Down the steep rock despis'd. Dion. Now then thou feel'st my vengeance. Euph. Glory in it; Exult and triumph. Thy worst shaft is sped, Yet still the unconquer'd mind with scorn can view thee; With the calm sunshine of the breast can see Dion. Philotas, bear her hence, she shall not live; This moment bear her hence; you know the rest; Go, see our will obey'd; that done, with all To freedom, victory, to glorious havoc, [Exit. Euph. Accept my thanks, Philotas; gen'rous man! These tears attest th' emotions of my heart. Phil. Dispel thy fears; Phocion will bring relief; or, should the ty rant Assault their camp, he'll meet a marshall'd foe. Let me conduct thee to the silent tomb. Hearts prodigal of blood, when honour calls, Resolv'd to conquer or to die in freedom. Dion. Thus I've resolv'd: when the declining moon Hath veil'd her orb, our silent march begins. Till brave Amyntor stretch along the vale. Ha! speak; unfold thy purpose. Offi. Instant arm; To arms, my liege; the foe breaks in upon us; Is this their promis'd truce? Away, my friends, Euph. Ah! there Evander, naked and dis-Rouse all the war: fly to your sev'ral posts, And instant bring all Syracuse in arms. arm'd, Defenceless quite, may meet some ruffian stroke. Phil. Lo! here a weapon; bear this dagger to him. In the drear monument should hostile steps Dare to approach him, they must enter singly; This guards the passage; man by man they die. There may'st thou dwell amidst the wild commotion. Euph. Ye pitying gods, protect my father Exeunt. there! SCENE II.-The Citadel. Enter DIONYSIUS, CALIPPUS, and several Offi cers. Dion. Ye brave associates, who so oft have shar'd Our toil and danger in the field of glory, Fortune has given us. In his dark embrace, Your wives, your children, your invaded rights, All that can steel the patriot breast with valour, Expands and rouses in the swelling heart. And fame eternal shall attend the men redeem From th' invader's power, their native land. Cal. Lead to the onset; Greece shall find we bear [Exeunt; warlike music. SCENE III.-The inside of the Temple; a Monument in the Middle. Enter EUPHRASIA, ERIXENE, and Female At tendants. Euph. Which way, Erixene, which way, my virgins, Shall we direct our steps? What sacred altar Clasp on our knees? Erix. Alas! the horrid tumult Spreads the destruction wide. On every side The victor's shouts, the groans of murder'd wretches, In wild confusion rise. Once more descend Eudocia's tomb; there thou may'st find a shelter. Euph. Anon, Erixene, I mean to visit, Perhaps for the last time, a mother's urn. This dagger there, this instrument of death, Should fortune prosper the fell tyrant's arms, This dagger then may free me from his power. And that drear vault entomb us all in peace. [Flourish. Erix. Hark! Euph. The din 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. Eran. Horror! forbear! Thou mard❜rer, hold thy hand! The gods behold thee, horrible assassin ! 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 Philotag! 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 Open a passage; first on me, on me, Strike here; these veins are full; here's blood enough; The purple tide will gush to glad thy sight. [Exit, with Officers. Euph. [Embracing EVANDER.] Oh! thus, my father, We'll perish thus together. Dion. [Without.] Bar the gates; Close every passage, and repel their force. Evan. And must I see thee bleed? Oh! for a sword! 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. A 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. Evan. 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. To calm the uproar, and recall from carnage His conqu❜ring troops. self man, Euph. Oh! once again, my father, Thy sway shall bless the land. Not for himTimoleon conquers; to redress the wrongs Of bleeding Sic ly the hero comes. Thee, good Melanthon, thee, thou gen'rous His justice shall reward. Thee too, Philotas, Whose sympathizing heart could feel the touch Of soft humanity, the hero's bounty, [thee. His brightest honours, shall be lavish'd on Evander too will place thee near his throne; And show mankind, even on this shore of being, That virtue still shall meet its sure reward. Phil. I am rewarded; feelings such as mine Are worth all dignities; my heart repays me. Evan. Come, let us seek Timoleon; to his care 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? 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 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. 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? 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 go and deliver your letter to your sweetheart, John. 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 w. y 1 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 family once; if she was, I might then stand a 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 happi 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 nearness point out. her, she is so sweet a creature-Your servant, Sid. The violent temper of Sir Pertinax, I Mrs. Betty. [Exit. own, cannot on many occasions be defended; |