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Its heart blood, all its treasure, piles of plate, Eum. I thank you.
Meanwhile, each, as he can, forget his loss, Caled. How?
And bear the present lot. Daran. 'Tis true.
3 Offi. Sir, have mark'd The bees are wisely bearing off their honey, The camp's extent: 'tis stretchd quite through And soon the empty hive will be our own.
the valley. Caled. So forward too! curse on this fool- I think that more than half the city's here. ish trealy!
Eum. The prospect gives me much relief. I'm Daran. Forward - it looks as if they had
pleas'd, been forewarn'd.
My honest countrymen, t'observe your numbers: By Mabomel, the land wears not the face And yet it fills my eyes with tears—'Tis said, Of war, but tradę! and thou wouldst swear its The mighty Persian wept, when he survey'd merchants
His numerous army, but to think them mortal; Were sending forth their loaded caravans Yet he then flourish'd in prosperity: To all the neighb'ring countries.
Alas! what's that?-Prosperity!—a harlot, Caled. Dogs! infidels! 'lis more than was That smiles but to betray! allow'd!
all gracious heaven, Daran. And shall we not pursue them- Let me wear out my small remains of life, Robbers! thieves !
Obscure, content with humble poverty, That steal away themselves, and all they're worth, Or, in affliction's hard but wholesome school, And wrong the valiant soldier of his due ? If it must be-I'll learn to know myself, Caled. The caliph shall know this-he shall, And that's more worth than empire. But, O Åbudah,
Ilerbis! where, my friend,
Hast thou been this long hour? Caled. If possible,
Her. On yonder summit, He should not know of this. No, nor Abudah: To take a farewell prospect of Damascus. By the seven heavens, his soul's a Christian too! Eum. And is it worth a look? And 'tis by kindred instinct he thus saves Her. No-I've forgot it. Their cursed lives, and taints our cause with All our possessions are a grasp of air: mercy,
We're cheated, whilst we think we hold them fast: Daran. I knew my general would not suffer And when they're gone, we know that they this,
Arl. Yes, sir.
I never boasted much, With thy cold fears—we'll march this very Yet, I've some honour, and a soldier's pride ; instant,
I like not these new lords. And quickly make this thriftless conquest good: Eum. Thou’rt brave and honest. The sword too has been wrong’d, and thirsts Nay, we'll not yet despair. A time may come, for blood.
[Ereunt. When from these brute barbarians we may wresť Sceve II.-A Valley full of Tents ; Baggago. The flatterer, hope, is ready with his song,
Once more our pleasant seats. - Alas! how soon and Harness lying up and down amongst To charm us to forgetfulness!-No morethem. The Prospect terminating with Palm Let that be left to heaven.--See, Herbis, see, Trees and Hills at a Distance.
Methinks we've here a goodly city yet. Enter Ev menes, with Officers and Attendants. Was it not thus our great forefaihers liv'd, Eum. [Enlering] Sleep on-and angels be In better times-in humble fields and tents,
thy guard!-soft slumber With all their flocks and herds, their moving Nas gently stole her from her griefs awhile ;
wealth? Let none approach the lent--Are out - guards See, too, where our own Pharphar winds his On yonder bills ?
[To an Officer. Through the long vale, as if to follow us; Offi. They are.
And kindly offers his cool wholesome draughts, Eum. [Striking his Breast] Damascus, 0-|To ease us in our march!-Why, this is plenty. Still art thou here! -Let me entreat you, friends,
My daughter!-wherefore hast thou left thy tent? Offi. You are still
What breaks so soon thy rest? Our head and leader.
Eud. Rest is not there, We're all prepard to follow you.
Or I have sought in vain, and cannot Gnd it.
Oh, no!-we're wanderers, it is our doom;
Enter DARAN. There is no rest for us.
Daran. Let the fools fight at distance - Here's Eum. Thou art not well.
the harvest. Eud. I would, if possible, avoid myself. Reap, reap, my countrymen! -Ay, there-first I'm better now, near you.
clear Eum. Near me! alas,
Those further tentsThe tender vine so wreathes its folded arms
[Looking between the Tents. Around some falling elm--It wounds my heart What's here? a woman!—fair To think thou follow'st but to share my ruin. She seems, and well attir'd!- It shall be so. I have lost all but thee.
She's my first prize, and then- [Erit
. Eud. O, say not so! You have lost nothing; no-you have preserv’d
Re-enter DARAN, with EUDOCIA. Immortal wealth, your faith inviolate
Eud. [Struggling] Mercy! O, spare me! To heaven and to your country. Ruin is youder, in Damascus, now
Heaven, bear my cries ! The seat abhorrid of cursed infidels.
Daran. Woman, thy cries are vain : Infernal error, like a plague, has spread No help is near. Contagion through its guilly palaces, And we are ned from death.
Enter PHOCYAS. Eum. Heroic maid!
Pho. Villain, thou liest! take that, Thy words are balsam to my griefs. Eudocia, To loose thy holdI never knew thee till this day; I knew not [Pushing at Daran with his Spear, who falls. How many virtues I had wrong?d in thee! Eudocia! Eud. If you talk thus, you have not yet for- Eud. Phocyas! O, astonishment! given me.
Then is it thus that heaven has heard my prayers? Eum. Forgiven thee!-Why, for thee it is, I tremble still —and scarce bave power to ask thee thee only,
How thou art here, or whence this sudden I think, heaven yet may look with pity on us;
outrage ? Yes, we must all forgive each other now. Pho. Sure every angel watches o'er thy safety! Poor Herbis, too-we both have been to blame. Thou seest'tis death t'approach thee without awe, O, Phocyas! - but it cannot be recall'd. And barbarism itself cannot profane thee. Yet, were he here, we'd ask him pardon too. Eud. Whence are these alarms? My child!-I meant not to provoke thy tears. Pho. Some stores remov'd, and not allow'd Eud. O, why is he not here? Why do I see
by treaty, Thousands of happy wretches, that but seem Have drawn the Saracens to make a search. Undone, yet still are bless'd in innocence, Perhaps 'twill quickly be agreed—But, ob! And why was he not one?
[Aside. Thou know'st, Eudocia, I'm a banish'd man,
And 'tis a crime I'm here once more before thee; Enter an Officer.
Else, might I speak, 'twere better for the present, Offi. Where is Eumenes ?
If thou wouldst leave this place. Eum. What means thy breathless baste? Eud. No-I have a father, Offi. I fear there's danger:
(And shall I leave him?) whom we both have For, as I kept my watch, I spy'd afar
wrong'd: Thick clouds of dust, and, on a nearer view, And yet, alas! Perceiv'd a body of Arabian horse
For this last act how would I thank thee, Moving this
I've nothing now but prayers and tears to give, Her. I saw them too,
Cold, fruitless thanks !-But'lis some comfort yet, Where the roads meet on t'other side these hills, That fate allows this short reprieve, that thus But took them for some band of Christian Arabs, We may behold each other, and once more Crossing the country. This way did they move? May mourn our woes, ere yet again we part – Offi . With utmost speed.
Pho. For ever! Eum. If they are Christian Arabs,
'Tis then resolvid-It was thy cruel sentence, They come as friends; if other, we're secure And I am here to execute that doom. By ihe late terms. Retire awhile, Eudocia, Eud. What dost thou mean? Till I return.
Pho. [Kneeling] Thus at thy feelI'll to the guard myself.
Eud. O, rise! Soldier, lead on the way.
Pho. Never—No, here I'll lay my burden down:
I've tried its weight, nor can support it longer. Enter another Officer.
Take thy last look; if yet thy eyes can bear 20ff. Arm! arm! we're ruin'd!
To look upon a wretch accurs'd, cast off The foe is in the camp.
By heaven and theeEum. So soon?
Eud. Forbear. -2 Offi. They've quitted
O cruel man! Why wilt thou rack me thus? Their horses, and with sword in hand have forca Didst thou 'not mark-thou didst, when last we Our guard; they say they come for plunder.
parted, Eur, Villains !
The pangs, the strugglings of my suffring soul; Sure Caled knows not of this treachery! That nothing but the hand of heaven itself Come on--we can fight still. We'll make them Could ever drive me from thee! - Dost thou now know
Reproach me thus? or canst thou have a thought What 'tis to urge the wretched to despair. That I can e'er forget thee?
[Exeunt. Pho. [Rises] Have a care!
I'll not be tortur'd more with thy false pity! Pho. Not know thee?.-Yes, too well I know No, I renounce it. See, I am prepar'd.
[Shows a Dagger. O murd'rous fiend! Why all this waste of blood ? Thy cruelty is mercy now.–Farewell! Didst thou not promise-, and death is now but a release from torment! Caled. Promise!-Insolence! Eud. Hold-stay thee yet!-O, madness of Tis well, 'tis well; for now, I know thee too;
, Thou ! And wouldst thou die? Think, ere thou leap'st False to thy first and to thy latter vows! the gulf,
Villain! When thou hast trod that dark, that unknown Pho. That's well-goon-I swear I thank thee. way,
Speak it again, and strike it through my ear! Canst thou return? What if the change prove A villain! Yes, thou mad'st me so, thou devil! worse?
And mind'st me now what to demand from thee. O think, if then
Give, give me back my former self, my honour,
Eud. O, fatal error!-Like a restless ghost, Revenge or death! The last I well deserve-
For which accurs'd be thou, and curs’d thy How wilt thou curse thy rashness then! How start,
prophet! And shudder, and shrink back! yet how avoid Caled. Hear'st thou this, Mahomet?- BlasTo put on thy new being ?
pheming mouth! Pho. I thank thee!
For this thou soon shalt chew the bitter fruit For now I'm quite undone-! gave up all Of Zacon's tree, the food of fiends below. For thee before; but this, this bosom friend, Go-speed thee thitherMy last reserve-There
[Pushes at him with his Lance, which [Throws away the Dagger.
, Tell me now, Eudocia,
Pho. Go thou first thyself. Cut off from hope, deny'd the food of life, Caled. [Falls] O dog! thou gnaw'st my And yet forbid io die, what am I now?
heart! Or what will fate do with me?
False Mabomet! Eud. Oh! [Turns away, weeping. Is this then my reward?-O!-
[Dies. Pho. Thou weep'st!
Pho. Thanks to the gods, I have revengd my Canst thou sbed tears, and yet not melt to mercy ?
. O say, ere yet returning madaess seize me, Is there in all futurily no prospect,
Several Parties of Christians and Saracens To distant comfort?
pass over the further End of the Stage, [Here they both continue silent for some Time. fighting. The former are beaten. At last Still thou art silent!
EUMENES rallies them, and makes a stand; Hlear then this last,
then enter ABUDAH, atlended. This only pray’r!-Heav'n will consent to this. Abu. Forbear, forbear, and sheathe the bloody Let me bui follow thee, where'er thou go'st,
sword. But see thee, hear thy voice; be thou my angel, Eum. Abudah! is this well? To guide and govern my returning steps,
Abu. No--I must own Till loog contrition, and unweary'd duly, You've cause.-O Mussulmans,look here! Behold Shall expiate my guilt.
Where, like a broken spear, your arm of war Eud. No more - This shakes
Is thrown to earth! My firmest thoughts, and if- [4 Cry is heard. Eum. Ha! Caled? What shrieks of death!
Abu. Dumb and breathless. I fear a treach'rous foe have now
Then thùs has beaven chastis'd us in thy fall, Begun a fatal harvest !-Haste,
And thee for violated faith! Farewell, Prevent-0, wouldst thou see me more with Thou great, but cruel nian! comfort,
Eum. This thirst of blood Fly, save them, save the threaten'd lives of Chris-In his own blood is quench’d. tians,
Abu. Bear hence his clay Vy father and his friends!—I dare not stay- Back to Damascus. Cast á mantle first fear'n be my guide, to shun this gath'ring ruin! O'er this sad sight: so should we hide his faults.
[Exit. Now hear, ye servants of the prophet, hear!
A greater death than this demands your tears, Enter CALED.
For know, your lord, the caliph, is no more! Caled. So, slaughter,do thy work! These hands Good Abubeker has breath'd out his spirit look well.
To him that gave it. Yet your caliph lives, [Looks on his Hands. Lives now in Omar. See, behold his signet, Phocyas ! Thou’rt met—But whether thou art here Appointing me, such is his will, to lead
[Comes forward. His faithful armies warring here in Syria. A friend or foe, I know not; if a friend, Alas !--foreknowledge sure of this event Which is Eumenes' tent?
Guided his choice! Obey me then, your chies. Pho. Hold, pass no further.
For you, O Christians; know, with speed I came, Caled. Say'st thou, not pass ?
On the first notice of this foul design, Pho. No-op thy life no further.
Or to present it, or repair your wrongs. Caled. Wbat, dost thou frown too?-Sure, Your goods shall be untouch'd, your persons safe.
thou know'st me not! Nor shall our troops henceforth, on pain of death,
Molesl your march.-Ifmore you ask, 'is granted. Pho. No, 'twas a kind one.-Spare thy tears, Eum. Still just and brave! thy virtues would
For mine are tears of joy.-A purer faith! Thou, better than thy sect, Eud. Is't possible? That dar'st decline from that to acts of mercy ! Pho. 'Tis done-the powers supreme bare Pardon, Abudah, if thy honest heart
heard my prayer, Makes us er'n wish thee ours.
And prosper'd me with some fair deed this day: Abu. O Power Supreme!
I've fought once more, and for my friends, That mad'st my heart, and know'st its inmost
my country. frame,
By me the treach’rous chiefs are slain: awhile If yel I
I stopp'd the foe, till, warn'd by me before, Or pardon unknown error!– Now, Eumenes, Of this their sudden march, Abudah came. Friends, as we may be, let us part in peace. But first this random shaft had reach'd
[Exeunt severally. Life's mingled scene is o'er-'tis thus that heaven
At once chastises, and, I bope, accepts me. Re-enter ARTAMON and EUDOCIA.
Eud. What shall I say to thee, to give thee Eud, Alas! but is my father safe?
comfort ? Art. Heaven knows.
Pho. Say only thou forgiv'st me-O Eudocia! I left bim just preparing to engage;
No longer now my dazzled eyes behold thee When, doubtful of th' event, he bade me haste Through passion's mists; my soul now gazes To warn his dearest daughter of the danger,
on thee, And aid your speedy flight.
And sees thee lovelier in unfading charms! Eud. Ny flight! but whither?
Bright as the shining angel host ihat stoodO no-if he is lost
Whilst 1-but there it smarts. Art. I hope not so.
Eud. Look down, look down, The noise is ceas'd. Perhaps they're beaten off. Yc pitying powers! and help his pious sorrow! We soon shall know;-bere's one that can Eum. '"Tis not too late, we hope, to give inform us.
thee help. Re-enter first Officer.
See! yonder is my tent: we'll lead thee thither;
Come, enter there, and let thy wound be dress'd; Soldier, thy looks speak well;—what says thy Perhaps it is not mortal. longue?
Pho. No! not mortal? 1 Offi. The foe's withdrawn. Abudah has No flatt'ry now. By, all my hopes hereafter, been here,
For the world's empire I'd not lose this death, And has renew'd the terms. Caled is killd— Alas! I but keep in my fleeting breath
Art. Hold-first thank heaven for that! A few short moments, till I have conjur'd you, Eud. Where iş Eumenes?
That to the world you witness my remorse 1 Offi. I left him well: by his command I came For my past errors and defend my fame. To search you out: and let you know this news. For know, soon as this pointed steel's drawn out, I've more, but that
Life follows through the wound. Art. Is bad, perhaps, so says
Eud. What dost thou say? This sudden pause. Well, be it so; let's know it; O, touch not yet the broken springs of life! Tis but life's checker'd lot.
A thousand tender thoughts rise in my soul: 1 Offi. Eumenes mourns
How shall I give them words? Oh, till this hour A friend's unhappy fall-Herbis is slain- I scarce have tasted woe!- this is indeed A settled gloom seem'd to hang heavy on him; To part-but, oh!'Th' effect of grief, 'tis thought, for his lost son. Pho. No more-death is now painful! When on the first attack, like one that sought But say, my friends, whilst I have breath to ask The welcome means of death, with desp'rate (For still methinks all your concerns are mine), valour
Whither have you design'd to bend your He press'd the foe, and met the fate he wish'd.
journey? Årt. See where Eumenes comes! What's Eum. Constantinople is my, last retreat, this? He seems
If heaven indulge my wish; there I've resolvid To lead some wounded friend-Alas! 'tis- To wear out the dark winter of my life, [They withdraw to one side of the Stage. An old man's stock of days—I hope not many.
Eud. There will I dedicate myself to heaven. Re-enter EUMENES, leading in Phocias, with O, Phocyas, for thy sake, no rival else an Arrow in his Breast,
Shall e'er possess my heart. My father too Eum. Give me thy wound! O, I could bear Consents to this my vow. My vital flame it for thee!
There, like a taper on the holy altar, This goodness melts my beart. What, in a mo- Shall waste away; till heav'n, relenting, bears ment
Incessant prayers for thee and for myself, Forgetting all thy wrongs, in kind embraces And wing my soul to meet with thine in bliss. T exchange forgiveness thus !
For in that thought I find a sudden hope, Pho. Moments are few,
As if inspir'd, springs in my breast, and tells me And must not now be wasted. O Eumenes, That thy' repenting frailty is forgiv'n, Lend me thy helping hand a little further; And we shall meet again to part no more, O where, where is She? [They advance. Pho. [Plucks out the Arrow] Then all is done Eum. Look, look here, Eudocia!
-'Iwas the last pang-atlengthBehold a sight that calls for all our tears ! I'vegiven up thee, and the world now is-nothing. Eud. Phocyas, and wounded !--Oh, what cruel hand
Eum. O Phocyas! Phocyns !
Alas! he hears not now, nor sees my sorrows! A fruitless zeal, yet all I now can show;
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A NATIVE of Ireland, and for some time one of the most successful writers for the stage. He was probably born abuat the year 1755, having been appointed one of the pages of Lord Chesterfield, when he was Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, in 1746. He was once an officer of marines, but left the service with circumstances which do not reflcul credit on him as a man. These circumstances not attacking the reputation of his writings, our readers will assist us in covere ing them with the charitable veil of oblivion; and we shall stand excused in the eyes of the feeling world for declining to conclude his Biography,
CUSEDY by Isaac Bickerslaff. Acted at Drury Lane 1768. The general plot of this comedy is borrowed from the Tartalfe of Molière, and the principal character in it, viz. that of Doctor Canlwell, is a close copy from that great original. The conduct of the piece, however, is so greatly altered as lo render it perfectly English, and the coque! Charlotte : is truly original and most elegantly spirited. The author has strongly pointed out the mischiefs and ruin which sere frequently brought into the must noble and valuable families by the sell-interested machinations of those skulking and pernicious vipers, those wolves in sheep's clothing, who at the troublesonie and un sellled period in which this piece was first wrillen, (by Cibber 1718) covering their private views beneath the mask of public zeal and sanctity, acted the part of the great serpent of old, first templing to sin, and then betraying to punishment. It is an alteration of Gibber's Nonjuror. Scarcely any thing more than The character of Mawworm was wrillen by the present author, who iatroduced it for the sake of Wislon's comic talents. Few plays have had the advantage of better acting, and, in consequence, sew had a greater share of success, It is one of the most valuable characteristics of this play, that while it extrely antirizes hypocrisy, fanatism ( as in Mawworm), and outrageous pretensjons to sanctity, it carefully distinguishes bet seen these and raljonal piety, The play met with great success in the representation, taking a run of eighteen sights ; the subject itself being iis protection, and its enemies not daring to show any more at that time than a few siles of silent contempt. The consequence, however, was what the author foresaw; that is to say, the stirring up, a party against him, who would scarcely sulcr any thing he wrote afterwards to meet with fair play, and making him the constant bult of Mist's Journal, and all the Jacobito faction, Nor do we think it by any means an improbable surmaise, Uhat the entity and inveteracy of his antagonist Mr. Pope, and the set of wits who were connected with him, might have their original foundation traced from the appearance of this play,
Sir J. So I do, sir, that I am her father,
and will dispose of her as I please. SCENE I. - A Hall in Sir JOHN LAMBERT'S
Col. L. I do not dispute your authority, sir; House.
but as I am your son too, I think it my duty Enter Sir John LAMBERT and COLONEL to be concerned for your honour. Hare not LAMBERT.
you countenanced his addresses to my sister? Col. L. PRAY consider, sir.
has nol she received them? Mr. Darnley's