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My heart still doubts if I should love or hate you—And call him to this hated light again,
But, oh, I fear there's something dreadful in it!
Nor violate her sacred love to liecior.
This hour I'll meet the king; the holy priest Phoe. Sir, did you mind her threats? your Shall join us, and confirm our mutual vows. life's in danger:
This will secure a father to my child: There is no trifling with a woman's rage. That done, I have no further use for life : The Greeks that swarm about the court, all This pointed dagger, this determind hand,
Shall save my virtue, and conclude my woes. Will treat you as their country's enemy,
Cephisa, thou And join in her revenge: besides, Orestes Wilt lend a hand to close thy mistress' eyes. Still loves her to distraction. Sir, I beg -- Ceph. Oh, never think that I will stay behind Pyr. How, Phoenix, 'should I fear a wo
you! man's threats ?
Andro. No, my Cephisa, I must have thee live. A nobler passion takes up all my thoughts: I must commit into thy faithful hands I must prepare to meet Andromache. All that is dear and precious to my soul. Do thou place all my guards about her son: Live, and supply my absence to my child; If he be safe, Pyrrhus is free from fear. [Exit
. All that remaius of Troy; a future progeny Phoe. Oh, Pyrrhus!oh, what pity 'tis, the gods, of heroes, and a distant line of kings, Who filld thy soul with every kingly virtue, In him, is all intrusted to thy care. Form'd thee for empire and consummate Tell him my soul repos'd itself on him, greatness,
When I resign'd' my son to his protection. Should leave thee so expos'd to wild desires, Ceph. Oh, for a spirit to support my gries! That burry thee beyond the bounds of reason! Is there aught more, before you go for ever?
[Flourish. Andro. Oh, my Cephisa! my swoln heart see, the queen, Magnificent in royal pride, appears.
I have a thousand farewells to my son, I must obey, and guard her son from danger. But tears break in! Grief interrupts my speech!
[Exit. My soul o'erflows in fondness! 'Let him know Enter ANDROMACHE and CEPHISA.
I died to save him-and would die again.
Season his mind with carly hints of glory; Ceph. Madam, once more you look and Make him acquainted with his ancestors; move a queen.
Trace out their shining story in his thoughts; Your sorrows are dispers’d, your charms revive, Dwell on the exploits of his immortal father; And every faded beauty blooms anew. And sometimes let him hear his mother's name.
Andro. Yet all is not as I could wish, Cephisa. Ile must be taught to stifle his resen!ments, Ceph. You see the king is watchful o'er And sacrifice his vengeance to his safety; your son;
Should he prove headstrong, rash, or unadvis’d, Decks him with princely robes, with guards He then will frustrate all his mother's virtue, surrounds him.
Provoke his fate, and I shall die in vain. Astyanax begins to reign already.
Ceph. Alas, I fear I never shall outlive you! Andro. Pyrrhus is nobly minded; and I sain Andro. No more; thy tears, Cephisa, will Would live to thank him for Astyanax:
betray me; Tis a vain thought. Flowever, since my child Assume a cheerful look. But still rememberHas such a friend, I ought not to repine.
[Flourish within. Ceph. These dark unfoldings of your soul Hark how the trumpet, with its sprightly notes, 1 perplex me.
Proclaims th'appointed hour, and calls us hence: | For beaven's sake, madam, let me know your Hector, I come once more a queen, to join thee! griefs.
Thus the gay victim, with fresh garlands crown'd, If you distrust
Pleas'd with the sacred fife's enlivening sound, Andro. That were to wrong thee. Through gazing crowds,in solemn state proceeds, Oh, my Cephisa! This gay, borrow'd air, And dress'd in fatal pomp magnificently bleeds. This blaze of jewels, and this bridal dress,
(Exeunt. Are but mock' trappings, to conceal my woe:
ACT v. My heart still mourns; I still am Hector's widow.
SCENE I. Ceph. Will you then break the promise giv'n to Pyrrhus,
Enter HERMIONE. Blow
his rage again, and blast your hopes ? Her. What have I done? Where am I? Andro. I thought, Cephisa, thou hadst known
Where is Pyrrhus ? thy mistress.
Ye gods! what mean these horrors? I'm undone Couldst thou believe I would be false to Hector? My soul is on the rack! I cannot bear it Fall off from such a husband! Break bis rest, Why do I wander like some guilty ghost?
What brought me to this place? What keeps Her. No; I'll avenge myself; I'll to the temple; me here?"
I'll overturn the altar, stab the priest; The court of Pyrrhus has no room for me! I'll hurl destruction, like a whirlwind, round me! Do I still doubt if I should love or hate him? They must not wed! they must not live! they Hard-hearted man! bow unconcern'd he left me!
shall not! Did he once sigh? bestow one pitying look? Let me be gone; I have no time to lose ; Once shed a tear? or speak one soft, kind word? Stand off! hold me not! I am all distraction! Did he so much as feign one moment's sorrow, O Pyrrhus! tyrant! traitor! thou shalt bleed. To calm my grief, and mitigate his falsehood? Why am I still thus anxious for his life?
Enter ORESTES. Why do I start at his impending fate? Ores. Madam, 'tis done: your orders are Shall be then live? Shall the base traitor live
obey'd : To laugh at my distress? No, let him perish! The tyrant lies expiring at the altar. Be quick, Orestes!
Execute my orders! Her. Is Pyrrhus slain ? Alas! my orders! Oh, preposterous guilt! Ores. Even now he gasps in death. Can I decree the death of him I love? Our Grecks, all undistinguish'd in the crowd, Was it for this my soul delighted in him? Flock'd to the temple and dispers'd themselves Was it for this I left my father's court? On every side the altar: I was there: Have I then crossd so many realms and seas Pyrrhus observ'd me with a. haughty eye, To murder Pyrrhus?
And, proud to triumph over Greece in me, Enter CleoNE.
From his own brows he took the diadem, Oh, Cleone, help me!
And bound it on the temples of his captive. What have I done ? Is Pyrrhus yet alive? Receive, said be, my crown; receive my faith; What say'st thou? Answer me. Where is Mine and my people's sovereign reign for the king?
From this blest hour, a father to your son, Cle. Madam, I saw the cruel prince set forward, I'll scourge his foes: henceforward' be he styl'd Triumphant in his looks, and full of joy. The Trojan king; I swear it at the altar, Still as he walk'd, his ravish'd eyes were fix’a And call the gods to ratify my vows. On the fair captive; while through shouting His subjects with loud acclamations shook crowds
The spacious dome! our Greeks enrag'd cry'd our She pass'd along with a dejected air, “Revenge! revenge!" broke through the ihrongAnd seem'd to mourn her Hector to the last.
ing press, Her. Insulting tyrant! I shall burst with rage! And rush'd tumultuous on the unguarded kingd But say, Cleone, didst thou mark him well? Pyrrhus awhile oppos'd their clashing swords
, Was his brow smooth? Say, did there not appear And dealt his fatal blows on every side Some shade of grief? some little cloud of sorrow? With manly fierceness; till oppress'd by Did he not stop? Did he not once look back ?
numbers, Didst thou approach him? Was he not con- Streaming with blood, all over gashid with founded?
wounds, Did he not-Oh, be quick, and tell me all! He reeld, he groan’d, and at the altar fell.
Cle. Madam, the tumult of his joy admits Haste, madam, let us fly! baste to our ships! No thought but love. Unguarded he march'd on, They lie unmoor’d: our friends attend us therea 'Midst a promiscuous throng of friends and foes, Her. What have they done? His cares all turn upon Aslyanax,
Ores. Madam, forgive their rage. Whom he has lodg'd within the citadel, I own your vengeance had been more complete Defended by the strength of all his guards. Had Pyrrhus fall'n by me; and had he known Her. Enough! he dies! the traitor! Where's Hermione chastis'd him by my arm. Orestes?
Her. Peace, monster, peace! Go tell thy Cle. He's in the temple, with his whole retinue.
1 Her. Is he still resolute? Is he still determin’d? To savages, and howl it out in deserts. Cle. Madam, I fear
Wouldst thou impute to me thy barbarous guilt Her. How? Is Orestes false ?
Me wouldst thou make th' accomplice of thy Does he betray me too ?
crimes? Cle. A thousand doubts
Hence, to thy Greeks, and boast thy foulerPerplex his soul, and wound bim with remorse;
ploits! His virtue and his love prevail by turns. My soul abhors them! I disclaim the deed. He told me Pyrrhus should not fall ignobly; Be gone! I know thee not, thou fell barbarian! Pyrrhus, the warlike son of great Achilles, What had he done? What could provoke thy He dreads the censure of the Grecian states,
madness Of all mankind, and fears to stain his honour. To assassinate so great, so brave a man? Her. Poor tim'rous wretch! 'lis false! he Who set thee on? basely fears
Ores. Oh, grant me patience, heaven! To cope with dangers, and encounter death! With your own lips did you not curse the tyrant, Tis that he fears. Am l'bright Helen's daughter? Pronounce his death, and urge me to destroy To vindicate her wrongs all Greece conspir'd;
him? For her confederate nations fought, and kings Her. What if, transported by my boundless were slain;
passion, Troy was o'erthrown, and a whole empire fell. I could not bear to see him wed another, My eyes want force to raise a lover's arm Were you t' obey a jealous woman's frenzy? Against a tyrant that has dar'd to wrong me! You should have div'd into my inmost thoughts
: °Cle, Madam, like Helen, trust your cause My heart, though full of rage, was free from to Greece.
And all my anger was excess of love. A dreadful instance of your power to .punish.
My fate's accomplishd; I shall die content.
Pyl. Let us be gone. A second time? and, undetermin'd still, Ores. The murder'd lovers wait me. Hark! Again return, and still find new delays?
they call. What bad your rash officious Greeks, dire Nay, if your blood still reeks, I'll mingle mine; bloodhounds!
One tomb will hold us all. Todo with my revenge? What drew you bither? Pyl. Alas! I fear To bring on me the vengeful foes that haunt you? His raving will return with his misfortunes. Are these the fruits of your detested love? Ores. I am dizzy! Clouds! Quite løst in Your fatal embassy, your hateful presence
utier darkness! Drore Pyrrhus to my rival, and destroys Guide me, some friendly pilot! through the storm,
Both him and me. He might have lov'd me still, I shiver! Oh, I freeze! So-light returns; der I Had you ne'er interpos'd. Avaunt! be gone! 'Tis the grey dawn. See, Pylades! behold,
And leave me in Epirus. I renounce I am encompass'd with a sea of blood! My friends, my country, Greece, and all The crimson billows! Oh, my brain's on fire ! mankind:
Pyl. How is it, sir ? Repose yourself on me. But chiefly I renounce thee! monster, thee! Ores. Pyrrhus, whal wouldst thou ? How
he glares! Ores. Am I awake? where am I? Soft, What envious hand has clos'd thy wounds ? my soul;
llave at thee. Be not too rash. Was that Hermione? It is Hermione that strikes. Confusion !
Why should her anger thunder against me? She catches Pyrrhus in her arms. Oh, sare me! t. Was pot this blood shed all by her command?: low terrible she looks! She knits her brow;
1 am indeed a most outrageous monster! She frowns me dead; she frights me into madness. with a ruffian, murderer, a base assassin! Where am I? Who are you?
And all to please a false ungrateful woman. Pyl. Alas, poor prince!
Ores. Who talks of reason? Better to have Ok, never more shall my torn mind be heald,
none, Nor taste the gentle comforts of repose! Than not enough. Run, some one, tell
Greeks A dreadful band of gloomy cares surround me, I will not have them touch the king. Now, now! And lay strong siege to my distracted soul. I blaze again! See there: look where they come;
A shoal of furies. How they swarm about me! Enter Pylades, attended by Greeks.
My terror! Hide me! Oh, their snaky locks! Pyl. Haste, prince; let us be gone: 'tis death Hark,how they hiss! See,see their flaming brands! to stay
Now they let drive at me! How they grin, Andromache reigns queen: she gives the alarm, And shake their iron whips! My ears! what And rows revenge upon the foes of Pyrrhus.
yelling! The people arm and 'muster in the streets: And see, Hermione! she sets them on. Our Greeks will not he able long to guard Thrust not your scorpions thus into my bosom! The palace gates, and to secure our flight. Oh, I am stung to death! Dispatch me soon! We must be speedy, sir.
There-take my heart, Hermione! Tear it out! Ores. You may depart,
Disjoint me! kill me! Oh, my tortur'd soul! My friends: Hermione and I remain.
Pyl. Kind heaven, restore bim to his wonted Her cruelty has quite undone me. Go.
calm! Pyl. Alas, unhappy princess! she's no more. Oft have I seen him rave, but never thus. Ores. Hermione no more! O, all yą powers! Quite spent! Assist me, friends, to bear him off. Pyl. Full of disorder, wildness in her looks, Our time is short: should his strong rage return, With hands expanded, and dishevelld hair, 'Twould be beyond our power to force him hence. Breathless and pale, with shrieks she sought Away, my friends! I hear the portal open. the temple;
Exeunt. In the mid-way she met the corpse of Pyrrhus : Enter Phoenix, attended by Guards. She startled at the sight; then, stiff with horror, Phoe. All, all are fled! Orestes is not here! Gazd frightful! Waken'd from the dire amaze, Triumphant villains! The base, giddy rabble, She rais' ber eyes to heaven with such a look Whose bands should all have been employ'd As spoke her sorrows, and reproach'd the gods;
with fire, Then plung'd a poniard deep within her breast
, To waste the fleet, flock'd round the dying And fell on Pyrrhus, grasping him in death.
princess : Ores. I thank you, gods: I never could expect And, while they stand agaze, the Greeks embark. To be so wretched! You have been industrious Oh, 'lis too plain! this sacrilegʻous murder To finish your decrees; to make Orestes Was authoriz'd. The ambassador's escape
Declares his guilt. Most bloody embassy! Will never cease; for I was born to grieve.
[To Phoenix. You give it no protection? See, the queen.
Let him be robid in all his regal state; A Flourish of Trumpels. Enter AndROMACHE Place round him every shining mark of honour;
and CEPHISA with Attendants. And let the pile that consecrates his ashes, Andro. Yes, ye inhuman Greeks! the time Rise like his fame, and blaze above the clouds.
[Exit Phoenir. 4 Flourish of Trumpets. When you shall dearly pay your bloody deeds! Ceph. The sound proclaims th' arrival of How should the Trojans hope for mercy from you,
the prince, When thus you turn your impious rage on The guards conduct him from the citadel. Pyrrhus?
Andro. With open arms I'll meet him! Pyrrhus, the bravest man in all your league ;
O Cephisa! The man, whose single valour made you triumph. A springing joy, mix'd with a soft concern,
[A dead March behind. A pleasure, which no language can express, Is my child there?
An ecstasy that mothers only feel, Ceph. It is the corpse of Pyrrhus;. Plays round my heart, and brightens up my The weeping soldiers hear him on their shields.
sorrow, Andro. Il-fated prince! too negligent of life, Like gleams of sunshine in a low'ring, sky. And too unwary of the faithless Greeks! Though plung'd in ills, and exercis’d'in care, Cut off in the fresh rip’ning prime of manhood, Yet never let the noble mind despair. E’en in the prime of life! thy triumphs new, When press'd by dangers, and beset with foes, And all thy glories in full blossom round thee! The gods their timely succour interpose; The very Trojans would bewail thy fate. And when our virtue sinks, o'erwhelm'd with Ceph. Alas! then will your sorrows never end?
grief, Andro. Oh, never, 'never! – While I live, By unforeseen expedients bring relief. [E.ceunt
NICHOLAS Rowe, son of Jolin Roure, Esg. sergeant at law, was born at Little Berkford, in Bedfordshire, anno 1675. His education was begun at a private seminary in Higligate, from whence he was removed to Westminster school, where he was perlected in classical literature under Doctor Bushy. His father, designing him for his own profession, entered him, at sixteen years of age, a student of the Middle Temple. He soon made considerable progress in the law, and might here cut a figure in that profession, if the love of poetry and the belles lettres bad not lo much attracted his attention. At the age of twenty-live he wrote his first tragedy, The Ambitious Step-mother, the great success of which made him estirely lay aside allihoughts of the law. Dr. Johnson demands: “Whence ihen has Rowe his reputation ? From the reasonablebe ** and propriety of some of his scenes, from the elegance of his diction, and the stavily of his verse. He seldom moves either pily or terror, but he often elevates the sentiments; hie seldom pierces the breast, but he always deliglits the ear, and often improves the understanding." Being a great admirer of Shekspeare, he gave the public an edilion of his plays, to which he prefixed an account of that great man's life. But the most considciable of Mr. Rowe's performances, was a translation of Lucan's Pharsaliu, which he just lived to finish, but not to publish; for it did not appear in print till tea years after his death.
His allachiment io the Muses, however, did noi entirely unfit him for business; for when the Duke of Queensberry was secretary of state, he made Mr. Rowe his under-secretary for publie all'airs; but, after the Duke's death, the avenues to his preferment being stopped, he passed his time in retirement during the rest of Queen Annc's reign. On the accession of George I, he was made poet laurcal, and one of the land-surveyors of the custoras in the port of London. He was also Clerk of the council to the Prince of Wales, and the Lord Chancellor Parker made him his secretary for the presentations; but he did not long enjoy these promotions, for he died Dec. 6. 1718 in the 45th year of his age.
THE FAIR. PENITENT. Acted at Lincoln's Inn Fields 1703. This, as Dr. Johnson observes, 'is one of the most pleasing tragedies stage, where it still keeps its turns of appearing, and probably will long keep thien; for there is scarcely any work of any poet at once go interesting by the fable, and so delightful hy the language. The story is domestic, and therefore casily received by the imagination, and assimilated to common life; the diction is exquisitely harmonious, and soft op sprightly as occasion requires. The character of Lothario seems to have been expanded by Richardson into Lovelace; but he lias excelled his original in the moral effect of the fiction. Lothario, with faiely which can not be haled, and bravery which cannot be despised, retains too much of the spectators kindness. It was in the power of Richardson alone to teach us at once esteem and detestation, to make virtuous resentment overpower all the benevolence which wit, and elegance, and courage, naturally excite; and 10 Joose at last the hero in the villain. In the year 1699 Mr. Powell played Lothario, and his dresser Warren performed the dead Lothario, unknown in Powell. Aboui the middle of the distrciso ful scene, Powell called aloud for his man, who answered him as loudly from the bier on the slage, “ Here, Sir!” Powell ignorant of the part his man was acting, repeated immediately, “Come here this nioment, you rascall or I'll break all the bones in your skin.” Warren knew his hasty temper; therefore, without any reply, jumped oil, with all his sables about him, which unfortunately were tied fast to the handles of the bier, and dragged it after him. But this was not all; the laugh and roar began in the audience, till it frightened poor Warren so much, that, with the hier at his tail, he drew down Calista, and overwhelmed her with the table, lamp, book, bones, together with all the lumber of the charnel-house. He lugged, ull he broke off his trammels, and made his escape; and the play, at once, ended with inmoderate fils of laughter
Servants lo Sciolto ete. Scene.—Sciolto's Palace and the Garden, with some part of the Street ncar il, in Genoa
That kindly grants what nature bad deny'd me, Sceng I.-A Garden belonging to Sciolto's And makes me father of a son like thee. Pulace.
Alt. My father! Oh, let me unlade my breast,
Pour out the fulness of my soul before you; Enter ALTAMONT and HORATIO.
Show ev'ry lender, ev'ry grateful thoughi, All. Ler this auspicious day be ever sacred, This wondrous goodness stirs. But'tis impossible, No mourning, 110 misfortunes happen on it: And utterance all is vịle; since I can only Let it be mark'd for triumphs and rejoicings; Swear you reign here, but never tell how much. Let happy lovers ever make it holy,
Sci. O, noble youth! I swear, since first I Choose ii to bless their hopes, and crown their
knew thee, wishes.
Ev'n from that day of sorrow when I saw thee This happy day, that gives me my Calista. Adorn'd and lovely in thy filial tears,
Hor. Yes, Altamont; to-day thý better stars The mourner and redeemer of thy father,
[Embraces Hor. To that high rank and lustre which it boasted, All are my children, and shall share my heart. Before ungrateful Genoa bad forgot
But wherefore waste we thus this happy day? The merit of thy god-like father's arms; The laughing minutes summon thee to joy, Before that country, which he long had serv'd And with new pleasures court thee as they pass; In watchful councils and in winter camps, Thy waiting bride ev'n chides thee for delaying, Had cast off bis wbite age to want and wretch- And swears thou com’st not with a bridegroom's edness,
haste. And made their court lo factions by his ruin. Alt. Oh! could I hope there was one thought All. Oh, great Sciolto! Oh, my more than
of Altamont, father!
One kind remembrance in Calista's breast, Let me not live, but at thy very name The winds, with all their wings, would be too My eager heart springs up, and leaps with joy.
slow When I forget the vast, vast debt I owe thee- To bear me lo her feel. For, oh, my father! Forget! (bui 'tis impossible) then let me Amidst the stream of joy that bears me on, Forget the use and privilege of reason, Blest as I am, and honour'd in your friendship, Be driven from the commerce of mankind, There is one pain that hangs upon my heart. To wander in the desert among brules,
Sci. WVhal means my
Hor. So open, so unbounded was his goodness, Last night, Calista yielded to my happiness,
breaking lleard all our cares, and sweeten'd love itsell. With all the tend'rest eloquence of love Alt. By heav'n, he found my fortunes so I begg’d to be a sharer in her grief: abandon'd,
But she, with looks averse, and eyes that froze me, That nothing but a miracle could raise 'em: Sadly reply'd, her sorrows were her own, My father's bounty, and the state's ingratitude, Nor in a father's power to dispose of. Had stripp'd him bare, nor left him e'en a grave. Sci. Away! it is the cor’nage of their sex; Indone myself, and sinking with his ruin, One of the common arts they practise on us: I had no wealth to bring, nothing to succour him, To sigh and weep then when their hearts beat high But fruitless tears.
With expectation of the coming joy. Hor. Yet what thou couldst thou didst, Thou hast in camps and fighting fields been bred, And didst it like a son; when his bard creditors, Unknowing in the subtleties of women; Crg'd and assisted by Lothario's father The virgin bride, who swoons with deadly fear, (Foe to thy house, and rival of their greatness), To see the end of all her wishes near, By sentence of the crucl law forbade When blushing from the light and public eyes, Ilis venerable corpse to rest in earth,
To the kind covert of the night she flies, Thou gav'st thyself a ransom for his bones; With equal fires to meet the bridegroom moves, Heav'n, who beheld the pious act, approv'd it, Melis in his arms, and with a loose she loves. And bade Sciolto's bounty be its proxy,
[Exeunt. To bless thy filial virtue with abuodance.
Enler LOTHARIO and RossANO. Alt. But see, he comes, the author of my happiness,
Loth. The father, and the husband!
Ros. Let them pass.
Ere long I mean to meet 'em face to face, Enter Sciolto; he runs to ALTAMONT, and And gall 'em with my triumph o'er Calista. embraces him.
Ros. You lov'd her once. Sci. Joy to thee, Altamont! Joy to myself! Loth. I lik'd her, would have marry'd her, Joy to this happy morn, that makes thee mine; But that it pleas'd her father to refuse me,