Gentle Hero! take my hand, Bliss shall gladden all the land. Till Nature looks wild, That shall toast you, And roast you, Saf. O mercy on us! whither shall we fly? [Exeunt SAFRINA, and HERO; huzza without. Enter DELAH and Soldiers. Abu. What's the matter, Delah? We've seen a sail-I'm sure she's not a friend- They're rebel rascals, from Natolia's land. [Exit DELAH; Soldiers remain. Huzza without. O, genius of this happy land, So, when the toils of war are o'er, Del. Dread Sir, a prisoner we have taken. Abu. Off with his head-I'll make the fellow bacon. Del. If you unhead him, Sir, he cannot speak. Abu. What horrid fears sits trembling on thy cheek? Del. I find Leander, Sir, comes here to-night, To visit Hero, and secure her flight. Abu. Death and the devil!-this is news in meet, Fly to his arms, and make his bliss complete. [HERO shuts the window. That Heaven from which no secret is conceal'd, But every wish and thought must stand reveal'd, Views not a love more pure, or truer mind, Amongst the various race of human kind;" Where neither interest nor design have part, But all the warmth is native from the heart. Enter HERO; LEANDER embraces her. O bless'd event!--let's fly to yonder shore : We've met, my Hero, now, to part no more. Hail, happy groves, retreats of peace and joy, Where no black cares the mind's repose destroy! Hero. Discharg'd from care, on unfrequented We'll sing of rural joys in rural strains; 217 Both. Adieu then to doubt and despair, Fair virtue our loves will pursue; We'll not know a moment of care, But kiss, as all true lovers do. [They appear retiring to LEANDER's vessel, but are stopped by ABUDAH, SOLANO, DELAH, and Soldiers; the Soldiers present their spears at LEANDER. Abu. Bind the villain.-O Sir, you're caught again! Knock off his head, and let me have his brain; Now that my anger's rous'd, my rage is full, I'll make a punch-bowl of the rascal's skull. [In this part of the Scene, MINERVA, in a cloud, attended by HYMEN, descends in the back Scene, supposed to be the Bunks of the Hellespont. I die content, because I die for you. [adieu! Lean. O now farewell to hope!-My love, Hero. O make his cause, ye powers above, your care, Support his soul, now death demands his prey, kettle; First Medusa's snaky whip shall try his [mettle! 'Sdeath! his blood I'll bottle, and in the dark profound I'll sprinkle libations, to the furies round. cease I come, the blessed harbinger of peace, [A flourish of trumpets; they kneel, and HYMEN joins their hands "Tis Wisdom consecrates the sacred bands. SONG-HYMEN. Sweetest pleasures never ceasing, And when old Time, with solemn pace, [this? Abu. What then, is all my greatness come to Your power, Madam, certainly prevails; Am I then baflled by a paltry Miss?Wisdom, I find, pays no respect to tails. Lean. O thanks, eternal thanks, to you be given, Thou best and brightest ornament of Heaven! Min. Now strike the sprightly lyre; all care To mirth and joy we dedicate the day; [away, I'll raise an altar to love's holy flame, Inscrib'd with Hero's and Leander's name. ISABELLA: OR, THE FATAL MARRIAGE: A TRAGEDY, IN FIVE ACTS. BY THOMAS SOUTHERN. REMARKS. THIS tragedy was restored to the stage, after a long period of neglect, by Garrick, who made many judicious alterations, and omitted some comic scenes, which it must be confessed were not well adapted to the moral taste of the age. In 1774, that inimitable actor appeared in the part of Biron, and contributed to the success of this excellent drama, which it was reserved for our own day to render irresistible and memorable, by the introduction of Mrs. Siddons to a London audience. That unrivalled mistress of the heart gave a pathos and importance to Isabella, which it had not before received; and Miss O'Neil's impassioned and native excellence, in her late personation of the character, will entitle her to a situation in Thespian annals, not far removed from her great predecessor. Of the ten plays written by Southern, Isabella and Oroonoko keep their place on the modern stage. ACT I. SCENE 1.-The Street. Enter VILLEROY and CARLOS. Car. This constancy of yours will establish an immortal reputation among the women. Vil. If it would establish me with IsabellaCar. Follow her, follow her: Troy town was won at last. Vil. I have followed her these seven years, and now but live in hopes. Car. But live in hopes! Why, hope is the ready road, the lover's baiting place; and for aught you know, but one stage short of the possession of your mistress. Vil. But my hopes, I fear, are more of my own making than hers; and proceed rather from my wishes, than any encouragement she has given me. Car. That I can't tell the sex is very various: there are no certain measures to be prescribed or followed, in making our approaches to the women. All that we have to do, I think, is to attempt them in the weakest part. Press them but hard, and they will all fall under the necessity of a surrender at last. That favour comes at once; and sometimes when we least expect it. Vil. I'm going to visit her. Car. What interest a brother-in-law can have with her, depend upon. Vil. I know your interest, and I thank you. Though I have taken care to root her from our house, I would transplant her into Villeroy's There is an evil fate that waits upon her, To which I wish him wedded-only him; His upstart family, with haughty brow, (Though Villeroy and myself are seeming friends,) Look down upon our house; his sister too, Whose hand I ask'd, and was with scorn refus'd, Lives in my breast, and fires me to revenge.- Perhaps, at last, she seeks my father's doors; [Exit. Enter VILLEROY and ISABELLA, with her Isa. Why do you follow me? you know I am And at a time when friends are found no A friend to my misfortunes. Vil. I must be Always your friend. Isa. I have known and found you [more, Vil. I'm only born to be what you would have me, The creature of your power, and must obey, Isa. I shall need all your wishes- [Exit. [Knocks. Where is the charity that us'd to stand Like the good angel of the family, Samp. Well, what's to do now, I trow? You knock as loud as if you were invited; and that's more than I heard of; but I can tell you, you may look twice about you for a welcome in a great man's family, before you find it, unless you bring it along with you. Isa. I hope I do, Sir. Is your lord at home? Samp. My lord at home! Isa. Count Baldwin lives here still? Samp. Ay, ay, Count Baldwin does live here; and I am his porter; but what's that to Truly my friend: and would I could be yours; the purpose, good woman, of my lord's being But the unfortunate cannot be friends: Pray begone, Take warning, and be happy. Vil. Happiness! There's none for me without you. What serve the goods of fortune for? To raise My hopes, that you at last will share them with me. Isa. I must not hear you. Vil. Thus, at this awful distance, I have serv'd A seven years' bondage-Do I call it bondage, Of seeing you, without this pleasing pain: Isa. Oh, I have heard all this! -But must no more-the charmer is no My buried husband rises in the face [more: Of my dear boy, and chides me for my stay: Canst thou forgive me, child? Vil. What can I say? The arguments that make against my hopes And more engage my love, to make you mine: [ness: at home? Isa. Why, don't you know me, friend? Samp. Not I, not I, Mistress; I may have seen you before, or so; but men of employ. ly such as we are never to be the better for. ment must forget their acquaintance; especial[Going to shut the door. Enter NURSE. Nurse. Handsomer words should become you, and mend your manners, Sampson: do you know who you prate to? Isa. I am glad you know me, Nurse. Nurse. Marry, Heaven forbid, Madam, that I should ever forget you, or my little jewel: pray go in [ISABELLA goes in with her Child.] Now my blessing go along with you, wherever you go, or whatever you are about. Fie, Sampson, how couldst thou be such a Saracen? A Turk would have been a better Christian, than to have done so barbarously by so good a lady. Samp. Why, look you, Nurse, I know you of old by your good will, you would have a finger in every body's pye; but mark the end on't. If I am called to account about it, I know what I have to say. Nurse. Marry come up here; say your pleasure, and spare not. Refuse his eldest son's widow and poor child the comfort of seeing him? She does not trouble him so often. Samp. Not that I am against it, Nurse, but we are but servants, you know; we must have no likings, but our lord's, and must do as we And long experience, of your growing good-are ordered. But what is the business, What then was passion, is my judgment now, Through all the several changes of your life, Confirm'd and settled in adoring you. Isa. Nay, then I must be gone. If you are my friend, If you regard my little interest, No more of this. I'm going to my father; he needs not an excuse To use me ill: pray leave me to the trial. Nurse? You have been in the family before I came into the world: what's the reason, pray, that this daughter-in-law, who has so good a report in every body's mouth, is so little set by, by my lord? Nurse. Why, I tell you, Sampson, more or less: I'll tell the truth, that's my way, you know, without adding or diminishing. Samp. Ay, marry, Nurse. |