If yet I err, O lead me into truth, Pho. No, 'twas a kind one. --Spare thy tears, Pho. Tis done-the powers supreme have heard my prayer, And prosper'd me with some fair deed this day: I've fought once more, and for my friends, my country. By me the treach'rous chiefs are slain: awhile 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 my breast. [Exeunt severally. Re-enter ARTAMON and EUDOCIA. Eud. Alas! but is my father safe? I left him just preparing to engage: Eud. My flight! but whither? O no-if he is lost Art. I hope not so. The noise is ceas'd. Perhaps they're beaten off. And has renew'd the terms. Caled is kill'd- 1 Offi. I left him well: by his command I came To search you out: and let you know this news. I've more; but that Art. Is bad, perhaps, so says Life's mingled scene is o'er-'tis thus that heaven Eud. VVhat shall I say to thee, to give thee comfort? Pho. Say only thou forgiv'st me-O Eudocia! And sees thee lovelier in unfading charms! Eud. Look down, look down, thee help. See! yonder is my tent: we'll lead thee thither; Phò. No! not mortal? A few short moments, till I have conjur'd you, 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. 1 Offi. Eumenes mourns A friend's unhappy fall-Herbis is slain A settled gloom seem'd to hang heavy on him; valour He press'd the foe, and met the fate he wish'd. Art. See where Eumenes comes! What's this? He seems A thousand tender thoughts rise in my soul: How shall I giv give them words? Oh, till this hour this is indeed I scarce have tasted woe!-this To part-but, oh! Pho. No more-death is now painful! Eum. Constantinople is my last retreat, To lead some wounded friend-Alas! 'tis - To wear out the dark winter of my life, [They withdraw to one side of the Stage. Re-enter EUMENES, leading in PHOCIAS, with an Arrow in his Breast. Eum. Give me thy wound! O, I could bear it for thee! This goodness melts my heart. What, in a mo ment Forgetting all thy wrongs, in kind embraces Pho. Moments are few, And must not now be wasted. O Eumenes, An old man's stock of days-I hope not many. Pho. [Plucks out the Arrow] Then all is done -'twas the last pang-atlengthI've given up thee, and the world now is-nothing. [Dies. Eum. O Phocyas! Phocyns! Alas! he hears not now, nor sees my sorrows! A fruitless zeal, yet all I now can show; When timely caution should prevent our fate. A NATIVE of Ireland, and for some time one of the most successful writers for the stage. He was probably born about the year 1755, having been appointed one of the pages of Lord Chesterfield, when he was Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, in 1-46. He was once an officer of marines, but left the service with circumstances which do not reflect credit on him as a man. These circumstances not attacking the reputation of his writings, our readers will assist us in covering them with the charitable veil of oblivion; and we shall stand excused in the eyes of the feeling world for declining to concinde his Biography. Pucce was first written, THE HYPOCRITE, COMEDY by Isaac Bickerstaff, Acted at Drury Lane 1768. The general plot of this comedy is borrowed from the Tartuffe of Molière, and the principal character in it, viz. that of Doctor Cantwell, is a close copy from that great goal. The conduct of the piece, however, is so greatly altered as to render it perfectly English, and the coquet Charlotte: is truly original and most elegantly spirited. The author has strongly pointed out the mischiefs and ruin which were frequently brought into the most noble and valuable families by the self-interested machinations of those skulking and pernicious vipers, those wolves in sheep's clothing, who at the troublesome and unsettled period in which this (by Cibber 1718) covering their private views beneath the mask of public zeal and sanctity, and the part of the great serpent of old, first tempting to sin, and then betraying to punishment. It is an alteration of Other's Nonjurer. Scarcely any thing more than the character of Mawworm was written by the present author, who ntroduced it for the sake of Weston's comic talents. Few plays have had the advantage of better acting, and, in conseqarnce, few had a greater share of success, It is one of the most valuable characteristics of this play, that while it severely satirizes hypocrisy, fanatism (as in Mawworm), and outrageous pretensions to sanctity, it carefully distinguishes between these and rational piety. The play met with great success in the representation, taking a run of eighteen nights; the subject itself heing its protection, and its enemies not daring to show any more at that time than a few mules 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 suffer any thing he wrote afterwards to meet with fair play, and making him the constant bolt of Mist's Journal, and all the Jacobite faction, Nor do we think it by any means an improbable surmae, that the enmity 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. birth and fortune are well known to you; and but since you think it your duty, as a son, to I dare swear, he may defy the world to lay be concerned for my errors, I think it as much a blemish on his character. mine, as a father, to be concerned for yours. Sir J. Why then, sir, since I am to be ca- If you think fit to amend them, so; if not, techised, I must tell you I do not like his take the consequence. character; he is a world-server, a libertine, and Col. L. Well, sir, may I ask you, without has no more religion than you have. offence, if the reasons you have given me are your only reasons for discountenancing Mr. Col. L. Sir, we neither of us think it proper to make a boast of our religion; but, if Darnley's addresses to my sister? you please to inquire, you will find that we go to church as orderly as the rest of our have me marry my daughter to a Pagan?1) neighbours. Sir J. Are they not flagrant? would you Col. L. He intends this morning paying his Sir J. Oh, you go to church! you go to respects to you, in hopes to obtain your final church!-Wonderful! wonderful! to bow, and consent; and desired me to be present as a grin, and cough, and sleep: a fine act of de- mediator of articles between you. votion indeed. Col. L. Well but, dear sir Sir J. I am glad to hear it. Sir J. Colonel, you are an Atheist. Sir J. May be not, sir; for I will not be at Col. L. Pardon me, sir, I am none: it is a home when he comes: and because I will not character I abhor; and next to that, I abhor the character of an enthusiast. 1) tell a lie for the matter, I'll go out this moment. Col. L. Nay, dear sir Sir J. Oh, you do so; an enthusiast!-this Sir J. And, do you hear-because I will is the fashionable phrase, the bye-word, the not deceive him either, tell him I would not nick-name, that our pleasure-loving generation have him lose his time in fooling after your give to those few who have a sense of true sister-In short, I have another man in my sanctity. head for her. [Exit. Col. L. Another man! It would be worth Col. L. Say, canting, sir. Sir J. I tell you what, son, as I have told one's while to know him: pray heaven this you more than once, you will draw some heavy canting hypocrite has not got some beggarly judgment on your head one day or other. rascal in his eye for her. I must rid the house Col. L. So says the charitable doctor Cant- of him at any rate, or all the settlement I can well; you have takeń him into your house, hope for from my father is a castle in the air. and in return he gives over half your family - My sister may be ruined too-here she comes. to the devil. If there be another man in the case, she, no Sir J. Do not abuse the doctor, colonel; it doubt, can let me into the secret. is not the way to my favour. I know you cannot bear him, because he is not one of Enter CHARLOTTE. your mincing preachers.-He holds up the glass Sister, good morrow; I want to speak with you. to your enormities, shows you to yourselves in your genuine colours. Col. L. I always respect piety and virtue, sir; but there are pretenders to religion, as well as to courage; and as we never find the truly brave to be such as make much noise about their valour; so, I apprehend, the truly Char. Pr'ythee then, dear brother, don't put on that wise, politic face, as if your regiment was going to be disbanded, or sent to the West Indies, and you obliged to follow it. Col. L. Come, come, a truce with your raillery: what I have to ask of you is serious, and I beg you would be so in your answer. good seldom or never deal much in grimace. Char. Well, then, provided it is not upon Sir J. Very well, sir; this is very well, the subject of love, I will be so-but make Col. L. Besides, sir, I would be glad to know, by what authority the doctor pretends to exercise the clerical function. 2) It does not appear clearly to me that he ever was in orders. Sir J. That is no business of yours, sir. But, I am better informed.-However, he has the call of zeal. Col. L. Zeal! haste too-for I have not had my tea yet. Char. Oh, I love a riddle dearly-Comelet's hear it. Col. L. Nay, pshaw! if you will be serious, say so. Char. Olard, sir! I beg your pardon-there Sir J. Why, colonel, you are in a passion. - there's my whole form and features, totally Col. L. I own I cannot see with temper, disengaged and lifeless, at your service; now, sir, so many religious mountebanks impose on put them in what posture of attention you the unwary multitude; wretches, who make a think fit. [Leans on him awkwardly. trade of religion, and show an uncommon Col. L. Was there ever such a giddy devil! concern for the next world, only to raise their -Pr'ythee, stand up. I have been talking with fortunes with greater security in this. my father, and he declares positively you shall Sir J. Colonel, let me hear no more; I see not receive any further addresses from Mr. you are too hardened to be converted now: 1) A religious sect, possessing much less of the charity of christians than any other of the numerous list of them with which the world is over-run; their prayers and sermons, contrary to the church of England, are all extempore. Mawworm shows them in their most zealous, Cantwell in their most unfavourable light. 1) The greater part of the preachers as well as auditors of this sect are tailors, cobblers, and others, who have had a call as they call it. Darnley. Char. Are you serious? 1) The intoleration of the Methodists, is carried to such a way Col. L. He said so this minute, and with some warmth. Char. I am glad on't, with all my heart. 'Char. O lud!1) O lud! pr'ythee, brother, don't be so wise; if you had an empty house to let, would you be displeased to hear there were two people about it? besides, to be a little serious, Darnley has a tincture of jealousy Char. To a degree. Do you think a man has any more charms for me for my father's in his temper, which nothing but a substantial liking him? no, sir, if Mr. Darnley can make rival can cure. his way to me now, he is obliged to me, and Col. L. Oh, your servant, madam! now you to me only. Besides, now it may have the talk reason. I am glad you are concerned face of an amour indeed, now one has some- enough for Darnley's faults, to think them worth thing to struggle for; there's difficulty, there's your mending; ha! ha! danger, there's the dear spirit of contradiction Char. Concerned! why, did I say that?in it too-Oh! I like it mightily. look you, I'll deny it all to him-well, if ever Col. L. I am glad this does not make you I'm serious with him again think the worse of Darnley-but my father's Col. L. Here he comes; be as merry with consent might have clapped a pair of horses him as you please. more to your coach perhaps, and the want of it may pinch your fortune. Char. Burn fortune; am not I a fine woman? and have not I twenty thousand pounds in my own hands? Col. L. Yes, sister; but with all your charms, you have had them in your hands almost these four years. Enter DARNLEY. Darn. My dear colonel, your servant. Col. L. I am glad you did not come sooner; for in the humour my father left me, 'twould not have been a proper time for you to have pressed your affair-1 touched upon't-butI'll tell you more presently; in the mean time Char. Pshaw! and have not I had the full lose no ground with my sister. swing of my own airs and humours these four Darn. I shall always think myself obliged years? but if I humour my father, I warrant to your friendship, let my success be what it he'll make it three or four thousand more, will-Madam-your most obedient-what have with some unlicked lout-a comfortable equi- you got there, pray? valent, truly! No, no; let him light his pipe with his consent, if he please. Wilful against wise for a wager. Col. L. But pray, sister, has my father ever proposed any other man to you? Char. Another man! let me know why you ask, and I'll tell you. Col. L. Why, the last words he said to me were, that he had another man in his head for you. Char. And who is it? who is it? tell me, dear brother. Col. L. Why, you don't so much as seem surprised. Char. No: but I'm impatient, and that's as well. Char. Why sure, brother, you know very little of female happiness, if you suppose the surprise of a new lover ought to shock a woman of my temper - don't you know that I am a coquette? Col. L. If you are, you are the first that ever was sincere enough to own her being so. Char. To a lover, I grant you; but not to you; I make no more of you than a sister: I can say any thing to you. Col. L. I should have been better pleased, if you had not owned it to me-it's a hateful character. Char. Ay, it's no matter for that, it's violently pleasant, and there's no law against it, that I know of. Col. L. Darnley's like to have a hopeful time with you. Char. Well, but don't you really know who it is my father intends me? Col. L. Not L, really; but I imagined you might, and therefore thought to advise with you about it. Char. Nay, he has not opened his lips to me yet are you sure he is gone out? Col. L. You are very impatient to know, methinks; what have you to do to concern yourself about any man but Darnley? Char. [Reading] 2) "Her lively looks a sprightly mind disclose; Quick as her eyes, and as unfix'd as those-" Darn. Pray, madam, what is't? Char. "Favours to none, to all she smiles extends-" Darn. Nay, I will see. Char. "Ofi she rejects, but never once offends." Col. L. Have a care: she has dipped into her own character, and she'll never forgive you, if you don't let her go through with it. Darn. I beg your pardon, madam. Char. "Bright as the sun her eyes the gazers strike, [Um--umAnd like the sun they shine on all alike." Darn. That is something like indeed. Col. L. You would say so, if you knew all. Darn. All what? pray what do you mean? Col. L. Have a little patience: I'll tell you immediately. Char. "If to her share some female errors fall, Look on her face-and you'll forget them all." Is not that natural, Mr. Darnley? Darn. For a woman to expect, it is indeed. Char. And can you blame her, when 'tis at the same time a proof of the poor man's passion and her power? Darn. So that you think the greatest conipliment a lover can make his mistress, is to give up his reason to her. Char. Certainly; for what have your lordly sex to boast of but your understanding, and till that's entirely surrendered to her discre 1) This word lud is a corruption of Lord! we find such in all languages, where people think to cheat the devil by substituting a word something similar to the oath in its original form, and believe, if they do not swear in the exact word, that the sin is entirely atoned for, There are many other examples of this sort in English, where the most abominable waths are softened down into a pretty little word, which seems to fit many a pretty little mouth, if we may judge from the frequency of their application by the female sex, though it must be confessed that they are totally ignorant of their meaning. 5) Pope's Rape of the Lock, Canto II. v. 8. Damascus! conquest! ruin! rapes and murder! Then, as with fresh recover'd force, cry'd out, Villains! Is there no more? - Oh, save her, "Renounce my faith! Never."-I answer'd, "No, save her! [Exeunt Phocyas and Abudah. Re-enter CALED and DARAN. Daran. Behold, on thy approach, they shift their ground. Caled. 'Tis as thou say'st; he triles my mercy. Daran. Speak, shall I fetch his head? Caled. No, stay you here, That now he should not do it." Caled. How? Abu. Yet hear; For since I saw him now so lost in passion, I cannot spare thee yet. Raphan, go thou. For death, as for a boon, perhaps we'll grant it. Ready to march? Daran. They are. Caled. Mourn, thou haughty city! The bow is bent, nor canst thou scape thy doom. Who turns his back henceforth, our prophet curse him! Daran. But who commands the trusty bands of Mecca? Thou know'st their leader fell in the last fight. Caled. 'Tis true; thou, Daran, well deserv'st that charge; I've mark'd what a keen hatred, like my own, Dwells in thy breast against these Christian dogs. Daran, Thou dost me right. Caled. And therefore I'll reward it. Be that command now thine, And here, this sabre, [Takes the Scimitar. Caled. Myself will lead the troops of the black standard, And at the eastern gate begin the storm. Daran. But why do we not move? 'twill soon be day. Methinks I'm cold, and would grow warm with action. Caled. Then haste and tell Abudah - O, thou'rt welcome! Re-enter ABUDAH. Thy charge awaits thee. Where's the stubborn captive? Abu. Indeed he's brave. I left him for a moment In the next tent. He's scarcely yet himself. Caled. But is he ours? Abu. The threats of death are nothing; Though thy last message shook his soul, as winds On the bleak hills bend down some lofty pine; Yet still he held his root, till I found means, Abating somewhat of thy first demand, If not to make him wholly ours, at least To gain sufficient to our end. Caled. Say how? Abu. Oft he inclin'd, oft started back; at last, When just consenting, for awhile he paus'd, Stood fix'd in thought, and lift his eyes to heaven; Caled. What, no more? For if by him we can surprise the city- Abu. Hear what's agreed; but on the terms Caled. This is something, And yet I do not like this half ally. Is he not still a Christian?-But no matterMean time I will attack the eastern gate: Who first succeeds gives entrance to the rest. Hear all!-Prepare ye now for boldest deeds, And know, the prophet will reward your valour. Think that we all to certain triumph move; Who falls in fight yet meets the prize above. There, in the gardens of eternal spring, While birds of Paradise around you sing, Each, with his blooming beauty by his side, Shall drink rich wines, that in full rivers glide; Breathe fragrant gales o'er fields of spice that blow, And gather fruits immortal as they grow; Ecstatic bliss shall your whole pow'rs employ, And ev'ry sense be lost in ev'ry joy. [Exeunt. ACT IV. SCENE I.-A great Square in the City before the Governor's Palace. Enter ABUDAH, Saracen Captains and Soldiers; with EUMENES, HERBIS, and other Christians, unarmed. Eum. It must be so-farewell, devoted walls! To be surprised thus!-Hell, and all ye fiends, How did ye watch this minute for destruction! Her. We've been betray'd by riot and debauch. Curse on the traitor guard. Eum. The guard above, Did that sleep too? Abu. Christians, complain no more, Enter ARTAMON, hastily. |