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PIZARRO

A TRAGEDY

ADVERTISEMENT

As the two translations which have been published of Kotzebue's Spaniards in Peru " have, I understand, been very generally read, the public are in possession of all tne materials necessary to form a judgment on the merits and defects of the play performed at Drury Lane Theatre.

DEDICATION

To her, whose approbation of this Drama, and whose peculiar delight in the applause it has received from the public, have been to me the highest gratification derived from its success-I dedicate this Play.

RICHARD BRINSLEY Sheridan.

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Peruvian Warriors, Women and Children, High Priests, Priests and Virgins of the Sun, Spanish Officers, Soldiers, Guards, &c., &c.

SCENE-PERU.

PROLOGUE

Written by Richard Brinsley Sheridan

SPOKEN BY MR. KING

CHILL'D by rude gales, while yet reluctant May
Withholds the beauties of the vernal day;

As some fond maid, whom matron frowns reprove,
Suspends the smile her heart devotes to love;
The season's pleasures too delay their hour,
And Winter revels with protracted power:
Then blame not, critics, if, thus late, we bring
A Winter Drama-but reproach-the Spring.
What prudent cit dares yet the season trust,
Bask in his whisky, and enjoy the dust?
Horsed in Cheapside, scarce yet the gayer spark
Achieves the Sunday triumph of the Park;
Scarce yet you see him, dreading to be late,

Scour the New Road, and dash through Grosvenor Gate:
Anxious—yet timorous too—his steed to show,

The hack Bucephalus of Rotten Row.
Careless he seems, yet vigilantly sly,
Woos the gay glance of ladies passing by,
While his off heel, insidiously aside,
Provokes the caper which he seems to chide.
Scare rural Kensington due honour gains;
The vulgar verdure of her walk remains!
Where night-robed misses amble two by two,
Nodding to booted beaux-" How do, how do?”
With generous questions that no answer wait,
"How vastly full! An't you come vastly late?
Isn't it quite charming? When do you leave town?
An't you quite tired? Pray, can't we sit down?”
These suburb pleasures of a London May,
Imperfect yet, we hail the cold delay;

Should our play please—and you're indulgent ever-
Be your decree—" 'Tis better late than never."

ACT I.

SCENE I.-A pavilion near PIZARRO'S Tent.

ELVIRA discovered sleeping under a canopy. VALVERDE enters, gazes on ELVIRA, kneels, and attempts to kiss her hand; ELVIRA, awakened, rises and looks at him with indignation.

Elv. Audacious! Whence is thy privilege to interrupt the few moments of repose my harassed mind can snatch amid the tumults of this noisy camp? Shall I inform thy master, Pizarro, of this presumptuous treachery?

Val. I am his servant-it is true-trusted by him-and I know him well; and therefore 'tis I ask, by what magic could Pizarro gain your heart? by what fatality still holds he your affection?

Elv. Hold! thou trusty secretary!

Val. Ignobly born! in mind and manners rude, ferocious and unpolished, though cool and crafty if occasion needin youth audacious-ill his first manhood-a licensed pirate-treating men as brutes, the world as booty; yet now the Spanish hero is he styled-the first of Spanish conquerors and, for a warrior so accomplished, 'tis fit Elvira should leave her noble family, her fame, her home, to share the dangers, humours, and the crimes of such a lover as Pizarro !

!

Elv. What! Valverde moralizing ! But grant I am in error, what is my incentive? Passion, infatuation, call it as you will; but what attaches thee to this despised, unworthy leader? Base lucre is thy object, mean fraud thy means. Could you gain me, you only hope to win a higher interest in Pizarro. I know you. Val. On my soul, you wrong me! What else my faults, I have none towards you. But indulge the scorn and levity of your nature; do it while yet the time permits; the gloomy hour, I fear, too soon approaches.

Elv. Valverde a prophet too!

Val. Hear me, Elvira. Shame from his late defeat, and burning wishes for revenge, again have brought Pizarro to Peru; but trust me, he overrates his strength, nor measures well the foe. Encamped in a strange country,

where terror cannot force, nor corruption buy a single friend, what have we to hope? The army murmuring at increasing hardships, while Pizarro decorates with gaudy spoil the gay pavilion of his luxury, each day diminishes our force.

Elv. But are you not the heirs of those that fall? Val. Are gain and plunder, then, our only purpose? this Elvira's heroism?

Is

Elv. No, so save me, heaven! I abhor the motive, means, and end of your pursuits: but I will trust none of you. In your whole army, there is not one of you that has a heart, or speaks ingenuously-aged Las-Casas, and he alone, excepted.

Val. He an enthusiast in the opposite and worst extreme!

Elv. Oh! had I earlier known that virtuous man, how different might my lot have been !

Val. I will grant Pizarro could not then so easily have duped you forgive me, but at that event I still must wonder.

Elv. Hear me, Valverde. When first my virgin fancy waked to love, Pizarro was my country's idol. Self-taught, self-raised, and self-supported, he became a hero; and I was formed to be won by glory and renown. 'Tis known

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that, when he left Panama in a slight vessel, his force was not a hundred men. Arrived at the island of Gallo, with his sword he drew a line upon the sands, and said, Pass those who fear to die or conquer with their leader. Thirteen alone remained, and at the head of these the warrior stood his ground. Even at that moment when my ears first caught this tale, my heart exclaimed, "Pizarro is its lord!" What since I have perceived, or thought, or felt, you must have more worth to win the knowledge of.

Val. I press no further, still assured that, while Alonzo de Molina, our general's former friend and pupil, leads the enemy, Pizarro never more will be a conqueror.

[Trumpets without. Elv. Silence! I hear him coming; look not perplexed. How mystery and fraud confound the countenance ! Quick, put on an honest face, if thou canst.

Piz. [Without.] Chain and secure him; I will examine him myself.

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