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Jaf. Death! doom'd to die! condemn'd un-Witness it, earth, and every being witness: beard! unpleaded!
'Tis but one blow! yet by immortal love, Bel. Nay, cruel'st racks and torments are I cannot longer bear a thought to harm thee. preparing
[He throws away the Dagger and To force confession from their dying pangs.
embraces her. Oh! do not look so terribly upon me! The seal of Providence is sure upon thee; How your lips shake, and all your face disorder'd! And thou wert born for yet uuheard-of wonders. What means my love?
Oh! thou weri either born to save or damn me. Jaf. Leave me, I charge thee, leave me By all the power that's gir'n me o'er my soul,
Strong temptations By thy resistless tears and conquering smiles, Wake in my heart.
By the victorious love that still waits on thee, Bel. For what?
Fly to thy cruel father, save my friend, Jaf. No more, but leave me.
Or all our future quiet's lost for ever. Bel. Why?
Fall at his feet, cling round his reverend knees, Jaf. Ob! by heav'n, I love thee with that Speak to him with thy, eyes, and with tby tears, fondness,
Melt his hard heart, and wake dead nature in him, I would not have thee stay. moment longer Crush him in th' arms, torture him with thy, Near these curs'd hands : Are they not cold
Nor till thy prayers are granted, set him free, [Pulls the Dagger half out of his But conquer him, as thou hast conquer'd me. Bosom, and puts it back again.
[Exeunt. Bel. No, everlasting comfort's in thy arms. To lean thus on thy breast, is softer ease
ACT V. Than downy pillows, deck'd with leaves of roses. Scene I. - An Apartment in Priuli's House. Jaf. Alas! thou think'st not of the thorns 'tis Gll'd with:
Enter PRIULI. Fly, ere they gall thee. There's a lurking serpent, Pri:Why, cruel hear’n, have my unhappy days Ready to leap and sting thee to the heart: Been lengthen'd to this sad one? Oh! dishonour Art thou not terrified ?
And deathless infamy is fallen upon me. Bel. No.
Was it my fault? Am I a traitor? No. | Jaf. Call to mind
But then, my only child, my daughter wedded; What thou hast done, and whither thou hast There my best blood runs foul, and a disease brought me.
Incurable has seiz'd upon my memory. Bel Hah! Jaf. Where's my friend? my friend, thou Enter Belvidera, in a long mourning Veil. smiling mischief!
Bel. He's there, my father, my inhuman father, Nay, shrink not, now'tis too late; thou shouldst That for three years has left an only child have fled
Expos'd to all the outrages of fate, Vhen thy guilt first had cause; for dire revenge And cruel ruin!-ohup, and raging for my friend. He groans!
Pri. What child of sorrow Hark, how he groans! his screams are in my ears Art thou, that comes wrapt in weeds of sadness, Already; see, they've fix'd him on the wheel, And mov'st as if thy steps were tow'rds a grave? And now they tear him — Murder! Perjur'd Bel. A wretch' who from the very top of senate!
happiness Murder-Oh!-Hark thee, traitress, thou hast | Am fall'n into the lowest depths of misery,. done this!
And want your pitying hand to raise me up again. Thanks to thy tears, and false persuading love. Pri. What wouldst thou beg for? How her eyes speak! Oh, thou bewitching Bel. Pity and forgiveness. crealure!
[Throws up her Veil. [Fumbling for his Dagger. By the kind, tender names of child and father, Madness can't hurt thee. Come, thou little Hear my complaints, and take me to your love. trembler,
Pri. My daughter! Creep eren into my heart, and there lie safe: Bel. Yes, your daughter. Tis iby own citadel-Hah-yet stand off. Pri. Don't talk thus. Hear'n must have justice, and my broken vows Bel. Yes, I must; and you must hear too. Will sink me else beneath its reaching mercy. I have a husband. I wink, and then 'tis done
Pri. Damn him. Bel. What means the lord
Bel. Oh! do not curse him; Of me, my life, and love? What's in thy bosom, He would not speak so hard a word towards you Thou grasp'st at so? Nay, why am I thus treated? On any terms, howe'er he deals with
me. [Draws the Dagger and offers to stab her. Pri. Ha! what means my child ? Jof. Know, Belvidera, when we parted last, Bel. Oh! my husband, my dear husband, I gave this dagger with thee, as in trust, Carries a dagger in his once kind bosom, To be thy portion if I e'er prov'd false. To pierce the heart of your poor Belvidera. On such condition, was my truth believ'd: Pri. Kill thee! Bat now 'tis forfeited, and must be paid for. Bel. Yes, kill me. When he pass'd his faith
[Offers to stab her again. And covenant against your state and senale, Bel. Oh! Mercy!
[Kneeling. He gave me up a hostage for his truth: Jaf. Nay, no struggling:
With me a dagger and a dire commission, Bel. Now then, kill me.
Whene'er he fail'd, to plunge it through this [Leaps on his Neck, and kisses him.
bosom. Jaf. I am, I am a coward; witness heav'n, I learnt the danger, chose the hour of love
T'attempt his heart, and bring it back to honour. Jaf. No. I'll bless thee.
, rererend grown for age and love, we go Galld with remembrance of what then was Down to one grave, as our last bed, together; sworn,
There sleep in peace, till an eternal morning. If they are lost, he vows t'appease the gods Jaf. Did I not say, I came to bless thee? With his poor life, and make my blood th' Bel. You did. atonement.
Jaf. Then hear me, bounteous 'hear'n: Pri. Heav'ns!
Pour down your blessings on this beauteous head, Bel. If I was ever then your care, now hear me; Where everlasting sweets are always springing, Fly to the senate, save the promis'd lives With a continual giving hand: let peace, of his dear friends, ere mine be made the sacrifice. Honour, and safety, always hover round ber; Pri. Oh, my heart's comfort!
Feed her with plenty; let her eyes ne'er see Bel. Will you not, my father?
A sight of sorrow, nor her heart know mourning: Weep not, but answer me.
Crown all her days with joy, her nights with rest, Pri. Hy heav'n I will.
Harmless as her own thoughts; and prop ber Not one of them but what shall be immortal.
virtue, Canst thou forgive me all my follies past? To bear the loss of one that too much lor'd; I'll henceforth be indeed a father; never, And comfort her with patience in our parting. Never more thus expose, but cherish thee, Bel. How! Parting, parting! Dear as the vital warmth that feeds my life, Jaf. Yes, for ever parting; Dear as these eyes that weep in fondness o'er thee. I have sworn, Belvidera, by yon hear'n, Peace to thy heart. Farewell.
That best can tell how much I lose to leave thee, Bel. Go and remember,
We part this hour for ever. Tis Belvidera's life her father pleads for. Bei. O! call back
[Exeunt severally. Your cruel blessing; stay with me and curse me.
Jaf. Now hold, heart, or never.
Bel. By all the tender days we've liv'd together,
'sad condition; speak, but speak. Jaf. Final destruction seize on all the world. Jaf. Oh! hh! Bend down ye heav'ns, and shutting round Bel. By these arms, that now cling round this earth,
thy neck, Crush the vile globe into its first confusion! By these poor streaming eyes,
Jaf. Murder! unhold me:
By th' immortal destiny that doom'd me. Bel. My life[Meeting him.
[Draws the Dagger, Jaf. My plague- [Turning from her. To this curs'd minute, I'll not live one longer; Bel. Nay, then I see my ruin.
Resolve to let me go, or see me fall — If I must die!
Hark, the dismal bell [Passing-bell tolls, Jaf. Nor let the thoughts of death perplex Tolls out for death! I must attend its call too; thy fancy;
For my poor friend, my dying Pierre, expects me But answer me to what I shall demand, He sent a message to require I'd see him With a firm temper and unshaken spirit. Before he died, and take his last forgiveness,
Bel. I will, when I've done weeping- Farewell, for ever.
Bel. Leave thy dagger with me,
parting? Bel. Oh! h h!
Oh! my poor heart, when wilt thou break? Jaf. Nay, keep in thy tears,
[Going oul, looks back at him. Lest they unman me too.
Jaf. Yet stay: Bel. Heav'n knows I cannot;
We have a child, as yet a tender infant: The words you utter sound so very sadly, Be a kind mother to him when l’nı gone; The streams will follow
Breed him in virtue, and the paths of honour, Jaf. Come, I'll kiss 'em dry then. But never let him know his father's story; Bel. But was't a miserable day?
I charge thee, guard him from the wrongs my fate Jaf. A curs'd one.
May do his future fortune, or his name. Bel. I thought it otherwise; and you've often Now-nearer yet- [ Approaching each other. sworn,
Oh! that my arms were rivetted In the transporting hours of warmest love, Thus round ihee ever! But my friend! my oath! When sure you spoke the truth, you've sworn This and no more.
[Kisses her. you bless'd it.
Bel. Another, sure another, Jaf. 'Twas a rash oath.
For that poor little one you've la'en such care of. Bel
. Then why am I not curs'd too? I'll giv't him truly. Jaf. No, Belvidera; by th' eternal truth, Jaf. So now farewell. I dote with too much fondness.
Bel. For ever? Bel. Still so kind ?
Jaf. Heav'n knows for ever; all good angels Still then do you love me?
[Erit. Juf. Man ne'er was blest
Bel. All ill ones sure bad charge of me this Since the first pair met, as I have been.
Bel. Then sure you will not curse me? Curs'd be my days, and doubly curs'd my nights.
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. Fitling! Till I descended to the peaceful bottom! Pier. Yes; is't fitting? Ob! there's all quiet, here 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 underlake 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 half 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 E.recution of PIERRE.
justice. Enter Officer, PIERRE, Guards, Executioner, 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,
Yield up his little throat, and all
T'appease thee- [Going away, Pierre holds Jaf. Oh, Pierre!
hiin. Pier. Yet nearer.
Pier. No-this-no more. [Whispers Jaffier
Pier. Most certainly.
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're all died like Juf. 'Twon't grow stale before to-morrow. men too,
Pier. Now, Jaffier! now I'm going. NowWorlhy their character.
[Executioner having bound him. Jaf. And what must I do?
Jaf. Have at thee, Pier. Oh, Jaslier!
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 bope comfort from thy noble sorrows. Jaf. Bravely. llear'n knows, I want a friend.
Pier. Ha, ha, ha-oh! oh!
[Dics. Jof. 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 charge ihee, Jafficr. 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 reveng'd Your generation-Oh, poor Belvidera! At such a rate, as Venice long shall groan for. Sir, I have a wife, bear this in safely to her, Pier. Wilt thou ?
A token that with my dying, breath I bless'd her, Jaf. I will, by heav'n.
And the dear little 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, Priuliand 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.
shrinks 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. Ob! Fought nation's quarrels, and been crown'a Are you return'd? See, father, here be's come with conquest
Am I to blame to love him? O, thou dear one, Pri. Daughter!
Who has done this? Speak to me, thon sad Stand off, don't hide him from me. He's here
On these poor trembling knees I beg it. VaStand off, I say: What gone? Remember't,
Here they went down—Oh, I'll dig, dig the I may revenge myself for this trick, one day.
den up! I'll do't-I'll do't.
You shan't delude me thus. Hoa, Jaslier, 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 - farewellBoth fell together.
[Dies. The Curtain falls slowly to Music.
THE ORPHAN OF CHINA; 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 1967. The language is truly poetical, tender, and sentimental, the circumstances are allecting and the catastrophe is distressfull. Yet there is somewhat improbable in the particular on which all the distresses are founded; and we ntust own that we incline to the opinion of that person, who, on first seeing it, exclaimed, “Oh! whal an infinite deal of mischief would a farthing rushliglie 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, irresolute Castalio, instead of falling where it ought to do, on the more spirited and pen-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 templed in his love and resentment lo 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 10 arise from some strokes of libertinism thrown into ihe early parts of Polydore's character, which give an air of looseness 19 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 fastrion. of this play nothing new can easily be said. It is a domestic tragedy drawn from middle life.
hs whole power is nison the ailections; for it is not written with much comprehension of thought, or elegance of espressen. But if the heart is interested, many other beauties may be wanting, yet not be missed.". Voltaire, who (from his egree gious vanity) seldom spoke of an English author but in a strain of ridicule, has sarcastically, yet not without some apo pearance of truth, observed of the impetuous Chamont: “There is a brother of Monimia, n soldier of fortune, who, bem cause he and his sister are cherished and maintained by this worthy family, abuses them all round. • Do me justice, you old Pul,' says he to the father, or, damme, I'll set your house on fire.'—'My dear boy,' says the accommodating old gentleman, 'you shall have justice.”
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 renowe, And in his side thought to have lodg'd my spear, To make me lov'd 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'll 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 doubls within my heart, The heat and fury of the chase was cold, Which you, and only you, can satisfy. And I had 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?
Who may 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. 'Tis kindly offer'd. To show your heart as naked in this point, Cas. By yon heaven, I love As you would purge you of your sins to heav'n. My Polydore beyond all 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 Pok. And, by that heaven, eternally I swear, The artist's hand, that ministers his curç. 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? Cas. Suppose I should ?
Cas. I was; and should have met her bere 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, by friendship 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 beaven, I will not. Cas. Then I must inform you
Cas. It't prove thy fortune, Polydore, to I lov'd her first, and cannot quit the claim;
conquer But will preserve the birthright of my passion. (For thou hast all the arts of soft persuasion), Pol. You will ?
'I'rust me, and let me know thy love's success, Cas. I will.
That I may ever after stille 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'r, or wealthy cities pride; But
you, Gastalio, would dispute it. Rather than wrong Castalio, I'd forget her. Cas. No;
[Exeunt Castalio and Polydore. Not with my Polydore:-though I must own
Enter MONIMIA. My nature obstinate, and void of sufl'rance ; I could not bear a rival in my friendship, Mon. Pass'd not Castalio and Polydore 1 am so much in love, and fond of thee.
this way? 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.
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 your rival ?
My foolish heart; and, like a tender child, Cas. No;-sure we're such friends, That trusts bis 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; 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 she 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 wasle,
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,
secrets. And lake 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 dic, and buried Polydore cannot be so kind as I. with you?
I'll furnish thee with all thy harmless sports, Cas. Mere vanity, and silly dotage, all: -- With prelty 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;