Vengeance awaits thy guilt, and this good sword Thus sends thee to atone the bleeding victims This night has massacred. Cal. [Holding Dionysius' arm.] My liege, forbear; [Greece, Her life preserv'd may plead your cause with And mitigate your fate. Dion. Presumptuous slave! My rage is up in arms; by heaven, she dies. Enter EVANDER from the tomb. Evan. Horror! forbear! Thou murd'rer, hold thy hand! The gods behold thee, horrible assassin! Restrain the blow; it were a stab to heaven; All nature shudders at it! Will no friend Arm in a cause like this a father's hand? Strike at his bosom rather. Lo! Evander, Prostrate and grovelling on the earth before thee; He begs to die; exhaust the scanty drops That lag about his heart; but spare my child. Dion. Evander!-Do my eyes orce more behold him? May the fiends seize Philotas! Treach'rous slave! [venge "Tis well thou liv'st; thy death were poor reFrom any hand but mine. [Offers to strike. Euph. No, tyrant, no; [Rushing before EVANDER. I have provok'd your vengeance; through this bosom Bring, bring, me daggers! Re-enter DIONYSIUS. Dion. Guards, seize the slave, And give him to my rage. Evan. [Seized by the Guards.] Oh! spare her, spare her, Inhuman villains! Euph. Now, one glorious effort! Dion. Let me despatch; thou traitor, thus my arm Euph. daughter's arm, fell monster, strikes the blow. [Stabs him; he falls and dies. Behold, all Sicily, behold!-The point Glows with the tyrant's blood. Ye slaves, [To the Guards.] look there; Kneel to your rightful king: the blow for freedom [father, Gives you the rights of men! And, oh! my My ever honour'd sire, it gives thee life. Eran. My child; my daughter! sav'd again by thee! [Embraces her. A flourish of Trumpets. Enter PHOCION, Pho. Now let the monster yield. My best Euph. My lord! my Phocion! welcome to Lo! there the wonders of Euphrasia's arm! my heart. Pho. And is the proud one fallen? The dawn shall see him A spectacle for public view. Euphrasia! Evan. To her direct thy looks; there fix thy Pho. It has. I will commend ye both: for now, alas! Wake you, ye fair ones, from your sweet re- | Britons were ne'er enslav'd by evil powers: To peace and wedded love they give the midnight hours. pose, As wanton zephyrs wake the sleeping rose? Dispel those clouds which o'er your eye-lids crept, Which our wise bard mistook, and swore you Shall she to macaronies life restore, [wept? Who yawn'd, half dead, and curs'd the tragic bore? Dismiss 'em smirking to their nightly haunt, Where dice and cards their moon-struck minds enchant? Some, muffled like the witches in Macbeth, But jest apart, for scandal forms these tales; Falsehood be mute; let justice hold the scales. From slumbers pure no rattling dice can wake 'em: Who make the laws, were never known to break 'em. 'Tis false, ye fair, whatever spleen may say, That you down folly's tide are borne away. a tear. Should it e'er be this nation's wretched fate, To laugh at all that's good, and wise, and great; Let genius rouse, the friend of humankind, To break those spells which charm and sink the mind: Let comedy, with pointed ridicule, Let tragedy a warning to the times, Till virtue triumph in despite of fashion. THE MAN OF THE WORLD: A COMEDY, IN FIVE ACTS. BY CHARLES MACKLIN. REMARKS. THIS play was first performed in Ireland, 1764, under the title of « The True-born Scotsman,” and received the applause due to its great merit. It was not till 1781 that official permission was obtained for its representation in London, where it has ever since eminently increased the delights of the rational and legitimate drama. Mr. Macklin sustained the character of Sir Pertinax Macsycophant, which was considered an unequalled performance, till the appearance in it of the late Mr. Cooke, who is generally thought to have exceeded our author in his delineation of this arduous character. Mr. Macklin's Biographer says:-" Beside the merit of this piece in plot, character, sentiment, and diction, it is critically constructed in respect to the three unities of time, place, and action.—If many of our modern dramatic writers (as they are so pleased to call themselves) would consult this comedy as a model, they would be ashamed of dragging so many heterogeneous characters together, so irrelevant to the general business of the scene, and which give the stage more the appearance of a caricature-shop, than a faithful representation of life and manners." SCENE. Sir Pertinax Macsycophant's House, ten miles from London. Bet. Your servant, John; ha! ha! ha! poor fellow, he perfectly dotes on her; and daily follows her about with nosegays and fruitand the first of every thing in the season-Ay, and my young master, Charles, too, is in as bad a way as the gardener-in short, every body loves her, and that is one reason why I hate her for my part, I wonder what the deuce the men see in her-A creature that was taken in for charity! I am sure she is not so handsome. I wish she was out of the fa Nan. The same: how very hard he galloped : he has been but three quarters of an hour, he says, coming from Hyde-park-corner! Bet. And what time will the family be down?mily once; if she was, I might then stand a Nan. He has orders to have dinner ready by five. There are to be lawyers, and a great deal of company here-He fancies there is to be a private wedding to-night between our young master, Charles, and lord Lumbercourt's daughter, the Scotch lady; who, he says, is just come from Bath, on purpose to be married to him. Bet. Ay, Lady Rodolpha! nay, like enough, for I know it has been talked of a good while -Well, go tell Miss Constantia that I will be with her immediately. Nan. I shall, Mrs. Betty. [Exit. Bet. So! I find they all begin to suspect her condition; that's pure: it will soon reach my lady's ears, I warrant. Enter JOHN, with Letters. Well, John, ever a letter for me? John. No, Mrs. Betty; but here's one for Miss Constantia. Bet. Give it me-hum-My lady's hand. John. And here is one, which the postman says is for my young master-But it is a strange direction. [Reads] To Charles Egerton, Esq. Bet. Oh, yes, yes! that is for Master Charles, John; for he has dropped his father's name of Macsycophant, and has taken up that of Egerton. The parliament has ordered it. John. The parliament! Pr'ythee, why so, Mrs. Betty? Bet. Why, you must know, John, that my lady, his mother, was an Egerton by her father; she stole a match with our old master. Sir Stanley Egerton, that you just mentioned, dying an old bachelor, and mortally hating our old master, and the whole gang of the Macsycophants-he left his whole estate to master Charles, who was his godson; but on condition though, that he should drop his father's name of Macsycophant, and take up that of Egerton; and that is the reason, John, why the parliament has made him change his name. John. I am glad that master Charles has got the estate, however; for he is a sweet tempered gentleman. Bet. As ever lived-But come, John, as I know you love Miss Constantia, and are fond of being where she is, I will make you happy You shall carry her letter to her. John. Shall I, Mrs. Betty? I am very much obliged to you. Where is she? Bet. In the housekeeper's room, settling the dessert. Give me Mr. Egerton's letter, and I will leave it on the table in his dressing-room. -I see it is from his brother Sandy. So, now and deliver your letter to your sweetheart, John. John. That I will; and I am much beholden to you for the favour of letting me carry it to her; for though she would never have me, yet I shall always love her, and wish to be near her, she is so sweet a creature-Your servant, Mrs. Betty. [Exit. chance of being my lady's favourite myself. Ay, and perhaps of getting one of my young masters for a sweetheart, or at least the chaplain-but as to him, there would be no such great catch if I should get him. I will try for him, however: and my first step shall be to let the doctor know all I have discovered about Constantia's intrigues with her spark at Hadley-Yes, that will do; for the doctor loves to talk with me, and always smiles and jokes with me, and he loves to hear me talkAnd I verily believe, he he! he! that he has a sneaking kindness for me, and this story I know will make him have a good opinion of my honesty-And that, I am sure, will be one step towards-Oh! bless me here he comes -and my young master with him. I'll watch an opportunity to speak with him, as soon as he is alone; for I will blow her up, I am resolved, as great a favourite, and as cunning as she is. [Exit. Enter EGERTON and SIDNEY. Eger. I have done, Sir. You have refused. I have nothing more to say upon the subject -I am satisfied. Sid. Come, come, correct this warmth, it is the only weak ingredient in your nature, and you ought to watch it carefully. From your earliest youth, your father has honoured me with the care of your education, and the general conduct of your mind; and however singular and morose his behaviour may be towards others, to me he has ever been respectful and liberal. I am now under his roof too and because I will not abet an unwarrantable passion, in direct opposition to your father's hopes and happiness, you blame you angrily break from me, and call me unkind. Eger. Dear Sidney-for my warmth I stand condemned, but for my marriage with Constantia, I think I can justify it upon every principle of filial duty, honour, and worldly prudence. Sid. Only make that appear, Charles, and you know you may command me. Eger. I am sensible how unseemly it appears in a son, to descant on the unamiable passions of a parent; but as we are alone, and friends, I cannot help observing, in my own defence, that when a father will not allow the use of reason to any of his family-when his pursuit of greatness makes him a slave abroad only to be a tyrant at home-and when, merely to gratify his own ambition, he would marry his son into a family he detests sure, Sidney, a son thus circumstanced (from the dignity of human nature, and the feelings of a loving heart) has a right-not only to protest against the blindness of the parent, but to pursue those measures that virtue and happiness point out. Sid. The violent temper of Sir Pertinax, I own, cannot on many occasions be defended; but still your intended alliance with lord Lum- earthly happiness, depend on my Constantia. bercourt Eger. Oh! contemptible! a trifling, quaint, debauched, voluptuous, servile fool; the mere lackey of party and corruption; who for a mean, slavish, factious prostitution of near thirty years, and the ruin of a noble fortune, has had the despicable satisfaction, and the infamous honour, of being kicked up and kicked down -kicked in and kicked out-just as the insolence, compassion, or the conveniency of leaders predominated; and now-being forsaken by all parties, his whole political consequence amounts to the power of franking a letter, and the right honourable privilege of not paying a tradesman's bill. Sid. Well, but dear Charles, you are not to wed my lord, but his daughter. Eger. Who is as disagreeable for a companion, as her father is for a friend or an ally. Sid. [Laughing.] What, her Scotch accent, I suppose, offends you? Eger. No-upon my honour-not in the least. I think it entertaining in her-but were (Exit Sid. Poor Charles! he little dreams that I love Constantia too; but to what degree I knew not myself, till he importuned me to join their hands-Yes, I love, but must not be a rival; for he is as dear to me as fraternal fondness-My benefactor, my friend! Enter BETTY, running up to him. Bet. I beg your worship's pardon for my intrusion; I hope I do not disturb your reverence. Sid. Not in the least, Mrs. Betty.. Bet. I humbly beg pardon, Sir;-but I-II wanted to break my mind to your honour about a-a-a scruple-that-that lies upon my conscience-and indeed I should not have presumed to trouble you but that I know you are my young master's friend, and my old master's friend, and my lady's friend, and indeed a friend to the whole family-for to give you your due, Sir, you are as good a preacher as ever went into a pulpit. Sid. Ha ha! ha! do you think so, Mrs. it otherwise-in decency-and indeed in na-Betty? tional affection (being a Scotsman myself) I Bet. Ay, in troth do I-and as good a gencan have no objection to her on that account-tleman too as ever came into a family, and one besides, she is my near relation. that never gives a servant a hard word; nor. that does any one an ill turn-neither behind one's back, nor before one's face. Sid. Ha ha! ha! Why you are a mighty well-spoken woman, Mrs. Betty; and I am mightily beholden to you for your good character of me. Bet. Indeed, Sir, it is no more than you deserve, and what all the servants say of you. Sid. 1 am much obliged to them, Mrs. Betty. Sid. So I understand. But, pray, Charles, how came Lady Rodolpha, who find was born in England, to be bred in Scotland? Eger. From the dotage of an old, formal, obstinate, stiff, rich, Scotch grandmother; who upon a promise of leaving this grandchild all her fortune, would have the girl sent to her to Scotland, when she was but a year old; and there has she been bred up ever since, with this old lady, in all the vanity, splendour, and unlimit-But pray what are your commands with me? ed indulgence, that fondness and admiration could bestow on a spoiled child, a fancied beauty, and a pretended wit. And is this a woman fit to make my happiness? this, the partner Sidney would recommend me for life? to you, who best know me, I appeal. Sid. Why, Charles, it is a delicate point, unfit for me to determine besides, your father has set his heart upon the match Eger. All that I know-But still I ask and insist upon your candid judgment-Is she the kind of woman that you think could possibly contribute to my happiness? I beg you will give me an explicit answer. Sid. The subject is disagreeable-but since I must speak, I do not think she is. Eger. I know you do not; and I am sure you never will advise the match. Sid. I never did-I never will. Eger. You make me happy-which I assure you I never could be, with your judgment against me in this point. Sid. But pray, Charles, suppose I had been so indiscreet as to have agreed to marry you to Constantia, would she have consented, think you? Eger. That I cannot say positively; but I suppose so. Sid. Did you never speak to her then upon that subject? Eger. In general terms only: never directly requested her consent in form. But I will this very moment-for I have no asylum from my father's arbitrary design, but by Constantia's armis.--Pray do not stir from hence. I will return instantly. I know she will submit to your advice, and I am sure you will persuade her to my wish; as my life, my peace, my Bet. Why, I will tell your reverence-to be sure I am but a servant, as a body may say; and every tub should stand upon its own bottom-but [She takes hold of him familiarly, looking first about very cautiously, and speaks in a low familiar tone of great secrecy. My young master is now in the china-room;in close conference with Miss Constantia. I know what they are about-but that is no business of mine--and therefore I made bold to listen a little, because you know, Sir, one would be sure-before one took away any body's reputation. Sid. Very true, Mrs. Betty-very true, indeed. Bet. Oh! heavens forbid that I should take away any young woman's good name, unless I had a reason for it but, Sir-if 1 am in this place alive-as I listened with my ear close to the door, I heard my young master ask Miss Constantia the plain marriage question-Upon which I started-I trembled nay, my very conscience stirred within me so- -that I could not help peeping through the keyhole. Sid. Ha! ha ha! and so your conscience made you peep through the keyhole, Mrs. Betty! Bet. It did indeed, your reverence. And there I saw my young master upon his kneesLord bless us! kissing her hand, as if he would eat it! and protesting and assuring her he knew that your worship would consent to the match. And then the tears ran down her cheeks as fast Sid. Ay! Bet. They did indeed, Sir;-I would not tell your reverence a lie for the world. |