the heartstrings — Oh, And nature sickens at me. Rest, thou world,
my daughter! [E.cit. This parricide shall be thy plague no more; Cal. Now think, thou curs'd Calista, now Thus, thus I set thee free. Stabs herself. be hold
Hor. Oh, fatal rashness!
Enter Sciolto, pale and bloody, supported That loudly cry for vengeance on thy head;
by Servants. Yet bear's, who knows our weak imperfect Cal. Oh, my heart! natures,
Well may'st thou fail; for see, the spring that fed How blind with passions, and how prone to evil, Thy vital stream is wasted, and runs low. Makes not too 'strict inquiry for offences, My father! will you now, at last, forgive me, But is aton'd by penitence and pray’r : If,' after all my crimes, and all your suff'rings, Cheap recompense! here 'twould not be receiv'd; I call you once again by that dear name? Nothing but blood can make the expiation, Will you forget my shame, and those wide And cleanse the soul from inbred deep pollution.
wounds? And see, another injur'd wretch appears, Lift up your hand and bless me, ere I go To call for justice from my tardy hand. Down to my dark abode !
Sci. Alas, my daughter!
Thou hast rashly ventur'd in a stormy sea, All Hail to you, borrors! hail, thou house Where life, fame, virtue, all were wreck'd of death!
and lost. And thou, the lovely mistress of these shades, But sure thou hast borne thy part in all the Whose beauty gilds the more than midnight
And smarted with the pain. Then rest in peace : And makes it grateful as the dawn of day:
Let silence and oblivion hide thy name, Ok, take me in, a fellow mourner, with thee, And save thee from the malice of posterity; groan for
groan, and tear for tear; And may'st thou find with heav'n the same And when the fountain of thy eyes are dry;
forgiveness, Mice shall supply the stream, and weep for both. As with thy father here.—Die, and be happy. Cat I know thee well, thou art the injur'd Cal. Celestial sounds! Peace dawns upon
Altamont! Tboa com’st to urge me with the wrongs I've And ev'ry pain grows less --'Oh, gentle Altamont! done thee;
Think not too hardly of me when I'm gone; But know I stand upon the brink of life, But pity me-Had I but early known And in a moment mean to set me free Thy wondrous worth, thou excellent young man, From shame and thy upbraiding.
We had been happier both--Now 'tis too late; All Falsely, falsely
And yet my eyes take pleasure to behold thee; Dost thou accuse me! O, forbid me not Thou art their last dear object-Mercy, heav'n! To mourn thy loss,
[Dies. To wish some better fate had ruld our loves, Sci. Oh, turn thee from that fatal object, And that Calista had been mine, and true.
Altamont! Cal. Oh, Altamont!'tis hard for souls like mine, Come near, and let me bless thee ere I die. Haaghty and fierce
, to yield they've done amiss. To thee and brave Horatio I bequeath But, oh, behold! my proud, disdainful heart My fortunes-Lay me by thy noble father, Bends to tby gentler 'virtue. Yes, I own,
And love my memory as thou hast his ; Such is thy truth, tby tenderness, and love, For thou hasi been my son–Oh, gracious heav'n!
Thou that hast endless blessings still in store And bends him, like a drooping flow'r, to earth.
By such examples are we taught to prove
, Hor. The storm of grief bears hard upon Let virtue be the bond that lies it fast. his youth,
Tars amiahle man, and elegant author, was the son of a citizen of London, and was born al Marlborongh, in Willshire, on the 29th of Jan. 1677, but received the rudiments of his education in private schools at London. Even in the very earliest parts of life his genius seemed to show itself equally inclined to each of the three sister arts, music, poetry, and design, in all which he made a very considerable progress. To his excellence in these qualifications, his contemporary and friend, Sir Richard Steele, bears the following extraordinary testimonial : "He may (says that author) be ihe emulation of more persons of different talents than any one I have ever known. His head, hands, or heart, were always employed in something worthy imitation. His pencil, lis bow, or his pen, each of which he used in a masterly manner, were always directed to raise and entertain his own mind, or that of others, to a more cheersul prosecution of what is noble and virtuous." Such is the evidence borne in his talents by a writer of the first rank; get he seems, for the most part, to have pursued these and other polite studies little further than by the way of agreeable amusements, under frequent confinement, occasioned by indisposition and a valetudinarian state of health. Mr. Hughes had, for some time, an employment in the office of ordnance, and was secretary to two or unree commissions under the great seal for the purchase of lands, in order to the better securing the docks and harhours at Portsmouth, Chalham, and Harwich. In the year 1717, the Lord Chancellor Cowper, to whom our author had not long been known, thought proper, without any previous solicilation, in nominate him his secretary for the commissions of the peace, and to distinguish him with singular marks of his favour and affection; and, upon his Lordship's laying down the great scal, he was, at the particular recommendation of this his patron, and with the ready concurrence of his successor the Earl of Macclesfield, continued in the same employment, which he held till the time of his decease, the 17th, of Feb. 1719, being the very night on which his celebrated tragedy of The Siege of Damascus made its first appearance on the stage; when, after a life mosily spent in pain and sickness, he was carried off by a consumption having, bat barely completed bis 4ad year, and at a period in which he had just arrived at an agreeable competence, and was advancing, with rapid steps, towards the pinnacle of lame and fortune. He was privately buried in the vault under the chancel of St Andrew's church, in Holborn.
THE SIEGE OF DAMASCUS.
ACTED at Drury Lane 1719. It is generally allowed, that the characters in this tragedy are finely varied and distinguished; that the sentiments are just and well adapted to the characters; that it abounds with beautiful descriptions, apt allusions to the manners and opinions of the times wherein the scene is laid, and with sohle morals; that the diction is pure, unaflected and sublime, without any meteors of style or ambitious ornaments ; and that the plot is conducted in a simple and clear mander. When it was ollered to the managers of Drury Lane House, in the year 1918, they sefused to act it, unless the author made an alleration in the character of Phocyas, who, in the original, had been prevailed upon to profess himself a Mahomelan: prelending that he could not be a hero, if he changed his religion, and that the audience would not bear the sight of him atler il, in how lively a manner snever his remorse and repentance might be described. The author (being then in a very languishing condition) finding, if he did not comply, his relations would probably loose the benefit of the play, consented, though with reluctance, to new-model the character o! Phocyas The story on which this play is founded, is amply detailed in Mr. Gibbon's History, vol. V. p. 510, where we find the real name of Phocyas to have been Jonas. That anthor says, “Instead of a base renegado , Phocyas serve the Arabs as an honourable ally; instead of prompting their pursuit, ne lies in the suceour of his countrymen, and, after killing Caled and Daran, is himself morially wounded, and expires in the presence of Eudocia, who professes her resolution to take the veil al Conslantinople.
diers, and Citizens, and At
Attendants. tendants. Scene. — The City of Damascus, in Syria, and the Saracen Camp before it; and, in
the last Act, a Valley adjacent.
CHRISTIANS. EU MENES. HERBIS. PHOCYAS. ARTAMON.
As brave men should... Pity your wives and SCENE I.—The Cily.
Yes, I do pity them, heav'n knows I do, Enter Eumenes, followed by a Crowd of E'en more than you; nor will I yield them upPeople.
Though at your own request, a prey to ruffiansEum. I'll hear no more.
Be gone! Herbis, what news?