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Oh! give me daggers, fire, or water: Be expos'd a common carcass on a wheel? How I could bleed, how burn, how drown, Jaf. Hah! the waves

Pier. Speak! is't fitting ? Huzzing and booming round my sinking head, Jaf. Fitting! Till I descended to the peaceful bottom! Pier. Yes; is't fitting? Ok! there's all quiet, bere all rage and fury : Jaf. What's to be done? The air's too thin, and pierces my weak brain; Pier. I'd have thee undertake I long for thick, substantial sleep; Hell! hell! Something that's noble, to preserve my memory Burst from the centre, rage and roar aloud, From the disgrace that's ready to attaint it. If thou art balf so hot, so mad as I am. [Exit. Offi. The day grows late, sir.

Pier. I'll make haste. Oh, Jaffier! Scene III.- A Scaffold, and a Wheel pre- Though thou'st betray'd me, do me some way pared for the Erecution of PIERRE.

justice. Enter Officer, PIERRE, Guards, Eirecutioner, Jaf. No more of that: thy wishes shall be and a great Rabble.

satisfied; Pier. My friend not come yet?

I have a wife, and she shall bleed: my child too,


his little throat, and all Enter JAFFIER.


appease thee, [Going away, Pierre holds Jaf. Oh, Pierre!

him. Pier. Yet nearer.

Pier.No-this-no more. [Whispers Jaffier Dear to my arms, though thou'st undone my Jaf. Ha! is't then so ? fame,

Pier. Most certainly.
I can't forget to love thee. Prythee, Jaffier, Jaf. i'll do it.
Forgive that filthy blow my passion dealt thee; Pier. Remember.
I'm now preparing for the land of peace,

Offi. Sir.
And fain would have the charitable wishes Pier. Come, now I'm ready.
Of all good men, like thee, to bless my journey. [He and Jaffier ascend the Scaffold.
Jaf. Good! I am the vilest creature, worse Captain, you should be a gentleman of honour;
than e'er

Keep off the rabble, that I

may Suffer'd the shameful fate thou'rt going to taste of. To entertain my fate, and die with decency. Offi. The time grows short, your friends Come. Takes off his Gown, Erecutioner are dead already.

prepares to bind him. Jaf. Dead!

You'll think on't.

[To Jaffier. Pier. Yes, dead, Jaffier; they've all died like Juf. 'Twon't grow stale before to-morrow. men too,

Pier. Now, Jaffier! now I'm going. NowWorthy their character.

[Executioner having bound him. Jaf. And what must I do?

Jaf. Have at thee, Pier. Oh, Jaffier !

Thou honest heart, then-here- [Stabs him. Jaf. Speak aloud thy burthen'd soul, And this is well too.

[Stabs himself. And tell thy troubles to thy tortur'd friend. Pier. Now thou hast indeed been faithful. Pier. Friend! Couldst thou yet be a friend, This was done nobly-We have deceiv'd the a generous friend,

senate. I might hope comfort from thy noble sorrows. Jaf. Bravely. Heav'n knows, I want a friend.

Pier. Ha, ha, ha-oh! oh!

[Dies. Jaf. And I a kind one,

Jaf. Now, ye curs'd rulers, That would not thus scorn my repenting virtue, Thus of the blood y'ave shed, I make libation Or think, when he's to die, my thoughts are idle. And sprinkle it mingling. May it rest upon you,

Pier. No! live, I cbarge ihee, Jaffier. And all your race. Be henceforth peace a stranger Jaf. Yes, I will live:

Within your walls; let plagues and famine waste But it shall be to see thy fall revengd Your generation-Oh, poor Belvidera! At such a rate, as Venice long shall groan for. Sir, I have a wife, bear this in safety to her, Pier. Wilt thou?

A token that with my dying breath I bless'd her, Jaf. I will, by beav'n.

And the dear litile infant left behind me. Pier. Then still thour't noble,

I'm sick—I'm quiet. [Dies. Scene shuts upon And I forgive thee. Oh!-yet--shall I trust thee?

them. Jaf. No; I've been false already. Pier, Dost thou love me?

SCENE. IV.-An Apartment at Priuli's. Jaf.Rip up my heart, and satisfy thy doubtings. Soft Music. Enter BELVIDERA, distracted, led Pier. Curse on this weakness. [Weeps. by two of her Women; Priuli and Servants. Jaf. Tears! Amazement! Tears!

Pri. Strengthen her heart with patience, piI never saw thee melted thus before;

tying heav'n. And know there's something labouring in thy Bel. Come; come, come, come, come, nay, bosom,

come to bed, That must have vent: 'Though I'm a villain, Pr’ythee, my love. The winds; hark how they

whistle ; Pier. See'st thou that engine ?

And the rain beats : Oh! how the weather [Pointing to the Wheel.

sbrinks me! Jaf. Why?

You are angry now,

who cares? Pish, no indeed, Pier. Is't' fit a soldier, who has liv'd with Choose then; I say you shall not go, you shall not; honour,

Whip your ill nature; get you gone then. Oh! Fought nation's quarrels

, and been crown’a Are you return'd? See, father, here he's come with conquest


tell me.

den up!


Am I to blame to love him? O, thou dear one, Pri. Daughter!
Why do you fly me? Are you angry still then? Bel. Ha! look there!
Jaffier, where art thou? father, why do you My husband bloody, and his friend too! Murder !
do.thus ?

Who has done this? Speak to me, thou sad Stand off, don't hide him from me. He's here

vision: somewhere.

On these poor trembling knees I beg it. Va. Stand off, I say: What gone? Remember't,

nish'd tyrant:

Here they went down—Oh, I'll dig, dig the I may, revenge myself for this trick, one day. I'll do't-I'll do't.

You shan't delude me thus. Hoa, Jaffier, Jaffier, Enter Officer.

Peep up, and give me but a look. I have him

I've got him, father: Oh! Pri. News, what news?

My love! my dear! my blessing! help me! [Officer whispers Priuli.

help me! Offi. Most sad, sir;

They have hold on me, and drag me to the Jaffier, upon the scaffold, to prevent

bottom. A shameful death,stabb’d Pierre, and next himself; Nay—now they pull so hard-farewell Both fell together.

[Dies. The Curlain falls slowly to Music.


OR, The Unhappy Marriage. Tragedy by Thomas Olway. Acted at the Duke's Theatre 1680. The plot is founded on the history of Brandon, in a novel called English Adventures, published in 1667. The language is truly poetical, lender, and sentimental, the circumstances are all'ecting and the catastrophe is distressfull. Yet there is' somewhat improbable in the particular on which all the distresses are founded; and we must own that we incline to the opinion of that person, who, on first seeiog it, exclaimed, “Oh! what an infinite deal of mischief would a farthing rushlight have prevented !” We cannot avoid remarking, says the Biographia Dramatica, that the compassion of the audience has commonly appeared misplaced; it lighting in general on the whining, irresolule Castalio, instead of falling, where it onght to do, on the more spirited and open-hearted Polydore, who, in consequence of concealments on the side of his brother, which he could not have any reason to expect, and by which he is really injured, is lempted in his love and rescnlment to an act which involves him in greater horror and distress than any of the other characters can undergo, from the more bloody effects it produces. This partiality has, however, always appeared to us to arise from some strokes of libertinism thrown into the early parls of Polydore's character, which give an air of looseness to it, and prejudice the audience against him through the whole play. As Dr. Johnson observes, “it is one of the few pieces that keep possession of the stage, and has pleased for almost a century, through all the vicissitudes of dramatic fashion, of this play nothing new can casily be said. It is a domestic tragedy drawn from middle lise. Ils whole power is upon the airections; for it is not written with much comprehension of thought, or elegance of expression. But if the heart is interested, many other beauties may be wanting, yet not be missed.” Voltaire, who (from his egregious vanily) seldom spoke of an English author but in a strain of ridicule, has sarcastically, yel pot without some appearance of truth, observed of the impetuous Chamont: “There is a brother of Monimia, a soldier of forlunc, who, because he and his sister are cherished and mainlained by this worthy family, abuses them all round. Do me justice, you old Pul,' says he to the father, 'or, dammc, I'll set your house on fire.'—My dear boy,' says the accommodating old gentleman, you shall have justice."

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Cas. So, Polydore, methinks, we might in war SCENE I.-A Garden.

Rush on together; thou shouldst be my guard,

And I be thine. What is't could hurt us then? Enter Castalio, POLYDORE, and Page. Now half the youth of Europe are in arms, Cas. POLYDORE, our sport

How fulsome must it be to stay behind, Has been to-day much better for the danger: And die of rank diseases here at home! When on the brink the foaming boar I met, Pol. No, let me purchase in my youth renown, And in his side thought to have lodg’d my spear, To make me lovd and valu'd when I'm old; The desperate savage rush'd within my force, I would be busy in the world, and learn, And bore me headlong with him down the rock. Not like a coarse and useless dunghill weed, Pol. But then

Fix'd to one spot, and rot just as I grow. Cas. Ay, then, my brother, my friend, Po- Cas. Our father lydore,

Has ta'en himself a surfeit of the world, Like Perseus mounted on his winged steed, And cries, it is not safe that we should taste it. Came on, and down the dang’rous precipice I own, I have duty very pow'rful in me: leap'd

And though I'd hazard all to raise my name,
To save Castalio.—'Twas a godlike act! Yet he's so tender, and so good a father,

Pol. But when I came, I found you conqueror. I could not do a thing to cross his will.
Oh! my heart danc'd, to see your danger past! Pol. Castalio, I have doubts within my heart,
The heat and fury of the chase was cold, Which you, and only you, can satisfy.
And I bad nothing in my mind but joy. Will you be free and candid to your friend?

Cas. Have I a thought my Polydore should Cas. My friend, not know?

If he survives me; if not, my king, What can this niean?



bestow't again on some brave man, Pol. Nay, I'll conjure you too,

Whose honesty and services deserve one.
By all the strictest bonds of faithful friendship, Pol. 'T'is kindly offer'd.
To show your heart as paked in this point, Cas. By yon heaven, I love
As you would purge you of your sins to heav'n. My Polydore beyond a worldly joys;
And should I chance to touch it near, bear it And would not shock his quiet, to be blest
With all the suff'rance of a tender friend. With greater happiness than man e'er tasted.

Cas. As calmly as the wounded patient bears Pol. And, by that heaven, eternally I swear,
The artist's hand, that ministers his cure. To keep the kind Castalio in my heart.
Pol. That's kindly said.--You know our fa- Whose shall Monimia be?
ther's ward,

Cas. No matter whose.
The fair Monimia:- is your heart at peace? Pol. Were you not with her privately last
Is it so guarded, that you could not love her?

night? Cus. Suppose I should ?

Cas. I was; and should have met her here Pol. Suppose you should not, brother?

again. Cas. You'd say, I must not.

The opportunity shall now be thine; Pol. That would sound too roughly But have a care, byfriendship I conjure thee, Twist friends and brothers, as we two are. That no false play be offer'd to thy brother. Cas. Is love a fault ?

Urge all thy powers to make thy passion prosper; Pol. In one of us it may be

But wrong not mine. What, if I love her?

Pol. By heaven, I will not. Cas. Then I must inform you

Cas. Ilot prove thy fortune, Polydore, to I lov'd her first, and cannot quit the claim;

conquer But will preserve the birthrighit of my passion. (For thou hast all the arts of soft persuasion), Pol. You will?

Trust me, and let me know thy love's success, Cas. I will,

That I may ever after stifle mine. Pol. No more; I've done.

Pol. Though she be dearer to my soul than rest Cas. Why not?

To weary pilgrims, or to misers gold, Pol. I told you I had done.

To great men pow'n, or wealthy cities pride; But you, Castá lio, would dispute it. Rather than wrong Castalio, I'd forget her. Cas. No;

[Ereunt Castalio and Polydore. Not with my Polydore:-though I must own My nature obstinate, and void of suff'rance ;

Enter MONIMIA. I could not bear a rival in my friendship,

Mon. Pass'd not Castalio and Polydore I am so much in love, and fond of thee. Pol. Yet you will break this friendship! Page. Madam, just now. Cas. Not for crowns.

Mon. Sure some ill' fate's upon me: Pol. But for a toy you would, a woman's toy. Distrust and heaviness sit round my heart, ['njust Castalio!

And apprehension shocks my tim'rous soul. Cas. Pr’ythee, where's my fault?

Why was not I laid in my peaceful grave POL You love Monimia.

With my poor parents, and at rest as they are? Cas. Yes.

Instead of that, I'm wand'ring into cares.Pol. And you would kill me,

Castalio! () Castalio! thou hast caught If I'm your rival?

My foolish heart; and, like a tender child, Cas. No;-sure we're such friends, That trusts his plaything to another hand, So much one man, that our affections too I fear its harm, and fain would have it back, Must be united, and the same as we are. Come near, Cordelio; I must chide you, sir. Pol. I dote upon Monimia.

Page. Why, madam, have I done you any. Cas. Love her still;

wrong? Win, and enjoy her.

Mon. I never see you now; you have been Pol. Both of us cannot.

kinder; Cas. No matter

Perhaps I've been ungrateful. Here's money Whose chance it prove; but let's not quarrel for't. Pol. You would not wed Monimia, would you? Page. Madam, I'd serve you with my soul. Cas. Wed her!

Mon. Tell me, Cordelio (for thou oft hast heard No-were sbe all desire could wish, as fair Their friendly converse, and their bosom secrets), As would the vainest of her sex be thought, Sometimes, at least, have they not talk'd of me? With wealth beyond what woman's pride Page. O madam! very wickedly they have 'could waste,

talk'd ! She should not cheat me of my freedom.--Marry! But I am afraid to name it; for, they say, When I am old and weary of the world, Boys must be whipp'd, that tell their masters' I may grow desperate, And take a wife to mortify withal.

Mon. Fear not, Cordelio; it shall ne'er be Pol. It is an elder brother's duty so

known; To propagate his family and name.

For I'll preserve the secret as 'twere mine. You would not have yours die, and buried Polydore cannot be so kind as I. with you?

I'll furnish thee with all thy harmless sporls, Cas. Mere vanity, and silly dotage, all:- With pretty toys, and thou shalt be my page. No, let me live at large, and when I dic- Page. And truly, madam, I had rather be so. Pol Who shall possess th' estate you leave? Methinks you love me better than my lord;

this way?

for you.





For be was never half so kind as you are. If softest wishes, and a heart more true
What must I do?

Than ever suffer'd yet for love disdain'd,
Mon. Inform me how thou'st heard Speak an ill nature, you accuse me justly.
Castalio and his brother use my name. Mon. Talk not of love, my lord, I'must not
Page. VVith all the tenderness of love,

hear it. You were the subject of their last discourse. Pol. Who can bebold such beauty, and be At first I thought it would have fatal prov'd;

silent? But as the one grew hot, the other coold, Desire first taught us words.

when And yielded to the frailly of his friend;

created, At last, after much struggling, 'twas resolv'd— At first alone long wander'd up and down Mon. What, good Cordelio ?

Forlorn, and silent as his vassal beasts : Page. Not to quarrel for you.

But when a hear'n-born maid, like you, appear'd, Mon. I would not have 'em, by my dearest Strange pleasures filld his eyes and ford bis heart, hopes ;

Unloos’d his tongue, and his first talk was lore. I would not be the argument of strise. Mon. The first created pair indeed were But surely my Castalio won't forsake me,

bless'd; And make a mock'ry of my casy love! They were the only objects of each other, Went they together?

Therefore he courted her, and her alone; Page. Yes, to seek you, madam.

Bul in this peopled world of beauty, where Castalio promis'd Polydore to bring him, There's roving room, where you may court, Where he alone might meet you,

and ruin And fairly try the fortune of his wishes. A thousand more, why need you talk to me? Mon. Am I then grown so cheap, just to

Pol. Oh! I could talk to thee for ever. Thus be made

Eternally admiring, fix, and gaze A common stake, a prize for love in jest ? On those dear eyes; for every glance they send Was not Castalio very loath to yield it? Darts through my soul. Or was it Polydore's unruly passion,

Mon. How can you labour thus for my That beighten the debate?

undoing? Page. The fault was Polydore's.

I must confess indeed, I owe you niore Castalio play'd with love, and smiling show'd Than ever I can hope, or think, to pay. The pleasure, not the pangs of his desire. There always was friendship 'iwixt our He said, no woman's smiles should buy bis

families; freedom:

And therefore when my tender parents dy'd, And marriage is a mortifying thing. [Exit. Whose ruind fortunes too expir'd with them,

Mon. Then I am ruin'd! if Castalio's false, Your father's pity and his bounty, took me, Where is there faith and honour to be found! A poor and helpless orphan, to his care. Ye gods, that guard the innocent, and guide Pol. 'Twas Heav'n ordain'd it so, to make The weak, protect and take me to your care,

me happy O, but I love him! There's the rock will wreck me! Hence with this peevish virtue, 'tis a cheat ; Why was I made with all my sex's fondness, And those who taught it first were bypocrites. Yet want the cunning to conceal its follies ? Come, these soft, tender limbs were made for I'll see Castalio, tax him with his falsehoods,

yielding. Be a true woman, rail, protest my wrongs; Mon. Here on my knees, by hear'n's blest Resolve to hate him, and yet love him still.

pow'r I swear, [Kneels.

If you persist, I ne'er henceforth will see you, Rc-enter Castallo and POLYDORE.

But rather wander through the world a beggar, lle comes.

And live on sordid scraps at proud men's doors; Cas. Madam, iny brother begs he may have For though to fortune lost, I'll still inherit leave

My mother's virtues, and my father's honour. To tell you something that concerns you nearly. Pol. Intolerable vanity! your sex I leare you, as becomes me, and withdraw. Was never in the right; y’are always false, Mon. My lord Castalio!

Or silly; ev’n your dresses are not more
Cas. Madam!

Fantastic than your appetites; you think
Mon. Have you purpos'd

Of nothing twice; opinion you have none.
To abuse me palpably? What means this usage? To-day y'are nice, to-morrow not so free;
Why am I left with Polydore alone? Now smile, then frown; now sorrowful, then
Cas. He best can tell you. Business of

glad; importance

Now pleas'd, now not: and all, you know Galls me away: I must attend


not why!
Mon. Will you then leave me thus? Mon. Indeed, my lord,
Cas. But for a moment.

I own my sex's follies; I have 'em all; Mon. It has been otherwise: the time has been, And, to avoid ils fault, must fly from you. When business might have stay'd, and I been Therefore, believe me, could you raise me high heard.

As most fantastic woman's wish could reach, Cas. I could for ever hear thee; but this time And lay all nature's riches at my feet; Matters of such odd circumstances press me, I'd rather run a savage in the woods, That I must go.

[Exil. Amongst brute beasis,


wrinkled and Mon. Then go, and, if't be possible, for ever.

deformid, Well, my lord Polydore, I guess your business, So I might still enjoy my honour safe, And read th' ill-natur'd purpose in your eyes. From the destroying wiles of faithless men. [Exit.

Pol. If to desire you more than misers wealth, Pol. Who'd be that sordid thing called man? Or dring men an hour of added life ; I'll yet possess my love, it shall be so. (Exeunt.

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Another sister! sure, it must be so ;
Scene I.-A Saloon.

Though I remember well I had but one:

But I feel something in my heart that prompts,
Enter Acasto, CastaliO, POLYDORE, and And tells me, she has claim and interest there.

Acas. Young soldier, you've not only studied
Acas. To-day has been a day of glorious sport:

When you, Castalio, and your brother left me, Courtship, I see, has been your practice too,
Forth from the thickets rush'd another boar, And may not prove

unwelcome to my daughter. So large, he seem'd the tyrant of the woods, Cham. Is she your daughter? then my heart With all bis dreadful bristles rais'd up high,

told true,
They seem'd a grove of spears upon his back; And I'm at least her brother by adoption;
Foaming he came at me, where I was posted For you have made yourself to me a father,
Best to observe which way he'd lead the 'chase, And by that patent I have leave to love her.
Whetting his huge large tusks, and gaping wide, Ser. Monimia, thou hast told me men are false,
As if he already bad me for his prey ! Will flatter, feign, and make an ait of love:
Till brandishing my well-pois'd javelin high, Is Chamont so? no, sure, he's more than man;
With this bold executing arm I struck Something that's near divine, and truth dwells
The ugly brindled monster to the heart.

in him.
Cas. The actions of your life were, always Acas. Thus happy, who would envy pom-

pous pow'r,
Acas. No flattery, boy! an honest man can't The luxury of courts, or wealth of cities?
live by't ;

Let there he joy through all the house this day!
It is a little sneaking art, which knaves In ev'ry room let plenty flow at large!
l'se to cajole and soften fools withal. It is the birth-day of my royal master!
I thou bast flattery in thy nature, out with't, You have not visited the court, Chamont,
Or send it to a court, for there 'iwill thrive. Since your return?

Cas. Your lordship's wrongs bave been Cham. I have no bus'sess there;
So great, that you with justice may complain; I have not slavish temperance enough
But sufier us, whose younger minds ne'er felt T'attend a favourite's beels, and watch his smiles,
Fortune's deceits, to court her, as she's fair: Bear an ill office done me to my face,
Were she a common mistress, kind to all, And thank the lord that wrong'd me for his farour.
Her worth would cease, and half the world Acas. This you could do. [To his Sons.

Cas. I'd serve my prince.
Metbinks I would be busy.

Acas. WVho'd serve him?
Pol. So would I,

Cas. I would, my lord.
Sot loiter out my life at home, and know Pol. And I; both would.
No further than one prospect gives me leave. Acas. Away!
Acas. Busy your minds then, study arts and He needs not any servants such as you.

Serve him! he merits more than man can do!
Learn how to value merit, though in rags, He is so good, praise cannot speak his worth;
And scorn a proud, ill-manner'd knave in office. So merciful, sure he ne'er slept in wrath!

So just, that, were he but a private man,
Enter SerinA.

lle 'could not do a wrong! How would you Ser. My lord, my father!

serve him? Acas. Blessings on my child!

Cas. I'd serve him with my fortune here at My little cherub, what bast thou to ask me?

home, Ser. I bring you, sir, most glad and wel- And serve him with my person in his wars: come news ;

Watch for him, fight for him, bleed for him. The young Chamont, whom you've so often Pol. Die for him, wish'd for,

As ev'ry true-born, loyal subject ought. Ls just arriv'd, and entering.

Acas. Let me embrace ye both! now, by Acas. By my soul,

the souls
And all my honours, he's most dearly welcome; of my brave ancestors, l'm truly happy!
Let me receive him like his father's friend. For this, be ever blest my marriage day!

Blest be your mother's memory, that bore you;

And doubly blest be that auspicious hour
Welcome, thou relict of the best lov'd man! That gave ye birth!
Welcome from all the turmoils, and the hazards
Of certain danger, and uncertain fortune!

Enter a Servant.
Welcome as happy tidings after fears. Sero. My lord, th' expected guests are just
Cham. Words would but wrong the grat-

itude I owe you!

Acas. Go you and give 'em welcome and Should I begin to speak, my soul's so full


reception. That I should talk of nothing else all day:

[Exeunt Castalio and Polydore.

Cham. My lord, I stand in need of your

assistance, Mon. My brother!

In something that concerns my peace and honour.
Cham, O my sister, let me hold thee Acas. Spoke like the son of that brave man
Long in my arms. I've not beheld thy face

I lov'd!
These many days; by night I've often seen thee So freely, friendly, we convers’d together.
la gentle dreams, and satisfy'd my soul Whate'er it be, with confidence impart it;
With fancy'd joys, till morning cares awak'd me. Thou shalt command my fortune and my sword.


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