ion. Sharp. Hold, hold! what are you doing? myself, Gayless, should be never out of fashAre you mad? [Runs and stops his mouth. Mel. What do you stop the man's breath for? Sharp. [Still holding ] Why, I tell you, fool, you mistake the gentleman; he is a friend of my master's, and has not said a word to you. -Pray, good Sir, go into the next room. The fellow's drunk, and takes you for another. [To MELISSA. You'll repent this when you are sober, friend.-Pray, Sir, don't stay to hear his impertinence. anger. Gay. Pray, Sir, walk in. He's below your [TO MELISSA. Mel. Damn the rascal! what does he mean by affronting me?-Let the scoundrel go; I'll polish his brutality, I warrant you. Here's the best reformer of manners in the universe. [Draws his Sword.] Let him go, I say. Sharp. So, so, you have done finely now. Get away as fast as you can. He's the most courageous, mettlesome man in all England. Why, if his passion was up, he could eat you. Make your escape, you fool. Cook. I wont.Eat me! He'll find me damned hard of digestion, though. Sharp. Pr'ythee, come here; let me speak with you. [Takes Cook aside. Re-enter KITTY. Kitty. Gad's me! Is supper on the table already? Sir, pray defer it for a few minutes; my mistress is much better, and will be here immediately. Gay. Will she indeed? Bless me, I did not expect-but however-Sharp! Kitty. What success, Madam? [Apart to MELISSA. Mel. As we could wish, girl: but he is in such pain and perplexity, I can't hold it out much longer. Kitty. Ay, and that holding out is the ruin of half our sex. Sharp. I have pacified the cook; and if you can but borrow twenty pieces of that young prig, all may go well yet. You may succeed, though I could not. Remember what I told you. About it straight, Sir. [Apart to GAYLESS. Gay. Sir, sir, I beg to speak a word with you. To MELISSA.] My servant, Sir, tells me he has had the misfortune, Sir, to lose a note of mine of twenty pounds, which I sent him to receive; and the bankers' shops being shut up, and having very little cash by me, I should be much obliged to you, if you would. favour me with twenty pieces till to-morrow. Mel. Oh, Sir, with all my heart; [Takes out her Purse.] and as I have a small favour to beg of you, Sir, the obligation will be mutual. Gay. How may I oblige you, Sir? Mel. You are to be married, I hear, to Me lissa? Gay. To-morrow, Sir. Mel. Then you'll oblige me, Sir, by never seeing her again. Gay. Do you call this a small favour, Sir? Mel. A mere trifle, Sir. Breaking of contracts, suing for divorces, committing adultery, and such like, are all reckoned trifles now-adays; and smart young fellows, like you and Gay. But pray, Sir, how are you concerned in this affair? Mel. Oh, Sir, you must know I have a very great regard for Melissa, and indeed she for me; and, by the by, I have a most despicable opinion of you; for, entre nous, I take you, Charles, to be a very great scoundrel. Gay. Sir! Mel. Nay, don't look fierce, Sir, and give yourself airs-damme, Sir, I shall be through your body else in the snapping of a finger. Gay. I'll be as quick as you, villain. [Draws, and makes at MELISSA. Kitty. Hold, hold, murder! you'll kill my mistress-the young gentleman, I mean. Gay. Ah! her mistress! [Drops his Sword. Sharp. How Melissa! Nay, then drive away, cart; all's over now. Enter all the Company, laughing. Mrs. G. What, Mr. Gayless, engaging with Melissa before your time? Ha, ha, ha! Kitty. Your humble servant, good Mr. Politician. [To SHARP.] This is, gentlemen and ladies, the most celebrated and ingenious Timothy Sharp, schemer-general and redoubted squire to the most renowned and fortunate adventurer, Charles Gayless, knight of the woeful countenance-ha, ha, ha!-Oh, that dismal face, and more dismal head of yours! [Strikes SHARP upon the Head. Sharp. "Tis cruel in you to disturb a man in his last agonies. Mel. Now, Mr. Gayless-What, not a word? You are sensible I can be no stranger to your misfortunes, and I might reasonably expect an excuse for your ill treatment of me. Gay. No, Madam, silence is my only refuge; for to endeavour to vindicate my crimes, would show a greater want of virtue than even the commission of them. Mel. Oh, Gayless! 'twas poor to impose upon a woman, and one that loved you too. Gay. Oh, most unpardonable; but my necessities Sharp. And mine, Madam, were not to be matched, I'm sure, o'this side starving. Mel. His tears have softened me at once. [Aside.] Your necessities, Mr. Gayless, with such real contrition, are too powerful motives not to affect the breast already prejudiced in your favour.-You have suffered too much already for your extravagance; and as I take part in your sufferings, 'tis easing myself to relieve you: know, therefore, all that's past I freely forgive. Gay. You cannot mean it, sure! I am lost in wonder! Mel. Prepare yourself for more wonder. You have another friend in masquerade here. Mr. Cook, pray throw aside your drunkenness, and make your sober appearance.-Don't you know that face, Sir? Cook. Ay, master; what! you have forgot your friend, Dick, as you used to call me? Gay. More wonder indeed! Don't you live with my father? Mel. Just after your hopeful servant there had left me, comes this man from Sir William, with a letter to me; upon which (being by that wholly convinced of your necessitous condition) I invented, by the help of Kitty and Mrs. Gadabout, this little plot, in which your friend Dick there has acted miracles, resolv ing to teaze you a little, that you might have a greater relish for a happy turn in your affairs. Now, Sir, read that letter, and complete your joy. Gay. [Reads.] Madam, I am father to the unfortunate young man, who I hear by a friend of mine (that by my desire has been a continual spy upon him) is making his addresses to you. If he is so happy as to make himself agreeable to you, whose character I am charmed with, I shall own him with joy for my son, and forget his former follies.—I am, Madam, your most humble servant, WILLIAM GAYLESS. P.S.-I will be soon in town myself to congratulate his reformation and marriage. Oh, Melissa, this is too much! Thus let me show my thanks and gratitude; for here 'tis only due. [Kneels; she raises him. Sharp. A reprieve! à reprieve! a reprieve! Kitty. I have been, Sir, à most bitter enemy to you; but since you are likely to be a little more conversant with cash than you have been, I am now, with the greatest sincerity, your most obedient friend and humble ser Mel. Pardon! for what? Sharp. Only for telling you about ten thousand lies, Madam; and, among the rest, insinuating that your ladyship would Mel. I understand you; and can forgive any thing, Sharp, that was designed for the service of your master; and if Pry and you will follow our example, I'll give her a small fortune, as a reward for both your fidelities. to halve the small fortune between us, and Sharp. I fancy, Madam, 'twould be better keep us both single; for as we shall live in the same house, in all probability we may taste the comforts of matrimony, and not be troubled with its inconveniences. What say you, Kitty? Kitty. Do you hear, Sharp; before you talk of the comforts of matrimony, take the comforts of a good dinner, and recover your flesh a little; do, puppy. Sharp. The devil backs her, that's certain; and I am no match for her at any weapon. [Aside. Gay. Behold, Melissa, as sincere a convert as ever truth and beauty made. The wild, impetuous sallies of my youth are now blown over, and a most pleasing calm of perfect happiness succeeds. Thus Etna's flames the verdant earth consume, But milder heat makes drooping nature bloom; So virtuous love affords us springing joy, Whilst vicious passions, as they burn, destroy. [Exeunt. THE GRECIAN DAUGHTER: A TRAGEDY, IN FIVE ACTS. BY ARTHUR MURPHY. REMARKS. THIS tragedy was produced at Drury Lane in 1772. A picture of the Roman Charity, which Mr. Murphy noticed at the house of a celebrated painter, wherein the centinel bursts into tears at first suggested the idea to our author. The pious fraud of charity and love, "Perhaps, of all the events recorded in history, that filial piety, on which the fable of this play is founded, may be classed amongst the most affecting-yet it was one the most hazardous for a dramatist to adopt; for nothing less than complete skill could have given to this singular occurrence effectual force, joined to becoming delicacy. In this arduous effort, Mr. Murphy has evinced the most exact judgment, and the nicest execution "—Inchbald. Phil. No more; it must not be. Mel. Obdurate man! The father of his people, from a throne, Thus wilt thou spurn me, when a king dis- My royal master. tress'd, A good, a virtuous, venerable king, Phil. Urge thy suit no further; Thy words are fruitless; Dionysius' orders Forbid access; he is our sov'reign now, 'Tis his to give the law, mine to obey. Mel. Thou canst not mean it: his to give the Detested spoiler !-his! a vile usurper! [law! Have we forgot the elder Dionysius, Surnam'd the Tyrant? To Sicilia's throne The monster waded through whole seas of blood. Sore groan'd the land beneath his iron rod, Till, rous'd at length, Evander came from Greece, [tyrant, Like freedom's genius came, and sent the Stripp'd of the crown, and to his humble rank Once more reduc'd, to roam, for vile subsistence, [Greece. A wand'ring sophist, through the realms of Phil. Whate'er his right, to him in Syracuse All bend the knee; his the supreme dominion, And death and torment wait his sovereign nod. Mel. But soon that power shall cease; behold his walls Now close encircled by the Grecian bands; Timoleon leads them on; indignant Corinth Sends her avenger forth, array'd in terror, To hurl ambition from a throne usurp'd, And bid all Sicily resume her rights. Phil. Thou wert a statesman once, Melanthon; now, Grown dim with age, thy eye pervades no more The deep-laid schemes which Dionysius plans. Know, then, a fleet from Carthage even now Stems the rough billow; and, ere yonder sun, That, now declining, seeks the western wave, Shall to the shades of night resign the world, Thou'lt see the Punic sails in yonder bay, Whose waters wash the walls of Syracuse. Mel. Art thou a stranger to Timoleon's name? Thy dark, half-hinted, purpose-lead me to If thou hast murder'd him Phil. By heaven, he lives. this? Mel. Then bless me with one tender interview. [eyes Thrice has the sun gone down since last these Have seen the good old king; say, why is [lotas, Wherefore debarr'd his presence? Thee, PhiThe troops obey, that guard the royal pris'ner; Each avenue to thee is open; thou [him. Canst grant admittance; let me, let me, see Phil. Entreat no more; the soul of Dionysius 1s ever wakeful; rent with all the pangs That wait on conscious guilt. Mel. But when dun night Lock'd up from every sustenance of nature, And life, now wearied out, almost expires. Mel. If any spark of virtue dwells within thee, Lead me, Philotas, lead me to his prison. Phil. The tyrant's jealous care hath mov'd him thence. Mel. Ha! mov'd him, say'st thou ? Phil. At the midnight hour, Silent convey'd him up the steep ascent, To where the elder Dionysius form'd, On the sharp summit of the pointed rock, Which overhangs the deep, a dungeon drear: Cell within cell, a labyrinth of horror, Deep cavern'd in the cliff, where many a wretch, Unseen by mortal eye, has groan'd in anguish, And died obscure, unpitied, and unknown. Mel. Clandestine murderer! Yes, there's the scene Of horrid massacre. Full oft I've walk'd, When all things lay in sleep and darkness hush'd. Yes, oft I've walk'd the lonely sullen beach, To end a monarch's life? Oh! grant my prayer; Phil. Forbear; thou plead'st in vain ; I must not yield; it were assur'd destruction. Farewell, despatch a message to the Greeks; I'll to my station; now thou know'st the [Exit. worst. Mel. Oh, lost Evander! Lost Euphrasia too! How will her gentle nature bear the shock Of a dear father, thus in ling'ring pangs A prey to famine, like the veriest wretch Whom the hard hand of misery hath grip'd? In vain she'll rave with impotence of sorrow; Perhaps provoke her fate: Greece arms in All's lost; Evander dies! [vain; Enter EUPHRASIA. Euph. War on, ye heroes, Ye great assertors of a monarch's cause! Phil. Alas! it cannot be: but mark my Let the wild tempest rage. Melanthon, ha! words. Let Greece urge on her general assault. And tell Timoleon, the good old Evander Didst thou not hear the vast tremendous roar? Down tumbling from its base the eastern tower Burst on the tyrant's ranks, and on the plain Lies an extended ruin. Mel. Still new horrors [heads. Increase each hour, and gather round our Euph. The glorious tumult lifts my tow'ring soul. Once more, Melanthon, once again, my father Shall mount Sicilia's throne. Mel. Alas! that hour Would come with joy to every honest heart; Depress thy spirit? Lo! Timoleon comes, Arm'd with the power of Greece; the brave, the just, God-like Timoleon! ardent to redress, Mel. Still my fears Forebode for thee. Would thou hadst left this place, When hence your husband, the brave Phocion, Here I remain'd, while my brave gen'rous The pangs I suffer'd in that trying moment. Did I not weep? Did I not rave and shriek, And by the roots tear my dishevell'd hair? Did I not follow to the sea-beat shore, Resolv'd, with him and with my blooming boy, To trust the winds and waves? Mel. The pious act, whate'er the fates intend, Shall merit heart-felt praise. Euph. Yes, Phocion, go, Go with my child, torn from this matron breast, This breast that still should yield its nurture to him, Fly with my infant to some happier shore. Your guards debarr'd me. Oh! while yet he lives, When the tumult's Indulge a daughter's love; worn out with age, [Exit. Euph. What do I hear? Melanthon, can it If Carthage comes, if her perfidious sons [be? List in his cause, the dawn of freedom's gone. Mel. Woe, bitt'rest woe, impends; thou would'st not think Euph. How?-Speak! unfold. Euph. How is my father? Say, Melanthon- I fear to shock thee with the tale of horror! Perhaps he dies this moment.-Since Timoleon First form'd his lines round this beleaguer'd Well, do your vital drops forget to flow? Euph. Yet why despair? Is that the tribute to a father due? Timoleon drives the tumult of the war? gates? The tyrant's pent up in his last retreat; Melanthon, come; my wrongs will lend me force; The weakness of my sex is gone; this arm Feels tenfold strength; this arm shall do a deed For heaven and earth, for men and gods, to wonder at! This arm shall vindicate a father's cause. [Exeunt |