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University of California • Berkeley 
 
 Gift of 
 
 MR. 6c MRS. PAUL DODD 
 
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 MISCELLANEOUS PLAYS, 
 
 BY 
 
 JOANNA BAILLIE. 
 
 SECOND EDITION, 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 fRINTED FOR LONGMAN, HURST, REES, AND ORME, 
 
 PATERNOSTER-ROW ; 
 
 AND A. CONSTABLE AND CO. EDINBURGH. 
 
 1805. 
 
Strahan and Prehohf 
 Printers- Street. 
 
ADVERTISEMENT 
 
 TO 
 
 THE SECOND EDITION* 
 
 In the language of the two Tragedies of this 
 volume, a few flight alterations, I hope for the 
 better, will be found from that of the firft edition, 
 fo flight indeed, that I fcarcely know whether or 
 not they deferve to be mentioned. As for the 
 Comedy, believing it has been generally difliked, I 
 have been afraid to touch it, left, going over it 
 again, deprived of that animation fo favourable to 
 amendment which encouragement always gives, I 
 fliould make it worfe inftead of better. 
 
 Several of my friends, fmce Rayner was pub- 
 liflied, and one of them, I muft confefs, for whofe 
 judgment I have the higheft refped, before it was 
 publifiied, have objeded to the defcription of the 
 flooded river, Act 5th,' page 127, as very improper 
 in the caxumftances under which it is introduced. 
 I readily grant it may be apt to appear fo at firft 
 fight ; but I fliould think, that when thofe circum- 
 ftances are more perfedly confidered, this objec- 
 
 A2 
 
( iv ) 
 
 tion will be confiderably weakened. When the 
 Countefs and Confeflbr are told the bridge is 
 broken down, the diflance which the Meflenger mufl 
 then go, in the fliort time allowed for it, is fo grea^ 
 that it feems impoffible, and therefore overwhelms 
 their thoughts. To have defired the Meflenger, 
 notwithilanding, to mount his horfe and fet off 
 immediately, would, as far as I am able to judge, 
 not have been natural ; for it is upon flight, not 
 upon great, occafions that the mind recovers itfelf 
 fufficiently from difappointment to give diredions 
 immediately as to what is next to be done. I have 
 fuppofed the Countefs and Confeffor not as liften- 
 ing to the Meffenger's defcription, but as recovering, 
 while he fpeaks, from the fhock, and confidering 
 whether their object is (till pofTible. The difficulty 
 here feems to me to be this ; whether is it moil 
 natural for the MelTenger himfelf, jufl returned 
 from beholding an awful fight in nature, to have 
 his mind moil engrolled with that, or with the idea 
 of riding to the town in time to fave the prifoner, 
 a thing w^hich appears to him abfolutely impoffible? 
 for it Ihould be remembered, that till they call him 
 upon the ftage, he has no idea of the nature of the 
 errand for w^hich he w^as kept in readinefs, there- 
 fore, it could not beforehand have interefled his 
 mind. If the firll of thefe fuppofitions is moft 
 natural, I fhould think I am in a good degree juf- 
 tified in introducing this paffiige ; if the lafl, I am 
 certainly wrong. It is a fault, however, eafily 
 reftified by drawing a pen acrofs every line of the 
 
( V ) 
 
 fpeech except the two firfl ; and If the play fliould 
 ever be a^ted, this muft be done. for another rea- 
 fon, viz. that no theatre could afford to put into 
 fuch an infignificant character as that of a MelTen- 
 ger an ador capable of reciting it. — Another ob- 
 jection may be made to this fpeech, that people in 
 - his fituation do not make, fuch fpeechcs. People 
 in his fituation of life will not, it is true, to any 
 length make fpeeches of fentiment and reflection ; 
 but the (Irong impreaion made upon them by a 
 grand and awful objed, will put them, for the time 
 being, in pofleflion of a power of language and 
 ftrength of defcription which I am not vain enough 
 to fuppofe I can equal. The language of defcrip- 
 tion, having nothing to do with artificial phrafes 
 or abflract words, is more equally at the command 
 of all ranks of men than any other, that of itrong 
 paflion excepted. 
 
 It has alfo been objected, from many different quar- 
 ters, that the incident of Ohio fawing acrofs the main 
 beam of the fcaffold, &c. is a very bad one, and fo 
 abfurd, that it would fet an audience into a roar of 
 laughter. That it is not a good one I very readily 
 admit ; but, in reprefentation, the abfurdity, or I 
 ought rather to fay, ludicroufnefs of it, fo far from 
 being more obvious, would be lefs fo than in the 
 clofet. In reading a play, what is reprefented as 
 pafTmg upon the ilage, and what is related as paf- 
 fmg elfev/here, are both brought before the ima- 
 gination with nearly equal flrength ; but, in repre- 
 fentation, what is onlv related fmks into a degree 
 
 '^3 
 
{ vi ) 
 
 of dimnefs and diftance, by which It is almofi: compa- 
 ratively annihilated. This incident, however, is mofl: 
 certainly not happily conceived, and as it is all com- 
 prifed within the compafs of a very few lines, might 
 , eafily be changed into any other in which Ohio is 
 ftill made the agent, by any perfon who fhould be 
 willing to bring this play before an audience. 
 
 In Ad firft of Conftantine, page 307, I find that 
 my meaning has been fometimes miiunderflood. 
 It never once entered into my idea to reprefent the 
 Emperor as yielding to his wife's fears, fo far as to 
 fend his friends to face the danger threatened from 
 the outrageous multitude without him. 1 have 
 made him, whilfl he appears to yield, put fuch con- 
 dud in the meanefl and mofl contemptible light, 
 trufling that her generous nature would revolt from 
 |t, as an eafier way of making her fubmit to the 
 neceflity than giving a determined refufal. In a 
 narrative, where all the fecret thoughts of the heart 
 can be as eafily made known as thofe which a 
 character is made to utter, there is Httle excufe 
 either for leaving your meaning in a doubtful ftate, 
 or bringing it out too laborioufly ; but, in a flory 
 carried on entirely, or almofl entirely, in dialogue, 
 it is very difficult to avoid both thefe faults, intq 
 which I confefs I am too apt to fall, 
 
TO THE READER, 
 
 1 KOUGH I have already met with fo much indul- 
 gence from the public for a work obfcured with 
 many faults, and might venture, without great 
 miftruft, to bring before it the Plays which I now 
 offer, unaccompanied by any previous demand upon 
 the attention of my reader, which is generally an 
 unwelcome thing, 1 muft neverthelefs beg for a few 
 minutes to trefpafs upon his patience. — It has been, 
 and flill is, my flrongeft delire to add a few pieces 
 to the {lock of what may be called our national or 
 permanently a£ling plays, how unequal foever my 
 abilities may be to the object of my ambition *. I 
 have, therefore, in the " Series of Plays," though 
 purfuing a particular plan, endeavoured fully to 
 delineate the character of the chief perfon of each 
 drama, independently of his being the fubjedt of a 
 particular paffion; fo that we might have an idea of 
 what kind of a man he would have been had no 
 
 * See pagf 58. of the introdudlion to the " Scries of 
 Plays." 
 
 A 4 
 
( ^i'^i ) 
 
 circumflances ever arifen to bring that pafTion vio- 
 lently into a6lion. I have endeavoured alfo dif-. 
 tindly to difcriminate the inferior charaders, be- 
 caufe they, not being allowed to exhibit violent 
 paflion, left they fhould too much interfere with 
 the principal object, had more need of fuch diftind: 
 difcrimination to prevent them from being altoge- 
 ther infignificant, and to prevent each play from 
 becoming a mere picture of paflion which might be 
 tedious and heavy to an audience accuftomed to 
 variety of chara6ler and incident. This I have 
 done, how unfkilfully foever I may have done it, 
 with a hope, which I will not yet abandon, that 
 fonle of the dramas belonging to that work may 
 hereafter be thought worthy of being admitted into 
 that clafs of plays to which I am fo defirous of 
 adding fomething. However, I am fenfible that 
 tvere thofe plays more fuccefsful then I dare flatter 
 inyfelf to exped, they all require too much power 
 of expreflion and delicacy of difcrimination in the 
 adtor who reprefents the principal chara6:er — the 
 whole depends too much on the exertion of one 
 individual, and fuch a one too as can very rarely be 
 found, ever to become plays that will commonly 
 be brought upon the ftage *. Convinced of this. 
 
 * Let it not be fuppofed from the above that I have the 
 fligliteft intcRtion of difcontinuing the " Series of Flays/' 
 So far from it, I hope that the work will go on the better for 
 being occafionally broke in upon by pieces of a different 
 kind} and though I admit they are not altogether wel! 
 
( iK ) 
 
 as well as wifhing fometimes to vary my employ- 
 inent, I have long fmce propofed to myfelf not to 
 confine my pen entirely to one tail^:, but to write 
 from time to time, as inclination might lead me or 
 circumflances fuggePc, an unconnected or (may I 
 fo call it ?) a free, independent play, that might 
 have a chance of pleafmg upon a ftage, circum- 
 ftanced as flages generally are, with no particular 
 advantages. 1 have wiflied to leave behind me in 
 the world a few plays, fome of which might have a 
 chance of continuing to be aded even in our can- 
 vafs theatres and barns ; and of preferving to my 
 name fome remembrance with thofe who are lovers 
 of that fpecies of amurement which I have above 
 every other enjoyed. 
 
 I am well aware, however, that having fuc- 
 ceeded in one fpecies of writing gives us no fure 
 grounds to prefume that we fliall be equally for- 
 tunate in any other ; no, not even in that which 
 mod nearly approaches to it. Not only the epic 
 poet may write a bad tragedy, but the fonnet 
 writer may find himfelf greatly at a lofs in com- 
 pofing a few tender couplets for mufic. I have 
 feldom feen any piece, not appearing to me to pof- 
 fefs great merit (for fuch things I have feen), fuc- 
 ceed upon the ftage, without feeling inclined to fay 
 to myfelf, " don't defpife this : very probably in 
 
 fitted for the ftage, as it is commonly circiur.ftaiiced, I ilill 
 think plays upon that plan are capable of bcincr made upon 
 the ftage more intercfting than any other fpecies of drama. 
 
( =< ) 
 
 attempting, even upon no higher grounds, fuch 
 fuccefs as the prefent, and giving to it alfo the whole 
 bent of your thoughts, you would find yourfelf mi- 
 ferablydifappointed.'* I offer to the pubHc, therefore, 
 a work of a kind fo nearly related to that in which I 
 have already had fome degree of fuccefs and en- 
 couragement, with almoil the diffidence of an en- 
 tirely inexperienced writer. 
 
 To publifli a volume of mifcellaneous plays, I am 
 very fenfible, is making a large demand upon the 
 attention of my readers, and expofmg th^ plays 
 themfelves likewife to the danger of being read in 
 a way that will diminifli their effecl, and in every 
 way prove a great difadvantage to them. People 
 are in the habit of reading but one new play at a 
 time, which by this means makes a full undivided 
 impreiTion upon the mind ; and though we are not 
 obliged to read all the plays of a volume, one fol- 
 lowing another, fo that they mud crowd, and joflle, 
 and tread upon one another's heels ; yet who, with 
 a new work in his hands, if he be at all pleafed with 
 it, will fnut up the book after the firft portion of it is 
 over, and w-ait till he has propvjrly digefted what he 
 has r'Oi before he proceed with the remainder ? I 
 am inclined to believe that each of the plays in the 
 feries has at firfl: fuffered confiderably from being 
 read in this manner; but in pieces connedled with, 
 one another this mode of publication is in fome 
 degree neceffary, at lead there is in it more pro- 
 priety. So much am I convinced of this thai 
 h was at one time my intention to publilh thef<? ' 
 
C xi ) 
 
 plays feparately, and It is with fome difHculty that 
 1 have been prevailed upon to give up this intention. 
 May I then beg of my reader to pardon, in the 
 firfi place, [o great a demand upon his attention 
 by off eringat once a volume of plays to his per- 
 uial ; in the next place, to have the goodnefs not to 
 read it haitily, but to paufe, fome days at ieafl, 
 between each play, that they mav have in this re- 
 fpe6t the fame advantages v/hich new plays ge- 
 nerally have. Let him not fmile : this iaii: is a 
 requeft which I earnellly make, and if it is not 
 complied with, I rnali almoft be tempted to think 
 niyfelf hardly treated *. 
 
 I mud alio mention, that each of the plays con- 
 tained in this volume has been, at one time or 
 other, offered for reorefentation to one or other of 
 
 * It may be urged, indeed, that iinconnecied poems- 
 bound up together, and almoll ev^ry other fpecies of com- 
 pofition, muil fufFer lor being read in haily fucceffion in the 
 fame way. And fo in fome degree they do. But in read- 
 ing defcriptions ot nature, iuccclTions of thoughts, and nar- 
 ratives of every kind, the ideas they reprefent to the mind 
 are as troops drawn out before it in locfe marfhalled arrav, 
 whofe moil animated m.ovemer.ts it lurveys lliil as a fpcc- 
 tator ; whilft in reading a drama, where every chara6ler 
 fpeaks immediately in his own perfon, v.'C by fvmpathy 
 ruih, as it were, ourfelves into the battle, and fight ui;der 
 every man's coat of mail by turns. This is an exercife of 
 the mind fo clofe and vigoror.s, that we retire from it ex- 
 ^aufted ; and if curiofity fliould uige us on without fuffi- 
 cient reft to the next engagement tliat calls for us, we entc^ 
 ^he field bewildered, and f^iritlefs, and weak. 
 
 J) 
 
( xii ) 
 
 our winter theatres, and been reje(!^ed. This my 
 reader will readily believe is not done in the fpirit 
 of vanity ; and I beg of him alfo to believe, that 
 neither is it at all done in that of complaint. I 
 merely mention it, becaufe otherv^ife it mufl have 
 appeared abfurd to introduce from the prefs what 
 has been exprefsly written to come before the pub- 
 lic in a different manner, without making any at- 
 tempt to prefent it in its own peculiar mode. I 
 mull, in this cafe, have either appeared pufillani- 
 moufly timid in fhrinking from that open trial to 
 which my contemporaries fubmit, or fullenly and 
 vngracioufly faftidious. 
 
 The chief thing to be regretted in this failure of 
 my attempts is, that having no opportunity of feeing 
 any of my pieces exhibited, many faults refpeding 
 ilage efFe6l and general imprefTion will to me re- 
 main undifcovered, and thofe I may hereafter 
 write be of courfe unimproved. Another difadvan- 
 tage, perhaps, may prefent itfelf to the mind of my 
 reader; viz. that not having the trial of their merits 
 immediately in profpecl, 1 may become carelefs 
 or forgetful of thofe requifites in the drama that 
 peculiarly refer to the flage. But if I know any 
 thing at all of my own charader, this will not be 
 the cafe. 1 fliall perfevere in my taflv, circum- 
 ftanced as I am, with as anxious unremitting an at- 
 tention to every thing that regards the theatre as if 
 I v/ere there forthwith to receive the full reward of 
 all my labours, or complete and irretrievable con- 
 demnation. So flrong is my attachment to the 
 
 4 
 
( xiii ) 
 
 drama of my native country, at the head of which 
 Hands one whom every Bridih heart thinks of with 
 pride, that a diftant and uncertain hope of having 
 even but a very few of the pieces I offer to the 
 public reprefented to it with approbation, when 
 fome partiality for them as plays that have been 
 frequently read (hall have put it into the power of 
 future managers to bring them upon the (lage with 
 lefs rilk of lofs than would be at prefent incurred, 
 is fuflicient to animate me to every exertion that I 
 am capable of making. 
 
 But I perceive a {"mile rifing upon the cheek of 
 my reader at the fanguine calculations of human 
 vanity, and in his place I fliould mod probably finile 
 too. Let that fmile, however, be tempered with 
 refpe6l, when it is confidered how much mankind 
 is indebted to this pleaimg but deceitful principle 
 in our nature. It is neceifary that we fhould have 
 fome flattery to carry us on w^ith what is arduous 
 and uncertain, and who wall give it to us in a man- 
 ner fo kindly and apphcable to our iiecefTities as 
 even v/e our own felves ? How poor and flation- 
 ary mud the affairs of men have remained, had 
 every one, at the beginning of a new undertaking, 
 confidered the probability of its fuccefs with the 
 cool, temperate mind of his reafonable, unconcerned 
 neighbour ? 
 
 It is now time to fay fomething of the particular 
 plays here offered to the public. 
 
 In the firft: I have attempted, in the chara6ler of 
 Rayner, to exhibit a young man of an eafy, amiable 
 
temper, with delicacy of fentiment and a well prin- 
 cipled mind, tempted, in the extremity of diftrefs, 
 to join with unworthy men in the propofed com-- 
 miffion of a deteflable deed ; and afterwards, under 
 one of the fevered trials that human fortitude can 
 be called upon to endure, bearing himfelf up, not 
 with the proud and lofty firmneis of a hero, but 
 with the flruro-les of a man, who, confcious of the 
 weaknefs of nature within him, feels diffident of 
 himfelf to the lad, and modeftly aims at no more 
 than what, being a foldier and the fon of a brave 
 father, he confiders as rel]3ectabie and becoming. 
 One who afoires not to admiration but flirinks 
 from contempt ; and Vvho being naturally brave in 
 the field, and of a light buoyant difpofuion, bears 
 up throughout with an animation and cheerfulnefs 
 by no means inconfiftent with a confiderable degree 
 of the dread of death, when called upon to en- 
 counter it with deliberation and certainty. To him 
 I have oppofed the character of a young man, in 
 whom, though with Tome good afTe6lions, there is a 
 foundation of natural depravity, greatly flrengthened 
 by the bad education he has received from an ab- 
 furdly indulgent mother, brought by his crimes to an 
 untimely end, and meetincr it with a very different 
 fpirlt. 
 
 Of the characlers of the two principal women in 
 this piece, oppofed to tvvo women of a very dif- 
 ferent defcription I iliall fay nothing. The fecond 
 and inferior perfons of the drama I have endea- 
 voured to delineate with fulHcient difcrimination to 
 
( XV ) 
 
 make us feel acquainted with them, th6ugh much 
 force or originality is a pralfe which I readily grant 
 they are not entitled to. 
 
 I am afraid the varied conduct of the whole, 
 fometimes gay and even ludicrous, fometimes ten- 
 der or dlftrefling, but fcarcely at any time folemn 
 or dignified, will be difpleafrng to thofe who arc 
 accuftomed to admire tragedy in its more exalted 
 form. I flatter myfelf, however, that as I have not, 
 for the fake of variety, introduced any under-plot 
 nor patched fcenes unconnected with the main 
 bufmefs, but have endeavoured to make every thing 
 arife naturally from the circumflances of the ftory, 
 I fhall not on this fcore be very much cenfured *. 
 
 This play was written many years ago, when I 
 was not very old, and flill younger from my igno- 
 rance of every thing regarding literature than from 
 ray years. This, however, 1 do not mention as any 
 apology for its defects. A work that cannot be 
 read with approbation unlefs the mind is continu- 
 
 * That part of the fcene, A61 III. in the court of the 
 prifon, where the fongs of the confined chief of banditti and 
 a flight flictch of his character are introduced, though very- 
 appropriate to the place, (lands loofe from the bufmefs of the 
 play, and may therefore be confidered as fuperfiuous and 
 contradicfling what I have faid above. But as it is fhort, 
 and is a fancy come into my head from hearing (lories in 
 my childhood of Rob Roy, our Robin Hood of Scotland, 
 J. cannot find in my heart to blot it out, though, either on the 
 ftage or in the clofet, any body is welcome to do it for me by 
 palling it over entirely. 
 
C xvi } 
 
 ally referring to the particular circumdances under 
 Avhich it was written, ought not to be brought be« 
 fore the pubilc, but (when thofe circumftances are 
 very extraordinary) as a hterary curiofity. Read- 
 ing over this work, after it had been laid by for 
 fuch a length of time that it was to me almoft like 
 the work of a flranger, I thought there was fuf- 
 ficient matter in it, with fome alterations, to make 
 an interefting play, not unfuited to the common 
 circumftances of even our country theatres ; and 
 indeed I have altered it fo confiderably that full one 
 half of it may be faid to.be newly written. In the 
 original it was uniformly written in blank verfe, 
 and in many of the fcenes, particularly thofe ap^ ^ 
 preaching to comic, my reader will readily believe 
 it was fufRciently rugged and hobbling ; I have, 
 therefore, taken the liberty of writing in plain profe 
 all thofe parts where I thought blank verfe would 
 b^ cumbexfom.e and (lilted. The only fcenes in the 
 play that remain exactly or nearly as they flood in 
 the original are, that betv/een Rayner and the Old 
 Man of the wood, in which I have fcarcely altered 
 a. fiugie word, and that, Acl IV. Scene III. between 
 Zaterloo and his mother. 
 
 A play, with the fcene laid in Germany, and 
 opening with a noify meeting of midnight robbers 
 over their wine, will, I believe, fuggeil to my 
 readers certain fources from which he will fuppofe 
 my ideas mufl have certainly been taken. Will he 
 give me perfe<5l credit when I allure him, at the time 
 this play was written, I had not only never read any 
 
( xvii ) 
 
 German plays, bat was even Ignorant that fuch 
 things as German plays of any reputation exifted ? 
 I hope — I am almofl bold enough to fay, I know that 
 he will. And that I may not abufe his faith by fmug- 
 gling any thing under its proteclion not (triclly en- 
 titled to it, I mufl inform him that the (hort fcene 
 between Rayner and his fervant Herman which I 
 thought in fome degree neceffary to (hew the cha- 
 radler and temper of the mafler, and to intereft us 
 in his favour before the great adion of the piece 
 begins, wa« entirely introduced in my latter altera* 
 tlons, and is therefore liable to whatever charge of 
 imitation it may feem to deferve, though 1 have not 
 been fenfible, in writing it, of having any particular 
 clafs of authors in my mind. 
 
 Of the comedy that follows it I fhall fay but 
 little. To thofe who are chiefly accuftomed, in 
 works of this kind, to admire quick turns of thought, 
 pointed expreflion, witty repartee, and the ludi- 
 crous difplay of the tranfient paffing follies and 
 falhions of the world, this play will have but few 
 attradtions. The reprefentation of a few charac- 
 ters, not, 1 believe, " over-fliepping the modefly of 
 nature,'' who are connected together in a very flm- 
 ple plot, carried on throughout with cheerfulnefs, 
 unmixed with any pretenfions to great refinement of 
 fentiment, or delicate (trokes of tendernefs, is all 
 this piece has to boaft of : and with no higher pre- 
 tenfions, the greater proportion of my readers will 
 not, I flatter myfelf, find fault with m.e for having 
 made it a kind of divifion or ftepping-ftone between 
 
 a 
 
( xviii ) 
 
 the two tragedies ; where, if they do not enjoy a 
 briliiant funfhine, they may at lead have a little 
 flickering of the funbeams to play upon them as 
 they pafs from one fombre gloom to another. It 
 has lain by me for many years, and has received 
 a very few inconfiderable alterations. 
 
 The laft play of this volume was written in the 
 hope of being brought out upon our largefl theatre, 
 enriched as it then was by two adlors whofe no- 
 ble appearance and llrong powers of exprefBon 
 feemed to me peculiarly fuited to its two principal 
 characters. The fubjedl of it is taken from Gib- 
 bon's account of the fiege of Conftantinople by the 
 Turks. It was a fubjecl that prelTed itfelf upon 
 me, at a time when I had no thoughts of writing at 
 11, and (if I may ufe the expreflion) would be 
 written upon. The chara6ler there difplayed of 
 Conftantine Paleolcgus, the lafl of the Csefars, a 
 modeft, afiedionate, domeflic man; nurfed in a lux- 
 urious court in habits of indulgence and indolencej 
 without ambition, even without hope, roufmg him- 
 felf up on the approach of unavoidable ruin ; and 
 deferted by every Chriftian prince in Europe, de- 
 ferted by his own worthlefs and enervated fubjeiSls, 
 fupported alone by a generous band, chiefly of 
 H rangers, devoting themfelves to him from generous 
 attachment ; — to fee him thus circumftanced, nobly 
 fronting the florm, and perifliing as became the laft 
 of a long line of kings, the lafl: of the Romans; — this 
 was a view of man — of noble and dignified exertion 
 which it was impoirible for me refift, though well 
 
 a 
 
( xlx ) 
 
 aware tliat no play I am capable of writing can ever 
 be equal to wfiat fuch a fiibjecl deferves. So much 
 was I pleafed with thofe generous ties — may I be 
 permitted to make ufe of a fciipture phrafe, and 
 fay, thofe " cords of a man?" binding together the 
 noble Paleologus and his brave imperial band, that, 
 had I followed my own inclination, delineating 
 thofe would have been the principal objecl of the 
 piece. But convinced that fomething more was 
 requifite to intereft a common audience, and give 
 fufficient variety to the fcenes, I introduced the cha- 
 racler of Valeria, and brought forward the domefric 
 qualities of Coniiantine as well as thofe of the un- 
 fortunate prince and beloved leader. 
 
 Mahomet and Juftiniani are the only characters 
 in the piece, Condantine excepted, that are not 
 imaginary. The firfl will be found, I hope, to 
 correfpond with the character given of him by the 
 hifLorian. To alter, for the idle convenience of 
 poetry, confpicuous, or indeed any characters that 
 have been knovvm in the world, appears to me 
 highly blameabk', though in fiHing up an outline 
 given us by hiftory we cannot well avoid heighten- 
 ing or diminidiing the general effect. Jufliuiani. if 
 I well remeniber (for 1 have not the hiflory bv 
 me at prefent to refer to), was a noble Genoefe, who, 
 after a life dillinguiOied for military honour, dif- 
 graced himfelf by being the firft to turn his back 
 when the Turks attacked the breach on the day of 
 the lad general ailaulr, and was the immediate 
 caufe of the city being taken. lie is faid after- 
 
 a 2 
 
( !=^ ) 
 
 wards on this account to have died of a broken 
 heart. I have endeavoured to reprefent him as a 
 proud man with a high fenfe of honour, rather than 
 natively brave, and therefore particularly puncti- 
 lious in every thing that concerns tlie reputation of 
 a foldier. To him I have ventured to oppofe a mi- 
 litary charafler of a very different defcription, in 
 the commander of the Genoefe vefTels which fo 
 gallantly forced their way into the port of Conilan- 
 tinople during the ficge ; and if I have dwelt too 
 much on the rough generous gallantry of a brave 
 feaman, and given too many allufions throughout 
 the whole to the dangers and vicillitudes of a fea- 
 faring life, my country, which has owed fo much to 
 brave men of this clafs, will ftand forth in my de? 
 fence, and fay, that a Briton upon this fubjed v/rites 
 proudly, and therefore is tempted to write pro- 
 fufely. In the other imaginary charaders, parti- 
 cularly that of Othus, I have endeavoured to accord 
 With the circumflances of the times ; for it is to be 
 remembered, that flothful and corrupted as the in- 
 habitants of Conflantinople then were, amongfl 
 them were ftiil to be found the chief remains of 
 ancient Hterature and refinement *. 
 
 *■ The chara£ler of Otiioric, or rather the circumllance of 
 his dr.ath, I have taken from an account I have read foirjc- 
 where, I believe in one of Dr. Moore's Novels, of a High- 
 land fergeant, who faved himftlf by a fimilar ilratagem 
 from the tornnents prepared for him by the American 
 Indians, 
 
( xxi ) 
 
 Perhaps in the conduct of this tragedy I have 
 fometlmes weakened the interefi of it by attending 
 too much to magnificence and (how. But it was 
 intended for a large theatre, where a play is rather 
 looked at than iiflened to, and where, indeed, by a 
 great proportion of the audience, it cannot be heard ; 
 and though I might now very eafily remove that 
 fliow, yet to place in its (lead what it has mod 
 probably kept back, would be almofl impoHible. 
 For that which has probably been prevented by it, 
 fliould have been woven and incorporated into the 
 original texture of the piece, and cannot afterwards 
 be inferred here and there in ftreaks and patches. 
 It has alfo, I am inclined to believe, received fome 
 injury from my having had, when I fketched my 
 two chief characters, the adors who I intended 
 fhould reprefent them, too much in my thoughts. 
 This is a fault, and I am fenfible it is fo : but thofe 
 who have feen and admired the great powers of 
 thofe adlors in the higheft line of tragedy, will 
 eafily admit that I have not finned without a flrong 
 temptation. I hope alfo that this, Handing alone, 
 as a fingle offence of the kind, amongfi: a confi- 
 derable number of plays w^hich, if I live long 
 enough, my prefent talk will probably increafe to, 
 may be forgiven. 
 ^ I am fenfible there is not that rtrenqth and com- 
 padnefs of plot ; that clofe connedlion of events 
 producing one another in this play, which is a great 
 perfecSrion in every dramatic work, and which I am 
 forry to fay is a perfedion that is not to be found 
 
( xxii ) 
 
 in any work of mine that I have hitherto publifhed. 
 However, I flatter myfelf I have in this inftance a 
 good excufe to make. It appears to me that, in 
 taking the fubject of a poem or play from real 
 Ilory, we are not warranted, even by the prerogatives 
 of bardfhip, to afllgn imaginary caufes to great 
 public events. We may accompany thofe events 
 with imaginary characters and circumftances of no 
 great importance, that alter them no more in ths 
 mind of the reader than the garniture with which a 
 painter decorates the barrennefs of fome well- 
 known rock or mountain that ferves for a landmark 
 to the inhabitants of the furrounding country. He 
 may clothe its rugged fides with brufhwood, and 
 hang a few itorm-ftunted oaks on its bare peaks ; 
 he may throw a thin covering of mid on fome un- 
 toward line of its acclivity, and bring into ftronger 
 light the bold ftoried towerings of its pillared cliffs; 
 he may even ftretch the rainbow of heaven over its 
 gigantic head, but its large and general form mufl 
 remain unaltered. To have made a romantic paflion 
 for Valeria the caufe of Mahomet's befieging the 
 city, would, I believe, have pleafed the generality of 
 readers, and have made this play appear to them 
 more like what a play ought to be ; but I mufl 
 then have done what I confider as wrong. 
 
 It would be impertinent to proceed farther in 
 pointing out the merit, if it has any, or demerit of ^* 
 this tragedy, of which 1 cannot pretend to be a very 
 clear-fighted or impartial judge. 1 leave it, with its 
 .companions, to my reader, who will, I doubt not^ 
 
 4 
 
( xxiii ) 
 
 perufe them with reafonable indulgence, and 
 more than this it would be foolifh even to defire. 
 If I find that, upon the whole, thefe plays have 
 given more pleafure to the public than the reverfe, 
 I fhall not lefs cheerfully bring forward, at fome 
 future time, thofe which remain behind, becaufe 
 their faults fhall have been fully expofed to the 
 cenfure they deferve. 
 
R A Y N E R: 
 
 A TRAGEDY, 
 
 IN FIVE ACTS. 
 
 B 
 
PERSONS OF THE DRAMA. 
 
 MEN: 
 
 Rayner. 
 
 Count Zaterloo, a zvorthlefs dijjlpaied nobleman 
 of ruined fortinie^ and chief of a hand of lawlefs 
 ruined men^ like himfelf 
 
 o ' ^ Gentlemen and followers of Zaterloo. 
 
 Sebastian, 3 
 
 Hard IB RAND, an old general, 
 
 Mardonio, a monk. 
 
 Old man of the Wood, 
 
 Ohio, a negro attached to the p^ifon, 
 
 Herman^ fervant to Rayner. 
 
 Richard. 
 
 Bertram. 
 
 GOBAS. 
 
 Keeper of the Prifon^ Clown ^ Executioners y Turnkey^ 
 Jailor^ Meffenger^ Landlord^ Confeffor^ Crowds 
 
 WOMEN: 
 Elizabeth. 
 
 Countess Zaterloo, mother to Zaterloo. 
 Mir A, a courtesan, 
 Alice, friend to M\r2i, 
 
 Scene,— Germany, near the frontiers (j/* Poland aiid 
 
 Silefia. 
 
R A Y N E R. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 SCENE I. A noife of voices and unruly ?nerrment 
 is heard^ lubilji the curtain draws up^ and dif- 
 covers Count Zaterloo, Bernard, Sebaflian, and 
 others of their band^ feated round a table with 
 
 wine, ^r. 
 
 COUNT ZATERLOO. 
 
 T-JA 1 ha ! ha ! ha ! with all this noify mirth. 
 
 Should feme grave flranger, on his way mifled. 
 Now pufli the door a-jar, and look upon us 
 Thus fet, what clafs of men ihould we be deem'd ? 
 A fet of light liearts, fnug in fortune's lap, 
 "Who will not go to bed becaufe we may ? 
 Or club of {liarpers, flufli'd with full fuccefs. 
 New from the fpoiling of fome fim.ple fool ? 
 Or troop of drolling players, at our eafe. 
 After the labours of our kingly forrows. 
 With throats new cool'd at as great charge of wine 
 As our tough lungs have cofl of lady's tears ? 
 
 BERNARD. 
 
 No, no, thou haft not hit upon It yet : 
 Ile'd take thee for the heir of forae old mifer^, 
 
 B 2 
 
4 R A Y N E R : 
 
 Treating thy friends, as first fruits of thy Idngdonty 
 With flowing bumpers to the quiet reft ^ 
 
 Of thv c;ood kinfman's foul. 
 
 J o 
 
 COUNT ZATERLOO. 
 
 Yes, Bernard, thou fay'ft well : and thy dark 
 vifage, • ^ 
 
 Lank and unfuited to all mirth, would mark thee 
 The undertaker, who amongil the guefts 
 Had come on matters of his fable trade. 
 Grinning a ftrange, uncomely, jaw-bone fmile 
 O'er the near profpec^: of his future gains. 
 
 SEBASTIAN. 
 
 Methinkj^, at leafc, in this gay, jolly bandj 
 He fcarcely would difcover needy men, 
 Who better davs have feen. 
 
 COUNT ZATERLOO. 
 
 Tut, man 1 thou art too grave ; thou art tea 
 erave- — 
 "Which of you fung that fong with merry lay. 
 Some few nights fince ? Come, let us have it now^- 
 
 S O N G. 
 
 7'^e ^ivhofa'm ivoidd happy hc^ 
 Give the hand^ and join iLTth rae: 
 They who toil the ic'eary day^ 
 They who bend with locks of grey ^ 
 They who tread the beaten way^ 
 Fools who work that we ?nay play^ 
 
A TRAGEDY. 
 
 Fold their weary arms io-JJeep^ 
 % Coine, let iis our vigil keep. 
 
 \ ox 
 
 Fellows, join ^ and never fear ; 
 ITe who would be happy, hear. 
 With the foher and the meek, -^ ■ 
 
 Lighter flies the pajfng week? 
 In his dwelling warm andjleek. 
 Brighter f miles the rich m.an^s cheek ? 
 Wifer things may wife men fay. 
 But we are wifer far than they, 
 
 Co?ne, light fpir its, light and free ^ 
 
 Wifefi they who fooUfn he. 
 
 He zoho hammers at the pot. 
 
 He who brews for every fot. 
 
 He zuho made m.y hofe and coat. 
 
 Is a better man I wot ; 
 
 Xet were we formed, events declare. 
 
 He to work and I to wear, 
 
 Miflrefs of the mifly fhroiid, 
 0, lovely 7110 on I come from thy cloud. 
 When thou o^erlook^fl the ocean* s brine, 
 Ourf elves we view in floods of wine. 
 Our conftancy refeviihles thine; 
 hike thte in borrowed robes we fhine; 
 Then let us, in thy kindred light. 
 Still wake, the rulers of the night. 
 
 ^3 
 
6 R A Y N E Rr 
 
 COtJNT ZATERLOO. 
 
 It IS a fong of Halbert's, is it not ? 
 He was a focial jolly-hearted mate, 
 And had a knack of making ready rhymes. 
 
 BERNARD. 
 
 I knew him well : what has become of him ? 
 
 COUNT ZATERi.oo f pretending not to hear). 
 Fill up your glafs, and let the fiafl; go round. 
 
 BERNARD. 
 
 What has become of Halbert, dofl: thou know? 
 
 COUNT ZATERLOO CJIUI pretending not to hear J, 
 This wine is richly flavoured, is it not? 
 
 BERNARD. 
 
 It is. — But Kalbert ; know ye aught of him ? 
 
 COUNT ZATERLOO. 
 
 The devil take thy question, aflving fpirit ! 
 For when thou get*(l a notion by the Ikirt, 
 Thou, like an Englifh bull-dog, keep'fl thy hold, 
 And wilt not let it go. — 
 He fhot himfelf in prifon fome months fince : 
 Now, there's thine anfwer for thee ; art thou fatis- 
 fied ? 
 
 (A deep and long pat/fe; then Zaterloo Jlarts 
 up as if he recoUeded fomething.J 
 
 He will be with us ere I've pav'd his way.. 
 
A TRAGEDY. 
 
 SEBASTIAN. 
 
 Hafl: thou fome new aflbciate to propofe ? 
 
 COUNT ZATERLOO. 
 
 Know ye the younger branch of Valvo's houfe ? 
 Whofe valiant father left him but his fword 
 And his proud fpirit, thro' this changeful world 
 To fhape his way, with heart as truly tempered 
 To all the fofteft witch'ries of refinement 
 As e'er own'd cherifb'd heir of wide domains. 
 In palace nurs'd. *' 
 
 SEBASTIAIT. 
 
 I've feen him when a youth, 
 But he fmce then has of a foreign (late 
 The foldier been ; and had not now returned, 
 But in the hope, 'tis faid, of being heir 
 To his great uncle's vafl and rich poflefTions, 
 
 Of which that villain Hubert has depriv'd him 
 With treach'rous wiles. Poor heart ! he has my 
 
 pity- 
 
 'Tis faid a ling'ring fever feiz'd upon him 
 From difappointment ; and I marvel not j 
 The flroke was moil fevere. 
 
 COUNT ZATERLOO. 
 
 And felt more keenly. 
 For that he left behind him, in the country 
 To which he now belongs, a gentle maid 
 And his bethroth'd, with whom he thought to fhare 
 
 B4 • 
 
S R A Y N E R: 
 
 His promised wealth. 
 
 But these things reft. — Thus driven as we are 
 
 To this uncertain, daring courfe of life. 
 
 The ftronger and the more refpectable 
 
 Our band, the greater chance of profpering. 
 
 Our number is too fmall ; and, by my foul. 
 
 To fee a mean, plebeian, vulgar knave, 
 
 Admitted of our fellowfliip, ftill rubs 
 
 Againft my nature. Such a man as Rayner 
 
 Is precious, and, once gain'd, is fure and fteadfafl. 
 
 But few days fmce I met him, dark and thoughtful. 
 
 With melancholy and unwonted gait 
 
 Slow faunt'ring thro' lone, unfrequented paths. 
 
 Like one whofe foul from man's obferving eye 
 
 Shrinks gall'd, as flirinks the member newly torn 
 
 From every fiighteft touch. Seeing him thus, 
 
 I mark'd him for my man. 
 
 BERNARD. 
 
 Did'il thou accoft him ? 
 
 COUNT ZATERLOO. 
 
 Yes ; when to m.y greeting, 
 '^ Thou fee'ft I am unhappy, go thy ways," 
 He fretful faid, and turn'd. 1 ftill perfifted, 
 With foothing words which thrill'd againft his heart, 
 (For in our youthful days we once were playmates,) 
 Like the fweet tones of fome forgotten fong. 
 Till, like a pent-up flood fwoln to the height. 
 He pour'd his griefs into my breaft with tears. 
 
ATRAGEDY. 9 
 
 Such as the manliefl men in their crofs'd lives 
 Are fonietimes forc'd to fned. 
 
 SEBASTIAN. 
 
 And fpoke he of his love ? 
 
 COUNT ZATERLOO. 
 
 Nay, there indeed 
 He was referv'd ; but that part of his flory, 
 Which I from fure authority have learnt, 
 I flill thro' broken words could flirevv'dly read^^ 
 ^Itho' he nam'd it not. 
 
 BERNAR33. 
 
 Haft thou explain'd to him our courfe of life ? 
 
 COUNT ZATERLOO. 
 
 No, that had been too much : but can'ft thou 
 doubt, 
 Suff'ring fuch wrongs as Hubert's <irtfal bafencfs 
 Has put upon him, he will fcruple long. 
 Thus circumilanc'd, to join his arm with o\ii'S 
 In murd'ring the rich villain ? 
 
 BERNARD (looking at Sebaftian, zvbojh rinks back J ^ 
 
 I pray thee call it (hooting ! that plain word 
 Still makes Sebaftian, like a fqueamiOi dame^ 
 Shrink and look Hly-fac'd. To flioot a man 
 As one in battle fhoots a fronted foe ; 
 As from the tavern's broil, in meafur'd held. 
 One fhoots a friend, is nought : — but that word 
 murder— 
 
xo R A Y N E R : 
 
 It hath a horrid found ; pray thee, good captairiy 
 Remember 'tis a band of gentlemen 
 Thou dofl command, and let fuch gentle phrafe 
 Fall from thy tongue as gentle ears may fuit. 
 (Oiiines laughing loud at Sehajlian.) 
 
 COUNT ZATERLOO. 
 
 Hufh ! Rayner is at hand, I hear his (leps. 
 
 Enter Ravner. 
 
 I give you welcome, Rayner, with my heart : 
 Thefe are my friends, of whom I well might boafl:. 
 But that it feems like boafling of myfelf. 
 Here, take your place, and join our fellowfliip. 
 There is but little need of ceremony 
 With thofe whom like misfortunes bring together. 
 
 RAYNER. 
 
 I take my feat, honour'd in fuch a place ; 
 And fo far to misfortune am indebted. 
 Which has procured it for me, fSlfs down. J 
 
 BERNARD (drbikbig to Rayucr). 
 
 This do I fill to future fellowfliip : 
 To that which makes, at fortune's lowed ebb, 
 A few brave men united, mock the world 
 And all its plodding rules ; enabling theni 
 Boldly to feize their portion of life's feaft. 
 Which griping av'rice or unjuft oppreiiion 
 Would from them fnatch, whilih with infulting 
 
 jcorn 
 It fcofts at povertv and patient want* 
 
A THAGEDY. if 
 
 RAYNER. 
 
 Thou truly fay'fl: ; at lead I have obferv'd 
 That thofe who bear misfortunes over meekly 
 Do but perfuade mankind that they and want 
 Are all too fitly matched to be disjoined. 
 And fo to it they leave them. 
 
 BERNARD. 
 
 *Tis ever fo : 
 Even good men then negle£l them ; but the bafe. 
 They, who by mean and undermining arts 
 To o'ergrown w^ealih attain, like the afs's heel 
 'Gainil the fick lion's low and lanken breafl 
 Spurn at them. 
 
 €0UNT ZATERLOO. 
 
 Yes, good Bernard, thou fpeak'ft truly. 
 For I myfelf, who, as thou know'fl right well. 
 Am not too meekly to misfortune bent. 
 Have fomewhat of the worthlefs afs's kick 
 A8;ainiT: my bofom felt. — 'Lone and unarm'd — > 
 Had but one brave comoanion by my fide 
 My anger fhar'd, full dearly had the knave — 
 But let it pafs — he had a brave man's curfe, 
 And that will relt upon him. . 
 
 BERNARD. 
 
 But, pray thee. Count, tell us the circumflance, 
 Thou fpeak'fl in myflery. 
 
iz R A Y N E R: 
 
 COUNT ZATERLOO. 
 
 A few days fince, returning near my home. 
 Upon a narrow path rais'd from a road 
 With mud choak'd up, behind me trampling came? 
 A band of Hv'ried rafcals at his heels, 
 in all his awkward ftate, a puffM-up worldling. 
 And rode me off my way ; whilft looking back. 
 He turned his head with a malicious grin 
 At the poor fpatter'd wretch, who in the mud 
 Stood fhowering curfes on him. 
 
 RAYNER. 
 
 Ay, 'tis the curfed infolence of wealth 
 That makes the poor man poor. Thou wert un- 
 arm' d ? 
 
 COUNT ZATERLOO. 
 
 I was ; or by this hand, poor as I am, 
 I fliould have fpent a brace of bullets on him 
 With much good-will. 
 
 RAYNER. 
 
 Know'ft: thou "the villain's name? 
 
 COUNT ZATERLOO. 
 
 Faith, Vm ahnofl afliam'd to tell it thee. 
 Thou know'ft him well : he is a rich man now j 
 His name is Hubert. 
 
 RAYNER. 
 
 There lives no blacker villain on the earth 
 
A TRAGEDY. ij. 
 
 Than him who bears it. — But thou know'fl It all. 
 When from a diftant country, where with honour 
 I earn'd a foldier's pittance, the fair promifes 
 Of a near kinfman tempted me, and I, 
 Tho' by my nature mod incautious. 
 And little Ikill'd to gain by flatt'ring arts 
 An old man's love, high in his favour flood 5 
 That villain Hubert rous'd his jealous nature 
 With artful tales of flights and heir-like wifhes. 
 And covert mock'ry of his feeble age. 
 Till, in the bitternefs of changed love. 
 All his vaft wealth he did bequeath to him, 
 And left me here, ev'n in this (Iranger's land, 
 (For years of abfence makes it fo to me,) 
 A difappointed, friendlefs, unknown man. 
 Poor and deprelTed, fuch as you fee me now. 
 
 BERNARD. 
 
 Double, detefled, cruel-hearted villain ! 
 
 COUNT ZATERLoo (Jlarting up ivith affecled vehe- 
 
 7nenceJ. 
 
 By heaven he dies, as I do wear this arm ! 
 
 (they all ft art up.) 
 
 Defended by a hofl of liv'ried knaves, 
 rd feek him out alone. 
 
 BERNARD. 
 
 Thou ihalt not go alone ; here, heart and hand 
 We will all join thee in fo good a caufe. 
 
t4 RAY N E R ? -' 
 
 JIRST GENTLEMAN, 
 
 My arm is at thy will. 
 
 SECOND GENTLEMAN* 
 
 Take mv aid too ; 
 We never can be bold in better caufe» 
 
 TniRD GENTLEMAN Con reccivi?ig a fign from 
 
 Zaterloo). 
 
 Then, Sirs, you mufl be fpeedy with your ven- 
 geance, 
 For I am well informed that on to-morrow, 
 V/ith all his treafure, for a dillant province 
 He will be2:in his journev towards eve* 
 
 COUNT ZATERLOO. 
 
 Ha ! then good fortune leads him to our hands ; 
 How "-oes he cruarded ? 
 
 o o 
 
 THIRD GENTLEMAN. 
 
 With a fi ender train. 
 
 COUNT ZATERLOO. 
 
 Then thanks to fortune's fav'ring fmiles, which 
 thus, 
 'Whild we but feek revenge for a friend's wrongs. 
 So kindly throws into our heedlefs way 
 The eafy cure of our necelhties. 
 Yes, let usfeize the greedy glutted villain! 
 
 6 
 
A T R A G E D Y. i j 
 
 Let us difgorge him of his ill- got gains ! 
 
 He long enough has rioted in eafe, 
 
 Whilft better men have felt the gripe of want. 
 
 BERNARD. 
 
 t 
 
 Yes, let it be fo, let the villain die ! 
 
 COUNT ZATERLOO. 
 
 What fay'fl thou, Rayner ? thou alone art filent. 
 
 RAYNER. 
 
 The wrongs are mine, and if with indignation 
 They fill your breafts, in ftrong defire of vengeance 
 Ye well may guefs 1 am not far behind : 
 But there's a law above all human bonds. 
 Which damps the eager beating of my heart. 
 And fays, " do thou no murder/* 
 
 COUNT ZATERLOO. 
 
 Well, clear thy knitted brows, nor look thus 
 ftrano-elv. 
 We both are form'd, my friend, to know like feel- 
 ings, 
 Like wants and wifhes, and from better davs 
 Both are reduced to fortune's loweft ebb : 
 And I as well as thou, {landing thus fmgly. 
 Can feed my flmcy up with itrong conceits 
 Of what in lettered lore is virtue term'd. 
 And bear its darkeft frowns. There was a time, 
 When (haring ev'ry with and ev'ry view 
 With one of weaker frame and fofter foul ; 
 
i6 il A Y N E R J 
 
 Yet forced bv the dark frowns of adverfe fortune 
 To live a willing outlaw from her prefence, 
 Becaufe T could n'ot bear to come before her 
 A poor defpifed man, reft of that comelinefs 
 And honed grace which independence gives. 
 To bid her throw afide her flowing robes 
 And decent ornaments of maiden pride. 
 Unveil the fvv^eetnefs of her fhelter'd beauty 
 To beating rnid-day heats and chilling winds. 
 And be a wand'ring vagrant by my fide ; — 
 There was a time, my friend, when, thus befetj 
 At view of any means to better fortune, 
 A (Ironger pow'r had ris'n within my bread 
 And mock'd at law. But, ftanding thus alone, 
 I can as well as thou forep-o the gain 
 
 o o 
 
 Which this occafion offers.- — Let it pafs ! 
 
 There is within us, be it fuperftitiGn, 
 
 Th' unfcannMopinionsfL-oniourchildhood cherilh'd. 
 
 Or natural inflincl:, fcill a ftrong averfion 
 
 To ev'ry acl of blood. Le^ us yield to it. 
 
 We will not drain our nature from its bent : 
 
 We'll do no violent deed, 
 
 RAYNER Ccaiching hold of Zaterloo %vith great 
 
 agitation J. 
 
 O thou had mov'd me! thou had conjur''d 
 
 thouo-ht ! 
 
 Wert thou-— Wert thou indeed thus circumdancM ? 
 
 And thy deferted love ; what was her fate ? 
 
 * COUNt ZATERLOO. 
 
 She felt not long the cruel feparatioa : 
 
A TRACED Y. i; 
 
 One lovely bufli of the pale virgin thorn, 
 P/mt o'er a little heap of lowly turf, 
 Is all the fad memorial of her v/orth ; 
 All that remains to mark where (h^ is laid, 
 
 RAYNER. 
 
 Oh ! Oh ! and vv^as it thus ! 
 
 COUNT ZATERLOO. 
 
 But let us now Ihake off thefe difmal thouohts. 
 This hour was meant for focial fellowfliip : 
 Refume your feats, my friends, and, gentle Rayner, 
 Clear up thy cloudy brows and take thy place. 
 
 RAYNER, 
 
 I fain would be excus'd. 
 
 COUNT ZATERLOO (^gently forc'uig Jmii iofit down J. 
 
 Nay, no excufe : 
 Thou mud perforce a focial hour or two 
 Spend with us. To ye all, my noble friends, 
 1 fill this cup. (drinks.) 
 
 ' Bernard, how goes thy fuit ? 
 
 Hafl thou yet to thy greedy Lawyer's pocket 
 Convey'd thy hindmoll ducat ? Ha, ha, ha ! 
 Had he, with arms in hand, ta'en from thee boldly 
 Half of the fum, thou would'fl: have call'd him 
 
 robber. 
 Ha, ha, ha ! (laughing heartily. J 
 
 I BERNARD. 
 
 Yes, thou may'fl laugh : 
 C 
 
i8 R A Y N E Rr 
 
 We nice diftinclions make. — I had an uncle,- 
 Who once upon a time 
 
 fT-OUNT ZATERLOO* 
 
 I hope, good Bernard, 
 Thy ftory will be fliorter than thy fuit. 
 
 (RiiynQY^ lu/jo has been fitting in gloomy thovghf' 
 fulnefs^ wlibout attending to any thing arounc 
 , hhn^ whilji Zatcrloo has been keeping an eye 
 of obfervatioji on him, 7wzu rifes vp in great 
 agitation to go a^jjay.J 
 
 COUNT ZATERLOQv 
 
 What is the matter, Rayner ? 
 
 RAYNER. 
 
 I am difturo'd-—! know not hov/ I am— - 
 Let me take leave, I pray you. 
 
 COUNT ZATERLOO. 
 
 Thou fhalt not quit us thus. V\^hat is the matter? 
 
 RAYNER. 
 
 OueRion me not : mv thoug^hts are all confus'd : 
 There is a flrong temptation faften'd on me. 
 I am not well. 
 
 COUNT zATEPvLco ( afidc to Bernard). 
 Ay, now it works upon him : 
 
 Tiiis will do 
 
 ( Aloiul and preventing Vi'^ynzx from gnng,) 
 If thou'rt unwell, art thou not with thv friends ? 
 
A t R A G E D Y, 19 
 
 RAYNER. 
 
 If ye Indeed are friends, not fpirits enleagu'd 
 To force me to my ruin, let me go — 
 Let me go to my home. 
 
 COUNT ZATERI.OO. 
 
 Whati doft thou call a bare unfarnifli'd chamber. 
 With griping Landlord clam'ring in thine ears 
 For what he knows thou canft not give, thy home? 
 
 RAYNER Cftghmg deeply J, 
 I have no other. 
 
 COUNT ZATERLOO. 
 
 Stay thou here with us : 
 
 Li the next chamber thou flialt reft a while. 
 
 Lead him, my kind Sebaftian, by the hand : 
 
 There is a fort of woman's kindlinefs 
 
 About thy nature which befits thee bed 
 
 To be a fick man's friend. I'll follow you. 
 
 CExit Rayner, leaning on Sebaftian,) — turning 
 about to his friends triumphantly as they 
 
 I have fecur'd my man. (A voice heard ivithout.J 
 But hark ! a voice wichout ! It is my mother's. 
 Secure the lettic'd door. Plafue on her kindnefs 
 To haunt me here ! I have forgot my promife. 
 (To Bernard.) I\lake faft the lettic'd door and 
 anfvver for me. 
 
 BERNARD (after fq/Ieni7ig a door of let tire zvork 
 
 through ivhich the Countefs is fcen). 
 Who's there ? what want ye ? 
 
 C 2 
 
20 R A Y N E R: 
 
 COUNTESS ZATERLOO (vjlthout). 
 
 I \^-aiit my fon : I pray you is he here ? 
 
 BERNARD. 
 
 He is not here. 
 
 COUNTESS ZATERI.OO (wHhoUt), 
 
 Nay, fay not fo. I think he is with you. 
 
 tell him I have fat thefe three long hours. 
 Counting the weary beatings of the clock, 
 Which flowly portion'd out the promis'd time 
 That brought him not to blefs me with his fight. 
 If he is well, w^hy does he thus forget ? 
 
 And if he is not, as I fear he is not, 
 
 Ttli me the worif, and let me be with him 
 
 To fmooth his couch and raife his fickly head. 
 
 COUNT ZATERLOO ( afide to Bernard). 
 Tell her it is unfeemly for a mother 
 To run about like a new foohili wife. 
 
 BERNARD. 
 
 If you complain thus m.ovingly, fair widow^ 
 A¥e iliall believe you feek a fecond hufband 
 In lieu of your good iow \ and by my truth 
 It. were a better errand. 
 
 COUNTESS ZATERLOO. 
 
 O bafe of thought, as mod unblelt of fpeech ! 
 My fon is not with you : it cannot be : 
 
 1 did him wrong to feek him in fuch company. 
 
ATRAGEDY. 21 
 
 BEP^.NARD (f peaking loud after her as foe 
 retires from the door.) 
 
 Not far from hence, there is a nightly rneeiing 
 Of worthy, fober, well-difpofed folks. 
 Who once a week do oiler up their prayers 
 And chant mofl faintly hyrnns till morning dawn, 
 It is more likely you will find him there. 
 
 (0 nines laughing.) 
 
 COUNT ZATERLOO. 
 
 She's gone. 
 
 CtRNARD. 
 
 Yes, yes ; come from thy hiding place, 
 
 COUNT ZATERLOO. 
 
 Now what a mod unreafonable woman ! 
 Thinks file, thus ripen'd to thefe manly years. 
 That I mud run whene'er my hnger aches 
 To lean my filly head upon her lap ? 
 'Tis well I have no wile. 
 
 BERNARD. 
 
 Ay, {o it is. 
 There is no pleafmg thofe high legal dames 
 With endlefs claims upon a man's regard : 
 Heaven fave us from them all ! 
 
 COUNT ZATERLOO. 
 
 Well, this I drink to precious hbertv : 
 
 C3 
 
22 R A Y N E R: 
 
 He IS a fool indeed who parts vv^ith that. 
 
 (A loud voice and bujlling heard without.) 
 What's this comes next to plague us ? 
 
 BERNARD. 
 
 'Tis MIra's voice. 
 
 COUNT ZATHRLQO. 
 
 Haft thou not fent to fay, that urgent bus'nefs 
 Detains^ me from her banquet ? 
 
 BERNARD. 
 
 I have ; I fent to her a written meifage. 
 
 COUNT ZATERI.00.. 
 
 Keep fad the door and I will (land conceal'd. 
 (Conceals himfelf^ and Mira appears thro' the 
 
 latticed door.) 
 
 MIRA (without). 
 Where is Count Zaterloo ? Let me pafs on. 
 
 BERNARD. 
 
 Affairs of greateft confequence detain him. 
 My beauteous Mira ; and I needs mud fay 
 
 That now you may not pafs. 
 
 He's much concern' d : early upon the morrow 
 He will be with you. 
 
 MIRA. 
 
 Upon the morrow ! prate not thus to me ! 
 He fliall to-iiight go with me vyhere 1 lift, 
 
A T R A G E D Y. 2^ 
 
 Or never fee my face again. To morrow ! 
 Open the door I fay ! this weakly barrier 
 Shall not oppofe my way. 
 
 C Beating violently agahift the door,) 
 
 COUNT ZATERLOO ( afide io Bernard). 
 Faith I believe we muft e'en let her in. 
 She may do fome rafh thing, if we perfifi:. 
 
 (_Bernard unbolts the door ; Zaterloo comes from 
 his concealment ; and enter WAx-^^fuperbhj d.rcfs\l^ 
 and in a violent pajj'ion. J 
 
 IV! IRA. 
 
 Is this the way yon keep your proniifes ? 
 Is this yqur faith -? is this your gallantry ? 
 
 COUNT ZATER.LOO. 
 
 Mira, my gentle love, I piav thee hear me ! 
 
 I fent to tell thee bus'nefs of G:re-at moment. 
 
 MIRA. 
 
 Yes, yes ! I have receiv'd your fcurvy meffage, 
 And well 1 know that ev'ry paltry matter 
 |s caufe fufiicient for neglecting me. 
 
 COUNT ZATERLOO. 
 
 Thou know'H to be from thee is painful to me. 
 
 MIRA. 
 
 So it fiiould feem, by taking fo much care 
 To comfort ye the while. ( pt;iniin^ to the zvine^^e.J 
 Ifou do yoiar bus'acfs jovially, methinks, 
 
 C 4 
 
'U R A Y N E R : 
 
 COUNT ZATERLOO. 
 
 Thou art too warm : accufe me as thou wilt 
 Of aught but want of love. 
 
 MIRA. 
 
 s 
 
 O thou deceitful man ! I know thee well : 
 Thou talk'fl of love and thou wouldft break my 
 heart. 
 
 COUNT ZATERLOO. 
 
 Indeed I am to blame, my gentle love ; 
 Yet be not thus : in token of forgivenefs 
 This friendly cup receive, and fmile upon me. 
 coffering /jer a cup^ which JJje dajhes to the ground. J 
 
 MIRA. 
 
 Off with thy hateful gifts ! nought from thy hands 
 Will I receive ; I fcorn thy offering. 
 Ev'n the rich robe thou had fo often promis'd me: 
 Ay and fo oft forgot, fo I mud call it, 
 I would now fcorn, fince thou doff flight my love. 
 
 COUNT ZATERLOO. 
 
 Indeed, my Mira, thou fhalt have that robe 
 Before two days be pad : I fwear to thee. 
 Then do not look fo frowningly, my love ; 
 I know thou hall a foft releming nature \ 
 Smile my forgivenefs. 
 
 MIRA. 
 
 O thou provoking man ! thou know'fl full well 
 
A TRAGEDY. 
 
 25 
 
 It IS thyfelf and not thy gifts I prize : 
 Thou know 'ft too well how my fond doating heart 
 Is moved with the foft witch'ry of thy tongue ; 
 Yet thou wilt vex me thus, and break my heart. 
 Oh ! 'tis too much .! Cpreiending to hurji into tears,) 
 
 COUNT ZATERLOO. 
 
 I cannot fee thee weep : what would'fl thou 
 have ? 
 
 MIRA. 
 
 I will have nought, unlefs you go with me. 
 
 COUNT ZATERLOO. 
 
 I cannot now, for I have urgent bus'nefs. 
 
 MIRA. 
 
 Then (lay, and never fee my face again. 
 O that fome friendly hand would end my days. 
 Since I have lived to fee me thus defpis'd. 
 
 COUNT ZATERLOO (ofidc to Bernard^. 
 Bernard, I think I mufl e'en go with her. 
 See thou to Rayner : I will foon return. 
 {Aloud,) Then let us go, my love, thou dofl com- 
 pel me. 
 Thy hand, fv/eet Mira. (Exeunt Zaterloo and^Vm,) 
 
 BERNARD. 
 
 Well, gentle friends, it is blefl liberty 
 Our noble chief enjoys. I muft to Rayner. 
 
26 R A Y N E R : 
 
 Stay if you will, and keep ye merry here, 
 (Omnes.) No, we are tir'dj we will retire to re(l, 
 
 (Exeunt^ 
 
 SCENE II. Rayner's Lodgings, 
 
 Enter rayner alone, 
 
 RAYNER. 
 
 Be (IIII5 ye idle thoughts that tofs me thus. 
 Changing like refllefs waves, but ever dark ; 
 Or one of you above his feilov/s rife. 
 And bear a ileady rule. Ad verity ! 
 Thou*ft come upon me like an ambuili'd foe 
 In armed ftrengh. If I had markM thy courfe, 
 1 might have girt myfelf for thine approach, 
 While dillant ilill, and met thee like a man. 
 But when new-fetter'd in a lover's bonds, 
 And dazzled too with hope's deceitful brightnefs, 
 Canvft thou like a thick cloud of defart fand, 
 And in dark night o'ervi/helm'd me : deepeil: night. 
 Thro' which no waking vifion ever gleams, 
 Save thy grim vifage only, loathly want, 
 In all thy varied forms of mifery. 
 My night, my day dreams, ah ! how are ye changed. 
 Since in the new-betrolh'd, the lover's fancy, 
 Ye v/ove your flieeny maze of mingled thoughts. 
 Like fparkling dew-webs in the early San 1 
 
 (after a paufe,) 
 Elizabeth ! methinks ev'n now I fee her. 
 As in the horrors of my lad: night's dream. 
 When, after followioi?. her thro' flood and fire, 
 
A TRAGEDY. 
 
 '1 
 
 She turn'd to me, and her weak arms Rretch'd 
 
 forth. 
 But ah ! how changed, how pale, and fpent, an4 
 
 keen! 
 As If already blighting poverty. 
 That portion which her love mufl fliare with me. 
 Had marr'd — ceafe, ceafe, bafe thought, it fliall not 
 
 be! 
 
 (Enter Herman ^d;ltb a hiapfack on his bachy 
 as if prepared for a journey.) 
 What, my good Herman, art thou ^^o foon ready ? 
 
 HERMAM. 
 
 Yes, my dear miifler, but if you think It too foon, 
 I will not go to-day. Nay if it were not that you 
 force me to go, I fhould as foon have thought of 
 deferting my friend (pardon my boldnefs, fir) In a 
 wild wood amongfl favages, as leaving you here in 
 this ftrange place in the (late you are in at prefent. 
 Pardon my boldnefs, fir. 
 
 RAYNER. 
 
 Thou had no boldnefs to pardon, Herm^an : thou 
 art well entitled to call thyfelf my friend ; there is 
 not one amongil thofe who have borne that name, 
 who would have done more for me than thou hail 
 done. 
 
 HERMAN^ 
 
 Ah fir I 
 
 RAYNER ( affuDiing a look of cbeerfidnefs), 
 Fy, do not look fo fadly upon me^ man \ thanks 
 
28 R A Y N E R: 
 
 to thy good nurfmg and the good broth thou hafl 
 made me, I am getting ftrong again : and as for the 
 ftate of mv coffers, for which thou fo much coii- 
 cerneft thyfelf, do not let that didurb thee. My 
 tide of means is, to be fure, pretty well ebb'd juft 
 now ; bat fome wind or other v/ill fjDring up to fet 
 it a flowing again, hi the mean time thou knoweil 
 I would travel alone : perhaps I may ramble about 
 a little while myflerioully, like the wandering Jew 
 or fome of thofe lonely philofophers which thy old 
 (lories tell thee about, and there is no knowing 
 what I may fmd out to do me good. The philofo- 
 pher's flone, thou knoweil, may as well fall into my 
 hands as thofe of any other wanderer, fo pray thee, 
 man, dont look fo ruefully upon me. 
 
 HERMAN. 
 
 Ah, my dear mader ! there is fomething here that 
 hangs heavy on my heart, and fays, if 1 leave you 
 now, fome evil will befal you : I befeech you let me 
 flay with you, I iliall hnd fomething to do in this 
 town, and 1 can — - 
 
 RAYNER. 
 
 No, no, no ! Speak of this no more-— we have 
 argued this point already. And what is this which 
 thou puttell dowai fo ilyly upon the table? (taking 
 lip a link packet which Herman has put fecrctly upon 
 the tabic) Ha ! the jewels I have given thee in room 
 of thy v/ages ! out upon it ! thou wilt make me 
 angry with thee now, and it grieves me to be iingry 
 
ATRAGEDY. 29 
 
 With thee. Put it up, put it up : I command thee 
 to do it ; and thou knowell I have not often uied 
 this ftern word. 
 
 HERMAN. 
 
 O no, fir ! You have not indeed ufed it ; and I 
 iliall never meet with another mafter hke you. 
 
 RAYNER. 
 
 Thou wilt meet, I hope, my dear Herman, with 
 a far better mafter than I have been to thee, though 
 not with one for whom thou wilt do fo much kindly 
 fervice as thou haft done for nie ; and for this caufe 
 perhaps, thou wilt not love him fo much. God 
 profper thee for it, v/herever thou goefl !•— Take 
 this embrace and bleiFmg for all thou hail done for 
 me. Farewel i farewel 1 thou muft de gone now : 
 indeed thou mufi:. God blefs thee, my good Herman. 
 (Fujhing Herman gently off the ftage^ ivho 
 wipes his eyes andfeenu unvjilUng to go. J 
 
 Exit Herman. ) 
 
 RAYNER faIo?ieJ, 
 Now am I left alone : there's no one near me 
 That e'er hath loved or cared for me. Methinks 
 1 now can better look i'th' furly face 
 Mine alter'd (late, and bear to be in want. 
 I am alone, and I am glad of it. 
 Alas ! chang'd heart of mine ! v/hat is that (late 
 Which gives to thee fuch thoughts ?— Elizabeth^ — 
 At it again 1 This flrong idea ftill 1 
 
56 R A Y N E R : 
 
 I am diftracled when I think of this, 
 Therefore I mud not, if I would be honed. 
 Thofe men — or are they men or are they devils ? 
 With whom I met lafl night ; they've faflen'd oil 
 
 me. 
 Fell thoughts, which, tho' I fpurn theni, haunt me 
 
 ftill. 
 Would I had never met them ! 
 Here comes my landlord wath his furly face 
 Of debts and claims, and ev'ry irkfome thing. 
 (Enter Landlord ivitb a letter.) 
 Good morrow. Landlord. 
 
 LANDLORD. 
 
 1 thank you, fa* ; I am glad to hear you call me 
 Landlord, for I began to be afraid you had miflaken 
 me for your Hofl. 
 
 RAYNER. 
 
 I underftand you well enough, and indeed I have 
 proved your patience, or rather your impatience^ 
 much longer than 1 wlflied. You have a letter in 
 your hand. 
 
 LANDLORD f giving it J. 
 There, Sir ; if it bring you the news of any good 
 luck, I iliall be glad of it. 
 
 RAYNER (agitated J* 
 
 From Elizabeth. — Good morning — good morn- 
 ing to you. 
 
A TRAGEDY. 31 
 
 LANDLORD. 
 
 Read it, fir, and fee if it bring you any good 
 news ; it is time now to look for fome change in 
 your favour. 
 
 RAYNER. 
 
 I cannot open it whilft thou art here. Have the 
 goodnefs at ieafl not to (land fo near me. 
 
 LANDLORD. 
 
 So I mud not occupy a place in my own houfe, 
 forfooth, for fear of orFending the good folks who 
 do me the honour to hve in it. (retires to the bottom 
 of the Jl age muttering to himfelf,) 
 
 RAYNER (after opening the letter with great emotion 
 
 and reading it), 
 
 O what is this ! 
 
 Abandoned by the friend with whom fiie liv'd. 
 And coming here to join me v/ith all fpeed ! 
 O God ! O God ! (fu-iks dozvn upon a chair m 
 
 njiolent agitation.) 
 
 Landlord. (rim7ii?ig up to hiinj. 
 What is the matter now ? 
 
 RAYNER. 
 
 EegonCj begone 1 I cannot anfwer thee. 
 
If 
 
 a It A Y N E H; 
 
 Enter count zaterloo". 
 
 COUNT ZATERLOO. 
 
 Ha, Rayner ! how is*t with thee ? thou look'il 
 
 wildly. 
 ('7i Landlord.) Speak to mc, friend : he heeds not 
 
 what I fay : 
 Has any new misfortune happen'd to him ? 
 
 LANDLORD. 
 
 I fear there has, fn-. 
 
 COUNT ZATERLOO. 
 
 Roufe thee up, brave Rayner, 
 A friend is come to thee. 
 
 RAYNER (Jiarting up J , 
 
 Ha, is it thee ? 
 Com'fl: thou upon m.e now, my tempter ? now, 
 Ev'n in my very moment of diflradion ? 
 Thou know'ft thy time : fome fiend has whifper'd 
 
 to thee. 
 Ay, ay 1 fay what thou wilt. 
 
 COUNT ZATERLOO. 
 
 Thou'rt furely mad ; I came not, on my word. 
 To fay aught to thee which an honefl ear 
 Might not receive ; nor will I even fpeak^ 
 Since it fo moves thee ■ 
 
 2 
 
A T R A G E D Y. 33 
 
 RAYNER. f interrupting him eagerly). 
 Ah, but thou mufl ! 
 Thou mun: fpeak that, which, in its darkefl hour, 
 Pufh'd to extremity, 'midil ringing dizzinefs 
 The ear of defperation doth receive, 
 And I mufl liften to it. 
 
 COUNT ZATERLOO. 
 
 What, fay 'ft thou fo ? 'Tis well (afide)^ but be 
 more prudent. 
 We are o'erheard. ( looking fufpicioufly to Landlord, 
 
 who has retired a few paces behind,) 
 Come with me to my lodgings ; 
 There wait my friends; all things fhali be concerted : 
 Come with me initantly ; the time is precious. 
 
 RAYNER (in a tone of defpair^ clafping his hands 
 
 vehemently ) , 
 Ay, ay ! I'll go with thee. 
 
 (Exeunt Count Zaterloo and Rayner : 
 Manet Landlord. 
 
 LANDLORD ( coming forward). 
 What's this I've overheard ? Is this devil now 
 going to tempt the poor diftrefled young man to do 
 fome foul deed in his necefTity ? — I have tempted 
 him too, with my hard-hearted murmuring about 
 the few wretched pounds that he owes me. I'll 
 run after him and fay, I don't care whether he pay 
 me or not. (running to the door and then (lopping 
 
 D 
 
34 R A Y N E R : 
 
 Jhort.) No, no ! foftly, foftly ! I dare fay it is only 
 fome fharping bufinefs they have got on hand, fuch 
 as needy Gentlemen are fometimes forced to follow; 
 I have got my confcience newly cleared off at con- 
 feffion lad week, and I am to make an offering next 
 holy-day to the fhrine of our patron St. Bernard ; 
 this is no time, goodfooth, to lofe fuch a fum upon 
 fcruples. (Exit. 
 
 END OF THE FIRST ACT. 
 
ATRAGEDY. 35 
 
 ACT 11. 
 
 SCENE I. A wood: dark ?iighf, with a pale gleam 
 of dijiant lightning feen once or twice on the edge 
 of the horizon. Advancing by the bottom ofthefiage^ 
 a few moving lights^ as if from lanthorns^ are feen, 
 and at the fame time fever al fignal calls ayid loud 
 whiftles are heard ^with the diftant anfzver returyied 
 to them fro?n another part of the wood : Enter 
 Count Zaterloo, Rayner, Sebaflian, and others of 
 the band^ armed ^ and a few of them bearing in their 
 hands dark lanthorns. It is particularly requejled 
 f this play jhould ever be acled^ that no light may 
 be permitted upon the fl age but that which proceeds 
 from the lanthorns only, 
 
 ' COUNT ZATERLOO (to Sebafllaii). 
 
 They muft be near : didft thou not hear their 
 call ? 
 
 SEBASTIAN. 
 
 Methought 1 did ; but who in this wild wood 
 May credit give to either eye or ear ? 
 How oft we've been deceived with our own voices. 
 From rocky precipice or hollow cave, 
 'Midft the confufed found of ruftling leaves. 
 And creaking boughs, and cries of nightly birds. 
 Returning feeming anfwer ! 
 
 COUNT ZATERLOO. 
 
 Rayner, where flandeft thou ? 
 
 D 2 
 
36 R A Y N E Rs 
 
 RAYNER. 
 
 Here, on thy left. 
 
 COUNT ZATERLOO. 
 
 Surely thefe wild fcenes have depriv'd thy tongue 
 Of fpeech. Let's hear thy voice's found, good man. 
 To fay thou art alive. Thou'rt marvellous filent : 
 Didit thou not alfo hear them ? 
 
 RAYNER. 
 
 I know not truly if I did. Around me. 
 All feems like the dark mingled mimicry 
 Of fev'rifh Deep ; in which the half- doubting mind, 
 Wilder'd and weary, with a deep-drawn breath. 
 Says to itfelf, " Shall I not wake ?" 
 
 COUNT ZATERLOO. 
 
 Fy, man ! 
 Wilt thou not keep thy foldier's fpirit up ? 
 To-morrow's fun will be thy waking time, 
 And thou wilt wake a rich man and a free. 
 
 RAYNER. 
 
 My waking time ! — no, no ! I muft fleep on. 
 And have no w^aking, 
 
 COUNT ZATERLOO. 
 
 Ha ! does thy mind mifgive thee on the brink ? 
 
 RAYNER. 
 
 What pafTes in my mind, to thee is nothing, 
 
 7 
 
A T R A G E D Y. 37 
 
 If my hand do the work that's faften'd on me. 
 Let's pafs to it as quickly as thou wilt, 
 And do not fpeak to me. 
 
 Enter Bernard and others^ armed^ &c. 
 
 COUNT ZATERLOO. 
 
 Well met, my friends ! well met ! for we 
 defpair'd 
 Of ever feeing you. 
 
 SEBASTIAN. 
 
 Yet we have heard your voices many times, 
 Now calling us on this fide, now on that, 
 As tho' you had from place to place ftill Ikipp'd, 
 Like Will o'the Wifp, to lofe us on our way. 
 
 BERNARD. 
 
 We've far'd alike : fo have we thought of you. 
 
 COUNT ZATERLOO. 
 
 Have you difcover'd aught of thofe we feek ? 
 
 BERNARD. 
 
 No ; all is flill, as far as we have travers'd : 
 No gleaming torch gives notice from afar. 
 Nor trampling hoofs found on the diilant road. 
 
 COUNT ZATERLOO. 
 
 Then mufl we take again our fev'ral routs. 
 That haply we may learn, ere he approach^ 
 
 D3 
 
38 R A Y N E R; 
 
 What ftrengh we have to face, and how he travels : 
 And that we may not wander thus again^ 
 This aged oak fhall be our meeting place ; 
 "Where having join'd, we'll by a fliorter compafs 
 Attack them near the centre of the wood. 
 
 SEBASTIAN. 
 
 The night grows wond'rous dark : deep-fwelling 
 gufts 
 And fultry flillnefs take the rule by turns ; 
 Whilft o'er our heads the black and heavy clouds 
 Roll flowly on. This furely bodes a llorm. 
 
 COUNT ZATERLOO. 
 
 I hope the devil will raife no tempeft now. 
 To fave this child of his, and from his journey 
 Make him turn back, crofling our fortunes. 
 
 BERNARD. 
 
 Fear not ! 
 For, be the tempefl of the devil's raifmg. 
 It will do thee no harm. To his good favour 
 Thou haft (wrong not thy merit) claims too ftrong, 
 
 COUNT ZATERLOO. 
 
 Then come on, friends, and I fhall be your 
 warrant ! 
 Growl Iky and earth and air, ne'er trouble ye ; 
 They are fecure who have a friend at court. 
 
 8 (ExeunU 
 
ATRAGEDY. 39 
 
 SCENE II. A different part of the wood ^ wild and 
 fa-vage : the Scent Jlill darken' dy and a Jlorm of 
 thunder and lightnings accompanied with haiL 
 
 Enter rayner, 
 
 RAYNER. 
 
 I know not where thefe men have fhelter'd them, 
 I've mifs'd their, fignal : this loud flunning din 
 Devours all other founds. Where fhall I go ? 
 Athwart this arch of deep embodied darknefs. 
 Swift fhiv'ring lightnings glare, from end to end 
 Mantling the welkin o'er in vivid flames ; 
 Or from aloft, like fheeted catarads 
 Of liquid fire, feem pour'd. Ev'n o*er my head 
 The foft and mifly-textur'd clouds feem chang'd 
 To piles of harden'd rocks, which from their bafe. 
 Like the up-breaking of a ruin'd world, 
 Are hurl'd with force tremendous. Patt'ring hail 
 Beats on my flirinking form with fpiteful pith : 
 Where (hall I (helter me ? Ha ! thro' the trees 
 Peers, near at hand, a fmall but fettled light : 
 I will make quickly towards it ; perhaps 
 There may be fome lone dwelling in the wood. ' 
 
 (Exit. 
 
 SCENE III. The infide of a cave : an Old man 
 difcover'd fitting by a fmall table made of coarfe 
 planks y with a lamp burnmg dimly upon it : th^ 
 thunder heard fi ill very loud, 
 
 OLD MAN. 
 
 Doth angry heav'n flill roll its loudefc peal 
 
 P4 
 
A^ R A Y N E R : 
 
 O'er i\i^ unblefl head ! Ay, thro' its deaf'ning roar 
 
 I hear the blood-avenging Spirit's voice. 
 
 And, as each furious turmoil fpends its (Irength, 
 
 Still founds upon the far-receding florm 
 
 Their diilant growl. 
 
 'Tis hell that fends its fire and devils up 
 
 To lord it in the air. The very wind, 
 
 Rifing in fitful eddies, horribly founds. 
 
 Like burils of damn'd bowlings from beneath. 
 
 Is this a florm of nature's elements ? 
 
 O, no, no, no ! the blood-avenging fpirits 
 
 Ride on the madding clouds : there is no place, 
 
 Not in the wildell den, wherein may reft 
 
 The unbleft head. f Knocking heard without.) 
 
 ' Ha ! knocking at my door 1 
 
 fPaiifes and lijiens much alarmed: knocking 
 heard Jiill louder,) 
 Say, who art thou that knock'ft fo furioufly ? 
 Think'ft thou the clouds are fparing of their din. 
 That thou muft thunder too ? Say who thou art, 
 And what thou would'ft at fuch an hour as this. 
 In fuch a place ? 
 
 RAYNER (without). 
 
 I am a lone, and tempeft-beaten traveller. 
 Who humbly begs a fhelter from the night. 
 
 OLD MAN. 
 
 Then art thou come where gueft yet never 
 enter'd. 
 
ATRAGEDY. 41 
 
 RAYNER f without), 
 
 I do not aik admittance as a gueft. 
 Would'fl thou not fave a creature from deftru^lion, 
 Ev'n a dumb animal ? unbar the door, 
 And let me lay my body under fhelter. 
 
 (Old man inakes no anfwer ; the Jlorm heard 
 very loud,) 
 
 RAYNER (without). 
 
 If thou'rt a man in nature as in voice. 
 Thou canft not fit at peace beneath thy roof. 
 And (hut a ftranger out to the rude night. 
 I would, fo circumftanced, have fhelter'd thee. 
 
 OLD MAN. 
 
 He tries to move me with a foothing voice, 
 
 C4fide.) 
 (^Aloud.) Thou art a knave ; I will not let thee in. 
 
 RAYNER (without). 
 
 Belike I am, yet do not fear my wiles : 
 All men are honed in a night like this. 
 
 OLD MAN. 
 
 Then I will let thee in : whoe'er thou art. 
 Thou haft fome fenfe, fnouldft thou lack better 
 things. (He unbars a/mail door, and Rayner 
 enters much ruffled and exhaujied by the 
 Jiorm and without his hat.) 
 
 RAYNER. 
 
 I'm much beholden to thee. 
 
42 R A Y N E R : 
 
 OLD MAN. 
 
 N05 thou art not. 
 
 RAYNER. 
 
 The violence of the night mud plead my pardon. 
 For breaking thus unafk'd upon your reft. 
 But wand'ring from my way, I know not how. 
 And lofmg my companions of the road. 
 Deep in the 'tangled wood the ftorm o'ertook me ; 
 When fpying thro' the trees this glimm'ring lamp, 
 And judging it, as now it doth appear. 
 The mid-night taper of fome holy man, 
 Such as do oft in dreary wilds like this 
 Hold their abode, I ventured onwards. 
 
 (Old Man, offering him bread and dried fruits.) 
 
 OLD MAN. 
 
 Perhaps thou'rt hungry. 
 
 RAYNER. 
 
 I thank you gratefully. 
 
 OLD MAN. 
 
 There is no need. 
 Fall to, if thou hail any mind to it. 
 
 RAYNER. 
 
 I thank you truly, but I am not hungry. 
 
 OLD MAN. 
 
 Perhaps thou'rt dainty : I've naught elfe to give 
 thee. 
 
A TRAGEDY. 4i 
 
 RAYNER. 
 
 I fhould defpife myfelf, if any food 
 Could bear fuch value in my eftimation. 
 As that it fhould to me a draw's worth feem, 
 To feed on homeliefl, or on richefl fare. 
 
 OLD MAN. 
 
 So much the better. (They fit down,) 
 
 RAYNER. 
 
 If I may guefs from all I fee around me, 
 
 The luxuries and follies of the world 
 
 Have long been banifh'd here. 
 
 (Old Man looks Jiernly at Rayner, who looks 
 
 Jixcdly upon him again ^ and both remain for 
 fome time f dent,) 
 
 OLD MAN. 
 
 Why look'ft thou fo ? 
 What is there in my face that thou would'd: fcan ? 
 I'm old and live alone : what would'fl thou know ? 
 
 RAYNER. 
 
 I crave your pardon, and reprefs all wifhes 
 That may difturb you. 
 
 OLD MAN. 
 
 The night wears on, let us both go to reft. 
 
 RAYNER. 
 
 1 thank you, for in truth I'm very tir'd. 
 
44 R A Y N E R : 
 
 OLD MAN (pointing to his couch J, 
 There is thy place. 
 
 RAYNER. 
 
 Nay, I am young; the ground fhall be my couch* 
 I will not take your bed. 
 
 (Old Man then gives Rayner a cloak^ ivhich he 
 wraps about him^ laying himfelf down in a 
 corner of the cave, Thejionn now heard at 
 a dijiance. After walking up and down for 
 fome time, the Old Man goes clofe up to 
 Rayner, who appears afleep, and looks ear- 
 neftly upon him ; Rayner opening his eyes 
 feems furprifed. ) 
 
 OLD MAN. 
 
 Be not afraid, I will not cut thy throat. 
 
 RAYNER (fiarting half up from the ground). 
 Nay, heaven fuch deed forfend ! I fear thee not: 
 I can defend myfelf. (Grafping hisfword.J 
 
 OLD MAN. 
 
 Be not offended ; but methought thy looks 
 Did feem as tho' thou wert afraid of me. 
 Reft thou in peace — reft thou in peace, young 
 
 man : 
 I would not do thee harm for many worlds. 
 
 (Rayner goes to reji again, ftill keeping his 
 drawn fword in his hand. The Old Man 
 goes to rejl likewife, hut Jhortly after fiarts 
 from his couch in great agitation,) 
 
A T R A G E D Y. 45 
 
 OLD MAN. 
 
 It is mine hour of horror : 'tis upon me ! 
 1 hear th* approaching found of feet unearthly : 
 I feel the pent-up vapour's chilly breath 
 Buril from the yawning vault : — It is at hand. 
 
 (Turning towards the door as if he faw fofiie one 
 enter,) 
 Ha 1 com'fl thou flill in white and flieeted weeds. 
 With hand thus pointing to thy bloody fide ? 
 Thy grave is deep enough in hallow'd ground ! 
 Why com'ft thou ever on my midnight reft ? 
 What do ft thou want ? If thou haft power, as 
 
 feeming, 
 Stretch forth thine arm and take my life ; then free 
 From fieftiy fears, in nature as thyfelf, 
 V\\ follow thee to hell, and there abide 
 The fearing flames : but here, upon this earth. 
 Is placed between the living and the dead 
 An awful myftery of feparation, 
 Which makes their meetingfrightfuland unhallowM. 
 (In the vehemence of his agitation he throws out 
 his arm and fir ikes it againji Rayner, who 
 alarmed at his ravings has left his rejlirig-place, 
 and Jiolcn foftly behind him.) 
 Ha ! what art thou ? (ft ar ting and turning round 
 
 to Rayner.) 
 
 RAYNER. 
 
 Nay, thou with briftling locks, loofe knockinfr 
 joints 
 
46 R A Y N E R 
 
 .Sy 
 
 And fixed eyeballs darting In their focket? 
 Who fpeak'fl thus wildly to the vacant fpace^j 
 Say rather, what art thou. * 
 
 OLD MAN. 
 
 I am a murderer, (Raynery^<:?r/j hack from him 
 
 and drops bis fword,) 
 
 Ah ! wherefore dofl thou flare fo (Irangely on mer 
 There's no blood on me now ! 'tis long fince pafl. 
 Haft thou thvfelf no crime, that thus from me 
 Thou doft in horror fiirink ? 
 
 RAYNER.* 
 
 Moft miferable man 1 
 
 OLD MAN. 
 
 Thou truly fay 'ft, for I am miferable. 
 
 RAYNER. 
 
 And what am I ? ( -^fteP a difturhed paufe.) 
 
 The ftorm did rage and bellow thro' the air. 
 And the red lightning fliiver'd : 
 No traveller would venture on his way 
 In fuch a night. — O, bleiled, blelTed ftorm ! 
 For yet it hath not been, and fl^iali be never. 
 Moft Great and Merciful ! fav'd from this gulf, 
 May I to thee look up ? — No : in the duft— 
 
 (As he hows himfelf to the earthy and is ahoiit ta 
 hicel^ the report of fire-arms is heard withmit, 
 and he J2 arts up again. J 
 'Tis done ! — O, it is done ! — the horrible aft I 
 
 (Exity heating his forehead violently*) 
 
A TRAGEDY. 
 
 OLD MAN. 
 
 What may this be ? fome band of nightly robbers 
 Is near my cave, committing violent deeds. 
 Thy light, weak flame, fhall not again betray me, 
 And lure unwelcome vifitors. (Puts out the lamp; 
 and after a dark paufe^ enter Count Zaterloo 
 Jupportiiig himfelf on Firfl Gentleman, who 
 bears a dark lantern^ which he Jets down on 
 the ground^ and fajlens the door of the cave 
 carefully behind thenu) 
 
 COUNT ZATERLOO. 
 
 I am wounded grievoufly : vv^ho would have 
 
 thought 
 Of fuch a powerful guard of armed men 
 
 Attending on his journey. He is flain : 
 
 Did'fl thou not fee him fall ? 
 
 FIRST GENTLEMAN. 
 
 Yes ; we have kill'd our bird, but loft the eggs* 
 Fortune has play'd us falfe, yet we've efcap'd : 
 Here we may reft ; this cave is tenanted 
 With fome lone being whom we may controul, 
 
 And take poiTefTion (difcovering Old Man.) 
 
 Something living here ! 
 
 What art thou ? 
 
 OLD MAN. 
 
 I am a thing no better than yourfelves. 
 
48 R A Y N E R : 
 
 FIRST GENTLEMAN. 
 
 The better then for thee that thou art fo. 
 
 COUNT ZATERLOO. 
 
 Condud me onward : I perceive an opening 
 Which leads, I guefs, to fome more clofe recefs : 
 Lay me down there for I am very faint. 
 
 FIRST GENTLEMAN. 
 
 I will obey thee, — Come thou too, old man ; 
 Not from my fight one moment mud thou budge. 
 Come on : for, mark me well, fhould'ft thou betray 
 
 us, 
 Tho' fetter'd down with chains in grated dungeons. 
 Our arms were long enough to reach to thee. 
 
 (Exeunt, 
 
 SCENE IV. Another part of the wood ; at a dif- 
 tance^ on the back ground, are difcovered two men 
 watching a dead body by the light of a torch Jluck 
 between the boughs of a tree ; the Jiage otherwifi 
 ■perfectly dark. 
 
 Enter gob us on the front of the fl age, 
 
 GOBUS. 
 
 I fear they will all efcape from us amongft thefs 
 'tangled paths and vile perplexing thickets. A man 
 cannot get on half a dozen paces here but fome 
 curfed clawing thing catches hold of him, and 
 when he turns round to collar his enemy, with a 
 good hearty curfe in his mouth, it is nothing but a 
 
A TRAGEDY, 
 
 49 
 
 ihorn-bufh or a briar after all. A plague upon't ! 
 ril run no more after them if they fhould never be 
 taken.— Who's there ? 
 
 Enter a Companion. 
 
 COMPANION. 
 
 What, are you here, Gobus ? I thought you 
 had been in fearch of the robbers. 
 
 GOBUS. 
 
 So I was ; but what does it fignify ? they have all 
 got the flart of us now, and we can fcarcely ex- 
 pert they will have the civility to wait till we come 
 up v/ith them. 
 
 COMPANION. 
 
 Ay, Ay, Gobus, that is a lazy man's argument. 
 Why, there was one of them feen by Bertram not 
 five minutes fmce, with his head uncovered, {talk- 
 ing ftrangely amongft the trees like a madman, and 
 he vows he will follow the fcent through every path 
 of the wood but he will have him., either alive or 
 dead. 
 
 GOBUS. 
 
 But if he be a young flout robber, he may knock 
 Bertram on the head in the mean time, and relieve 
 him from the obligation of keeping his vow. 
 
 COMPANION. ' 
 
 Never fear that : his bugle-horn is by his fide, 
 and as foon as he comes up with him he will give 
 
 E 
 
50 R A Y N E R : 
 
 bis coinpauions notice, and they will run ta his* 
 affi (lance. 
 
 GOEUS. 
 
 Well, well, let them manage it the beft way they 
 can, and let us join our friends yonder, who keep 
 watch by the body ; there is good (lore of dried 
 flicks in that corner, we may make a fire and warm 
 ourfelves till they return. 
 
 (Horn heard without* J 
 
 COMPANION. 
 
 Ha! there is the liiniaL and clofe at hand too. 
 He has caught his man and wants afliflance ; let 
 us run to him, or the villain will efcape. » 
 
 f Exeunt Companion ^?2<i Gobus, who follows 
 rather unwillingly, whiljl the men who were 
 watchiiig the body run eagerly to the front of 
 theftage.) 
 
 FIRST MAN. 
 
 It founded to the right hand of us ; let us ilrike 
 into this path. (Horn founds again^) 
 
 SECOND MAN. 
 
 Ay, there it founds again ; it is to this hand of 
 us, but it is fo dark there is no findipg our way. 
 
 FIRST MAN. 
 
 We have been fo long by the torch-light that 
 the darknefs is darker to us : run back and 
 
A T RAGE Dr. 51 
 
 fetch the light with thee. (Se'veral other attend- 
 ants fro?n differ C7it parts of the wood run acrofs 
 the Jlage^ calling to one another with great 
 eagernefsy whiljl the Second Man running 
 hack again to the bottom of the Jlage^Jnatches 
 the torch from the tree^ and comes forward 
 with it. 
 
 Enter Bertram, Gobus, and others^ with Rayner 
 
 as their prif oner,) 
 
 GOB us ( [peaking as they enter). 
 Here is light ! here is hght, friends ! bring him 
 iiear it, I pray you, that we may fee what kind of 
 a fifh wx have caught in our net. Ay, ju(l as I 
 faid now, as hang'd a looking villain as ever 
 fcowl'd thro' "the s^rates of a dunreon. See what 
 
 o o 
 
 a wild murderous look he has with his eyes ! this 
 is the very man that did the deed I warrant ye. 
 Let us pull the cords falier round his arms tho': if 
 he get one of his mifchievous hands loofe again ^ 
 there is no knowing which of our brains he may 
 knock out firit. 
 
 FIRST MAN. 
 
 It will never be thine, I am fure, thou'rt always 
 fafe when the knocking out of brains is going on* 
 
 GOBUS. 
 
 As I'm a fmner he'll get one of his hands loofe 
 if we do not take care of him* (Attempting to 
 tighten the cords round Rayner'j- arms,) 
 E2 
 
5^ R A Y N E R: 
 
 BERTRAM f putting him away with indignation' J. 
 
 For fliame, man, he is bound tight enough ; I 
 will not fuffer thee to lay a finpjer upon him : and 
 as for the hang'd face thou talk'il of, alack a day! 
 it goes to my heart to fee liim, fuch a goodly-look- 
 ing gentleman, for fuch I'll be fworn he is. 
 
 . GOB us. 
 
 Ay, no doubt ! it is ever thus with thee. Thou 
 did'H: never in thy life fee a thief go to the gal- 
 lows without crying out, " alack a day ! v/hat a 
 line looking fellow it is I" Ay, and if he could but 
 make fnift to howl out half a verfe of a pfalm along 
 with his father confeifor, thou v>^ert fure to knotch 
 him down upon thy holiday tables as one of the 
 new made faints. Ay, there be no fuch great 
 faints now-a-days as thofe who pafs, with the help 
 of a Dominican, thro' the hangman's hands to the 
 other world ; he beats your pope and your cardi- 
 nals all to nothing in fmuggling a fmner cleverly in 
 by the back door to heaven. 
 
 BERTRAM. 
 
 So much the better for thee ; it is the only 
 chance thou haft of ever getting there. — Stand off, 
 I fay (^pujhing Gobus azvay\ and do not ftare thus 
 upon the prifoner ! art thou not afham'd to ftare in 
 an unhappy man's face after this faftiion ? we don't 
 know what hard fate may have brought him into 
 thefe circumftances (to the attendants). Move on : 
 we are lofmg time here. 
 
A T R A G E D Y. 53 
 
 GOBUS. 
 
 What, will you not pinion him more clofely ? 
 
 BERTRAM. ' 
 
 No, beafl! I would rather flea the ikin ofF that 
 fool's back of thine than gall a hair's breadth of his 
 body' in a foftened voice to Rayner). Speak, Sii', 
 if the rope hurts your arms ; we will not ufe you 
 cruelly. 
 
 RAYNER. 
 
 What did'fl thou fay to me ? was there kindnefs 
 m thy voice ? 
 
 BERTRAM. 
 
 Yes, Sir, there was kindnefs In it. Do the 
 ropes hurt your arms ? if they do we will loofen 
 them a little. 
 
 RAYNER. 
 
 I wift not that my arms were bound : but if thou 
 haft any kindnefs in thee, give me a drink of water 
 when thou can'ft get it, for my mouth is very 
 parched. 
 
 BERTRAM. 
 
 Yes, Sir, that you fhall not want, tho' I fhould 
 pay gold for it.— Move on, comrades : the night 
 is far advanced, and we muft guard the prifoner and 
 the dead body of our mafter back to the city before 
 the morning break. 
 
 C Exeunt.) 
 
 END OF THE SECOND ACT. 
 
 E3 
 
54 K. A Y N E R 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 A fpaclous court with a magnificent building in frmt : 
 
 a great concourfe of people are difcovered as if 
 
 'waiting in expedation of fonie fight, 
 I 
 
 FIRST CROWD. 
 
 1 HE court is marvelloufly long of breaking up ; 
 I'm tir'd of waiting ; and yet I don't like to lofe 
 the fight, after having flay'd fo long for it. 
 
 SECOND CROWD. 
 
 I fear it will go hard with the young man, 
 
 THIRD CROWD. 
 
 1 fear it will, poor gentleman ! 
 
 WOMx\N CROWD. 
 
 Ah j poor young man ! it is an awful end, 
 
 SECOND CROWD. 
 
 Ay, I remember well the laft criminal that was 
 condemned here ; a flrong-built man he was, tho' 
 fomewhat up in years. O, how pale he look'd as 
 they led him out from court ! I think I flood upon 
 this very fpot as he paffed by me \ and the fixed 
 
A T R A G E D Y. 55 
 
 ftrong look of his features too — It was a piteous 
 fight ! 
 
 THIRD CROWD. 
 
 Ah, man ! but that was nothing to the execution. 
 I paid half a dollar for a place near the fcafFold ; and 
 it would have made any body's heart drop blood 
 to have feen him when he lifted up the handker- 
 chief from his eyes, and took his lad look of the 
 day-lighi, and all the living creatures about him. 
 
 SECOND CROWD. 
 
 Ay, man, that a human creature fhould be thus 
 thrufl out of the world by human creatures like 
 himfelf J it is a piteous thing! 
 
 (Enter a man from the court.) 
 
 OMNES (eagerly). 
 What news ? what news of the prifoner ? 
 
 MAN, 
 
 He has jufl finifhed his defence, In which he has 
 acquitted himfelf fo nobly, fetting off his words too 
 with fuch a manly grace, that it is thought by every 
 body he will be fet free, 
 
 SECOND CROWD. 
 
 Indeed ! I fhould not have expeded this now ; 
 fpoke fo nobly fay 'It thou ? 
 
 FIRST CROWD. 
 
 Yes, yes, noble blood makes noble fpeaking. 
 
 E 4 
 
':6 R A Y N E R 
 
 o 
 
 WOMAN CROWD, 
 
 Well, and Is it not bed fo ? poor young man ! 
 Vm fure I'm glad of it. 
 
 FIRST CROWD. 
 
 And an't I fo too, milk-fac'd doll ! tho' I hate 
 to be kept fo long flaring for nothing. I wonder 
 what brought me here in a murrain to it ! 
 
 SECOND WOMAN. 
 
 La! then we {han't fee him pafs by with the 
 chains upon his legs. 
 
 V 
 
 FIRST CROWD. 
 
 No, no ! nor nothing at all. Come let me pafs, 
 I have been too long here. (Frejfing through the 
 
 crowd to get out, J 
 
 WOMAN CROWD. 
 
 O, you tread upon my toes ! 
 
 FIRST CROWD. 
 
 Devil take you and your toes both ! can't you 
 keep them out of people's way then ! 
 
 WOMAN CROWD. 
 
 Plague take it ! what had we all to do to come 
 liere like fo many fools ! 
 
 (Enter afecond Man from the court,) 
 
 gECOND CROWD. 
 
 Here comes another man from the court (calling 
 to the man). Ho, friend ! is he acquitted yet ? 
 
A T R A G E D Y. g; 
 
 SECOND MAN. 
 
 Nor, nor like to be ; the judge is jufl: about to 
 
 pronounce fentence upon him, but fomething came 
 
 fo cold over my heart I could not flay to hear it. 
 
 {Several of the ?nob climb eagerly up upon the 
 
 walls of the buildings and look in at the win' 
 
 dows,) 
 
 CROWD (below). 
 What do you fee there, firs ! 
 
 CROWD (above). 
 
 The judge is jufl rifen from hi$ feat, and the 
 folack fignal is lifted up. 
 
 OMNES. 
 
 Hufh! hufh! and let us liflen ! (Adeepfaufe,) 
 
 CROWD (above). 
 Sentence is pafl now. 
 
 CROWD (below), 
 God have mercy on him ! 
 
 THIRD CROWD. 
 
 I would not wear my head upon his fhouidei-s for 
 all the prince's coffers. 
 
 FIRST CROWD. 
 
 Alas ! poor man ! he is but a youth. 
 
jS ' . R A Y N E R 
 
 SECOND CROWD. 
 
 Yet he mull be cut off in the flower of his ciay^. 
 
 FIRST CROWD. 
 
 It is an awful thing ! 
 
 wo MAI J CROWD. 
 
 Ah ! but a youth, and a goodly-looking youth 
 too, I warrant ye. 
 
 SECOND WOMAN. 
 
 Alack a-day ! many a one falls into crimes, but 
 all do not pay the forfeit. 
 
 THIRD CROWD. 
 
 Ha ! who comes this way fo fair and fo gentle in 
 her mein ; thus tofs'd and 'tangled amidft the prelT- 
 ing crowd, like a flalk of wild flower in a bed of 
 nettles ? Come, clear the way there, and let the 
 lady pafs. 
 
 Enter Elizabeth attended by Richard, the crowd 
 
 inaking way for her^ . 
 
 ELIZABETH. 
 
 Fm much obliged to you. 
 
 RICHARD. 
 
 We thank you, good Sirs ! My miflrefs and I 
 are both ftrangers in this town, and the neareft 
 way to your befl inn, as we are told, is thro' this 
 
A TRAGEDY. 59 
 
 court ; but the crowd is fo great I think we had 
 better turn back again. 
 
 ELIZABETH. 
 
 V7hat is the meaning of this eager mukitude^ 
 So gathered round the entry to this palace ? 
 
 TPIIRD CROWD. 
 
 It is no palace, madam, but a public court : there 
 is a gentleman of noble birth who is jufl now con- 
 demned to death for murder, and we are waiting 
 to fee him led forth from his trial ; you had better 
 ftop a little while and fee the fight too, 
 
 ELIZABETH. 
 
 O, no ! Fm come here in an evil hour ! — A 
 gentleman of noble birth— Alas ! but that the crime 
 is murder 'twere moft piteous. 
 
 OMNES f eagerly J, 
 There he comes ! fee, fee ! there he comes ! 
 Enter 'Kayi^ek^ fettered and guarded ft^o?n the courts 
 foUo'-Lved by Bertram and others^ and advajices 
 Jloivly towards the front of the Jiage, the crowd 
 evening and making a lane for him on every Jide- 
 
 FlR^vT CROWD. 
 
 What a noble gait he has even in his fliackles ! 
 
 SECOND CROWD. 
 
 Oh ! oh ! that fuch a man fhould come to this I 
 
 ELIZABETH (after gazing eagerly at the diftant prl- 
 
 f oner J, 
 Merciful heaven! the form has fbrong referablance. 
 
6» R A Y N E R t 
 
 RICHARD. 
 
 Sweet miflrefs, be not terrified with forms j 
 *Tis but a diftant form. 
 
 ELIZABETH. 
 
 Ha ! then it ftrikes thee too ! — Merciful God I 
 
 RICHARD. 
 
 Patience, dear madam ! now as he advances. 
 We fhall be certified of the deception. ' 
 Rayner is not fo tall as this young man, 
 Nor of a make fo ilender ; no, nor yet 
 
 ELIZABETH. 
 
 Peace, peace ! for he advances. C Watching the 
 prifoner as he advayices with a countenance of 
 diJlraBed eagernefs^ till he comes near her ; 
 ihen^ uttering a loudJJorieky falls down^ and 
 is fupported by Richard and feveral of ths 
 crowd,) 
 
 OFFICER (conducing Rayner"). 
 What fainting maid is this obflrucls the way ? 
 JL.et not the crowd fo clofely prefs around her. 
 Open the way, and let the pris'ner pafs. 
 
 HAYNER (upon the crowd opening and dif covering 
 
 Elizabeth). 
 O, fight of mifery 1 my Elizabeth ! 
 The lafl and felled (Iroke of angry heaven 
 Falls on this curfed head, 
 
A TRAGEDY. 6i 
 
 OFFICER. 
 
 What may this mean ? let us pafs on : we flop not 
 Whatever betide. 
 
 RAYNER. 
 
 Nay, but you do : for here there Is a power 
 Stronger than law or judgment. Give me way : 
 It is permitted me by ev'ry fenfe 
 Of human fympathy, were I ev'n bound 
 With chains tenfold enlock'd. ('Be7iding over 
 
 Elizabeth.) 
 Thou loveliefi:, and thou dearefl ! O thou part 
 Of my mod inmofl fair ! art thou thus flricken ? 
 Falls this (Iroke on thee ? (Kneeling down and en- 
 deavour ing to flip-port her^ but finding bimfelf 
 prevented by his chain,) 
 Is there not ftrength in the foul's agony 
 To burft e*en bands of iron. (Trying fiirioujiy to 
 burjl his fetters^ but cannot; then with afiib* 
 dued voice) 
 Am I indeed a bafe condemned wretch. 
 Cut off from ev'ry claim and tie of nature ? 
 
 (Turning to the officer,) 
 Thou who dofl wear the law's authority, 
 May it not be permitted for the love 
 Of piteous charity ? — Shall ftrangers* hands 
 Whilft I am thus — O, do not let it be ! 
 
 OFFICER. 
 
 No, no ! move on : it cannot be permitted. 
 
di R A Y N E R ^ 
 
 RAYNER (fiercely roufedj. 
 What, iay'ft thou fo ? (Tiirnhig to the crowd.) 
 — Ye who furround me too. 
 
 Each with the form and countenance of a man, 
 Say ye 'tis not permitted ? 
 To you I do ftretch forth thefe fetter'd hands. 
 And call you men : O, let me not mifcall you 1 
 
 VOICES FROM THE CROWD. 
 
 Fie, on't [ unbind his hands, unbind his hands. 
 And we will ftand his fureties. 
 
 i&EVii: v. Ayi fiepping forward in a fuppUcat'mg pojlure 
 
 to the o^cerj. 
 Do but unbind his hands a little fpace. 
 And fhoot me thro' the head if he efcape. 
 My arm fecured him ; be my recompenfe 
 This one requefl* 
 
 OFFICER Cto Bertram). 
 Go to ; thou art a brave man but a weak one. 
 (To the guard J Move on : we halt no longer. 
 
 CROWD. 
 
 By all good faints we (land by the brave Bertram^ 
 And he fhall be unfhackled. (Menacingly,) 
 
 OFFICER. 
 
 Soldiers, prefent your mufl^ets to thefe madmen. 
 And let them fpeak ; the pris'ner halts no longer ; 
 Move on. (A tumult between the crowd and the 
 
 guards and Rayner u forced off the Jl age by 
 
 the foldlers,) 
 
A T R A G E D V. 6j 
 
 FIRST CROWD. 
 
 Shame light on fuch hard-hearted cruelty l 
 
 SECOND CROWD. 
 
 If there had been but fix of us with arms in our 
 hands he durfl not have put this affront upon us. 
 
 THIRD CROWD. 
 
 But who looks to the lady ? She Is amongfl 
 ftrangers it feems, and has only this poor old man 
 to take care of her. 
 
 OMNES. 
 
 We will take care of her then ; we v/Ill take 
 care of her : ay, and fhe fhall be waited upon like 
 an emprefs. 
 
 SECOND CROWD. 
 
 Ay, fo fhe fhall, let the cell be what it will. I 
 am only a poor cobler, God knows, yet I will pawn 
 the lad awl in my flail but fhe fhall be waited upon 
 like an emprefs. See ! fee ! fhe begins to revive 
 again. 
 
 ELIZABETH (opsuhig her eyes iviih a heavy figh). 
 Is it all vanifli'd ? 'twas a dreadful vifion ! 
 
 (Losiki?ig 071 the crozud aroimd her.) 
 O, no ! the crowd is here flill — it is real ; 
 And he is led away — horrible ! horrible ! 
 
 (Faints again ^ and is carried off the fiage by 
 Richard and the croxvd.J 
 
64 It A Y N E R ; 
 
 SCENE n. Afqiiare court ^furrounded on all fides 
 by the gloomy walls of a prfon^ the windows of 
 which are narrow and grated^ and the heads of one 
 or two of the prif oners feen looking ruefidly through 
 the grates. 
 
 Enter Hardibrand, and looks round him forfome 
 
 time without fpeaking, 
 
 HARD IB RAND. 
 
 Gloomy enough, gloomy enough in faith ! 
 Ah 1 what a wond'rous mafs of dreary walls, 
 Whofe frowning fides are reft in narrow flips 
 As I have feen full oft fome fea-worn cliff, 
 Pierc'd with the murky holes of favage birds. 
 Ah ! here the birds within are dipt o* wing, 
 And cannot fly away. 
 
 (Enter Ohio with a tankard in his hand^ crow- 
 ing the ft age.) 
 f-Iolla, my friend ! I pray thee not fo fafl ; 
 inform me, if thou can ft, where I may find 
 The keeper of the priibn, 
 
 OHIO. 
 
 Know you what prince you fpeak to ? faucy 
 
 knave ! 
 ril have thee fcorch'd and flead, and piece-mea! 
 
 torn. 
 If thou dofl call me friend. 
 
 HARDIBRAND, 
 
 Good words at leafl ; I meant thee no offence^ 
 - I fee thou had a tankard in thy hand. 
 
ATRAGEDY. 65 
 
 And will not queflion thy high dignity. 
 
 Softly y here's money for thee. (Giving him money, J 
 
 OHIO. 
 
 Silver pieces ! 
 He ! he ! he ! he ! haft thou got more of them ? 
 
 HARDIBRAND. 
 
 Nay, thou art greedy ; anfwer firft my queftion; 
 Tell me at which of all thefe gloomy doors 
 I needs muft knock to find out the chief jailor. 
 Thou look'ft like fome fetch-carry to the prifoners; 
 Doft underftand me ? 
 
 OHIO. 
 
 Ay, there's the place, go knock at yonder door, 
 
 HARDIBRAND (after knocking). 
 This door is clofe naiPd up, and cannot open, 
 
 OHIO (grinning mallcioujly ^ and pointing to another 
 
 door.) 
 
 No, thou art wrong ; it is the door hard by. 
 With thofe black portals. (Hardibrand knocks at 
 
 the other door, J 
 
 Knock a little louder. 
 
 HARDIBRAND (after hiockijig fome time J ^ 
 A plague upon't ! there is »o one within* 
 
66 R A y N E R 
 
 OHIO ^Jiill grinning malkioujly ) , 
 
 No, thou art wrong again, it is not there ; 
 It is that door upon the other fide. 
 
 C Pointing to the oppojite wall, J 
 
 HARDIBRAND. 
 
 What, doft thou jefl with me, mah'cious varlet 
 ril beat thee if thou tell'ft me falfe again. 
 
 OHIO. 
 
 Negroes be very flupid, mafler friend. 
 Enter the Keeper of the Prifon, 
 
 KEEPER (to Ohio). 
 
 Thou canker-worm ! thou black-envenom'd toadL 
 Art thou a playing thy malicious tricks ? 
 Get from my fight, thou pitchy viper, go ! 
 
 (Exit Ohio.) 
 
 HARDIBRAND. 
 
 What black thing is it ? it appears, methinks. 
 Not worth thine anger. 
 
 KEEPER. 
 
 That man, may't pleafe you, Sir, was born a prince. 
 
 HARDIBRAND, 
 
 I do not catch thy jeft. 
 
A TRAGEDY. 6^ 
 
 KEEPER. 
 
 I do not jeft, I fpeak in fober earnefi: ; 
 He is an Afric prince of royal line. 
 
 HARDIBRAND. 
 
 What fay'fl thou ! that poor wretch who fneaketh 
 yonder 
 Upon thofe two black fhanks ? (Pointing off the 
 
 KEEPER. 
 
 Yes, even he : 
 When but a youth, ftol'n from his noble parents. 
 He for a flave was fold, and many hardfhips 
 By fea and land hath pafs'd. 
 
 HARDIBRAND. 
 
 And now to be the bafe thing that he is ! 
 Well, well, proceed. 
 
 KEEPER. 
 
 At lafl a furly mader brought him here, 
 Who, thinking him unfit for further fervice. 
 As then a fefl'ring wound wore hard upon him. 
 With but a fcanty fum to bury him. 
 Left him with me. He ne'erthelefs, recovered ; 
 And tho' full proud and fullen at the firfl, 
 Tam'd by the love of wine which flrongly tempts 
 him, 
 
 He by degrees forgot his princely pride, 
 
 F2 
 
68 R A Y N E R: 
 
 And has been long eflablifhed in thefe walls 
 To carry liquor for the prifoners. 
 
 But fuch a curfed, fpite-envenom'd toad ! — 
 
 HARDIBRAND. 
 
 Out on't! thou'ft told a tale that wrings my 
 heart 
 Of royal line ; born to command, and dignified 
 By fiifferings and dangers pall:, which makes 
 The meaneft man ennobled : yet behold him ; 
 
 (Pointing off the Jlage,) 
 How by the wall he fidelong ftraddles on 
 With his bafe tankard ! — O, the fneaking varlet ! 
 It makes me weep to hear his piteous tale. 
 Yet my blood boils to run and cudgel him^ 
 But let us on our wav* 
 
 KEEPER. 
 
 You are a noble (Iranger, as I guefs. 
 And wifh to be conducted thro' the prifon.. 
 It is an ancient building of great flrength. 
 And many flrangers vifit it. ' 
 
 HARDIBRAND, 
 
 It is indeed a place of ancient note. 
 Have you at prefent many criminals 
 Within thefe walls ? 
 
 KEEPER, 
 
 Our number is, thank God ! refpedable^ 
 Though not what it has been in better days* 
 
A T R A G E D Y. 69 
 
 HARDIBRAND. 
 
 In better days ! — "Well, do thou lead the way. 
 
 fJs they are about to go off the Jiage^ they are 
 Jiopped by a voice finging from one of the 
 highejl windows,) 
 
 SONG. 
 
 Sweetly dawns the early day^ 
 Rlfe^ my hve^ and come away: 
 Leave thy grim and grated tower ^ 
 Bounding walls ^ and Jlep-dame* s lower ; 
 ^Don thy weeds and come with me^ 
 Light and happy are the free* 
 
 No fair manfion hails me lordj 
 Dainties f moke not on my board; 
 Tet full carelefs by my fide ^ 
 Shalt thou range the for eft wide; 
 Tho^ finer far the rich may be^ 
 Light and happy are the free, 
 
 HARDIBRAND. 
 
 Alas, poor foul ! I would that thou wert free ! 
 What weary thrall is this that fings fo fweetly ? 
 
 KEEPER. 
 
 A refllefs, daring outlaw ; 
 A fellow who hath aw'd the country round. 
 And levied contributions like ^ king, 
 
 F3 
 
yo R A Y N E Pv : 
 
 To feaft his jolly mates in wood and wild ; 
 
 Yea, been the very arbiter of fortune. 
 
 And as his freakifh humors bit, hath lifted 
 
 At one broad fweep the churl's fav'd flore to 
 
 leave it 
 In the poor lab'rer's cot, whofe hard-worn palm 
 Had never chuck'd a ducat 'gainfl its fellow. 
 
 HARDIBRAND. 
 
 'Tis a brave heart ! has he been long confined ? 
 But lift ! he fmgs again. 
 
 SONG. 
 
 Light on the hanging bough we'll fwing^ 
 Or range the thicket cool. 
 Or fit upon the barik andfing^ 
 Or bathe us in the pool* 
 
 HARDIBRAND. 
 
 Poor pent up wretch 1 thy foul roves far from 
 home. 
 
 SONG. 
 
 Welly good-man time, or blunt or keen, 
 Move theejiozv or take thy leifure, 
 Longcji day will bring its e*en. 
 Weary lives but run a meafure, 
 
 HARDIBRAND. 
 
 'Tis even fo, brave heart, or blunt or keen-, 
 Thy meafure has its flint. 
 
A TRAGEDY. 71 
 
 Enter Bertram fro7n one of the doors oftheprifon. 
 I think thou haft the air of an old foldier : 
 
 (To Bertram as he is hurrying pqft him, J 
 Such, without greeting, never pafs me by. 
 Ha, Bertram ! is it thee ? 
 
 BERTRAM. 
 
 What, mine old General ? 
 
 HARDIBRAND, 
 
 Yes, and mine old foldier. 
 How doft thou, man ? how has it far'd with thee 
 Since thou haft left the fervice ? 
 
 BERTRAM. 
 
 I thank your honour ; much as others find it j 
 I have no caufe to grumble at my lot. 
 
 HARDIBRAND. 
 
 'Tis well, but what's the matter with thee now ? 
 Thine eyes are red with weeping, and thy face 
 Looks ruefully. 
 
 BERTRAM. 
 
 I've been to vifit, here, a noble youth, 
 Who is condemned to die. 
 
 HARDIBRAND. 
 
 A noble youth ! , 
 
 F4 
 
72 R A Y N E R: 
 
 BERTRAM. 
 
 Yea, a foldier too. 
 
 HARDIBRAND. 
 
 A foldier ! 
 
 BERTRAM. 
 
 Ay, your honour, and the Son 
 Of a moil gallant foldier. 
 
 HARDIBRAND. 
 
 But he is innocent ? 
 
 BERTRAM. 
 
 He is condemn' d, 
 
 HARDIBRAND. 
 
 Shame on it ! were he twenty times condemned. 
 He's innocent as are thefe filver'd locks. 
 
 (Laying his hand vehemently on his head*) 
 What is his name ? 
 
 XERTRAM. 
 
 Rayner. 
 
 HARDIBRAND. 
 
 Ha ! fon to my old comrade, Rayner ! 
 Out on the fools ! 1 would as foon believe 
 That this right hand of mine had pilfer'd gold 
 
A T R A G E D Y. 7j 
 
 As Rayner's fon had done a deed of fhame. 
 Come, lead me back with thee, for I mud fee hira, 
 
 BERTRAM. 
 
 Heav'n blefs your honour ! O, if by your means 
 He might have grace ! 
 
 HARDIBRAND. 
 
 Come, let us go to him. 
 
 BERTRAM. 
 
 Not now, an' pleafe you : he is now engaged 
 With one mod dear to him. But an hour hence 
 I will conduct you to his ceil. 
 
 HARDIBRAND. 
 
 So be it. 
 Mean time, flay thou with me, and tell me more 
 Of this unhappy youth : I have a mind. 
 With the good keeper's leave, to view the prifon. 
 
 (Exeunt^ 
 
 Enter Mir a and Alice by oppofite fides ^ both muf. 
 Jted up in cloaks and their faces conceard,) 
 
 MIR A (flopping Alice). 
 Nay, glide not pad me thus with muffled face : 
 ^Tis I, a vilitor to thefe grim walls. 
 On the fame errand with thyfelf. How goes it 
 With our enthralled colleague ? doth he promife 
 Silence to keep in that which touches us 
 Of this tranfadion, for the which he's bound ? 
 
74 R A Y N E R : 
 
 ALICE. 
 
 He is but half perfuaded j go thyfelf 
 And ufe thy arts — hufh, here's a flranger near us. 
 Enter a Man who gives a letter myjlermifly to 
 Mira, and upon her making afign to him^ re- 
 tires to the bottom of the Jlage whilji jhe 
 reads it. 
 What read'ft thou there, I pray thee, that thy brows 
 Knit thus ungracioufly at ev'ry line ? 
 
 MIRA. 
 
 Know'fL thou that I muft doff my filken robes, 
 Defpoil my hair of its fair ornaments, 
 And clothe me in a gown of palmer's grey. 
 With clouted fhoon and pilgrim's flaff in hand 
 To bear me o'er rude glens and dreary waftes 
 To {hare a ftony couch and empty board, 
 All for the proving of my right true love 
 For one in great diftrefs. Ha ! ha ! ha ! ha ! 
 So doth this letter modeftly requefl: : 
 J pray thee read it. 
 
 ALICE (reading the letter), 
 " A deadly wound rankles in my fide, and I 
 have no fkllful hand to drefs it, and no kind friend 
 to comfort me. I am laid upon the cold earth, and 
 feel many wants I never knew before. If thou hafl 
 any love for me, and as thou haft often wifh'd to 
 prove that love, come to me quickly : but conceal 
 thyfelf in the coarfe weeds of a Pilgrim ; my life is 
 a forfeit to the law if any one fliould difcover where 
 
A TRAGEDY. 7^ 
 
 I am. A friend in difguife will give into thy hands 
 this letter, and conduct thee to thy miferable 
 Zaterloo." (rettirn'mg the letter,) And what fay'fl 
 thou to this ? 
 
 MIRA. 
 
 I have in truth, upon my hands already 
 Troubles enough ; this is, thou know'fl, no time 
 To take upon me ruin'd men's diflrefles, 
 
 ALICE. 
 
 But 'tis thyfelf haft brought this ruin on him : 
 *Twas thy extravagance. 
 
 MIRA, 
 
 4 
 
 Thou art a fool ! 
 His life's a forfeit to the law : 'tis time. 
 Good time, in faith 1 I fhould have done with him. 
 Why doft thou bend thefe frowning looks on me ? 
 How many in my place would for the recompence 
 Betray him to the officers of juftice? 
 But, I, thou know'ft right well, deteit all bafenefs. 
 Therefore I will not, 
 
 ALICE. 
 
 Hufh, hufh ! thou fpeak'ft too loud : 
 Some one approaches. 
 
 Enter Countess Zaterloo. 
 
 COUNTESS zaterloo Cto Mira.) 
 I pray you. Madam, pardon this intrufion ; 
 Tracing your fteps, I have made bold to fbjlow you. 
 
.^6 R A Y N E R: 
 
 I am the mother of an only fon. 
 
 Who for thefe many days I have not feen : 
 
 I know right well naught is conceal'd from you 
 
 Of what concerns him ; let me know, I pray you. 
 
 Where I may find my chisrl, 
 
 MIRA. 
 
 Madam, you fpeak to one who in his fecrcts 
 Has fmall concern. 
 
 COUNTESS ZATERLOO. 
 
 Nay, now, I pray you, do not keep it from me : 
 I come not with a parent's flern rebuke : 
 Do tell me where he is.^ for love of grace : 
 Or, if you will not, fay if he is fick, 
 Or if he is diflrefs'd with any want. 
 Do, for love's fake I I have no child but him. 
 
 MIRA (^giving her the letter)* 
 
 There, Madam ; this is all I know of him. 
 *Twas yonder flranger gave it to my hand ; 
 
 C Pointing to the man,) 
 We need not interrupt you with our prefence ; 
 And fo good day. (Exeunt Mira and Alice.) 
 
 COUNTESS ZATERLOO (after reading the letter), 
 Alas, my fon ! and art thou low and wounded ? 
 Stretch'd on the cold ground of thy hiding place 
 In want and fear ? Oh art thou come to this ! 
 Thou who didll: fmile in thy fair op'ning morn. 
 As cherut>s fmile who point the way to heaven. 
 
ATRAGEDY. 7^ 
 
 And would'fl: thou have a flranger come to thee ? 
 
 Alas ! alas ! where can thy aching head 
 
 So foftly reft as on a parent's lap ? 
 
 Yes, I will wrap me in the Pilgrim's w^eeds, 
 
 Nor ftorm nor rugged wild fliall bar my way* 
 
 And tho' declining years impair my ftrength, 
 
 Thefe arms fhall yet fupport thy feeble frame. 
 
 When fairer friends defert thee. 
 
 {To the Meflenger, beckoning him to come forward,) 
 
 Good friend, this is no place to queflion thee 1 
 
 Come with me to mv home. 
 
 (Exeunt, 
 
 jend of the third act. 
 
78 ' R A Y N E R : 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 The infide of the Prifon : Rayner and Elizabeth ar^ 
 difcovered fitting forrowfully by one another in ear^ 
 tiefl difcourfe* 
 
 RAYNER. 
 
 Thou fayed well, my fweet Elizabeth ; 
 In this I have againfl thy love offended. 
 But in the brightnefs of fair days, in all 
 The carelefs gaiety of unruffled youth. 
 Smiling like others of thy fex, I loved thee ; 
 Nor knew that thou wert alfo form'd to ftrive 
 With the braced firmnefs of unyielding virtue 
 In the dark florms of life — alike to flourifli 
 In funfhine or in fliade. — -Alas ! alas ! 
 It was the thoughts of feeing thee — but ceafe ! 
 The die is cad ; I'll fpeak of it no more : 
 The gleam which Ihews to me thy wond^'ous 
 
 excellence 
 Glares alfo on the dark and lowering path 
 That mud our way divide. 
 
 ELIZABETH. 
 
 O no ! as are our hearts, one is our way, 
 And cannot be divided. Strong affeftion 
 Contends with all things, and o'ercometh all things* 
 I will unto thee cling with flrength fo terrible. 
 That human hands the hold v/iil ne'er unlock. 
 
 6 
 
A TRAGEDY. 
 
 79 
 
 RAYNER. 
 
 Alas, my love ! thefe are thy words of woe. 
 And have no meaning but to fpeak thy woe : 
 Dark fate hangs o*er us, and we needs mud part. 
 The flrong afFedion that o'ercometh all things. 
 Shall fight for us indeed, and fhall overcome : 
 But in a better world the vantage lies 
 Which it fhall gain for us ; here, from this earth 
 We muft take different roads and climb to it, 
 As in fome pitilefs florm two 'nighted travellers 
 Lofe on a wild'ring heath their 'tangled way, 
 And meet again. 
 
 ELIZABETH. 
 
 Ay, but thy way, thy way, my gentle Rayner—- 
 It is a terrible one. 
 
 Oh flefh and blood fhrinks from the horrid pafs 1 
 Death comes to thee, not as he vifiteth 
 The Tick man's bed, pillow'd with weeping friends : 
 O no ! nor yet as on the battle's field 
 He meets the blood- warm'd foldier in his mail. 
 Greeting him proudly. — Thou muft bend thy neck. 
 This neck round which mine arms now circled 
 
 clofe 
 Do feel the loving warmth of youthful life : 
 Thou muft beneath the ftroke— O horrid ! horrid ! 
 
 RAYNER {fupporting her from finking to the ground)* 
 
 My dear Elizabeth, my mofl belov'd ! 
 Thou art affrighted with a horrid picture 
 
Bo R A Y N £ R : 
 
 By thine own fancy trac'd ; look not upon it t 
 
 All is not dreadful in the adual proof 
 
 Which on th' approach frowns darkly. Roufe thy 
 
 fpirit ; 
 And be not unto me at this dark pufli 
 My heaviefl let ; thou who fhould'ft be my flay. 
 
 fSbe groans heavily,) 
 What means that heavy groan ? Fll fpeak its mean== 
 
 And fay, that thou to nature's weaknefs haft 
 The tribute paid, and now wilt roufe thyfelf 
 To meet with noble firmnefs what perforce 
 Muft be ; and to a lorn and lucklefs man. 
 Who holds in this wide world but thou alone. 
 Prove a firm, gen'rous, and heart-buoyant mate. 
 In the dark hour. Do I not fpeak it rightly ? 
 
 ELIZABETH. 
 
 Thou dofl, thou doft ! if nature's weaknefs in me 
 Would yield to the heart's will. 
 
 (Fall'mg on bis neck in a burji of farrow.) 
 
 Enter Father Mardonio. 
 
 MARDONIO. 
 
 My children, ye have been in woeful conference 
 Too long : chide not my zeal that hither brings me 
 To break upon it. On you both be Ihed 
 Heav'n's pitying mercy ! 
 
 RAYNER. 
 
 Amen, good Father I thou doft call u^ children 
 
 % 
 
A T R A G E D Y. 8i 
 
 With a mod piteous and kindly voice : 
 Here is a daughter who in this bad world 
 Will yet remain to want a father's care ; 
 Thus let me form a tie which fhall be facred ; 
 
 (Putting Elizabeth's hand info Mardonio's.) 
 She has no parent. 
 
 Enter Keeper of the Prifon, 
 What brings thee here ? we would be left in 
 peace. 
 
 KEEPER Cto Rayner). 
 
 I am by a right noble flranger urged. 
 Who fays he has in many a rough compaign 
 Serv'd with your valiant father in the wars. 
 To let him have admittance to your prefence. 
 Bertram conduds him hither. 
 
 RAYNER. 
 
 Serv'd with mine honour'd father ! and thus cir- 
 cumdanc'd. 
 Now comes to fee his fon ! Well, be it fo : 
 This is no tune for pride to winch and rear. 
 And turn its back upon the patt'ring hail. 
 Bearing the thunder's fhock. Let it e'en be : 
 Admit him inftantly. (Calling him hack.) 
 
 — Nay, ere thou goed, 
 
 What is he call'd ? 
 
 KEEPER. 
 
 The Gen'ral Hardibrand. 
 
 G 
 
S2 R A Y N E R 
 
 RAYNER. 
 
 An honour 'd name. (Exit Keeper. 
 
 Retire, my love : (io Elizabeth.) 
 I cannot bear to have thy woes expofed 
 Before a Granger's gaze. 
 
 CSbe retires with Mardonio to an ohfcure part 
 of the Frifon at the bottom of the Stage, J 
 
 E?iter Hardibrand and Bertram. 
 
 HARDIBRAND (to Bertram : flopping foort as he 
 enters^ and gazing upon Rayner, ivho is turned 
 away from them and looking after Elizabeth. 
 It is the fon of Rayner : in his form 
 And face, tho' thus half turn'd from us, I fee 
 His father. Still a foldier and a gentleman 
 In ev'ry plight he feeni'd. A clown or child 
 Had fworn him fuch clad in a woollen rug. 
 
 C Advanci7ig to Rayner.) 
 Young foldier, I did know your gallant father ; 
 Regard me not as an intruding flranger, 
 
 RAYNER. 
 
 I thank you, courteous fir : in other days 
 Such greeting to my heart had been moft weleomc. 
 A gallant father and condemned fon 
 May in the letter'd regifters of kindred 
 Alliance have ; but in the mind's pure record,. 
 They no relation bear : let your brave friend 
 Still be to vou as one who had no fon^ 
 
 6 
 
A T RAGED Y. S3 
 
 HARDIBRAND. 
 
 No, boy ; that fentiment befpeaks thy blood. 
 Heed not thofe fetter'd hands : look in my face. 
 Look in my face with the full confidence 
 Of a brave man ; for fuch Til fwear thou art. 
 Think'fl thou that I am come to vifit thee 
 In whining pity as a guilty man ? 
 No, by the rood ! if I had thought thee fuch. 
 Being the fon of him whofe form thou wear'ft, 
 I (hould have curs'd thee. Thou by mis'ry prefs'd. 
 Haft ftrongly tempted been, I know thy ftory : 
 Bertram has told it me : and fpite of courts. 
 And black-rob'd judges, laws, and learn'd decilions^ 
 I do believe it as I do my creed. 
 Shame on them ! is all favour and refpedl 
 For brave and noble blood forgotten quite ? 
 
 RAYNER. ' 
 
 Ah, do not fear ! they will remember that. 
 And nail fome fable trappings to my coffin. 
 
 HARDIBRAND. 
 
 I would that to their grave and pompous chairs 
 Their afles' ears were nail'd ! Think they that men. 
 Brave men, for thou thyfelf — What corps I ppay 
 
 thee 
 Didft thou belong to in thy Prince's fervice ? 
 
 RAYNER. 
 
 The firft divifion of his fourth brigade 
 Was that in which 1 ferv'd. 
 
 G 2 
 
84 R A Y N E R : 
 
 HARDIBRAND. 
 
 Thou had companion been to no mean men, 
 Tliofe fix brave ofEcers of that divifion. 
 Upon the faui'd redoubt, in his lad iiege, 
 MHio did in front o' th' en'my's fierceit fire 
 Their daring lodgement make, muft needs of courfe 
 Be known to thee. 
 
 RAYNER, 
 
 I knew them v/eli ; five of them \7ere my friends* 
 
 HARDIER AND. 
 
 And not the fixth ? 
 
 RAYNER* 
 
 He was, alas 1 my greateil enemy ; 
 To him I ovve thefe bonds. 
 
 HARDIBRAND. 
 
 A curfe light on his head, brave tho' he be ! 
 
 RAYNER. 
 
 O curfe him not, for woes enough ah-eady 
 Reft on his wretched head, 
 
 (^ovAng low and putiing his hand on his head, J 
 
 HAR.DIBRAND. 
 
 Ha I' thou thvfelf,— thou wert thvfelf the fixth ! 
 Thank heav'n for this 1 Then let them if they will 
 Upon a thoufand fcaffolds take thy life, 
 
 S ' 
 
A TRAGEDY. 8^ 
 
 And fpike thy head a thoufand feet aloft ; 
 Stiii will I fay thy father had a fon. 
 
 (Rujljing into bis arms. J 
 Come to my foldier's heart, thou noble bird 
 Of a brave neft ! — Mud thou indeed be pUick'd 
 And cad to kites ? By heav'n thou flialt not die ! 
 Shall fuch a man as thou art from his pod 
 Be fham'd and pufh'd for one rafn defp'rate act ? 
 It iliali not be^ my child ! it fliall not be ! 
 
 RAYNER (fmiruigj. 
 
 In faith, good Gen'ral, could your zeal prevent it, 
 I am not yet fo tir'd of this bad world, 
 But 1 could well fabmit me to the change. 
 
 HARDIERAND, 
 
 ril With all fpeed unto the Governor, 
 Nor be difcourag'd, tho' he loudly prate 
 That grace and pardon will but leave at liberty 
 The perpetrators of fuch lawlefs deeds 
 To do the like again, v/ith fuch poor "cant, 
 
 (Elizabeth, who has been behind backs ^ Jlflcmng 
 
 eagerly to their convcrfaticn^ and Jleallng 
 
 nearer to them by degrees in her eagernefs to 
 
 hear it^ noxv riifoes forward^ and tlfrows her^ 
 
 f elf at Hardibrand'j-y^^c/.J 
 
 ELIZABETH. 
 
 We aik not liberty ; we afiv but life. 
 O grant us this, and keep us wh le they will. 
 Or as they Will. We ihall do no difqiiiet. 
 O let them grant us life, and we will blefs them ! 
 
 G3 
 
S6 R A Y N E R ; 
 
 RAYNER. 
 
 And would'ft thou have me live, Elizabeth, 
 Forlorn and fad, in lothly dungeon pent. 
 Kept from the very ufe of mine own limbs, 
 A poor, loft, caged thing ? 
 
 ELIZABETH. 
 
 Would not I live with thee ? would not I cheer 
 thee ? 
 Would'ft thou be lonely then ? would'ft thou bq 
 
 fad? 
 I'd clear away the dark unwholefome air. 
 And make a little parlour of thy cell. 
 With cheerful labour eke our Httlc means. 
 And go abroad at times to fetch thee in 
 The news and pafling ftories of the day. 
 rd read thee books : Td fit and fmg to thee ; 
 And every thing would to our willing minds 
 Some obfervation bring to cheer our hours. 
 Yea, ev'n the varied voices of the wind 
 O' winter nights would be a play to us. 
 Nay, turn not from me thus, my gentle Rayner! 
 How many fufFer the extremes of pain. 
 Ay, lop their limbs away, in lowefl: plight 
 Few years to fpend upon a weary couch 
 With fcarce a friend their fickly draughts tq 
 
 mingle ! 
 And doft thou grudge to fpend thy life with me? 
 
 RAYNER. 
 
 I could live with thee in a pitchy mine -^ 
 
A T R A G E D Y. 87 
 
 In the cleft crevice of a favage den. 
 Where coils the fnake, and bats and owlets rood. 
 And cheerful light of day no entrance finds. 
 But would'fl thou have me live degraded alfo ; 
 Humbled and low ? No, liberty or nought 
 Mult be our boon. 
 
 HARDIBRAND. 
 
 And thou fhalt have it too, my noble youth : 
 Thou haft upon thy fide a better advocate 
 Than thefe grey hairs of mine. (To Elizabeth.) 
 Blefs that fair face ! it was not made for nothing. 
 "We'll have our boon ; fuch as befits us too. 
 No, hang them if we ftoop to halving it ! 
 
 (Taking he?' eagerly by the hand*) 
 Come with me quickly ; let us lofe no time : 
 Angel from heaven thou art, and with heav'ns 
 
 power 
 Thou'lt plead and wilt prevail. 
 
 RAYNER. 
 
 In truth thou wilt expofe thyfelf, my love, 
 And draw fome new misfortune on thy head. 
 ( Endeavoiir'mg to draw her away from Hardibrand.) 
 
 ELIZABETH (to Hardibrand). 
 What new misfortune ? can they kill thee twice ? 
 We're tardy : O move quickly ! lofe no time. 
 
 N " • HARDIBRAND. 
 
 Yes, come, and Bertram here will guide our way : 
 His heart is in the caufe. 
 
 G4 
 
88 R A Y N E R : 
 
 BERTRAM. 
 
 Yes heart and foul, my Gen'ral. Would my 
 
 zeal 
 Could now make fome amends for what thofe 
 
 hands 
 Againft him have unwittingly committed. 
 O that the felled pains had fhrunk their nerves 
 Ere I had feiz'd upon him ! 
 
 RAYNER. 
 
 Ceafe, good Bertram! 
 Ceafe to upbraid thyfelf. Thou didfl thy duty 
 Like a brave man, and thou art in my mind 
 Not he who feiz'd, but he whofe gen'rous pity 
 Did, in my fallen date, firfl fliew me kindnefs. 
 
 (Bertram kiffcs his hand,) 
 Go go ! they v/ait for thee. 
 
 BERTRAM. 
 
 They fliall not wait. Would that we were 
 return'd. 
 Bearing good tidings ! 
 
 HARDIBRAND. 
 
 O fear it not, my heart fays that we fliall. 
 
 (Exeunt Elizabeth, Hardibrand and Bertram. 
 Manent Rayner and Mardonio.) 
 
 MARDONIO. 
 
 Hope oft, my fon, unbraces the girt mind. 
 
ATRAGEDY. 89 
 
 And to the conflicl turns it loofely forth. 
 Weak and divided. Tm diflurb'd for thee. 
 
 RAYNER. 
 
 1 thank thee, Father, but the crime of blood 
 Your governor hath ne'er yet pardon'd ; thoi'efore 
 Be not diflurb'd for me -, my hopes are fmall. 
 
 MARDONIO. 
 
 So much the better. Now to pious thoughts 
 We will direCL- — Who comes to interrupt us J 
 
 E/iter the Turnkey. 
 
 RAYNER. 
 
 It is the turnkey ; a poor man who, tho' 
 His Ptate in Hfe favours not the kind growth 
 Of foft affections, has fliewn kindnefs to me. 
 He vvears upon his face the aukwardnefs 
 And hcfitating look of one who comes 
 To ailv fome favour; fend him not away. 
 fTo Turnkey) What dofl thou want, good friend ? 
 
 out with it, man ! 
 We are not very ftern. 
 
 TURNKEY. 
 
 Pleafe you, it has to me long been a priv'lege 
 To fhew the curious peafantry and boors. 
 Who from the country flock o' holy days, 
 Thro' his flrait prifon bars, the famous robber. 
 That over-head is celFd ; and now a company 
 Waits here v/ithout to ftre him, but he's fuUen, 
 And will not (hc\Y himfelf. If it might pleafe you 
 
9© R A Y N E R : 
 
 But for a moment oppofite your grate 
 
 To ftand, without great wrong to any one, 
 
 You might pafs for him, and do me great kindnefs. 
 
 Or the good Father there, if he be willing 
 
 To doff his cowl and turn him to the light. 
 
 He hath a good thick beard, and a flem eye, 
 
 That would be better flill. 
 
 RAYNER (laughing J. 
 Ha ! ha ! ha ! what fay ye to it, Father ? 
 
 (Laughing again more violently than at jlrjl,) 
 
 MARDONio (turning out the Turnkey in a paffion^ 
 and returning Jternly to Rayner^. 
 What means this wild and mod unnatural mirth \ 
 This lightnefs of the foul, flrange and unfuited 
 To thy unhappy ftate ? it fhocks me much. 
 Approaching death brings naught to fcare the good, 
 Yet has it wherewithal to awe the boldefl: : 
 And there are feafons when the lightefl foul 
 Is caird on to look inward on itfelf 
 In awful ferioufnefs. 
 
 RAVNER, 
 
 Thou dofl me wrong; indeed thou dofl me 
 wrong. 
 I laughM, but, faith ! I am not light of foul : 
 And he who moil misfortune's fcourge hath felt 
 Will tell thee laughter is the child of mis'ry. 
 Ere fm brought wretchednefs into the world^ 
 The fobernefs of undifturbed blifs 
 
A T R A G E D Y, 91 
 
 Held even empire o'er the minds of men, 
 
 Like fteady funfhine of a cioudlefs Iky, 
 
 But when fhe came, then came the roaring ftorm. 
 
 Lowering and dark ; wild, changeful, and perturb'd; 
 
 Whilfl thro' the rent clouds oft times fhot the 
 
 gleam 
 More bright and po^'erful for the gloom around it. 
 E'en midft the favage ftrife of warring palTions, 
 Diftorted and fantaftic, laughter came, 
 Hafty and keen, like wild-fire in the night ; 
 And wretches learnt to catch the fitful thought 
 That fwells with antic and uneafy mirth 
 The hollow care-lined cheek. I pray thee pardon! 
 I am not light of foul. 
 
 Death is to me an awful thing ; nay, Father, 
 1 fear to die. And were it in my power. 
 By fuffering of the keeneft racking pains. 
 To keep upon me dill thefe weeds of nature, 
 I could fuch things endure, that thou would'ft 
 
 marvel. 
 And crofs thyfelf to fee fuch coward-bravery. 
 For oh ! it goes againfl the mind of man 
 To be turn'd out from its warm wonted home. 
 Ere yet one rent admits the winter's chill. 
 
 MARDONIO. 
 
 Come to my breafl:, my fon ! thou haft fubdued 
 me. C E7nbracing hinu) 
 
 And now v/e will lift up our thoughts to him 
 Who hath iji mercy faved thy hands from blood. 
 
52 R A Y N E R: 
 
 RAYNER. 
 
 Yes, in great meixy, for the which Fd bow 
 In truer thankfuhiefs, my good Mardonio, 
 Ev'ii v/ich thefe fears of nature on my mind. 
 Than for the bleiling of my fpared life. 
 Were it now proffer'd me. 
 
 (They retire into the ohfcurity of the dungeon^ at- 
 the bat torn of the ft age ^ and the Scene clofes 
 on them, J 
 
 SCENE II. A fnaJl apartment in a folitary cottage 
 in the country: Enter Count l^-dltxXoo^ fupportccl 
 by an attendant and followed by the Conntefs in the 
 dlfguife of a Pilgrim ; both of theni wearing maflis. 
 She places a pillow for his head on a couch or feck 
 chalr-i and he is placed upon it^ apparently with 
 ^ain* 
 
 couNTj:ss ZATERLoo (to Attendant), 
 There, fet him gently down ; this will fupport 
 him, 
 (To Count Zaterloo.) How art thou now ? I fear 
 
 thou'rt very faint 
 After fo long a journey. 
 (To Attendant.) We have no farther need of thine 
 
 aiTidance : 
 Thou wilt retire, but be upon the watch. 
 
 (Exit Attendant, 
 
 COUNT ZATERLOO (unmafhing). 
 Now, charming Mira, lay dlfguife afide \ 
 
A T R A G E D Y. 93 
 
 Speak thine own natural voice, and be thyfelf : 
 There is no eye to look upon us now ; 
 No more excufe for this mvderioufnefs. 
 Let me now look upon thy face and blefs it ! 
 Thou had done well by me : thcu'rt wond'rous 
 
 gentle. 
 I knew thee fair and charming, but I knew not 
 Thou wert of fiich a foft and kindly nature. 
 (The Countefs unmajks and looks at hi?n forroufully.j 
 Ha, mother ! is it you ? 
 
 COUNTESS ZATEP>.L00. 
 
 Who fhould it be ? where fliould'O: thou look for 
 kindnefs.? 
 When we are (ick where can we turn for fiiccour; 
 When we are wretched where can we complain ; 
 And when the world looks cold and fiirly on us. 
 Where can we go to m.eet a warmer eye 
 With fuch fare confidence as to a mother ? 
 The world may fcowl, acquaintance may forfake. 
 Friends may negletl, and lovers know a change. 
 But when a mother doth forfake her child. 
 Men lift their hands and cry, '- a prodigy 1" 
 
 COUNT ZATERLoo (taking hold of both her hand* 
 
 and kijjing them), 
 
 O mother ! I have been a thanklefs child ! 
 Fve given thee hoary hairs before thy time ; 
 And added v/eight to thy dechning years. 
 Who fnould have been their flay. 
 
94 R A Y N E R: 
 
 Countess zaterloo. 
 Be calm, my fon, for I do not upbraid thee* 
 
 COUNT ZATERLOO. 
 
 Wretch that I am ! I was an only fon. 
 And therefore bound by no divided tie 
 To be to thee thy hold and thy fupport. 
 I was a widow's fon, and therefore bound 
 By every generous and manly tie 
 To be in filial duty moil devoted. 
 O I have vilely done 1 I feel It now j 
 But if I live to be a man again, 
 ril prove a better fon to thee, dear mother. 
 
 COUNTESS ZATERLOO. 
 
 I know thou wilt, my dearefl Zaterloo ; 
 And do not thus upbraid thyfelf too fharply y 
 I've been a foolifli mother to thy youth. 
 But thou wilt pardon me. 
 
 COUNT ZATERLOO. 
 
 Of this no more — How came you by my letter ? 
 If you did intercept it on its way, 
 Mira is faithful ftill. 
 
 COUNTESS ZATERLOO. 
 
 It was from Mira's hand that I received it. 
 She tofs'd it at me with a jeering fmile 
 When I with anxious tears inquired for thee. 
 
ATRAGEDY. 95 
 
 COUNT ZATERLOO (rifing half from his feai in 
 
 great pajjton,) 
 
 O faithlefs, faithlefs woman ! fhe it was, 
 Who made of me the curfed thing I am ! 
 I've been a fool indeed and well requited. 
 
 Bafe, avaricious and ungrateful oh ! 
 
 (Putting his hand on his fide as if feized with 
 fudden -pain,) 
 
 COUNTESS ZATERLOO. 
 
 Such agitation fuits not with thy flate : 
 What ails thee now ? 
 
 COUNT ZATERLOO. 
 
 The pain, the pain ! it has returned again 
 With encreafed violence. 
 
 COUNTESS ZATERLOO. 
 
 God fend thee eafe ! why dofl thou look fo 
 wildlv. 
 And gralp my hand fo hard ? What is't diflurbs 
 thee? 
 
 COUNT ZATERLOO. 
 
 My time on earth is Ihort. 
 
 COUNTESS ZATERLOO. 
 
 Nay, fay not fo : thou may 'ft: recover ftilL 
 O why this feeming agony of mind ? 
 'Tis not the pain that racks thee. 
 
c)6 R A Y N E R : 
 
 COUNT ZATERLOO. 
 
 There's blood upon my head : I am accuiTed. 
 
 COUNTESS ZATERLOO. 
 
 Good heaven forfend 1 thou wand'rell in thy 
 fpeech. 
 Thy life I know Is forfeit to the law 
 By fome unlawful ad, but oh no blood ! 
 
 COUNT ZATERLOO. 
 
 O for a fliort refpite ! but 'twill not be : 
 I feel my time is near. 
 
 ^ COUNTESS ZATERLOO. 
 
 Thou wand'reft much : there's fomething on thy 
 mind, 
 Darkening thy fancy. 
 
 COUNT ZATEPvLOO. 
 
 'Twas I that did it— I that murder'd him : 
 He who mud fuffer for it did it not. 
 
 COUNTESS ZATERLOO. 
 
 What words are thefe ? my blood runs cold to 
 hear ihem. 
 
 COUNT ZATERLOO (alariiid.) 
 
 Be fllll, be Pali ! there's fome one at the door : 
 All round me is expofeu and infecure. 
 
ATRAGEDY. 97 
 
 (Countefs Zaterloo goes to the door and receives 
 fomething from a Servant, Jhutting the door 
 immediately,) 
 
 COUNTESS ZATERLOO. 
 
 It is a fervant come to fetch me fomething. 
 
 Count zaterloo. 
 Has he not heard it r he has heard it all ! 
 
 (In violent alarm and agitation. J 
 
 COUNTESS ZATERLOO. 
 
 Be flill, be ftill ! it is impoiTible. 
 Thou'il wak'd the pain again j I fee thee tremble. 
 
 COUNT ZATERLOO (writhing as if in great pain J, 
 
 Ay, this will mafler me : 'twill have me now : 
 What can be done ? O for a Ihort reprieve ! 
 
 COUNTESS ZATERLOO. 
 
 Alas, my child ! what would' ft: thou have me dor 
 
 COUNT ZATERLOO. 
 
 I would have time turn'd backward in his courfe, 
 And what is paft ne'er to have been : myfelf 
 A thing that no exift:ence ever had. 
 Canft: thou do this for me ? 
 
 COUNTESS ZATERLOO. 
 
 Alas ! I cannot. 
 
 COUNT ZATERLOO. 
 
 Then curfed be thy early mother's cares I 
 
 H 
 
95 R A Y N E R : - 
 
 Would thou had'il lifted up my infant form 
 And dalh'd it on the ftones ! I had not liv'd— 
 I had not lived to curfe thee for thy pains. 
 
 COUNTESS ZATERLOO. 
 
 And dofl thou curfe me then ? 
 
 COUNT ZATERLOO (fofteu^d). 
 
 O no ! I do not ! 
 \ I did not curfe thee, mother : was it fo ? 
 
 COUNTESS ZATERLOO. 
 
 No, no, thou didfl not : yet I have deferv'd — 
 I was a mother felfifh in my fondnefs; 
 And with indulgence, fenfelefs and extreme, 
 Bhifted the goodly promife of thy youth. 
 
 COUNT ZATERLOO (r'lfing half lip alar m^ d from 
 
 his couch J, 
 
 Hark! there's a noife again! haft thou more 
 fervants 
 Coming with errands to thee ? — We're difcover'd 1 
 
 COUNTESS ZATERLOO. 
 
 Be not fo foon alarm' d : it is impoffible. 
 
 COUNT ZATERLOO. 
 
 Is there an inner chamber ? lead me there ; 
 
 (Pointing to a doer, J 
 
 I cannot reft in this. (Stoppi/ig Jhort eagerly as fl^e 
 
 is leading him out with great difficulty,) 
 
 . ■ Thine abfence haply 
 
 From thine own houfe, fufpicicii may create: 
 
ATRAGEDY. 99 
 
 Return to it again, and thro' the day 
 Live there as thou art wont ; by fall of eve 
 Thou'lt come to me again.-^Fm very weak ; 
 I muft lean hard upon thee. 
 
 CExit, looking fiifpicioujly behind hhn as if he 
 heard a noife^ and fupported with great dlfi- 
 cidty by his mother, J 
 
 SCENE III. The Countefs Zaterloo's houfe: enter 
 Countess and a Female Attendant. 
 
 ATTENDANT. 
 
 Ah ! wherefore, madam, are you thus didurb'd 
 Pacing from room to room v/ith refllefs change. 
 And turning fliil a keen and anxious ear 
 To every noife ? What can I do for you ? 
 
 COUNTESS' ZATERLOP. 
 
 Ceafe, ceafe! thou canfl: do nothing, my good girl: 
 I have a caufe, but do not feek to know it. 
 
 Enter a Servant. 
 
 SER.VANT, 
 
 There is a ftranger 
 
 COUNTESS ZATERLOO (Jiarting with alarm). 
 
 Ha ! what doft thou fav ? 
 A ft ranger ! what appearance does he wear ? 
 Is there but one ? Looks he fufpicioully ? 
 
 SERVANT. 
 
 Be not alarmed, madam ; 'tis a woman. 
 
 Ha 
 
100 R A Y N E R : 
 
 COUNTESS ZATERLOo (feigning compofure)^ 
 Thou art a fool to think I am alarm'd : 
 Or man or woman, whofoe'er it be, 
 I am unwell, and mud not be dillurb'd. 
 
 SERVANT. 
 
 It is a lady of dillinguifh'd mein, 
 Tho' much in grief, and fhe fo earneftly 
 Pleads for admittance that I am compelPd — 
 Pardon me, madam ; but to look upon her 
 Would move your heart to pity. 
 
 COUNTESS ZATERLOO. 
 
 Let her enter. (Exit Servant.) 
 
 Who may this be ? why do I tremble thus ? 
 In grief!- — the wretched furely will not come 
 In guileful feeming to betray the wretched. 
 (To Attendant.) Know'fl thou who this may be r 
 
 ATTENDANT. 
 
 Indeed I do not. 
 
 COUNTESS ZATERLOO. 
 
 Retire then to a diftance : here fhe comes : 
 But do not leave the chamber. 
 
 (Attendant retires to the bottom ofthejiage^ and 
 enter Elizabeth with her hair and drefs dif- 
 ordered^ like one dijiracled tvith grief, J 
 
 ELIZABETH. 
 
 ^ Madam, I come a flranger to your prefence. 
 
A T R A G E D Y. loi 
 
 By mlfery emboldened, and urg'd on 
 By defperation. In your pity only 
 Lives all the hope of my mod wretched (late : 
 O kill it not ! pufli me not to the brink 
 Of mifery fo deep and terrible ! 
 Have pity ! O have pity on my woe ! 
 Thou art a woman, and a woman's heart 
 Will not be fliut againfl: a wretched woman. 
 
 COUNTESS ZATERLOO. 
 
 What would'ft thou afK ? thou doft with too 
 much grief 
 Conceal the point and objedl of thy fuit. 
 
 ELIZABETH. 
 
 There is in prifon bound, condemned to die. 
 And for a crime by others hands committed, 
 A noble youth, and my betrothed love : 
 Your fon — O fhrink not back, nor look fo flernly ] 
 Your fon, as fecret rumour hath inform'd me, 
 Mortally wounded and with little hope 
 Of life, can ample teftimony give. 
 Being himfelf of thofe who did the deed. 
 That Rayner did it not : — O let him then. 
 In whatever fecret place he lies conceal'd. 
 In pity let him true confelTion make ; 
 And we will blefs him — Heav'n will pardon him ! 
 
 COUNTESS ZATERLOO. 
 
 Defpair hath made thee mad 1 art thou aware 
 What thou doft afk of me ? Go to our governors ; 
 
 H3 
 
102 R A Y N E R : 
 
 They may have pity on thee ; but from me 
 It were an adt againfl the fenfe of nature. 
 
 ELIZABETH. 
 
 Nay, fay not fo ! I have for mercy fued 
 At the proud feet of power, and been rejeded : 
 What injury can reach a dying man ? 
 Can his few hours of breathing poife the fcales 
 'Gainfl: the whole term of a man's reckon'd life 
 In youth's beft ftrength ? 
 
 COUNTESS ZATERLOO. 
 
 Go, thou hafl been deceived with a falfe tale ; 
 And, were it true, hope ends not but with life ; 
 Heaven only knows who is a dying man. 
 
 ELIZABETH. 
 
 For blefled charity clofe not your pity 
 Againfl all other feelings but your own ! 
 (Ckfpin^ the Countefs' knees and kijjhig her hand, J 
 Sweet lady ! gentle lady ! deareil lady ! 
 O be not ruthlefs to a foul bow'd down 
 In extreme wretchednefs ! 
 
 COUNTESS ZATERLOO. 
 
 Ceafe, ceafe ! unlock thy hold : embrace me 
 not! 
 Has he for whom thou plead'fl from out o' thyfelf 
 Receiv'd his being ? prefs'd with infant lips 
 Thy yearning bofom ? fmiled upon thy knees. 
 
A TRAGEDY. -^kj^ 
 
 And blefs'd thine ear with his firft voice of words ? 
 Away, away ! defpair has made thee mad, 
 That thus thou hangTi upon me. 
 
 ELIZABETH. 
 
 O he for whom I plead is to my foul 
 Its foul : is to my fancy its bound world. 
 In which it lives and moves ; all elfe beyond 
 Darknefs, annihilation. O have pity ! 
 For well thou fay'ft, defpair has made me mad. 
 
 COUNTESS ZATERLOO. 
 
 Let go, let go ! thou with a tigrefs flrlv'fl, 
 Defending her bay'd whelp : I have no pity. 
 Heaven will have pity on thee I let me go ; 
 Unlock thy defp'rate hold. 
 
 ( Breaks from her and runs otit^ ^7;?^ Elizabeth, 
 quite overcome J finks upon the ground^ the At- 
 tendant ruflnng forward from the bottom of 
 the Ji age to fupport her,) 
 
 Enter father mardonio. 
 
 MARDONio (raifing her). 
 
 My daughter, heav'n will fend in its good time 
 The aid that is appointed for thy ftate. 
 Contend no more, but to its righteous will 
 Submit thyfelf. Let me conduct thee hence. 
 (Exeunt Mardonio and AncnAdJiM fupport ing her. 
 Re-enter the Countefs, looking fearfully round 
 her as flK enters,) 
 
 COUNTESS ZATERLOO. 
 
 She is gone now : thank God that fhe is gone ! 
 
 H4 
 
104 Tt A Y N E R : 
 
 There is a horrid conflict in my mind. 
 What fhall I do ? I ftrongly am befet. 
 1 will go quickly to fome holy man, 
 And ghoflly counfel afk. 
 
 CEpcity cr offing the Jl age with a quick irrefolute 
 Jiep^ fometimes Jlopping to confider^ and then 
 hurrying on again,) 
 
 END OF THE FOURTH ACT 
 
A T R A G E D Y. loj 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 I 
 
 Afpacious outer Rogju in the Pnfoji. 
 Enter an Under-Jailor and a Clown. 
 
 CLOWN. 
 
 1 PRAY thee now, my good friend, here is a piece 
 of money for thee — very good money too ; thou 
 may'fl look o' both fides of it an' thou wilt : it 
 has been wrapped up in the foot of my old holiday 
 blockings fmce lad Michaelmas twelvemonth, and 
 neither fun nor wind has blown upon it. Take it, 
 man, thou art heartily welcome to it if thou canft 
 put me into a good place near the fcaffold ; or a 
 place were I may fee him upon the fcaffold ; for 
 I am five and thirty years old next Shrove-Tuefday 
 when the time comes round, and I have never yet 
 leen in all my born days fo much as a thief fet i' 
 the (locks. 
 
 JAILOR. 
 
 Poor man ! thou haft lived in moft deplorable 
 ignorance indeed. But ftand afide a little, here is 
 the famous executioner of Olmutz a-coming, who 
 has been fent for exprefsly to do the job ; for our 
 own is but a titulary hangman ; he has all the ho- 
 nours of the office, but little experience in the 
 duties of it. 
 
io6 R A Y N E R: 
 
 CLOWN. 
 
 O dickens, Til creep into a comer then, and 
 have a good look of him. A man that has cut off 
 men's heads, fave us all ! he mud have a ftrange 
 bloody look about him for certain. 
 
 Etitcr two ExEcuTioj^ERS, Jj)eakir?g as they enter. 
 
 FIRST EXECUTIONER. 
 
 What ! no execution in this town for thefe ten 
 years pad ? Lord pity you all for a fet of poor devils 
 indeed ! Why 1 have knov/n a fmallcr town than 
 this keep ye up a firft executioner for the capital 
 bufmefs, with a fecond man under him for your 
 petty cart-tail and pillory work ; ay, and keep 
 them handfomely employed too. No execution in 
 fuch a town as this for thefe ten years pad 1 one 
 might as well live aniongd the favages. 
 
 vSECOND EXECUTIONER. ' 
 
 It is a pitiful thing to be fare, but don't defpife 
 us altogether, Mr. Mafter : we fliall improve by 
 and by, pleafe God ; and here is a fair beginning 
 for it too, if the Lord profper us. 
 
 FIRST EXECUTIONER, 
 
 Ay, thou wilt, perhaps, have the honour of 
 hanging a thief or tvv o before thou art the age of 
 Methufelah ; but I warrant ye, the beheading of 
 this young nobleman here by the famous execu- 
 tioner of Olmutz will be remembered amongft you 
 
A TRAGEDY. ig; 
 
 for generations to come. It will be the grand date 
 from which every thing will be reckoned ; ay, your 
 very grand children will boafl that their fathers 
 w€re prefent at the fight. 
 
 SECOND EXECUTIONER. 
 
 I make no doubt on't, my mafter, but you are 
 a very capital man in your way : Lord forbid that 
 I fhould envy the greatnefi of any one ; but I 
 would have you to know that there have been others 
 in the world as good as yourfelf ere now : my own 
 father cut off Baron Koilam's head upon this very 
 fcaffold that we now hear them hammering at. 
 
 riRST EXECUTIONER. 
 
 Some wandering hocus-pocus Baron, I fuppofe, 
 that fold noftrums for the tootb-ach. I always put 
 fuch fellows into the hands of my underling to ope- 
 rate upon ; I never count the dealing with them as 
 your prime work, tho* for certain we mufl: call it 
 your head-work ; ha ! ha ! ha ! (boldi?ig out his axe 
 in a vain- glorious manner. J Seell thou this axe of 
 mine ? The bed blood of the country has been upon 
 its edge : to have had one's father or brother under 
 its ftroke, let me tell thee, is equal to a patent of 
 nobility. 
 
 SECOND EXECUTIONER. 
 
 Well, be it fo : 1 envy no man, God be pralfed 1 
 
 , tho' thou art fet over my head upon this occafion. 
 
 I have whipp'd, branded, and pilloried in great 
 
io8 R A Y N IL R: 
 
 meeknefs and humility for thefe feven years paft ; 
 but the humble fnall be exalted at lad., and 1 fhall 
 have better work to do, by and by, God willing. 
 Let us have no more eontentlon about it.—Who's 
 there? (obferving Jailor and Clown.) Ay, Jailor, 
 do thou go and kick up the black prince, he is 
 fnoring in fome corner near us, and fend him for 
 fome brandy. 
 
 (Jailor CG?ning forward, with the Clown creeping 
 after him^ haf afraid,) 
 
 JAILOR. 
 
 The black prince is no where to be found \ he 
 has not been feen fmce the cells were locked. 
 
 SECOND EXECUTIONER. 
 
 Go fetch us fome liquor thyfelf then. 
 
 FIRST EXECUTIONER. 
 
 But who is this fneaking behind thee, and afraid 
 to fhow his face ? , , 
 
 JAILOPv. 
 
 Only a poor countryman, a friend of mine, who 
 wanted to look at you as you pad. 
 
 FIRST EXECUTIONER. 
 
 Yes, yes, every body has a curiofuy to look at 
 extraordinary perfons. (to Clown.) Come forward 
 man, and don't be afraid. Did'fl: thou ever be- 
 
A T R A G E D Y. 109 
 
 fore fee any thing better than a poor parifli priefl, 
 or a fcrubby lord of the village ? didft thou, eh ? 
 
 CLOWN (abaj])ed), 
 I don't know, pleafe you : my brother did once 
 (land within a team's length of the Prince of 
 Carara, when he paiTed through our village on his 
 wav to Franconia. 
 
 FIRST EXECUTIONER. 
 
 So then thou art not the firfl of thy family that 
 has feen a great man. But don't be afraid, my 
 good fellow, I a'nt proud nor haughty as many of 
 them be : thou fnalt even Ihake hands vvith me an' 
 thou wilt. (Holding out his hand to Clown, who 
 jlorinks from hiniy and puts his hands behind 
 his back.) 
 
 CLOWN. 
 
 No, 1 thank you \ I ben'c much of a hand- 
 ihaker : I have got a little fore on iiiy thumb, may 
 it pleafe you : I thank you all the fame as tfeo' I 
 did. 
 
 FIRST EXECUTIONER. 
 
 Ay, thou art too mannerly to call it the thing 
 that we wot of. Well, thou art a good fort of 
 fellow ; don't be abafli'd : thou fee'd I am very 
 condefcending to thee. Come, then, thou fliak 
 drink a cup of liquor with me. Follow us into 
 the next ward, my good friend. 
 
no R A Y N E R ; 
 
 ci.owN Cjhrinkbigfrom him again J, 
 O na, fave your prefence ! Fll go with the jailor 
 here. 
 
 FIRST EXECUTIONER (to SecoHc! Exccutioner). 
 
 Ay, he is but a poor bafiiful clown, and don^i 
 know how to behave himfelf in good company. 
 
 (Exeunt Executioners. 
 
 CLOWN. 
 
 Shake hands with him, Mary preferve us ! it fets 
 the very ends of my hngers a dingling. Drink out 
 of the fame mug v/Ith him too ! fj puttering with 
 his lips} poh ! poh ! poh ! the taile of raw heads 
 and carrion L; on my lips at the thoughts of it, 
 fTo Jailor.) Come let us go out of this place ; I be 
 long enough here, (ft^ppi^^g fiort as be goes off,} 
 What noife and hammering is this we hear ? 
 
 JAILOR. 
 
 It is the workmen putting up the fcafiold. 
 
 CLOWN (ftartlng). 
 What, are we fo near to it ? mercy on us ! let 
 me get out of this place, for it puts me into a ter- 
 rible quandary. 
 
 JAILOR. 
 
 If this be the mettle thou art made of, thou had'fl 
 better take thy money again, and I'll give thy place 
 
A T RAGED Y. in 
 
 for the fight to fomebody that has got a flouter 
 heart than thou haft. 
 
 CLOWN. 
 
 Na, na, I won't do that neither ; I have a huge 
 defire to fee how a man looks when he is going to 
 have his head cut off, and Til (lay for , the fight 
 the' I ihould fwoon for it. Poor man ! poor man ! 
 what frightful things there be in this world when 
 one's mind fets a thinking upon it ! — Is he a tall 
 man now, (to Jailor) or a fhort man ? a pale- 
 faced man, or ay, pale enough, I warrant. 
 
 Mercy on us ! I Ihall think of him many a night 
 after this before I go to fleep. Poor man ! poor 
 man ! what terrible things there be in this world 
 if a body does but think of them. 
 
 (Exeunt Clown and Jailor. 
 
 SCENE 11. A dungeon; Rayner difco-vered fitting 
 at a table by the light of a lanip^ with a book in his 
 bandy the clock from a neighbouring flceple ftrikes 
 three, and he, roufed with the founds lays down the 
 book, 
 
 RAYNER. 
 
 This bell fpeaks with a deep and fullen voice : 
 The time comes on apace with filent fpeed. 
 Is it indeed fo late ? (Looking at his watch,) 
 
 It is even fo. 
 (Paufing^ and lookiiigfiill at the watch,) 
 How foon tfme flies away ! yet, as I watch it, 
 
 2 
 
112 ' R A Y N E Rr 
 
 Methinks, by the flow progrefs of this hand, 
 I fhould have Hv'd an age fince yefterday, 
 And have an age to live. Still on it creeps. 
 Each Httle moment at another's heels. 
 Till hours, days, years, and ages are made up 
 Of fuch fmall parts as thefe, and men look back. 
 Worn and bewilder'd, v/ond'ring how it is. 
 Thou trav'lleft like a fhip in the wide ocean, 
 Which hath no bounding fhore to mark its progrefs^ 
 
 Time I ere long I fhall have done with thee. 
 When next thou leaded on thy nightly Ihades, 
 Tho' many a weary heart thy (leps may count, 
 Thy midnight 'larum fliall not waken me. 
 Then (liall I be a thing, at thought of which 
 The roufed foul fwells boundlefs and fublime. 
 Or wheels in wildnefs of unfathom'd fears : 
 
 A thought ; a confcioufnefs ; unbodied fpirit. 
 Who but would flirink from this ? It goes hard 
 
 with thee, 
 Social connected man ; it goes hard with thee 
 To be turned out into a (late unknown. 
 From all thy kind, an individual being. 
 But wherefore fl:irink ? came we not thus to earth ? 
 And he who fent, prepared reception for us. 
 Ay, glorious are the things that are prepar'd. 
 As we believe ! — yet, heaven pardon me ! 
 
 1 fain would fculk beneath my wonted cov'ring. 
 Mean as it is. 
 
 Ah, Time ! when next thou fiirfl thy nightly term. 
 Where fhall I be ? Fye ! fye upon thee ftill ! 
 Ev'n where weak infancy, and tim'rous age. 
 
A T RAGED Y. xxj 
 
 And maiden fearfulnefs have gone before thee j 
 And where, as well as him of firmed foul, 
 The meanly-minded and the coward are. 
 Then trufl: thy nature, at th' approachmg puih, 
 The mind doth (hape itfelf to its own wants, 
 And can bear all things. ( R'lfmg from his feat, and 
 walking feveral times backward and forward. J 
 I know not how it is, Fm wond*i ous heavy ; 
 Fain would I reft a while. This weary frame 
 Has but a little more to do for me. 
 And yet it aiks for reft. Fli lay me down : 
 It may be poflible that I fhall fleep, 
 After thefe weary toffmgs of the mind ; 
 I feel as tho* I ftiould. (Goes tojleep^ covering him* 
 
 felf vjith a cloak, J 
 Enter Ohio, creeping otd from a hidi?'.g-place at the 
 botio7n of theflage^ and going foftly up to Rayner, 
 looks for fome time upon him with a malicious grin* 
 
 OHIO. 
 
 Thou haft lov'd negroes' blood, I warrant thee. 
 
 Doft ileep ? ay, they will waken thee ere long, 
 
 And cut thy head oif. They'll put thee to reft ; 
 
 They'll clofe thine eyes for thee without thy leave ; 
 
 They'll bloat thy white (kin for thee, lily-face. 
 
 Come, lefs harm will I do thee than thy fellows : 
 
 My fides are cold : a dead man needs no cloak, 
 
 ( Beginning gently to pull off Rayner's cloak\ who' 
 
 Jiarts from his Jleep^ and locks at him in 
 
 amazement,) 
 
 I 
 
114 ~ R AY N E Pv: 
 
 RAYNER. 
 
 Ha ! what hole of the earth hath call thee up ? 
 What thing art thou ? and what would'Il thou 
 with me ? 
 
 OHIO. 
 
 My fides are cold ; a dead man needs no cloak. 
 
 ravner. 
 'Tis true indeed, but do not flrip the living. 
 Where dofl thou run to now ? v/here w^ert thou hid ? 
 
 OHIO (after running to hh hiding-place^ and fetching 
 out ajlick^ which he prefent^ to Rayner). 
 Beat me thyfelf, but do not tell of me. 
 
 rayner. 
 I would not harm thee for a greater fault. 
 Fm forry thou art cold ; here is my cloak : 
 Thou haft faid well ; a dead man needs it not. 
 I know thee now ; thou art the wretched negro 
 Who ferves the prifoners ; 1 have obferv'd thee : 
 I'm forry for thee ; thou art bare enough. 
 And winter is at hand. 
 
 OHIO. 
 
 Ha 1 art thou forry that the negro's cold ? 
 Where wert thou born who art fo pitiful ? 
 I will not take thy cloak, but I will love thee. 
 They fhall not cut thy head off. 
 
 rayner. 
 
 Go thy ways ; 
 Go fculk within thy hiding place again, 
 Andj when the cell is open'd, fave thyfelf. 
 
A T RAGED Y. 115 
 
 OHIO. 
 
 They flian't cut off thy head. 
 
 RAYNER. 
 
 N0W5 pray thee go. 
 
 OHIO. 
 
 ril kifs thy feet j Til fpend my blood for thee. 
 
 RAYNER. 
 
 I do befeech thee go ! there's fome one coming : 
 I hear them at the door. (Pujhes him haftlly off,) 
 
 Enter Hardibrand, advancing Jlowly to Rayner, 
 his eyes caji upon the ground, 
 
 RAYNER. 
 
 Good morrow, general : where's thy friendly 
 hand ? 
 Why doll thou turn thine eyes afide, and fear ' 
 To look me in the face ? Is there upon it 
 Aught that betrays the workings of the mind 
 Too ftrongly mark'd ? I will confefs to thee 
 Pve ftruggrd hard, I've felt the fears of nature ; 
 But yet 1 have the fpirit of a man 
 That will uphold me : therefore, my brave friend, 
 Do me the grace to look upon me boldly ; 
 ril not difgrace thee. 
 
 HARDIBRAND. 
 
 No, my valiant boy! 
 I know thou'lt not difgrace me, nor will I 
 
 I2 
 
116 R A Y N E R = 
 
 Put fliame on thee by wearing on this morn 
 A weeping face : I will be valiant too. 
 We will not, Rayner, tlio' thou'rt thus — Oh! oh! 
 
 ( Biirjiing into tears,) 
 
 RAYNER. 
 
 My gen'rous friend, my fecond father, v/hy 
 Wilt thou opprefs me thus ? 
 
 HARDIBRAND. 
 
 Bear with me, bear with me ; I meant to brave it, 
 And I will brave it. But to thee, my fon. 
 In thy diftrefs, encompafs'd as thou art. 
 My heart fo ftrongly has enlink'd itfelf. 
 
 That to part from thee, boy, is 
 
 CFaU'mg on his neck^ and burjiing again into tears, J 
 
 Enter Mardonio. 
 
 MARDONio (after looking at them for fome time^ and 
 in a folemn impofing tone of voice). 
 The llrength of man fuiks in the hour of trial ; 
 But there doth live a pow'r that to the battle 
 GIrdeth the weak : Heaven's vivifying grace, 
 And ftrength, and holy confidence be thine, 
 Who art in mercy itricken ! (Holding up his right 
 hand to heaven^ wbil/t Rayner, approaching 
 with reverence^ bews kimfelf beneath it very 
 low.) 
 
 rayner. 
 Thanks to thee, father I thefe are words'of power, 
 And I do feel their flrength. Beneath, that hand 
 
 8 
 
A T R A G ED Y. 117 
 
 Which hath in mercy ftricken me, I bow ; 
 
 Yea bow, the nobler and the bolder grown 
 
 For fach hmmXiiy.— (Familiarly J How goes the 
 
 time ? 
 Does day begin to dawn ? 
 
 MARDONIO. 
 
 Grey light peeps faintly o'er the eaflern towers. 
 
 RAYNER. 
 
 The time is then advanc'd ; we'll hufband it. 
 Come clofe to me, my friends. (Taking Hardibrand 
 and Mardonio each by the handy and prejfing 
 them clofe to his breaji,) 
 Of worldly cares, upon my mind there refts 
 But only thofe which 1 have mention'd to you. 
 Yet, in this folemn hour, let me remind you : — 
 My poor Elizabeth 
 
 HARDIBRAND (eagerly), 
 Thou'fl faid enough : 
 She is my child and heirefs of my lands 
 To the laft rood. — Ah 1 what avails it now! 
 
 RAYNER. 
 
 How ihall a dying man find thanks for this, 
 Whofe day is clofed ? I will attempt no thanks. 
 The other wifh that clofely prefies on m.e : — 
 Mardonio, upon thee mud hang this boon : — 
 That miierable man of whom I've told you ; 
 Now living in the hell of his remorfe, 
 Cut off from human mtercourfe ; whofe vifion 
 
 13 
 
ii8 R A Y N E R: 
 
 Of midnight horrors fav*d this hand from blood : 
 I fain 
 
 HARD IB RAND (again eagerly interrupting him)» 
 Fear not ! fear not ! he iGiall be fav'd ; 
 And fhall with human beings yet confort 
 In bleffed charity, if ghcflly care 
 From holieft men procur'd, or offerings made 
 To ev'ry facred fhrine on chriflian ground 
 Can give him peace. 
 
 RAYNER (fmilmg and prejjing Hardibrand to his 
 
 bofom). 
 
 With all the prompt and gen'rous profufion 
 
 Of eager youth dofl thou, mine aged friend. 
 
 Take every thing upon thee. Be it fo. 
 
 And good Mardonio with his fober counfel 
 
 Will aid thy bounty. Here I join your hands : 
 
 My worldly cares are clos'd. 
 
 Enter Elizabeth, followed by Richard and Ber- 
 tram, who remain on the hack ground whilji Jhe 
 coines Jlowly forward; Rayner turning round on 
 hearing them enter. 
 
 Ah ! who is this ? 
 
 Alas ! alas ! it is Elizabeth. 
 
 (Holding out his hand to her,) 
 
 Advance, my love ; thou'rt ever welcome here. 
 
 How does it fare with thee ? 
 
 ELIZABETH. 
 
 It is all mid and darknefs with me now ; 
 I know not how it fares with me. 
 
A T RAG ED Y. 1:9 
 
 RAYNER. 
 
 Alas! 
 Thou gentle foul ! a dark cloud o'er thee hangs, 
 But thro' the gloom the fun again will break, 
 And, in the fobernefs of calm remembrance. 
 Thou wilt look back upon misfortunes pafl 
 Like tempefls that are laid. Thou doft not heed me : 
 Thou dofl not fpeak to me. Alas ! Alas ! 
 What fliall I fay to thee ? 
 I've lov'd thee well, and would have lov'd thee 
 
 long, 
 Had it fo been — But thou fhalt be belov'd ! 
 Heaven will take charge of thee when I'm at reft : 
 The kindly and the good (hall be thy kindred, 
 
 (Putting her hand in Hardibrand'j-.) 
 And ev'ry forrowful and gentle heart 
 Shall knit itfelf to thee, and call thee fifter. 
 
 (Elizabeth makes a inotion with her hand as if 
 
 jhe would fpeak^ and he paufes^ but Jhe is 
 
 filent,) 
 What meant, my love, that motion of thy hand ? 
 
 MARDONIO. 
 
 She fain would fpeak to thee, but has no voice. 
 
 RAYNER. 
 
 I know it well, Elizabeth ; no voice 
 Need'ft thou to tell me how thou'ft dearly lov'd 
 
 me, 
 And dearly do I prize it ; 'tis my pride ; 
 
 14 
 
12-^ R A Y N E R: 
 
 E'en humblM as I am, it Is my pride. 
 Ht-aven's dearell bleffings reft upon thy head !-— 
 And now, Cince we mull part, do in thy love, 
 Do for me this laft grace ; bid me farewel, 
 And let my earthly forrows now be clos'd. 
 Heaven's blelTing reft upon thee ! 
 
 fHe kijfes her^ and Jloe turns to go away^ Rayner 
 looking after her as Jhe goes, but prefenily re-^ 
 turns again.) 
 
 RAYNER, 
 
 Thou art return'dj my foul, what would'ft thou 
 have ? 
 
 ELIZABETH fin a broken voice). 
 
 A thought — a wifli did prefs upon my heart. 
 But it is gone. 
 
 RAYNER. 
 
 I thank thee for thv wifh ; 
 It is a good one, tho' thou canft not fpeak it. 
 And it will do me good. But leave me ! leave me ! 
 Thou wilt unfit me for a tafk of ftrength. 
 
 (Elizabeth again attempts to go away, but JiiU 
 returns.) 
 Ah, wherefore ftill ! wilt thou be cruel to me ? 
 
 JELIZABETH. 
 
 O, no ! G, no I I know not what I do :• 
 It is all mift and darknefs with me now : 
 I look upon thee, but 1 fee thee not. 
 
A T P. A GED Y. j2i 
 
 Let me once more but feel thy hand hi mine 
 And fend me where ye will : my being then 
 Is at an end. (They embrace again ^ and Jhe Jlill 
 
 continues to hang upon him, J 
 
 RAYNER (to Bertram and Richard). 
 O, lead her hence, and have fome mercy on me! 
 My father died i* the field a valiant death. 
 And fhall his fon upon the fcaffold die 
 Overcome and weak, reft of that decent firmnefs 
 Which ev'n the bafe and vulgar there affume ? 
 
 lead her hence ! in mercy lead her hence ! 
 
 (Bertram and Richard tear her from him, and 
 lead her away^ whil/i he turns his back^ and 
 hides his face with his bands, J 
 
 ELIZABETH (flopping Jhort, and tojfing up her arms 
 diftra6iedly as they are leading her out). 
 
 Reprieve ! reprieve ! I hear a voice i' the air I 
 
 1 hear it yet again ! 
 
 RAYNER (uncovering his face, and looking about 
 eagerly, whilft Hardibrand rifJjes forzvard impe- 
 tuoufly from the bottom of the ft age, where he has 
 been pacing backward and forward with hafly 
 Jirides), 
 Is't any thing ? 
 
 MARDONIO. 
 
 Alas no ! ail is filent : 'tis the fancy 
 Of fond dillradlon lift'ning to itfelf. 
 
122 R A Y N E R: 
 
 HARDIBRAND. 
 
 Nay, it was fomethiiig : Bertranij thou did'H 
 hear it ? 
 
 EERTRAM. 
 
 No, I heard nothing. 
 
 HARDIBRAND. 
 
 What, nor thou, good Richard ? 
 
 RICHARD. 
 
 No, nothing. 
 
 ELIZABETH f holding up her arm diJlraBedly as 
 Richard and Bertram lead her off). 
 And is it nothing ! no redemption near ! 
 
 (Exeunt EHzabeth, Richard, a7id Bertram, 
 whilji Rayner, uttering a deep groan^ hides 
 his face J and Hardibrand returns with hajly 
 Jtrides to the bottom of the Jiage, 
 
 RAYNER ( uncovering his face )„ 
 Is fhe gone now ? 
 
 MARDONIO. 
 
 She is. 
 
 RAYNER. 
 
 Thank God for it ! Now to our tafk : 
 
 ( Stepping for%vard with affumed jinnncfs,) 
 What of it now remains we (hall o^er-mafler. 
 Pray thee how goes the time ? But pardon me ! 
 I have too oft enquired how goes the time : 
 It is my weaknefs. 
 
A TRAGEDY. 123 
 
 MARDONIO. 
 
 The morning now advances* 
 
 RAYNER. 
 
 So I reckon'd. 
 We too fhall put ourfelves in forwardnefs : 
 And fo, good father, to your ghollly guidance 
 I do commend myfelf. 
 
 Enter Jailor. 
 
 JAILOR. 
 
 The officers of juftice are arrived. 
 And wait the prefence of the prifoner. 
 
 RAYNER. 
 
 They come upon us fooner than we wifl ; 
 But 'tis fo much the better. 
 
 (To Mardonio afide*) 
 Shall we have time allow'd us for retirement. 
 Before they lead me forth ? 
 
 MARDONIO. 
 
 'Tis ever fo allow'd. 
 
 RAYNER. 
 
 Come then, I feel me ftronger than I was ; 
 'Twill foon be pad ; the work goes on apace. 
 
 (Taki7ig hold ^Hardibrand and Mardonio as 
 be goes out* J 
 Your arm, I pray ; — I know not how it is ; 
 
 6 
 
124 R A Y N E R,' 
 
 My head feels dizzy, but my limbs are firm. 
 Good Hardibrand, think'fl: thou I fhall difgrace 
 
 thee ? 
 
 • HARDIBRAND. 
 
 No, by the mafs i Fll give them this old carcafe 
 To hack for crow's meat if thou Ihrink'fl: one hair's 
 
 breadth 
 From the comportment of a gallant foldier, 
 And of a brave man's fon. 
 
 RAYNER (fmiling with a gratijied look,) 
 
 I thank thee. 
 Methinks I tread now, as I onward move, 
 With more elailic and dilating ftep, 
 As if a fpirit of pride within me ftirr'd. 
 Buoying me up on the fwoln billows ridge. 
 
 (Excuni, 
 
 SCENE III. An outer garden-room or portico in the 
 
 houfe where Zaterloo is concealed; enter Countefs 
 and a ConfefTor, with two Attendants bearing Za- 
 terloo on a f mall couch ^ which they Jet down on the 
 middle of the Jlage ; the Attendants retire, 
 
 COUNTESS ZATERLOO. 
 
 The air revives him : look, I pray thee, father. 
 How the frefh air revives him : fav not then 
 All hope is banifli'd quite. — Thou Ihak'fl thy head :■ 
 But whilfl: I fee upon his moving bread 
 One heave of breath, betok'ning life within. 
 
A TRAGEDY. 125 
 
 ril grafp at hope, and will not let it go. 
 
 (Bending over the couch, J 
 My fon ! my fon ! hear'il thou my voice, my fon I 
 
 COUNT ZATERLOO. 
 
 Yes, mother : I have had a fearful ftruggle. 
 'Tis a flrong enemy that grapples with me. 
 And 1 mull yield to him. — O pious father ! 
 Pray thou for mercy on me. 
 
 COUNTESS ZATERLOO. 
 
 Yes, my fon, 
 This holy man fhali pray for thee ; the fhrines 
 Of holieft faints be gifted for thee ; maffes 
 And facred hymns be chanted for thy peace : — 
 And thou thyfelf, even 'midfl thine agony. 
 Haft fpoken precious words of heav'nly grace ^ 
 Therefore be comforted. 
 
 COUNT ZATERLOO (/leaking his head J, 
 There is no comfort here : dark, veil'd, and 
 terrible. 
 That which abides me ; and how fhort a fpace 
 
 COUNTESS ZATERLOO. 
 
 O thou may'ft yet recover ! 
 
 CONFESSOR. 
 
 Lady, forbear ! this is no time to foothe 
 With flatt'ring hopes : his term is near its clofe ^ 
 Therefore, I do again entreat it of you, 
 Send off the meilenger with his confeiTion, 
 
126 R A Y N E Ri 
 
 Left it (hould be too late to fave the innocent. 
 And he be fent unto his long account 
 With a moft heavy charge upon his head. 
 
 COUNTESS ZATERLOO. 
 
 Thou mak'ft me tremble. — Ho I There^ you 
 without ! 
 Send here the meflenger. ( Calling offthejlage.) 
 
 His fteed is ready : 
 
 He fhall forthwith depart. 
 
 Enter Messenger. 
 
 CONFESSOR (to MefFcnger). 
 
 Take thou this packet, and with full-bent fpeed 
 Go to the city to the governor. 
 And fee that into his own hand thou give it. 
 With charges that he read it inftantly. 
 It is of precious moment to his life 
 Who on the fcaffold fhould this morning fufFer. 
 Quick mount thy horfe : few minutes goaded fpeed 
 Will take thee to the gates. 
 
 MESSENGER. 
 
 Few minutes goaded fpeed, five leagues to mafter! 
 
 CONFESSOR. 
 
 Five leagues 1 thou'rt mad. 
 
 MESSENGER. 
 
 No, marry I know ye not 
 The flooded river hath laft night broke down 
 The nearer bridge ? . 
 
A T R A G E D Y. i-^y 
 
 CONFESSOR. 
 
 What, art thou fure of this ? 
 
 MESSENGER. 
 
 I am now com^ from gazing on the fight. 
 From bank to bank the red fwoln river roars ; 
 And on the deep and flowly-rolling niafs 
 Of its flrong centre-tide, grumly and dark. 
 The wrecks of cottages, whole ricks of grain. 
 Trunks of huge trees torn by the roots, — ay, fave 
 
 us! 
 And floating carcafes of perifh'd things, 
 Bloated and black, are borne along ; whilfl currents 
 Crofs-fet and furious, meeting adverfe ftreams 
 On rude uneven furface, far beyond 
 The water's natural bed, do loudly war 
 And terrible couteft hold ; and fwoltring eddies 
 With dizzy whirling fury, tofs aloft 
 Their furgy waves i' the air, and fcatter round 
 Their ceafelefs bick'ring gleams of jagged foam. 
 All fiercely whit'ning in the morning light. 
 Crov/ds now are flanding upon either Ihore 
 In awful filence ; not a found is heard 
 But the flood^'s awful voice, and from the city 
 A difmal bell heard thro' the air by flarts. 
 Already tolling for the execution. 
 
 CONFESSOR. 
 
 What's to be done ? fate feems to war againft us. 
 No, no ! we'll not defpair ! Mount thy fleet horfe, 
 
I2S R A Y N E R ;- 
 
 Life and death's in thy fpeed : — 
 
 Let naught one moment flop thee on thy way : 
 
 All things are poflible to vigorous zeal : 
 
 Life and death's in thy fpeed : depart ! depart ! , 
 
 And heaven be with thine efforts. 
 
 (Exit MefTenger, after receiving the packet.) 
 
 COUNT ZATERLOO. 
 
 Is he gone ? is it done ? 
 
 CONFESSOR. 
 
 Yes he is gone : God grant he be in time. 
 For unto human reck'ning 'tis impoffible 1 
 
 fTo Countefs with an upbraidii7g look. 
 Half an hour fooner— — 
 
 COUNTESS ZATERLOO. 
 
 Oh, torment me not ! 
 Who could forefee this hind'rance ? — O, good fa- 
 ther ! 
 Look to thy penitent. Upon his count'nance 
 There's fomething new and terrible. Speak to him : 
 Go clofe to him, good father. — O my fon ! 
 
 COUNT ZATERLOO. 
 
 I feel within me now — this is the feeling : 
 I am upon the brink, the dreadful brink : 
 It is a fearful gulf I have to fhoot. 
 
 yet fupport me ! in this racking pain 
 
 1 flill may hold a fpace the grafp of life. 
 
A T R A G E D Y. 129 
 
 And keep back from the dark and horrid — Oh ! 
 
 (uttering a deep groan) It is upon me ! 
 
 (Struggles and expires with a faint groan* 
 Countefs, wri?iging her hands in agony of 
 grief is hurried off the Jiage by the Confeflbr 
 and Attendants^ who rufo i7i and take hold of 
 her, J 
 
 SCENE IV. An openfquare hejore the great gate 
 of the prifon : a Crowd of fpe6lators^ with guards^ 
 ^r. are dif covered^ waiting for the coming forth of 
 Rayner to his execution^ and afolemn bell is heard 
 at ifitervals. The gate opens ^ and enter Rayner 
 walking between Mardonio and Hardibrand, and 
 followed by Richard and Bertram, preceded a7id 
 followed by guards^ officers ^ <sfc. The proceffion 
 moves flow ly over the Jiage ^ and exeu?2ty followed 
 by the greater part of the Crowd, though a good 
 ?nany of them Jiill remai?i upon the ft age, The?i 
 re-enter Hardibrand and Kichsird, followed by one 
 or tzvo of the Crowd: Hardibrand walking up arid 
 down in a perturbed mariner , and Richard leayiing 
 his back againft the fidefcene^ where he continues 
 motionlefs with his eyes fixed on the ground. The 
 murmur of the multitude is heard for fome time 
 without^ a?id then cecfes, followed by a deadfdence. 
 
 FIRST CROWD. 
 
 The found of the multitude is dill now. 
 
 SECOND CROWD (looking out,) 
 I fancy, by the crowd who ilai;d all gathered 
 
 K 
 
ijo K. A Y N E R; 
 
 round yonder in dead filence, he Is now preparing 
 for the block. 
 
 THIRD CROWD, 
 
 It mufl be fo : mercy on us, what a mantle of 
 human faces there be fpread round on every fide, 
 and not one found of voice amongft them all ! 
 
 (A long paufe,) - 
 
 HARDIBRAND (fiartbig and Jloppiug fuddenlj^ U 
 
 Firfl Crowd). 
 Didfl thou hear aught ? 
 
 FIRST CROWD* 
 
 No, they are ftill filent. 
 
 HARDIBRAND. 
 
 Look out, I pray thee, and tell me what thou 
 fee'il. 
 
 (Firft Crowd looks out,} 
 What doit thou gaze at with fo broad an eye ? 
 
 FIRST CROWD. 
 
 The executioner is now mounted upon the plat. 
 
 form, and the prifoner ^O ! I cannot look any 
 
 more ! (A loud confufed noife is heard without,} 
 
 HARDIBRAND. 
 
 What's that ? 
 
A TRAGEDY. 131 
 
 SECOND CROWD, 
 
 It IS like the cry of a great multitude when they 
 look upon fomething that is terrible. 
 
 FIRST CROWD. 
 
 .Then the ftroke is given, and it is all over now. 
 
 (Hardibrand turns hajlily away^ and rujhes to 
 
 the other end of the Jiage^ whilji Richard 
 
 gives a heavy groan ^ and Jiill remains motion^ 
 
 /ejs. A Jhout is heard without,) 
 
 HARDIBRAND ( returning furioujly froiu the bottom of 
 
 the Ji age J. 
 More of that horrible din !— - 
 May they bring down the welkin on their heads ! 
 
 SECOND CROWD (to Flrfl: Crowd). 
 What art thou looking at now ? 
 
 FIRST CROWD. 
 
 Nay, there is nothing to look at now : the plat- 
 form is down, and the crowd is returning home 
 again. 
 
 Enter Ohio, rurming acrofs theflage^ 
 
 OHIO. 
 
 Fve done it ! Fve done it ! I've done It ! (Exit* 
 
 Enter a Messenger in great hafle. followed by a 
 
 Civil Officer, 
 
 FIRST CROWD. 
 
 Where are you running to fo fall ? 
 
%$i- R A Y N E 
 
 MESSENGER^ 
 
 Is the execution over ? 
 
 FIRST CROWD. 
 
 Yes, rt Is over. 
 
 MESSENGER^ 
 
 Ah ! then I am too late, 
 
 FIRST CROWD* 
 
 What mean ye by that ? 
 
 MESSENGER, 
 
 I brought a pardon for him. 
 
 HARDiBRAND Critjhhig Upon the mejfenger and coU 
 
 taring him), 
 
 A pardon ! O confound your tardy fpeed ! 
 Had you upon fome paltry wager flrove. 
 You had run ikfter. — O, thou curfed fool ! 
 
 had'ft thou fped, I'd made a rich man of thee ! 
 
 MESSENGER difentangling himfelf). 
 My fteed and I acrofs the high-fwoln flood, 
 Thofe on the fhore fhrieking to fee our boldnefs. 
 Have fearlefs fwam fome miles fhort of the pafs 
 Which we mud elfe have gain'd, or, by my faith, 
 
 1 had been later. 
 
A TRAGEDY. 133 
 
 HARDIBRAND. 
 
 Thou lieft, thou curfed fool ! thou fliould'fl: have 
 fped 
 Swift as a bullet from the cannon's mouth. 
 
 (Collaring him again, J 
 
 Enter Rayner, Mardonio, Bertram, and 
 
 Crowd. 
 MARpoNio (to Hardibrand, pulling him back from 
 
 the Meflenger). 
 Hold, general ! what hath the poor mai^ done ? 
 
 HARDIBRAND. 
 
 What has he done ! he's brought a pardon, fiend ! 
 
 (The Qrovjdi give a great J})out cryi7ig out ^^ far- 
 
 don^pardon^^ and Hardibrand, turning round 
 
 at the noife^ and feeing Rayner, fprings for* 
 
 ivardj and catches him in his arms, J 
 
 God blefs us all, and let us keep our wits ! 
 
 Is this true feeing that my eyes are bleli with ? 
 
 O welcome, welcome ! this is wonderful ! 
 
 My boy ! my noble boy ! my gallant boy ! 
 
 Thou art a man again, and I — rPm mad : 
 
 My head wheels round, but 'tis a blefled madnefs. 
 
 What fay'ft thou ? art thou filent ? 
 
 Hall no voice ? 
 
 RAYNER. 
 
 To be upon the verge of death is awful ; 
 And awful from that verge to be recalPd. 
 God blefs ye ! O God blefs ye ! I am fpent 5 
 But let me draw my breath a little while, 
 
X34 R A T N E R'. 
 
 And I will thank you — I will — Bear with me : 
 
 i cannot fpeak. (Recovering himfelf^ and feeing the 
 
 Crowd gather round him with joyful and fym- 
 
 pathizing looks, J 
 Surely *tis a kind world I have return'd to ; 
 There's fympathy and love in ev'ry heart* 
 
 MARDONio (io Meflenger). 
 
 Where is the pardon ? let me have it friend. 
 That I may read it. (Meflenger gives him a paper, 
 
 which he reads,) 
 We charge thee upon our authority to fet the 
 
 (Reading the rejl low to himfelf) 
 What ! call ye this a pardon which acquits 
 The prifoner as guiltlefs of the crime ? 
 May God be prajfed ! how has all this been ?. 
 
 MESSENGER. 
 
 Count Zaterloo, who on his death-bed lies. 
 In deep remorfe, a paper of confeflion, 
 Attefted by a prieft and his own mother, 
 Caus'd to be drawn, which to the governor 
 Fve brought, I wot, as quickly as I might, 
 Tho* (pointing to Hardibrand)this good gentleman— 
 
 HARDiBRAND (embracing the Meflenger). 
 
 O no ! O no ! thou'rt a brave fellow now. 
 And as I've faid I'll make a rich man of thee. 
 But I'm bewilder'd ftill : how hath it been 
 That he is fav'd, feeing no pardon reach'd him ? 
 
A T R A G E D Y. 133 
 
 MARDONIO. 
 
 Yes, thou may'ft wonder I for fome unknown 
 friend 
 Had fawn acrofs the main prop of the fcafFold, 
 So that the headfman mounting firft, the platform 
 Fell with a crafti ; and he, all maimM and bruis'd, 
 Unfit to do his office, was perforce » 
 
 HARDIBRAND. 
 
 Ay, ay, 'tis plain, thou need'fl not tell me more.— 
 But he the unknown friend > 
 
 Enter Ohio, run7ii?ig exultingly. 
 
 OHIO. 
 
 'Twas I that did it ! 
 Beat me and fcourge me as ye lift : I did it ! 
 He offer' d me his cloak : he pitied me ; 
 And I have paid him back. 
 
 HARDIBRAND. 
 
 Ha! well done and well faid, my brave black 
 thing ! 
 Art thou a prince ? in faith I think thou art. 
 ril take thee home, and make a man of thee. 
 No, no ! (pointing to Rayner) here is my fon, my 
 
 heir, my child : 
 All that I have is his : he will reward thee. 
 Thou haft a gen'rous mind, altho' debas'd 
 With vile oppreffion and unmanly fcorn, 
 
 K4 
 
136 R A y N E R, 
 
 RAYNER (taking Ohio and Hardibrand both by the 
 
 hand J* 
 
 What fliall I fay to you ? my heart would fpeak 
 What my voice cannot. O ! and here comes one 
 Who mocks all power of words. 
 
 C Enter Elizabeth runnings andrujhes into Ray- 
 ner*j arms; the Crowd then eagerly gathers 
 round them^ and clofes upon them,) 
 
 MARDONio (fiepping out from the crowds and looking 
 
 upon them.) 
 
 Yes, gather round him, kindly fouls tho' rude. 
 
 In the true artlefs fympathy of nature ; 
 
 For he is one o'er whom the ftorm has rolFd 
 
 In awful power, but fpar'd the thunderbolt. — 
 
 When urg'd by ftrong temptation to the brink 
 
 Of guilt and ruin, ftands the virtuous mind 
 
 With fcarce a fteep between ; all pitying heaven. 
 
 Severe in mercy, chall'ning in its love, 
 
 Oftimes, in dark and awful vifitation. 
 
 Doth interpofe, and leads the wand'rer back 
 
 To the ftraight path, to be forever after 
 
 A firm, undaunted, onward bearing traveller, 
 
 Strong in humility, v/ho fwerves no more. 
 
 (Exeunt, 
 
THE COUNTRY INN: 
 
 A COMEDY, 
 
PERSONS OF THE DRAMA. 
 
 MEN: 
 
 Sir John Hazelwood. 
 WoRSHiPTON, nephew to Sir John. 
 Amaryllis, /3:/>^^/. 
 DAviByfervant, l^'c, of the inn. 
 "WiLhypofiboy of the i?in. 
 jE^Ki't^Sj fervant to Worfhipton, 
 Piper ^ Fidler^ i^c, 
 
 WOMEN: 
 Lady GooDBODy. 
 
 Miss Martin, 1 nieces to Lady Good* 
 
 Miss Hannah Clodpats, j body, 
 Dolly, maid of the inn. 
 Landlady. 
 
 Hopkins, Lady Goodbody's maid. 
 Sally. 
 
 Scene, — A Country Lin, on one of the crofs-roads 
 leading from the North ^England to London, 
 
THE COUNTPvY INN: 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 SCENE I. The kitchen of a Country Inn: David 
 and Jenkins difcovered fitting by the fire fide, 
 
 DAVID. 
 
 John Thomson, fays I, why do you put yourfelf 
 into a pafTion ? an angry man, fays I, John, may be 
 compared to three things. 
 
 JENKINS. 
 
 Yaw ! yaw ! (yawning very wide) how thick that 
 fnow falls ! (looking to the window.) 
 
 DAVID. 
 
 Well, well ! let it fall as thick as it pleafes ! — To 
 three things, John, In the firfl place, in refped 
 that he is- very hot and very reftlefs and all that, he 
 may be compared to the boiling of a pot 'no, 
 no 1 that was the third thing. 
 
 JENKINS, 
 
 Never mindj man, put it firfl this time for a 
 -^riety. 
 
r4o THE COUNTRY INN^^ 
 
 DAVID. 
 
 No, no ! let us have every thing as it fhould be. 
 In the firil place then, fays I, in relpecl that he is fo 
 fharp, and fo fulTy, and fo bouncing, he may be 
 compared to your poor bottled fmall-beer : and in 
 the fecond place, in refpedi: that he is fo loud and 
 violent, and fo hafty, he may be compared — 
 
 JENKINS. 
 
 Yaw ! yaw ! yaw ! (yawning again very loud*) 
 
 DAVID (very impatiently). 
 Tut, man ! can't you keep thofe jaws of yours to- 
 gether, and hear what a body fays ? 
 
 , JENKINS. 
 
 Yaw, yaw ! Don't think becaufe I yawn, David, 
 that I don't hear what you fay. — But go on with 
 your llory : in the fecond place — ^— ^ 
 
 DAVID. 
 
 In the fecond place, fays I, in refpeft that he is 
 fo violent and fo loud, and fo hafty, he may be com*' 
 pared to the letting off of a ^ 
 
 JENKINS. 
 
 Of a train of gun-powder. 
 
 DAVID. 
 
 No, fir : It was not to that, fir. 
 
A C O M E D Y. i4t 
 
 JENKINS. 
 
 To the letting off of what, then ? 
 
 DAVID. 
 
 No matter what : I had a comparifon of my own, 
 but rU keep it to myfelf, 
 
 JENKINS. 
 
 Very well, David ; jufl as you pleafe ; for I can 
 fee now what an angry man is like, without your 
 giving yourfelf any further trouble. 
 
 DAVID, 
 
 Ay, ay ! jeer away fir ! you are jufl like your 
 poor filly affe£ted mafter up ftairs, who fimpers 
 whenever I open my mouth to fpeak, as if nobody 
 had any fenfe but himfelf. 
 
 JENKINS. 
 
 I don't think that my mafter fcts up for a wife 
 man neither, mailer David j but he's young and 
 well made, and ^ 
 
 DAVID. 
 
 He well made, hang him I Jiis uncle is a better 
 made man by half. — Ay, there is a gentleman for 
 ye ! a reafonable, fenfible, mannerly gentleman ! he 
 don't break in upon one with his fneers and his jeers 
 when a body is talking foberly and fenfibly- 
 
J4i THE COUNTRY INNs 
 
 JENKINS. 
 
 To be fure he has rather more manners about him 
 than we can pretend to. 
 
 DAVID. 
 
 By my faith he has ! and more fenfe too. What 
 do you think he faid to me the other day ? David, 
 fays he, you only want a great wig upon your head 
 and a gown upon your fhoulders^ to make as good 
 a profer as many that we liflen to in the pulpit or 
 the bench. Now, wan't it very condefcending in 
 him to call fuch a poor unlearned man as me a 
 profer, along w-ith fuch great folks as thefe ? Not 
 that I regarded fo much the compliment to myfelf, 
 for God knows, it becometh not a mortal man to be 
 proud, but I love to hear people fpeak rationally 
 and civilly. 
 
 JENKINS. 
 
 Yes, there is nothing like it to be fure : but my 
 young mafter is a very good mailer to me, and he 
 fpends his money like a gentleman. 
 
 DAVID. 
 
 I don't care a rufli how he fpends his money : 
 they feem to be the greatefl gentlemen now-a-days^ 
 v/ho have lead money to fpend. But if you had fal- 
 len fick on the road, like that poor old devil in the 
 rofe chamber, would your mailer have ftopp'd fo 
 long at a poor Country Inn, to attend you himfelf 
 
A C O M E D Y. 24J 
 
 like a fick nurfe? I trow not! he would have 
 fcamper'd off, and left you to follow when you 
 could, or to die, if you had a mind to it. 
 
 JENKINS. 
 
 If I were old and fickly, indeed, I had as lief have 
 Sir John for my mafler. 
 
 DAVID. 
 
 I believe fo : he is a better man than that Ikip- 
 jack nephew of his, twenty times over, and a better 
 looking man too. 1 wonder much how he has come 
 to this time o* th' day (for he mull be near forty I 
 guefs) without taking a wife. 
 
 JENKINS. 
 
 He thinks himfelf happier, I fuppofe, without 
 one. And I am fure no lady of any fpirit or fafhion 
 would think herfelf happy with him. 
 
 DAVID. 
 
 How fo ? what kind of man is he at home on his 
 own edate ? 
 
 JENKINS. 
 
 Why half ploughman ; for he often enough holds 
 his own plough of a morning, and can cafl ye up as 
 flraight a furrow as any clod-footed lout in the 
 country ; half prieft, for he reads family prayers to 
 his fervants every Sunday evening as devoutly as the 
 vicar of the parifli ; half lawyer, for there is never 
 a poor filly idiot that allows himfelf to be cheated 
 
 5 . 
 
J44 THE COUNTRY INN: 
 
 in the neighbourhood who does not run to him 
 about it diredly, and he will brow-beat and out-wit 
 half a dozen of attorneys to have the goofe righted 
 again, if it were but of a crown^s value. 
 
 DAVID. 
 
 Well, but there is nothing amifs in all this. 
 
 JENKINS. 
 
 Then his other odd ways. Dinner mufl be upon 
 the table every day at the very moment he has fixed, 
 and he will not give ten minutes law to the firfl 
 lord of the land. Devilifhly inconvenient that for 
 young fellows like me and my mafler. 
 
 DAVID. 
 
 So much the better ; I commend him for it. 
 
 JENKINS. 
 
 Then he pretends to be hofpitable, and entertains 
 the firft people of the country, and yet he is not 
 afhamed to boaft that there has not been a drunk 
 man in his houfe fmce he was mafler of it. 
 
 DAVID. 
 
 Nay, odds life! that is being too particular, 
 indeed. , 
 
 JENKINS. 
 
 Ay, to be fure ; and yet he puts always fuch an 
 6afy good humoured face upon it, that people will 
 
A C O M E D Y. 14^ 
 
 not call him a hunks for ail that. One half of it I'm 
 fure would have made any other man pafs for a very- 
 curmudgeon. What has fuch a man to do with a 
 wife,unlefs he could get fome fober young lady, edu- 
 cated two hundred years ago, v/ho has kept herfelf 
 young and frefh all the while in fome cave under 
 ground along with the feven fleepers, to Hart up to 
 his hand and fay, " pray have me?" — \s for my 
 mailer, he w^ould remain a bachelor if he could ; 
 but we young fellows who have only our perfons for 
 pur patrimony, mud difpofe of them in their prime 
 when they will fetch the highefl: price, 
 
 DAVID. 
 
 To be fure, to be fure ! PrinceiTes a piece for you! 
 young men, now a days, are mightily puffed up in 
 their own conceits. They are colts without a bridle, 
 but they bite upon the bit at laft. They are butter- 
 flies in the fun, but a rainy day wafhes the colour off 
 their wings. They fail down the dream very brilkly, 
 
 but it carries them over the ca-cartica catarad 
 
 (what ye call a water-fall ye know) at laft. 
 
 JENKINS. 
 
 Faith, David ! you itring up fo many what do ye 
 call 'em fimilitudes in your difcourfe, there is no 
 underflanding it:, you are juft like that there poet 
 in the green chamber, that writes upon the win- 
 dows. 
 
 DAVID. 
 
 ;. .He, drivling fellow ! he has not fenfe enough to 
 
 L 
 
H6 the country INN: 
 
 make a fimilitude. If it were not for the words hf 
 contrives to make clink with one another at the end 
 of every line, his verfes would be little better than 
 what a body may call mere fluff. 
 
 Enter Dolly. 
 
 DOLLY. 
 
 You'll never write fuch good ones tho', for all 
 your great wifdom, Mr. David. 
 
 DAVID. 
 
 Ay, you're a good judge to be fure ! I'm fure you 
 could not read them though they were printed in big 
 letters before your nofe, hufly. You can tell us, I 
 make no doubt of it, how his julep tafles, and how 
 his breath fniells after the garlic peels that he takes 
 to lay the cold wind in his ftomach, and how his 
 ruffled night-cap becomes him too ; for you have 
 been very ferviceable to him of late, and not very 
 fparing of your vifits to his chamber of an evening; 
 but as for his verfes, Mrs. Doll, you had better be 
 quiet about them, 
 
 DOLLY. 
 
 I fay his verfes arc as pretty verfes as any body 
 would defire, and I don't care a rufh what you fay 
 about his night-cap or his garlic. 
 
 DAVID. 
 
 Lord, Lord ! to hear how women will talk about 
 .what they don't uaderftand ! Let me fee now if you 
 
it 
 
 A C O M E D Y. ■ 147 
 
 know the meaning of the lines he has fcratch'd on 
 the middle pane of the north window : 
 
 'Twas not that orient blufh, that arm of fnow. 
 That eye's celeftial blue, which caus'd my woe, 
 *' *Twas thy exalted mind, my peace which Hole, 
 " And all thy moving fympathy of foul." 
 Now, can you underftand that^ miftrefs madam f 
 
 DOLLY. 
 
 I fay the verfes ate very pretty verfes, and what 
 does it fignify whether one underfiands them or 
 not? 
 
 DAVID. • 
 
 And then upon the other pane clofe by it : 
 " Give me the maid, whofe bofom high 
 " Doth often heave the tender ilgh ^ 
 " Whofe eye, fufFus'd with tender" care, 
 " Doth often fhed the foft luxurious tear.'^ 
 CTo Jenkins.) Now this is Doll herfelf he means in 
 thefe verfes, for he came to this houfe the very day 
 that the beggar-woman ftole her new ilockings from 
 the fide of the wafh-tub, and Tm fure fhe ihed as 
 many tears about them as would have wa{h'd them 
 as white as a lily, tho' they were none of the clean- 
 eft neither, it muft be confefs'd. — If I were to write 
 poetry * 
 
 DOLLY. 
 
 If you were to write poetry ! Don't you remem- 
 ber, when you made that bad metre for Goody 
 
 L2 
 
143 THE COUNTY INN: 
 
 GIbfon's grave-flone, and all the paridi laugh'd at 
 it? 
 
 " All ye gentle Chridians who pafs by, 
 *' Upon this dumb flone caft a pitying eye ; 
 ^^ I pray you for yourfelves, not me, bewail, 
 " I on life's follies now have turned tail." 
 And don't you remember when you went to church 
 afterwards, how all the children of the village point- 
 ed with their fingers, and turn'd round their behinds 
 to you as you pafs'd ? If you were to write poetry, 
 forfooth ! 
 
 DAVID. 
 
 Devil take you, you filthy lying jade! it is well for 
 you that I fcorn to be angry with the likes of you. 
 
 DOLLY C laughing in his face J. 
 
 " I pray ye for yourfelves bewail, 
 
 " For I on life have turned tail." 
 (J)2i\\d^iakes up ajiool and runs after her to cajl it at 
 her head.) O mercy 1 my head, my head ! 
 
 JENKINS (preventing him.) 
 
 s 
 
 Nay, David, I can't fee a lady ufed ill in my pre- 
 fence. Confider, my good friend, a man in a paf- 
 fiori may be compared to three things. 
 
 DAVID. 
 
 Devil take your three things, and all the things 
 that ever were in the world ! If I but once get hold 
 cf her ! 
 
A COMEDY. MP 
 
 Enter Landlady. 
 
 LANDLADY. 
 
 What's this noife for ? are you all mad to make 
 fuch a diflurbance and gentle-folks in the houfe ? I 
 proteft, as I am a living woman, you make my houfe 
 more liker a Bedlam than a fober Inn for gentle- 
 folks to ftop at. 
 
 DAVID (Jim JImking his fjl at Dolly). 
 If I could get hold of her, I would drefs her ! I 
 would curry-comb her ! 
 
 LANDLADY. 
 
 Won't vou have done with it yet ? currv-comb 
 your horfes, and let my maid alone. They (land 
 in the flable poor things in dirty litter up to their 
 bellies, while you fit here prating, and preaching as 
 tho' you were the vicar of the parifh. 
 
 DAVID, 
 
 Mud one be always attending upon a parcel of 
 damn'd brutes, as tho' they were one's betters ? mull 
 a body's arm never have a moment's reft ? 
 
 LANDLADY. 
 
 Let thy tongue reft a while, David : that is the 
 member of thy body that haft moft reafon to be tired. 
 And as for you, Doll, mind your own work, and 
 other people will leave you alone. Have you 
 pluck'd the crows for the pigeon-pve yet, and 
 
 L3 
 
1^0 THE COUNTRY INN: 
 
 icraped the maggots from the flak mutton ? well do 
 I know there's ne'er a bit of all this done ; we fliall 
 be put to fuch a hurry fcurry to get the dinner 
 drefs'd, that all the nice vidluals will be fpoil'd fbell 
 rhigsj. O lud, lud ! how they do ring them bells ! 
 Run and fee what's wanted, Dolly. (^Exit Dolly.) 
 This comes of making a noife, now ! CExit Jenkins, 
 
 DAVID. 
 
 The greatell noife has been of ypur own making, 
 I'm fure. 
 
 LANDLADY. 
 
 dear me ! what will this houfe come to ! It will 
 turn my poor head at laft. 
 
 Re-enter Dolly in a ^reat htirry^ 
 
 DOLLY. 
 
 A coach, a coach ! a coach at the door, and fine 
 ladies in it too as ever my eyes beheld. 
 
 LANDLADY. 
 
 A coach fay you ! that's fomething indeed. J 
 wifh the flairs had been fcower'd this morning. 
 Run and light a fire in the blue chamber. 
 (Exeunt Landlady and DoWy fever ally ^ in great hajle^ 
 
 DAVID. 
 
 1 wonder what can bring thefe lady-folks out 
 now in fuch cold weather as this. Have they never 
 a fire at hopie to fit by, in a plaguq to them ! 
 
A COMEDY. 151 
 
 They'll bring as many vile fmoking bealls with 
 
 them, as will keep my poor arms 
 
 (Exit grujublhig. 
 
 Re-enter Landlady, yZ^^-it^v/z^ in Lady Goodbody, 
 Miss Martin, and Hannah, followed by a 
 ' Maid carrying boxes, l5fc. 
 
 landlady. 
 O la, ladies ! I am forry the fires an't lit : but I 
 Ixave juft ordered one to be lit in the blue chamber, 
 and it will be ready immediately. 1 am fure your 
 ladylhips mud be fo cold ; for it is to be fure the 
 fevered weather I ever fee'd. 
 
 LADY GOODBODY. 
 
 We fhall warm ourfelves here in the meantime. 
 
 MISS MARTIN. 
 
 What place can be fo comfortable in a frolly 
 morning as a ftool by the kitchen fire ? 
 
 (Sits down on ajiool by the. fire,) 
 
 LANDLADY. 
 
 O dear, ladies ! here are chairs. (Sets chairs for 
 
 them.) 
 
 LADY GOODBODY (tO Maid). 
 
 Here is a feat for you too, Hopkins, fit down by 
 the fire. 
 
 L 4 
 
1^2 THE COUNTRY INN: 
 
 HOPKINS, 
 
 I thank you, my lady, I mud look after the things 
 in the coach. (Sets dozvn the hox^ b"^. and exit.) 
 
 XADY GOODBODY (to Landlady). 
 Have you many travellers, ma'am, in this road ? 
 
 LANDLADY. 
 
 O yes, my lady, a pretty many. We had a little 
 time ago my Lady the Countefs of Poflaway, and a 
 power of fine folks with her. It was a mighty cold 
 day when fhe came, madam, and fhe was a mighty 
 good humour'd lady to be fure : fhe fat by the fire 
 here jull in that very corner as your ladyfhip does 
 now. 
 
 MISS MARTIN. 
 
 It has been a highly-honour'd nook indeed. 
 
 LADY GOODBODY. 
 
 Pray ma'am, what have you got in the houfe for 
 ' dinner ? for it fnows fo faft I think it will be impof- 
 fible for us to get any further to day. 
 
 LANDLADY. 
 
 O la, to be fure ! I have got, my lady, a nice 
 pigeon-pye for dinner, a,nd fome very tender mutton. 
 But do you know, my Lady Countefs would dine 
 upon nothing but a good difh of fried eggs and 
 bacon, tho' we had fome very nice things in the houfe 
 ril affure you. 1 don't fay, to be fure, that quahty 
 
A C O M E D Y. 153 
 
 are all fond of the fame kinds of vidluals ; but 
 fometimes it will fo happen that pigeons will not be 
 equally plump and delicate as at other times, let us 
 do what we will with them ; and the mutton being 
 fed upon old grafs, my lady, will now and then be 
 a little drono: tailed or fo. — O dear me ! if it had 
 not been all eaten up two days ago, I could have 
 given you fuch a nice turkey ! it was to be fure as 
 great a beauty as ever was put upon a fpit. How- 
 fomever, you may perhaps after all, ladies, prefer 
 the eggs and bacon. 
 
 MISS MARTIN. 
 
 i 
 
 Yes, my good ma'am ; the eggs and bacon that 
 may be eaten to-day will anfwer our purpofe rather 
 better than the turkey that was eaten yellerday. 
 
 LADY GOODBODY. 
 
 Have you any cor.:pany in the houfe ? 
 
 LANDLADY. 
 
 O yes, my lady, we have a good pleafant gentle- 
 man, who has been here thefe three days, becaufe 
 his fervant w^as taken ill upon the road. Sir John 
 liazelwood, and his nephew with him ; and we 
 have a flrange kind of a gentleman Vv^ho has been 
 here thefe three weeks, juft to be quiet, as he fays 
 himfelf, and to ftudy the muncs, tho' I can't fay we 
 ever hear him play upon afiy thing neither. How- 
 Ibmever, he diverts himfelf all day long after his 
 
154 THE COUxNTRY INN: 
 
 own fafliion, poor man, writing bits of metre upon 
 the windows and fuch like, and does harm to no- 
 body. 
 
 HANNAH C after gazing for a lo?ig iime at the things 
 ranged over the chinmey )• 
 
 There is a pair of candleflicks the very fame with 
 thofe we had in our bed-room at the laft inn : look 
 if they an't, the very fellows to them coufm, all but 
 the little bead round the fockets. (To Mifs M.) 
 
 LADY oooDBODY (to Hannah). 
 My good child, you are always obferving things 
 that nobody elfe notices. (To Mifs M.) Sir John 
 Hazelwood is an old acquaintance of mine ; Til let 
 him know that I am here prefently. 
 
 Enter Dolly. 
 
 DOLLY. 
 
 The room is ready, ladies, and the fire very good. 
 
 LADY GOODBODY. 
 
 We fhall go to it then. Let me have a candle, 
 pray ; I fhall have fome letters to feal by and by. 
 
 DOLLY. 
 
 Yes, ma'am ; and miftrefs got fome wax ones 
 when the great lady was here, I'll bring you one of 
 
 ihem. 
 
A C O M E D Y. 155 
 
 LADY GOODBODY. 
 
 No, no, child ! a tallow one will do well enough. 
 (Exeunt Lady Goodbody, Mifs Martin, and 
 Hannah, Landlady conducUng them. 
 
 Enter Will. 
 
 WILL. 
 
 Yes, Doll, give her a tallow candle, and a (link- 
 ing one too. 
 
 DOLLY. 
 
 The lady feems a very good lady, Mr. Sauce-box ; 
 and as to ftinking candles I would have you to 
 know we have no fuch things in the houfe. , 
 
 WILL. 
 
 That is plaguy unlucky then, for this is the firfl: 
 time fince I came to the houfe that you have been 
 without them. — Confound the old dingy hypocrite! 
 1 wiih they fmelt like carrion for her fake. 
 
 DOLLY. 
 
 What makes you fo bitter agalnfl the poor lady? 
 Tm fure fhe is as civil a fpoken lady as 
 
 , , WILL. 
 
 Yes, mighty civil, truly. I hate your fmooth- 
 fpoken people : it is licking the butter off other 
 people's bread that keeps their tongues fo well 
 oil'd. I drove like the devil to get here before the 
 
1^6 THE COUNTRY INN: 
 
 fnow came on ; I fpared neither myfelf nor my 
 cattle to pleafe her, and what do you think I had 
 for my pains ? 
 
 DOLLY. 
 
 I can't fay : it is a long ftage to be fure. 
 
 WILL. 
 
 PaUry half-a-crown, an' be hang'd to her ! 
 
 DOLLY. 
 
 But why did you take fo much pains to pleafe 
 her ? 1 never knew you do fo before, but when you 
 v/ere promifed a bribe for your trouble. 
 
 WILL. 
 
 Becaufe I tell you Ihe's a hypocrite, and would 
 deceive Old Nick, if he were not as cunning as her- 
 felf. AVhen we palTed thro' Middleton ihe bought 
 as many coarfe flockings as would have flocked a 
 hofier's fhop ; and her maid told me they were all 
 to be fent to her ov/n eflate to be given to the poor 
 of the neighbourhood ; fo, thinks I to myfelf, this 
 mud be fome rich liberal lady that gives away money 
 with both hands, I won't (land upon trifles with 
 her, and off I fet like the deuce. But 'tis all a curfed 
 lie : flie'U fell them again, I'll be bound for it, and 
 make a groat of profit upon every pair. I'll be re- 
 venged upon her ! Hark ye, Doll ; I'll give thee a 
 new to})-knot if thou'lt help me in any way to be 
 revenged upon her. 
 
A C O M E D Y. I 
 
 57 
 
 DOLLY. 
 
 Nay, nay, you promifed me one lad fair, Will, 
 and brought me home nothing but a twopenny bun 
 after all. I know you well enough ; fo you may 
 play your tricks off by yourfelf : Til have nothing 
 to do with you. fExit. 
 
 WILL. 
 
 What ails the wench now, I wonder ; ever fmce 
 that there poet, as they call him, has been in the 
 houfe, file has fpoken to me as if I were a pair of 
 old boots. CExiL 
 
 SCENE II. J Parlour, 
 Enter Sir Iohn Hazel wood ajid WoPvSHIpton, 
 
 SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. 
 
 "Well, Ned, here is a rich heirefs unexpectedly 
 fallen in our way ; you or I for her ? 
 
 WORSHIPTON. 
 
 If women favoured men for their merit, Sir John, 
 I fliould not prefume to enter the lids with you : 
 but, luckily, they prefer a good complexion to a 
 good underftanding ; a well-made leg to what my 
 grandmother ufed to call a well-order'd mind ; and 
 a very little fadiion to a great deal of philofophy j 
 which makes us good-for-nothing fellows come far- 
 ther into their good graces than wifer men think we 
 are ejititled to. 
 
ijS THE COtTNTRY INN.^ 
 
 SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. 
 
 You are very humble and very diffident truly : 
 the meaning of what you fay being fimply this^ 
 that you are a mighty handfome fellow. Well, be 
 it fo ; make as much of your perfonal qualifica- 
 tions as you can : it were hard indeed if they did 
 not Hand you in fome good account, fince you and 
 your fafliionable brotherhood take no pains to ac- 
 quire any other. 
 
 WORSHIPTON. 
 
 And they will Hand us in good account, my 
 good fir. Upon my honour we treat the fex in a 
 much fairer manner than you do. She who mar- 
 ries one of us fees what llie gets, but he who pre- 
 tends to a woman on the fcore of his mental ac- 
 complifiiments, holds out to her a moft deceitful 
 lure. A man's temper and opinions may change, 
 but he always wears the fame pair of legs. 
 
 SLR JOHIJ HAZELWOOD* 
 
 There is fome reafon in this, I confefs : and 
 there is one advantage you have in thus tricking 
 out your four quarters for the market, — they are 
 in no danger of going off for lefs than they are 
 worth. Your man of ton, as you call it, moft 
 commonly ends his career by marrying juft fuch a 
 woman as he deferves. 
 
A C O M E D Y. 159 
 
 WORSHIPTON. 
 
 End his career ! who the devil would marry if it 
 were not to prolong it ? A man may indeed fome- 
 times be tempted to marry a fafhionable beauty to 
 pleafe his vanity, 
 
 SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. 
 
 Or break his heart. 
 
 WORSHIPTON. 
 
 Poh, poll I there are more people who die of 
 broken heads now o' days. A man may fometimes 
 marry a woman of rank to be look'd up to by his 
 old friends, 
 
 SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. 
 
 Or down upon by his new ones. 
 
 W^ORSHIPTON. 
 
 You are crufly now. — But a rich wife is the only 
 one who can really excufe a young fellow for taking 
 upon himfelf the fober name of huiband. 
 
 SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. 
 
 If this is your opinion, you had better Hill retain 
 the more fprightly one of bachelor. 
 
 WORSHIPTON. 
 
 And leave the heirefs to you, Sir John. 
 
160 THE COUNTRY INNi 
 
 SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. 
 
 No, Worfhipton ; there is not a woman now 
 exifting, as the world goes, that would fuit me ; 
 and I verily think that here as 1 fland, with all my 
 opinions and habits about me, I would fuit no wo- 
 man : I mud e'en remain as I am. 
 
 W^ORSHIPTON. 
 
 I wifh to God 1 could do fo too : I Ihould afl<: no 
 better, 
 
 SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. 
 
 What fhouid hinder you, young man ? 
 
 WORSHIPTON. 
 
 I am under the iieceflity of marrying : my cir- 
 cumitances oblige me to it. 
 
 SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. 
 
 I am at a lofs to comprehend the necelTity you 
 talk of. 
 
 WORSHIPTON. 
 
 Will three hundred a year and a commiflion in 
 the army keep a man's pocket in loofe money, my 
 good fir, fupport a groom and valet, a pair of riding 
 horfes, and a curricle ? 
 
 SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. 
 
 I crave your pardon, fir: thefe things being 
 neceifaries, you are perfedly in the right ; and if 
 
A C O M E D Y. i(?r 
 
 you choofe to Impofe a difagreeable reftraint upon 
 yourfelf for fuch necelTaries, nobody has any right 
 to find fault with you. 
 
 WORSHIPTON. 
 
 Impofe upon myfelf a reftraint ! Ha ! ha ! ha I 
 pardon me ! this is rather an amufing idea of 
 youfs. 
 
 SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. 
 
 Why, you would not be bafe enough to marry a 
 woman and negled hen 
 
 WORSHIPTON. 
 
 No, Sir John ; I fhould pay her as much atten- 
 tion as women of the world now expe6l, and (he 
 who is not fatisfied with that mufl be a fooL 
 
 SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. 
 
 Well, pray heaven you may find one wife enough 
 to be fatisfied with you ! But if you ferioufly mean 
 to pay your addrelTes to Sir Rowland's heirefs, you 
 muft inform her of the real ftate of your affairs. 
 rU have no advantage taken of a young woman 
 under my eye, tho' it fhould be for the intereft of 
 my family. 
 
 WORSHIPTON. 
 
 I fliall pretend to nothing but what fhe may be 
 afcertained of if fae has eyes in her head. 
 
 M 
 
i6i THE COUNTRY INN: 
 
 SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD, 
 
 No, not fo eafily afcertained as you imagine. 
 There is many a handfome man in the world whom 
 nature never made fo. Flattery has foftened many 
 a rugged vifage, and hck'd many an awkward cub 
 into fhape -, and he who takes this method of be- 
 coming a pretty fellow before marriage, is bound 
 in honour to continue it, that he may flill remain 
 fuch after marriage. 
 
 WORSHIPTON. 
 
 V/hat ! mud I be repeating the fame thing to 
 her all my life long ? Tell a w^oman once in plain 
 Englilh that (he. is charming, and there is no danger 
 of her forgetting it. 
 
 SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. 
 
 Well, deal honourably, and I fliall rejoice in 
 
 your faccefs. Bat I mud; go to the (lable and 
 
 give directions to my groom : I ihall return pre- 
 isntly. (Exit. 
 
 W0R.SHIPT0N (alone). 
 Honourably ! yes, yes, we are all mighty con- 
 fcientious in every thing that is for the interefl 
 of another. But watch me as you pleafe, my 
 good Sir John, you flian't fnid me out. What a 
 plaguy thing it is to have an uncle of forty-one ! 
 What a devil of an age it is ! for one has but little 
 \\o\ e of a legacy from it, and it has, at the fame 
 time, all the cold, cautious, advice-giving fpirit of 
 
A C O M E D Y. 163 
 
 three fcore and ten. This Sir Rowland's daughter 
 is a good fcheme, upon my foul. He mufl: be fickly, 
 1 think, from his always living at home in fuch a 
 retired fituation. I dare fay he'll die foon, and 
 who knows but the lady may ftep off too, being of 
 a fickly flock. Yes, I feel a perfuafion within me 
 that I am born to be a lucky fellow. But hufh ! 
 here come the ladies. The fat aunt walks firft, 
 and the rich heirefs follows. A genteel-looking 
 woman, faith ! this is admirable luck. But who is 
 this awkward creature that comes fneaking after 
 them ? fome humble relation, I fuppofe. 
 
 Enter Lady Goodbody, Miss Martin and 
 
 Hannah. 
 
 lady goodbody. 
 I beg pardon if I have made any millake ; I 
 thought Sir John Hazel wood « 
 
 WORSHIPTON. 
 
 There is no millake, madam ; Sir John will be 
 here immediately. Permit me to place chairs. 
 
 LADY GOODBODY. 
 
 You are very obliging, but we have fat fo long 
 in a clofe carriage this morning, that we fhould be 
 glad to fland a little while. Sir John's politenefs 
 has made him facrifice his own convenience, I am 
 afraid. 
 
r64 THE COUNTRY INN 
 
 WORSHIPTON. 
 
 I am Aire he is well repaid in the honour he re- 
 ceives. (To Mifs Martin.) I hope, ma'am, you 
 feel no bad efleds from the cold journey you have 
 had ? 
 
 MISS MARTIN. 
 
 None at all, I thank you ; we have jufl: felt cold 
 enough to make a warm room very comfortable 
 
 'after it. 
 
 WORSHIPTON. 
 
 What a charming difpofition, thus to extract 
 pleafure from uneafinefs ? > 
 
 MISS MARTIN. 
 
 The merit of finding a good fire comfortable after 
 a cold winter journey, is one that may be claimed 
 without much diffidence. 
 
 LADY GOODBODY, 
 
 Pray, fir, did you ever fee fuch a heavy fall of 
 
 fnow come on fo fuddenly ? 
 
 WORSHIPTON. 
 
 Really, madam, I don't recoiled. (Turning again 
 to Mifs Martin.) But it is the character of true 
 
 merit — -— 
 
A C O M E D Y. i6-s 
 
 LADY GOODBODY. 
 
 Pardon me, fir, you have fomething of the family 
 face j are you not related to Sir John ? 
 
 WORSHIPTON. 
 
 I have the honour to be his nephew, madam. 
 CTurning again to Mifs Martin.) I fhall fall in love 
 with rough weather for this day's good fortune, 
 
 LADY GOODBODY. 
 
 I fuppofe, fir, you are acquainted with the family 
 of the Mapletofts in your county ? 
 
 WORSHIPTON. 
 
 I believe I have feen them. (Turning again to 
 Mifs Martin, and continuing to /peak to her 
 zvitb ?nuch devotion, J 
 
 LADY GOODBODY (to Hannah). 
 Well, my dear, you and I mufl talk together I 
 find. How did you like the country we pafs'd 
 thro' to day ? 
 
 HANNAH. 
 
 La, aunt ! It is juft: like our own ; I faw no dif- 
 ference. 
 
 LADY GOODBODY. 
 
 You are foolifh, child ! is not our's a flat country 
 .clothed with trees, and this a bare and hilly one ? 
 
 M3 
 
j66 THE COUNTRY INN: 
 
 HANNAH. 
 
 La, 1 did not look out of the coach windows all 
 the way, except when we (topped at the turnpike ; 
 and I'm fure it is a little tiled houfe with a gate by 
 the fide of it, jufl hke the one near our own entry ; 
 only that our's has got a pear-tree on the w^all, and 
 it has got fome dried turf piled up by the door, 
 with a part of an old wheelbarrow. 
 
 LADY GOODBODY. 
 
 "Well, you'll have more obfervatlon by and by, 
 I hope. 
 
 EnUr Sir John Hazejlw^ood. 
 
 SIR JOHN haz:elwood. 
 I am happy in the honour of feeing your lady- 
 fhip and thefe fair ladies, 
 
 lady GOODBODY, 
 
 And w^e reckon ourfelves particulary fortunate 
 in meeting with you. Sir John ; you are very good 
 indeed to give up fo much of your own accommo- 
 dation to poor ftorm-bound travellers. Allow me 
 to prefent my nieces to you. ( After frefenting her 
 nieces.) It is a long time fince we met, Sir John, 
 you were then a miere lad, and I v/as not myfelf a 
 very old woman. 
 
 SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. 
 
 I remember perfedlly the laft time I had the 
 
A C O M E D Y. 167 
 
 pleafure of feeing your ladyfhip, tho' being a 
 bachelor flill, I don't care to fay how long it is ago. 
 Your brother Sir Rowland was with you then ; I 
 hope he is well. 
 
 LADY GOODBODY. 
 
 He Is very well : I ought to have introduced his 
 daughter to you particularly. (Sir John go'mg up to 
 Mifs Martin.) No, no ! this (pointing to Hannah) 
 is my brother Rowland's daughter. She is fome- 
 what like her mother, who died, as you know, at a 
 very early age, leaving him but this child. 
 
 (Worihipton, who is about to prcfent with much 
 devotion a glove to IMifs Martin, which jhe had 
 dropped^ lets it fall out of his hand^ and re- 
 tiring fome paces hack ^ flares with afionifh- 
 went at Hannah.) 
 
 SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD (to Hannah). 
 I am happy to have this opportunity of paying 
 my refpedl to the daughter of my old friend. I 
 hope, madam, you will admit of this plea for being 
 better acquainted. 
 
 LADY GooDBODY (oftde to Hannah). 
 Anfwer him child. 
 
 HANNAH (ciirtfying awkwardly). 
 
 My father is very well, I thank you, fir. 
 
 M4 
 
168 THECOUNTRYINN: 
 
 MISS MARTIN ( looking Jlyly at Worfhipton). 
 I fancy, after all, I mull pick up this glove myfelf, 
 I am afraid fome fudden indifpofiticn -^ — -^ 
 
 woRSHiPTON (confufedlyj. 
 
 I beg pardon ! I — I have a flight pain in my 
 jaw-bone ; I believe it is the tooth-ach. 
 
 LADY GOODBODY. 
 
 The tooth-ach ! how I pity you ! there is no 
 pain in the world fo bad. But I have a cure for it 
 that I always carry about in my pocket for the good 
 of myfelf and my friends ; do fwallow fome drops 
 of it; it will cure you prefently (offering him a 
 phial)* 
 
 WORSHIPTON C retreating from her). 
 You are infinitely obliging, madam, but I never 
 take any thing for it. 
 
 LADY GOODBODY (follo^ving him with the phial). 
 Do take it, and hold it in your mouth for fome 
 time before you fwallow it. It is very naufeous^ 
 |DUt it will cure you. 
 
 WORSHIPTON (ftill retreating). 
 
 Pray, madam, be fo obliging as to excufe me : \ 
 cannot pofTibly fwallow it. 
 
A COMEDY. 169 
 
 JLADY GOODBODY (preffiiig it Jl'ill more earneftly). 
 Indeed, indeed, it will cure you, and I mud pofi- 
 dvely infift upon your taking it. 
 
 WORSHIPTON (defending h'wifelf vehemently ) , 
 Pofitively then, madam, you oblige me to fay — ? 
 {breaking fuddcnly away,) Peft take all the drugs 
 in the world ! (Aftde.J 
 
 > 
 
 SIR JOHN HAZEL WOOD. 
 
 You mull: not, Lady Goodbody, infnl on curing 
 a man againfl: his will : he likes the pain perhaps i 
 let him enjoy it. 
 
 WORSHIPTON (returning). 
 Indeed I am very much obliged to your lady- 
 fliip ; I am much better now. Forgive my impa^ 
 tience ; 1 don't know what I faid, 
 
 LADY GOODBODY. 
 
 I am very glad you are better, and I forgive vou 
 with all my heart, the' it is a remedy that I have 
 long had the greatefl faith in, diftiU'd by myfelf 
 from the very belt ingredients, and has cured a 
 great many people, I aiTure you. (To Sir John.) 
 So you took this lady for Sir Rowland's daughter? 
 (pointing to Mifs Martin.) Do you fee no traces In 
 her countenance of my filter and Colonel Martin ? 
 She lofl both her parents early, and fhe has ever 
 fince been my child. 
 
J70 THE COUNTRY INN: 
 
 SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. 
 
 You are happy in having fuch a daughter. 
 
 LADY GOODBODY. 
 
 1 am fo : fhe is a very good girl, and has many 
 excellent qualities, which young women now a-days 
 do but rarely poiTefs. 
 
 SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. 
 
 I dare fay fhe is a mofl amiable companion, 
 whom you would be very unwilling to part with. 
 
 LADY GOODBODY. 
 
 Nay, Sir John, I am not fo fellifli neither, but 
 that I fliould willingly give her up to a good huf- 
 band. 
 
 MISS MARTIN (^^<:/^ /i? Lady Goodbody). 
 Blefs me, ma'am, why will you do this ? you 
 know I can't bear it. (Aloud to Sir John.) You 
 mud not trud Lady Goodbody's account of me ; 
 for if fhe thought fize necelTary to make a woman 
 perfect, it would be difficult to perfuade her that I 
 am not fix feet high. 
 
 SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. 
 
 Excufe me, ma'am, I have always trufted to Lady 
 Goodbody's opinions, and have never felt more in- 
 clinaticn to do fo than at this moment. 
 
A C O M E I) Y, I7X 
 
 LADY GOODBODY. 
 
 She always behaves like a fool when fne is 
 praifed, and, excepting this, I don't know a fault 
 that ihe has. 
 
 ( E titer a Sewaiit aniiotmcing din7icr,) 
 
 (To Mifs Martin.) Go before, my dear, and place 
 
 my chair as you know I like it. (Exit Mifs Martin, 
 
 followed by Sir John leading out Lady Goodbody.) 
 
 WORSHIPTON (looking ajhance at Hannah, and then 
 going up to her with an univilling Jhrvg) » 
 
 Permit me to have the honour 
 
 (Exit^ banding her ouU 
 
 END OF THE FIRST ACT. 
 
 \ 
 
112 THE COUNTRY INN.- 
 
 ACT ]L 
 
 SCENE I. Lady Goodbody, Mifs Martin, and 
 Hannah, Sir John Hazeiwood, Worfhipton, and 
 Amaryllis, d'lfcovered fitting by a tahle^ with wine 
 and giajfes^ ^V. befoi'e th^m, 
 
 LADY GOODBODY. 
 
 But indeed, my dear Sir John, you ought to 
 marry, 
 
 SIR JOHN HAZELWOOP. 
 
 Indeed, my dear Lady Goodbody, I can't fee 
 that I am in duty bound fo to do. 
 
 LADY GOODBODY. 
 
 Ah, but you are tho' ! It would have made your 
 good worthy grandmother fo happy to have ittn 
 children of yours growing up to preferve the ho- 
 nours of the family. 
 
 SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD, 
 
 It is too late now to think of pleafing my grand* 
 mother after (he has been twenty years in her 
 grave : your ladyfhip muft ofler fume other argu- 
 ment to convince me. 
 
A COMEDY. 
 
 ^73- 
 
 LADY GOODBODY. 
 
 You owe It to your country then : all families 
 who have good fortunes and good blood in their 
 veins, fhould be kept up for the fake of their coun- 
 try. Is not every botiy forry when a houfe of this 
 kind becomes extinct ? 
 
 SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. 
 
 If I thought my eftates would ceafe to bear com 
 and hay upon them in poiTeiTion of a different fa- 
 mily, I fhould marry to-morrow for the good of 
 the country mod certainly. I iliould be very forry 
 to be fure to make every body forry for my want of 
 heirs : but I remember when my neighbour Squire 
 Wheelbarrow loll his only fon, there was as much 
 merry-making, and as much ale drank at the very 
 next fair, upon his ow^n ellate too, as if nobody 
 had cared a rufh about the matter, I believe you 
 mufl produce fome flronger reafon flill, my lady^ 
 
 W^ORSHIPTON. 
 
 Yes, do keep it up, madam ! don't let him off [o 
 eafily. 
 
 LADY GOODBODY. (gCl'jly)* 
 
 For the fake of the ladies then. Sir John, you 
 ought to be a bachelor no longer. 
 
 Vv'ORSHIPTON. 
 
 Now your ladyfliip attacks him from a ftrojig 
 pofl. 
 
174 THE COUNTRY INN^.- 
 
 AMARYLLIS. 
 
 Now, madam, you touch the fined chord of the 
 fours harmony. 
 
 SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. 
 
 She does ; I allow it. But I contend that I ant 
 of more fervice to the ladies in my prefent flate 
 than I could poffibly be in any other. Have I not 
 danced at our country balls with all the negleded 
 damfels who could find no partners to lead them out 
 for thefe ten years pad ? and do I not dill ferve as 
 a forlorn hope to half the defponding maidens and 
 uniettled widows of the wefl-riding of Yorkfhire ? 
 
 woRSHiPTON (to Lady Goodbody). 
 
 Upon my honour, madam, he tells you ferious 
 truth as to the negled:ed damfels, for he has danced 
 with them fo often, that it would be no longer the 
 fafhion for any other kind of damfels to dance 
 with hiai if he had not too good an eflate to be 
 rejedled. 
 
 LADY GOODBODY. 
 
 Your fervices to the ladies are too general. Sir 
 John ; to make one deferving woman happy is the 
 beft way of fhewing your refped for them. 
 
 SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. 
 
 And what lady, my good madam, will expe^l 
 happinefs from an elderly rufticated bachelor l 
 
A C O M E D Y. 175 
 
 LADY GOODBODY. 
 
 No ienfible woman dillikes an agreeable man be- 
 caufe he may be pafl the heyday of his Hfe. My 
 niece here (pointing to Mifs Martin) has often faid to 
 her giddy companions, that an agreeable man of 
 forty is preferable to the frivolous young men of 
 the world that one meets with every w^here now- 
 a-days. 
 
 MISS MARTIN. 
 
 You would oblige me very much, my dear ma- 
 dam, if you would fpeak your own fentiments, 
 without doing me the honour to make me fo much 
 wifer than I pretend to be. 
 
 SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. 
 
 If your ladyfliip pleafes we fliall drop this fub- 
 ject. I am obliged to you for your friendly advice, 
 but it is not in my power to profit by it ; for I can- 
 not, for the mere love of being married, yoke my- 
 felf to a bad wife ; and I am fo capricious and fo 
 ftrange with my old-rooted habits, that I really 
 don't deferve to have a good one. 
 
 W^ORSHIPTON. 
 
 That is the very cafe wdth him madam ; he mufl 
 have, forfooth, fuch a woman as the fun never be- 
 held : a woman of wit who holds her tongue j a 
 good houfewife who teizes nobody with her eco- 
 
176 THE COUNTRY INN: 
 
 nomy ; and a woman who knows the world, and 
 yet prefers retirement in the country, and his ho- 
 nour's amiable converfation, to every thing in it,^ 
 May I be if ever I require more of any wo- 
 man than to be well drefsM and look pretty as long 
 as I live. 
 
 LADY GOODBODY (to Sir John). 
 jDo you tolerate oaths in your prefence ? 
 
 SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. 
 
 I don't at lead encourage them by my examplce 
 
 W0RSHIPT0N<i 
 
 ^ How fnould you, my good fir ? you bury your-^ 
 felf fo much in the country you fcarcely knoY/ what 
 oaths are in ufci 
 
 SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. 
 
 That is not my reafon for abftaining from themj, 
 however : if ever I f];iould betake myfclf to fwear- 
 ing, 1 fliail give myfelf very httle concern about 
 the fafhion of the oath \ ods bodikins will do well 
 enough for me, and lack-a-dayfy for my wife, if I 
 fhould ever be happy enough, following Lady 
 Goodbody's advice, to have one* But Mr. Ama- 
 ryllis are you filent all this while ? it is furely your 
 turn next to tell us what kind of a woman you pre- 
 fer : fome very refined being undoubtedly. 
 
 AMARYLLIS. 
 
 Beauty, wut, fafhion, and economy are prized by 
 
A C O M E D Y. i;7 
 
 ihoft men, Sir John, but let the maid whofe tender 
 fenfiblllty, whofe foft delicacy, whofe fympathy of 
 foul gently animates her countenance, be my por- 
 tion, and every other thing I can difpenfe with. 
 
 MISS MARTIN. 
 
 You three gentlemen, at lead, are fo far lucky 
 in your tafhes, that you are in no danger of ever 
 becoming rivals. 
 
 LADY GOODBODY. 
 
 I raufl: own, however, Sir John's choice appears 
 
 to me to be the mod: reafonable, and not fo difficult 
 
 to be met with neither. My nieces fpend many 
 
 lonely months in the country with me, and Mifs 
 
 Martin prefers it, tho* (he is naturally of a gay 
 
 difpofition ; why fhould we not believe then that 
 
 there are many young women in the world of the 
 
 fame character? 
 
 i 
 MISS MARTIN fajtde to Lady Goodbody). 
 
 For heaven's fake, ma'am, give this up ! you'll 
 put me befide myfelf. 
 
 LADY GOODBODY (ofide to Mifs Martin). 
 
 You're a fool, and don't know when one is 
 ferving you. 
 
 SIR JOHN HAZELWooD (to Mifs Martin). 
 There is nothing can be fald in your praife, 
 madam, that will not be readily credited ; but to 
 prefer country retirement, and a bachelor paft the 
 
 N 
 
.178 THE COUNTRY INN: 
 
 noon of his days, is a fmgular tafte for a young and 
 gay woman. 
 
 MISS MARTI3^. 
 
 Perhaps it is fo : but unluckily it is one to which 
 I make not the fmallell pretenfions. I love the 
 amufements of town to a folly ; retirement is irk-« 
 
 fome to me j and I hate a capricious old- (Jiop- 
 
 ping Jhort as ifjhocked at herfelf^ with great 
 emharrajpnent.) 
 
 LADY GooDBODY (very angrily). 
 Mifs Martin : how can you be fo perverfe ! 
 
 SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. 
 
 Pray^ my dear madam, let us not fall out abopt 
 this foolifh jeft which we have kept up too long. 
 Here comes a ftrange original old fellow who is in 
 the cuflom of amufmg us a little after dinner, but 
 he forgets that there are ladies with us at prefent, 
 
 LADY GOOBBODY. 
 
 Pray let him come, we fhall be glad to hear Vvm 
 talk a little. 
 
 Eyiier David* 
 
 DAVID (to Sir John). 
 A good afternoon to your honour. 
 
 SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. 
 
 How do you do, my honeft friend David ? 
 
A COiMEDY, 179 
 
 DAVID. 
 
 As well as a dry mouth and an empty head will 
 allow a poor filly fellow like me to be. 
 
 SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. 
 
 Ay, David, wife men always fpeak modeilly of 
 themfeives, tho' they don't infill upon every body 
 believing them. Here is fomething for thy dry 
 mouth ; you mufl drink a bumper to the ladies* 
 healths. 
 
 DAVID. 
 
 Such ladies as thefe deferve bumpers a-piece to 
 their healths. 
 
 SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. 
 
 So they do j and here's the fird for you. 
 
 (Filling hi?n a glafs.J 
 
 «AVID (drinking J, 
 My humble refpeds to your Ladyfhip. 
 
 (To Lady Goodbody.) 
 
 I.ADY GOODBODY. 
 
 Fm proud of the refpect of fo wife a man, Mr. 
 David. 
 
 DAVID. 
 
 O Lord^ madam, why fhould I be held in any 
 account? What tho' a body may have a better 
 underftanding of things, and a better way of fetting 
 
 N2- . 
 
j8o THE COUNTRY INN: 
 
 his words in order, as it were, than another ; *tis 
 all but the gift of God, and why fhould a body be 
 proud of it ? 
 
 MISS MARTIN. 
 
 But folks will be proud of any gift, Mr. David, 
 unlefs they be endued, hke you, with the rare gift 
 of modefly alfo. 
 
 DAVID. 
 
 Faith, young lady, you're in the rights of it there. 
 Here's to your very good health : here's to your 
 fecret inclinations. 
 
 MISS MARTIN. 
 
 1 thank you ; but you are waggifh as well as wife» 
 
 DAVID. 
 
 O yes, madam ! nothing comes amifs to mc. 
 After I have been talking, mehap of the Pope, or 
 the Emperor, or the land-tax, or the folemn league 
 and covenant, I can jufl go and break my jefls 
 ^mong the women as if I were no better than one 
 of themfelves. 
 
 It-' MISS MARTIN. 
 
 How wonderfully condefcending to the poor iilly 
 women I 
 
 DAVID. 
 
 O yes, madam, 1 have no pride about me: I 
 can jufl talk like one of themfelves. (Drink'mg ta 
 
A C O M E D Y. i8i 
 
 Hannah.) My fervice to you^ youn^ lady. (Raifmg 
 his voice,) Yes, yes, commend me to the women : they 
 don't envy any little wit that one may have. But 
 confcience, I care for the face of no man ! (Look' 
 ing at Amaryllis.) Some of them, mehap, have ' 
 read more books than me, and can tell you the 
 Latin for one word and the Greek for another, and 
 the likes o' that ; but for good deep fenfe, and a 
 knack at a comparifon. Til defy the beft of them 
 all. Ods dickens 1 I could find ye out a fimilitude 
 for the fun, moon, and (lars, in the paring of a 
 black pudding's end. Laughing without^ and 
 
 Will'j head feen peeping at the door which 
 
 David had left a-jar.) 
 
 SIR JOHN HAZEL WOOD. 
 
 What's that ? 
 
 DAVID, 
 
 By my troth, I've forgot my errand ! I have 
 brought the poor girl who fmgs fo well to divert 
 youi" honours, and fhe is waiting at the door with 
 fome ill-mann^r'd companions along with her. 
 
 LADY GOODBODY. 
 
 Pray bring her in, we fhall be glad to have a 
 fong from her. 
 
 (David goes to the door^ and leading in Sally, 
 Jhiits it in WiU'^y^c^ with great indigJiation.J 
 
 DAVID (to Sally), 
 Come in, huffey, and let thofe fneering varlets 
 
 N3 
 
i82 THE COUNTRY INN: 
 
 amufe themfelves. Sing the ladies one of your 
 new fongs. 
 
 SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. 
 
 I believe they would rather have one of your 
 
 old ones. 
 
 • \ 
 
 SALLY. 
 
 Will you pleafe to have the Sailor's Courtfhip to 
 the Tinker's Daughter j or, " My tatter'd Hofe 
 and clouted Shoon ?" 
 
 SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. 
 
 I rather think the clouted fhoon will do befl, 
 
 SONG. 
 
 Tho^ richer fwains thy love piirfue^ 
 In Sunday geer^ and bonnets new ; 
 And ev*ry fair before thee lay 
 Their ftlken gifts with colours gay ; 
 They love thee not^ alas I fo well 
 As one whofighs and dares not tell ; 
 Who haunts thy dwellings night and nooVi 
 In tattered hofe and clouted Jhoon* 
 
 I grieve not for my wayward lot^ 
 Wly empty folds ^ my rooflefs cot ; 
 l^or hateful pity proudly fhoivn^ 
 Nor alter' d looks y nor friendjhip flown / 
 Nor yet my dog with lanken fides , 
 Who by his maflerjlill abides ; 
 But how will Nan prefer my boon^ 
 in tatter' d hofe and clouted fl)oon I 
 
A C O M E D Y. 183 
 
 MISS MARTIN. 
 
 She has a charming voice, and fings with fome 
 Ml. 
 
 SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. 
 
 Who taught you thefe fongs, Sally ? 
 
 SALLY. 
 
 My father, fir ; he's a fid — -* 
 
 DAVID C pinching her arm ajide.j 
 Fiddler an't genteel \ fay he's a muficianer, 
 
 SALLY. 
 
 He's a muficianer, fir. 
 
 (Worfhipton laughs i?npertin€ntly^ andjlares at 
 Sally, who keeps retiring in confufion as he 
 Jiill continues to Jlare^ and at laji rum out*) 
 
 DAVID. 
 
 Is the flieep-faced fool gone ? 
 
 (Exit after her in great indignation, 
 
 woRSHiPTON (to Amaryllis). 
 Let us go and coax her to return. 
 
 (Exit Worfliipton and Amaryllis), 
 
 SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. 
 
 She is very young, and we muft excufe her, 
 
 N4 
 
i84 THE COUNTRY INN: 
 
 LADY GOODBODY. 
 
 There are more people here than her who ought 
 to plead the fame excufe. Mifs Martin, you have 
 behaved very flrangely, and can only be pardoned 
 on account of your youth. 
 
 MISS MARTIN. 
 
 I have done fo many foolifh things for fix-and- 
 twenty years paft, that you are really very good, 
 my dear madam, to pardon me on that fcore. 
 
 LADY GOODBODY. 
 
 What do you mean ? what do you mean, child, 
 by calling yourfelf older than you are ? 
 
 MISS MARTIN. 
 
 1 have been of age thefe five years, and mod 
 people, I believe, will call that fix-and-twenty. 
 
 SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. 
 
 Your fervant, ladies, we (Iiall meet again at the 
 tea-table. (Exit. 
 
 LADY GOODBODY. 
 
 Very well, very well, Mifs Martin ! fince you will 
 be fix-and-twenty, tho' you know well enough you 
 want two months and a half of it, with all my heart. 
 But allow me to tell you, a maiden of that age 
 (hould look pretty fliarply about her if fhe would 
 not fdll remain a lonely maiden all her life. 
 
A COMEDY, i8; 
 
 MISS MARTIN. 
 
 I am fure it were better to remain a lonely 
 maiden all my life than take up with fuch pitiful 
 company as fome of your good matrons do, and 
 rather more refpedable too. 
 
 LADY GOODBODY. 
 
 No, child ; a married woman is always more 
 refpeclable tl^an a fmgle one, let her be married to 
 whom file will. 
 
 MISS MARTIN. 
 
 Indeed ! Can one give to another what he is not 
 pofTefs'd of himfelf ? Can a woman receive any 
 additional refpedability becavife fome drivelling, in- 
 fignificant man, whom all the world defpifes, has 
 put a wedding-ring upon her finger! — ha! ha ! hai 
 But I fuppofe a good fettlement is the honour your 
 Ladylhip means. 
 
 LADY GOODBODY. 
 
 No, indeed : I fay, every married woman is more 
 refpeclable than a fmgle one, independently of all 
 fettlements. What elfe do you think would hav.j 
 induced me, with the fortune I had, to marry Sir 
 Benjamin Goodbody ? for his perfon was difagree- 
 able, and his be(t friends admitted he was no 
 conjurer. Don't miltake me, however, I mean no 
 difrefpe^l to his memory. He was a very good man, 
 and I have lamented him fjncerely. And what el 
 
 
iS6 THE COUNTRY INN: 
 
 cio you think would have induced my coufin 
 Frances to give her hand to that poor puny creature, 
 Mr. Perewinkie, but to place herfelf in this refpect- 
 able ftate. 
 
 MISS MARTIN, 
 
 Ha ! ha ! ha ! I did not expe£l to hear fuch 
 fl:rong examples quoted from my own family. 
 
 LADY GOODBODY. 
 
 I)on't make a jefl of it : I fpeak ferioufly, and 
 you ought to think ferioufly. 
 
 MISS MARTIN. 
 
 I think very ferioufly that, if you would not pefler 
 rne continually with attempts to make up a match 
 for me with every man of fortune that falls in our 
 way, I fhould be very happy, my dear aunt, to live 
 Hill with you, and take care of your declining years^, 
 in return for the tendernefs and attention you have 
 bellowed on my youth. Why would you put me 
 away from you ? are you tired of my company ? 
 
 LADY GOODBODY. 
 
 Oh, Mary ! talk not of taking care of my de- 
 clining years : I fhopld be contented to be crippled 
 or bed-ridden all my life, could I but fee you hap? 
 pily and honourably married, 
 
 MISS MARTIN (kijftng Lady Goodbody'j band ten-' 
 
 derlyj. 
 My dear aunt ! pardon my petulance and eager* 
 
A C O M E D Y. 187 
 
 hefs. I will drive to pleafe you more : but do giv^ 
 up the prefent purfuit, I befeech you. 
 
 LADY GOODBODY. 
 
 No, no, my dear 1 I love you too well for that. 
 But I am unlit to fay any thing to you at prefent. 
 
 MISS MARTIN f looking after her* J 
 
 My dear, kind, perverfe aunt ! you will be the 
 death of me. CTo Hannah.) Come, my dear, 
 ^e'll retire to our rooms too. What have you 
 been thinking of all this time ? 
 
 HANNAH, 
 
 1 have juft been wondering whether my grand* 
 mother was chriflened Hannah or Hanabella, 
 
 MISS MARTIN. 
 
 "VVhat puts that into your head ? 
 
 HANNAH. 
 
 Becaufe Mr. Worfhipton faid at dinner, when 
 tny aunt calPd me Hannah, that (he fhould havQ 
 caird me Hanabella, which is a prettier name. 
 
 MISS MARTIN. 
 
 Mr. Worfhipton has been amuHng himfelf.— Oh 
 heigh ho ! I wilh we were at home again, in our 
 old manfion in the north. 
 
i88 THE COUNTRY INN: 
 
 Enter Hopkins. 
 
 liopKiNS (gently putting her hand on Mifs Martin's 
 
 Jhoulder), 
 My dear child ! pardon the liberty : I ftill feel 
 for you the affedion of a dry nurfe : what is the 
 matter with you ? 
 
 MISS MARTIN* 
 
 Still the old grievance, my dear Hopkins; my 
 aunt trying to make yp a match for me. 
 
 HOPKINS. 
 
 Ay, poor good lady : Ihe can't leave that algne 
 for the foul of her. She would make up matches 
 at home for every country girl in the neighbour- 
 hood if file could. I even believe, if I had not 
 been once married already, which fhe thinks fuffi- 
 cient for the credit of any woman, Ihe would flill 
 be for trying to make up a match for my old crazy 
 bones, God help me ! — But don't let it vex you 
 thus, my dear ma'am : I have brought you fome- 
 thing that will pleafe and divert you, 
 
 MISS MARTIN. 
 
 What is thati Hopkins ? 
 
 HOPKINS. 
 
 A letter from my little boy whom my lady puts 
 to fchool, written with hrs own hand, dear little 
 
 2 
 
A^COMEDY. iS^ 
 
 fellow ! and the firft he ever wrote in his life. It 
 begins " Dear Mother," and all as pretty as any 
 other letter. 
 
 MISS MARTIN. 
 
 I thank you, my good Hoppy ! I Ihall indeed 
 have a pleafure in reading it. Go with me to my 
 room, and ihew it me there : it does my ill-humour 
 good to fee thee fo happy ; I will drive to think 
 lefs of my own concerns. (Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE II. J/ma/I room leading to other rooms in 
 
 the houfe: Jenkins difcovered Jianding at one cf 
 
 the doors, behind which hang great coats^ l^c, 
 
 beckoning to fo?nebody who does not appear; pre- 
 
 fently enters V^ ox^A-^lon, Jlepping upon tiptoe. 
 
 WORSHIPTON. 
 
 Thou haft fome intelligence for me ? 
 
 (hi a loiv 'voice.) 
 
 JENKINS. 
 
 Yes ; the old lady and her woman are coming 
 this way prefently to go to Mifs Martin's room, and 
 the heirefs will follow them as foon as fhe can find 
 a glove that fhe is fearching for. 1 heard this jtifl 
 now as I liften*d at her door ; fo conceal yourfelf 
 here amongft thefe great coats for a few minutes, 
 and you may way-lay her as fhe palTes. 
 
 (Speaking in a halfwhifper,J 
 
1-go Trlt. GOUIsff RT INN5 
 
 WORSHIPTON. 
 
 Is my uncle dill reading in the next chamber? 
 
 Jl.NKINS. 
 
 I believe (o, f Going to a door at the hoitom of the 
 
 Jhage^ and lijlening,) He is juft now rifing to go away. 
 
 {VsfoxM^loTi Jhrinks hack, and is going hajlily but,) 
 
 No, no ! don*t be afraid ; he is gone out the other 
 
 way to vifit old Rycroft, I fuppofe. 
 
 WORSHiPTON (f peaking in a loud voice). 
 Good then : wt fhall have the coaft clear : \tt 
 us hide ourfelves. Thou mufl remain with me^ for 
 I may have occafion for thee. 
 
 (Hide themfelves among Ji the great coats.) 
 
 Enter Lady Goodbody and Hopkins, talking as 
 
 they enter. 
 
 LADY GOODBODY (in rather a low voice)* 
 Very true, Hopkins, and if my god-daughter 
 turns out an induftrious girl, FIl add fomething to 
 what file faves myfelf, to get her a huiband \ for 
 you know fhe is not very fightly. 
 
 HOPKINS (in a loud voice, having lingered fome paces 
 behind to pick up fomething Jhe has dropt). 
 
 Ay, there is plenty of hufbands to be had, my 
 Lady, tho' a girl be ever fo homely, if fhe have but 
 money enough. (Exeunt Lady Goodbody and 
 
 Hopkins.) 
 
A COMEDY. "^ , 191 
 
 WORSHIPTON (behind the door J. 
 Ay, they are talking of their heirefs now. They 
 are devilifhiy fufpicious of dcfigns upon her, but 
 we'll jockey them for all that. Ha ! here comes 
 the game. 
 
 Efiter Hannah Cand Worfliipton co??ics from hh 
 
 concealment)^ 
 
 HANNAH. 
 
 O la ! are you there, Mr. Worfhipton ? I faw 
 nobody here but the great coats hanging by the 
 wall* 
 
 WORSHiPTON. 
 
 You are not offended, I hope, that a great coat 
 fliould be turned into fomething that can fpeak to 
 you, and gaze upon you, and admire you, Mifs 
 Clodpate* (Ogling her.) 
 
 HANNAH. 
 
 La, now ! It is fo droll ! 
 
 JENKINS C peeping fro?n bis hiding-place )% 
 Droll enough, by my faith ! 
 
 WORSHIPTON. 
 
 I have been waiting here concealed a long time 
 for this happinefs ) for your aunt is fo jealous I can 
 
t^z THE COUNTRY INN: 
 
 find no opportunity of fpeaking to you. She knows 
 well enough it is impofliible to behold Rich beauty 
 
 and attradtion without pardon me: you 
 
 know very well what I would fay to you if I durft* 
 
 HANNAH. 
 
 La, no! how fhould I know. Do you mean 
 that 1 am beautiful, and what d'ye call it ? 
 
 ^ WORSHIPTON. 
 
 Indeed I do : your beauty mud be admired, tho^ 
 your prudent aunt does all fhe can to conceal it. 
 
 HANNAH. 
 
 La, now ! ycu fay fo becaufe my hair has been al- 
 lowed to grow fo long, and aunt and every body 
 fays that my ears are the prettied thing about me. 
 But it an't aunt's fault : 1 fhall have it cut when 
 we go to town. C Putting her hair behind her eats 
 
 awkzvardly ivith her fingers^ and beginning 
 
 to look rather brijh,) 
 
 WORSHIPTON (looking at them with affeded admira- 
 tion, J 
 
 O, beautiful indeed ! 
 
 JENKINS C peeping from his hiding-place) . 
 Ay, I thought the beauty lay hid under fome 
 fnug covert or other : it was devilifhly well con- 
 ceal'd by my faith I 
 
A C O M E D Yi 193 
 
 HANNAH. 
 
 La, now ! did you think they were as pretty as 
 they are ? 
 
 WORSHIPtOl^. 
 
 i mull: confefs I fhould have expected to find 
 them fomewhat of a longer fhape. But conceal 
 them for pity's fake, my charming Hannah : this is 
 dangerous. 
 
 HANNAH. 
 
 Hanabella, you know. 
 
 WORSHIPTON. 
 
 O yes^ Hanabella I mean. It is dangerous to 
 look upon fo much beauty, when one at the fame 
 time thinks of the extraordinary accomplifhments 
 of your mind. 
 
 HANNAH. 
 
 La, now ! who has told you that I got by heart 
 fix whole parts of the hundred and nineteenth 
 pfalm, word for word, in the fpace of two mornings 
 only, and every body faid it was very extraor- 
 dinary ? Somebody has told it you I know. 
 
 WORSHIPTON. 
 
 No, nobody > I juft found it out myfelf. 
 
 HANNAH. 
 
 La, now ! that is fo wonderful ! Aunt herfelf 
 
 O 
 
ip4 THE COUNTRY INNj 
 
 faid that my coufm Martin could not have done k 
 fo well. 
 
 WORSHIPTON. 
 
 Your coufm Martin ! would any one compare 
 you together ? Don't you know how much every 
 body is delighted with you ? 
 
 HANNAH. 
 
 La, no ! nobody tells me any thing about It, 
 
 WORSHIPTON. 
 
 Indeed ! that is very extraordinary : but they 
 have their own ends in that. Don't they watch 
 you, and keep always fomebody near you ? 
 
 HANNAH. 
 
 To be fure my aunt often defires my coufin to 
 take care of me when we go out. 
 
 WORSHIPTON. 
 
 I thought fo.— Ah ! my charming Hanabella ! 
 CSigbs two or three times, but Jhe continues 
 Jiaring vacantly, without taking any notice 
 of it.) 
 
 JENKINS (afide to Worfhipton as he walks near his 
 hiding -place, rather at a lofs what to do). 
 Give a good heavy grunt, fir, and (he'll afk 
 what's the matter with you : mere fighing is no 
 more to her than the blowing of your nofe. 
 
A C O M E D Y. 195 
 
 WORSHiPTON (^ Ogling Hznxidhy and giving a groan J. 
 Oh ! oh ! 
 
 HANNAH. 
 
 La ! what Is the matter with you ? have you the 
 ftomach ach ? My aunt can cure that. 
 
 WORSHIPTON. 
 
 Nay, my dear Hanabella, it is yourfelf that mud 
 cure me. I have got the heart-ach. It is your 
 pity I mufl implore. (Kjieeling and taking her hand.) 
 
 HANNAH. 
 
 O, fure now ! to fee you kneeling fo— ^it is fo 
 droll ! I don't know what to fay, it is fo droll. 
 
 WORSHIPTON. 
 
 Say that you will be mine, and make me happy: 
 there is nothing a lover can do, that I will not do 
 to pleafe you. 
 
 HANNAH. 
 
 Mifs Languifii's lover made fongs upon her» 
 
 WORSHIPTON. 
 
 ril do fo too, or any thing : but don't let your 
 aunt know that I have fpoken to you, fhe would be 
 fo angry. 
 
 HANNAH* 
 
 O no ! flie is very fond of people being married. 
 
 O2 
 
196 THE COUNTRY INN: 
 
 WORSHIPTON. 
 
 Yes, but Ihe will be angry at us tho' ; fo don't 
 tell her, nor Mifs Martin, nor any body a word of 
 the matter. Do promife this, my charming Hana- 
 bella ! my life depends upon it. (Kneeling again, 
 and taking her hand. J O don't pull away from mc 
 this fair hand ! 
 
 HANNAH. 
 
 La ! I'm fure I an't pulling it away. 
 
 WORSHIPTON (fiarting up fiiddenlj from his knees J » 
 
 There's fomebody coming. (Runs out and leaves 
 Hannah Jirangely bewildered, and not know- 
 ing where to run,) 
 
 HANNAH. 
 
 O dear, dear ! what fhall I do ! 
 
 Enter Hopkins, 
 
 HOPKINS. 
 
 What is the matter, Mifs Clodpate ? My Lady 
 fent me to fee what is become of you : are you 
 frightened for any thing, that you keep Handing 
 here in fuch a flrange manner ? * 
 
 HANNAH. 
 
 O la, no ! but I jufl thought fomehow, that you 
 would think there was fomebody with me. (Hop- 
 kins looks about the room fufficioujly.) O no : you 
 
A C M E t) Y. ' 197 * 
 
 need not look for any body : thofe are only great 
 coats by the wall, you fee ; and INIr. Worfliipton's 
 an*t there, you fee ; for his has got five capes to it, 
 and the cloth is of a much lighter colour, and it has 
 got more button-holes to it too than any body's 
 elfe in the houfe. 
 
 HOPKINS (Jim Jiaringjlrmigely about). 
 Mr. Worfhipton's ! was he here ? 
 
 HANNAH. 
 
 La, no ! an't I jult telling you that he an't here ? 
 
 HOPKINS (afide)^ 
 Well this is droll enough too — but no, no ! it 
 can't be any thing neither. (Aloud.) Your aunt 
 is impatient for you, Mifs Clodpate, 
 
 HANNAH. 
 
 la ! I'm going to her direflly. 
 
 (Exeunt Hannah and Hopkins. 
 
 JENKINS ( coming forward from his hiding-place^ and 
 Jhrugging up his fhoulders as he looks after 
 Hannah). 
 
 This is the price my mailer is willing to pay for 
 his curricle and his horfes. 
 
 Re-enter Worshipton. 
 
 WORSHIPTON. 
 
 1 think we have done pretty well, Jenkins, for 
 the firfl onfet. 
 
 02 
 
ipS THE COUNTRY INN; 
 
 JENKIKS. ' 
 
 Yes to be fure, fir ; but — but — < 
 
 WORSHIPTON. 
 
 But what, Jenkins ? 
 
 JENKINS. 
 
 Pardon my freedom, fir : — but don't you think 
 flie is rather too great a fool for - — - 
 
 WORSHIPTON. 
 
 Poh ! poh ! poh ! fhe is all the better for that : 
 it is a great advantage, and one that I am certain of, 
 
 JENKINS. 
 
 As to the certainty of it nobody will difpute 
 that, I believe. 
 
 WORSHIPTON. 
 
 Don't trouble thy head about it, if I'm fatisfied. 
 And remember the caution I gave you to fay no- 
 thing, in the way of aiking queftions at the fer- 
 vants, to lead them to fufped what we are about. 
 
 JENKINS. 
 
 Don't be afraid of that, fir : I can't if I would ; 
 for the man-fervant that attends them is a country 
 booby, who has not been in the family a fortnight, 
 and knows nothing at all about it ; and my Lady's 
 woman, with her (launch old-fafliion'd notions, has 
 
A C O M E D Y. 199 
 
 taken fuch a diflike to me that I hate to have any 
 thing to fay to her. 
 
 WORSHIPTON. 
 
 So much the better. Yes, yes ! things will go 
 fwimmingly on : I fhall foon jockey them all. 
 
 (Exeunt* 
 
 SCENE III. A chamber all Uttered over with 
 books ^ papers^ old coats, Jhoes^ ^c, Is'c, Amaryllis 
 difcovered fitting by a table with a pen in his hand^ 
 (ind paper before hi?n. After mufingfome time^ be 
 writes and then blots out what he has written, 
 
 AMARYLLIS (to hijnfelf)* 
 
 This won't do : it does not found well. What 
 a teafmg thing it is, when one has got a beautiful 
 line, to be flopp'd thus for want of a good rhyme 
 to couple with it ! (repeating with great emphafis and 
 
 gejliculation) 
 *' On thy ideal pinions let me fly, 
 *^ High-foaring Fancy, far above the fl;y : 
 *^ Beyond the (tarry fphere towering fublime, 
 *^ Where vulgar thought hath never dar'd to — 
 No, climb does not pleafe me : it is too heavy a 
 motion for thought. (Mifing and rubbing his fore- 
 head.) 
 
 , " Beyond all thought infpiring vulgar rhyme." 
 No, that won't do neither. (Mujtng again and 
 biting his ?iails,J Pert: take it ! if I fhould bite my 
 
 04 
 
23.0 THE COUNTRY INN: 
 
 fingers to the quick it won't come to me. (A gentle 
 knock at the door. J Who's there? (in an angry 
 voice, J 
 
 DOLLY {half Opening the door J ^ 
 'Tis I, fir ; does your fire want coals ? 
 
 AMARYLLIS (in a foftencd voice), 
 O, it is you, Dolly. Come in and fee, my good 
 girl. (Enter Dolly, ajid pretends to he bufy in 
 putting the room in order ^ ivhiljl Amaryllis takes his 
 pen and begins feveral times to write^ but as often lays 
 it down again, looking at the fame time over his jhoulder 
 at her.) Plague take it ! fhe puts it all out of my 
 head. {Leans his arm on the table for fome time^ ftill 
 looking frequently about to her.) Faith, I believe fhe 
 has a fneaking kindnefs for me, fhe finds always fo 
 many little things to do in my room. She's a good, 
 rofy, tight girl, on my foul ! (Afide.) No, my 
 pretty Dolly, that book is too heavy for you : I'll 
 put it in its place. (Getting up with great animation, 
 and running to her.) 
 
 DOLLY, 
 
 O no, fir ! I'll do it very well myfelf. I jufl 
 thought, as \\oyN your room would be in confufion, 
 and fo ^ 
 
 AMARYLLIS. 
 
 And fo you came to put my head into confufiqn 
 too, you little baggage. 
 
^COMEDY. joi 
 
 DOLLY. 
 
 O fure! 1 hope not, fir. 
 
 AMARYLLIS. 
 
 You're a ily gipfy, Dolly. But you think df me 
 fometimes then, eh ? C Pinching her ear and patting 
 her cheeks) 
 
 WORSHIPTON (without), 
 
 Amaryllis 1 Amaryllis ! are you at home, Ama- - 
 ryllis ? 
 
 Amaryllis runs hack to his table again, and 
 
 pretends to be writing, without attending to 
 
 the inkjiand and Jeveral books which he over- 
 
 Jets in his hajle, whilji Dolly makes her efcape 
 
 by the oppofite doorjiift as Worihipton enters.) 
 
 WORSHIPTON. 
 
 I heard you were at home, fo I made bold to 
 enter. What, writing fo compofedly after all this 
 devil of a noife ? 
 
 AMARYLLIS (looking Up with offcded apathy). 
 Yes, I believe the cat has been playing her gam- 
 bols amongft my books. 
 
 WORSHIPTON. 
 
 It may have been the cat, to be fure, for 
 thofe creatures have witchcraft about them, and 
 can do many wonderful things o* winter nights, as 
 
202 THE COUNTRY INN: - 
 
 my old nurfe ufed to tell me ; but if you had told 
 me it was half a dozen of dogs that made fuch a 
 noife, I fhould fcarcely have believed you. Cats 
 too can put on what forms they pleafe, I've been 
 told ; and tho* they generally aiTume that of an 
 old woman, your's has been more civil to you, I 
 believe, in taking the more agreeable form of a 
 young one. I caught a glimpfe of her, Amaryllis, 
 as file fled into the other chamber, 
 
 AMARYLLIS. 
 
 Poh ! Dolly has been putting my books in order : 
 is file gone ? C Pretending to look round for her.) 
 
 WORSHIPTON. 
 
 Well, well, never mind it ! I came on a little 
 bufmefs to you, elfe I fliould have been forry 
 to difturb you ; for I know well enough you are 
 always employed about fome fublime thing or other. 
 
 « 
 
 AMARYLLIS. 
 
 You are too flattering. — You come upon bufi- 
 nefs ? 
 
 WORSHIPTON. 
 
 Yes, Amaryllis, and you are fo good-natured, 
 that I flian't make any preamble about it. I want 
 to pleafe a lady, or make a lady believe 1 am 
 pleafed v/ith her, which is the fame thing, you 
 know ; and I want to borrow one of your poems 
 that I may prefent it to her as written in praife of 
 
A C O M E D Y. 203 
 
 herfelf. However, fhe is not very refined in her 
 tafte, any common-place thing will do. 
 
 AMARYLLIS. 
 
 I am infinitely flatter'd, Mr. Worfhipton, that 
 you fhould apply to me for a common-place thing. 
 Since this is the flyle of poetry that fuits you at 
 prefent, I can't help thinking you might have fuc- 
 ceeded pretty well in writing it yourfeif. 
 
 W^ORSHIPTON. 
 
 Poh, now! you don't take my meaning. I meant 
 any little piece that has coft you Httle time or 
 ftudy, \vill do very well for my purpofe : I fhould 
 be very forry to take one of your good ones. 
 
 AMARYLLIS. 
 
 I 
 
 Sir, I have bellowed fome time and ftudy upon 
 ^11 my pieces, and fhould be rather unwilling to 
 ^hink I had any other to offer you. 
 
 WORSHIPTON. 
 
 How perverfe you are in mifunderflanding me ! 
 The befl poet that ever lived has a befl and a worft 
 poem, and I only make the humble requeft to have 
 one of your leafl fublime ones. Do, my dear 
 friend, look thro' your budget. Many of your 
 works, I know, are mafler-pieces, and I have had a 
 great defire for a long time to hear you read fome 
 of them, but was unwiUing to difturb you of an 
 evening. 
 
204 THE COUNTRY INN: 
 
 AMARYLLIS (foftcned), 
 
 I believe I muft find fomething for you. "Will 
 you have a love-fong or a fonnet ? 
 
 WORSHIPTON. 
 
 Any of them will do ; flie does not know the 
 one from the other. 
 
 AMARYLLIS (taking papers from hU table). 
 Here are verfes addrelTed to Delia playing on 
 the lute. 
 
 WORSHIPTON (taVing it). 
 This will do very well ; for tho' I don't believe 
 fhe plays upon the lute, it will be civil to fuppofe 
 that fhe does, till we really know the contrary. 
 
 AMARYLLIS. 
 
 You fpeak lightly of the lady, Worfhipton, for 
 a lover. 
 
 WORSHIPTON. 
 
 I am not fo refined in my Ideas of thefe matters 
 as you are, Amaryllis. I am a man of the world, 
 and that character can't be fupported long on a 
 (lender fortune : the lady is very rich. — But mumj 
 not a word of this to any one. 
 
 AMARYLLIS, 
 
 You may depend upon me. But you fald you 
 fhould hke to hear me read feme of my poems. J 
 
A C O M E D Y. 205 
 
 am not very bufy at prefent ; I will Indulge you 
 with pleafure. 
 
 WORSHIPTON. 
 
 You are extremely obliging. — For a man pretty 
 well received by women of the firft circles, as I be- 
 lieve without vanity I may fay of myfelf, it would be 
 a filly trick to marry at all, did not my circum- 
 ftances compel me to it ; but I fhall make fuch a 
 choice of a wife as fhall make me pafs as much as 
 poflible for a fmgle man flill. 
 
 AMARYLLIS ("wipatieuily). 
 
 Very well ! — I have a poem here which I think 
 you will be pleafed with* 
 
 WORSHIPTON. 
 
 You are very good indeed. — -But you fee how I 
 amcircumflanced : I mud have fortune. — How fool- 
 ifh it was in the Marchionefs of Edgemore to think 
 I was going to elope with Lady Sufan ! I never 
 paid more than common attention to her in my 
 life. It is impoflible for me to marry without for- 
 tune. 
 
 AMARYLLIS CJiUl more impatient). 
 Well that is all very true. — But here is a paf- 
 toral which you will not, I hope, fmd unv/orthy 
 your attention, if you will have the goodnefs to 
 give it me. 
 
2o<^ THE COUNTRY INN:, 
 
 WORSHIPTON. 
 
 You are infinitely obliging ; but I am extremely 
 forry my time will not at prefent allow me fo great 
 a pleafure. 
 
 AMARYLLIS. 
 
 Then Fll read you this elegy, which is fhorter, 
 
 WORSHIPTON. 
 
 Tm really obliged to you, but « 
 
 AMARYLLIS. 
 
 Or perhaps you would like to hear my grand ode^ 
 which is in the next room. (Runs out to fetch it. J 
 
 WORSHIPTON (alone). 
 How that man pefters one with his damned va- 
 nity. Shall I make my efcape while he is gone ? 
 No, no ! that would be too rude : I'll try another 
 way of getting off. — Worfliipton ! Worfhipton ! 
 
 (Calling out with a feigned voice.) 
 
 Re-enter Amaryllis, iioith his poem in his hand* 
 
 AMARYLLIS. 
 
 Now, Worfhipton, I'll fliew you what I believe^ 
 without vanity, I may call hitting off the figurative 
 and fublime ftyle in poetry, pretty well. 
 
 WORSHIPTON* 
 
 i beg pardon : 1 am extremely mortified, but I 
 cannot poffibly flay to hear it now, for Sir John 
 
A C O M E D Y. 207 
 
 waits without calling for me, and I mull pofitlvely 
 go to him. Did you not hear him call very loud ? 
 
 AMx^RYLLIS. 
 
 O5 if Sir John is without we can alk him in, and 
 he fhall hear it too. (Going towards the door.) 
 
 w'ORSHiFTON (Jlopplng hhii eagerly). 
 No, no, my good friend, not now, if you pleafe : 
 it is impolTible : we ihall hear you another time. 
 
 AMARYLLIS. 
 
 I fhall be at home all the evening 5 fliall I exped 
 you Tialf an hour hence ? 
 
 WORSHIPTON. 
 
 No, not quite fo foon, I thank you ; we fliall be 
 engaged. But w^e fhall have great pleafure very 
 foon — good bye to you. (Hurrying away*) 
 
 AMAR.YLLIS (flopping him). 
 In an hour then, perhaps, I may expedl you : I 
 fhall be at lelfure all the evening. 
 
 WORSHIPTON. 
 
 Really you are moft exceedingly obliging, but I 
 am afraid it will not be in our power. Excufe my 
 hafte, I am very much difappointed. (Going haflily,) 
 
 AMAPvYLLis (flopping him again.) 
 Nay, furely after fupper you can contrive to 
 come to me. 
 
 3 
 
zoB THE COUNTRY IN^i 
 
 WORSHIFTON. 
 
 O, no, no ! one has enough to do then to digefl 
 the horrible eating of this diabolical inn, without 
 furfeiting one's felf — I beg pardon 1 without giving 
 one's felf the pleafure, I meant to fay, of — — ex- 
 cufe me ! excufe me ! I mull not keep him waiting 
 any longer j you heard how loud he call'd me : 
 I am extremely difappointed indeed. 
 
 fExity breakhig fro??i hint in great hajle* 
 
 A^xARYLLIS (looking after him angrily.) 
 Well, let him go, pitiful fellow ! he is fo takeri 
 up with himfelf and his own little paltry vanity, he 
 has neither capacity nor tafte to relifh high poetry. 
 
 (Eviit very majejiically* 
 
 END OF THE SECOND ACT* 
 
A C O M E D Y. 109 
 
 . ACT III. 
 
 A dark narrow pajfage-room^ with the door of an ad- 
 ' joining cha?nber left operi^ in which are dif covered 
 Lady Goodbody, Mifs Martin, and Hannah. 
 
 Enter »Sir John Hazelwood and Worshipton. 
 
 SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. 
 
 1 HE light is gone out : let us wait here till David 
 brings us another candle. Ha ! is it fair to wait 
 here f fPercei'ving the ladies, J 
 
 LADY GOODBODY (within to Mifs Martin). 
 Indeed, Mary, you ought to confider yourfelf 
 as very fortunate in having the opportunity of 
 pleafmg an agreeable man. 
 
 MISS MARTIN (within). 
 Mr, Worfhipton do you mean ? 
 
 Worshipton (in a low voice ^Jiealing eagerly 7iearer 
 
 the door). 
 They are talking of me, dear creatures ; let us 
 hear what they have to fay upon this fubjed. 
 
 sir JOHN HAZELWOOD. 
 
 Fye, Worlhipton ! would you turn eve-dropper ? 
 
 P 
 
210 THE COUNTRY INN: 
 
 LADY GOODBODY. fiuithlnj. 
 
 No, you know well enough it is Sir John I 
 
 mean. 
 
 SIR JOHN HAZELWooD fdrawtng alfo near the door )• 
 Ha ! talking of me too. Well, if people will 
 converfe with their doors open, there is no help 
 for it. 
 
 MISS MARTIN ( Within). 
 
 How fhould I know who your Ladyfnip means 
 by an agreeable man ? 
 
 LADY GOODBODY. 
 
 You may know at lead who I do not mean ; for 
 that poor frivolous fine gentleman can be agreeable 
 to nobody. 
 
 Vv'ORSPiiPTON ( afide to hlmfelf). 
 Old hag ! her face is as fenfelefs and as coarfe as 
 a red-topped January turnip. 
 
 LADY GOODBODY (w'lthln). 
 
 Sir John is a man that any woman might like. 
 He is a man of fortune. 
 
 MISS MARTIN (within). 
 So is our neighbour. Squire, Numbfcull. 
 
 LADY GOODBODY ( Within), 
 
 Fye, child ! Sir John is a well-made man, and— 
 
A C O ME D Y. ^i^ 
 
 MISS MARTIN f Within J, 
 
 And fo I mud like him for not being crooked. 
 
 LADY GOODBODY fwithln). 
 
 You are both perverfe and foolifh. Sir John — • 
 
 MISS MARTIN (vjithin eamejilj ) , 
 
 If you have any love for me, aunt, drop this fab- 
 je6t for ever : the very mention of his name is dif- 
 treffing to me. 
 
 SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD (lYi a low voice^ tumlngfrom 
 
 the door quickly). 
 
 You need not be fo vehement, fair lady : I have 
 no intention to give you the fmaileft trouble* 
 
 LADY GOODBODY (wlthui), 
 
 I leave you to your own humours, Mifs Martin ; 
 you have got beyond all bearing with your nonfenfe, 
 
 (Ev;it into an inner cha?nber, 
 
 SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. 
 
 I thought her fenfible, I confefs ; but how con- 
 foundedly pert and flippant fhe has become. 
 
 (Afide on the front ofthejlage,) 
 
 WORSHIPTON (going to him conceitedly). 
 You feem diflurbed. Sir John. 
 
 SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. 
 
 Not a jot ! not a jot, truly ! It rather amufes me, 
 
 P2 
 
ti^ THE COUNTRY INK: 
 
 Enter David with a cafidle, holding his fpread hand 
 before it as if to prevent it from blozving out» 
 
 DAVID. 
 
 I fhould have brought the candle fooner, but I 
 have but a fhort memory, your honour fto Sh' 
 John), and a man with a Ihort memory is like a — 
 
 SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. 
 
 No matter what he's like : go on with the light, 
 
 and we'll follow thee, (Exit David, looking very 
 
 fooUJh,) That fellow has become naufeous with 
 
 his fnnilies. (As they are going out Worihiptony?6>/x 
 
 Sir John.) 
 
 WORSHIPTON. 
 
 They fpeak again ; do flop here a moment. 
 
 HANNAH (within). 
 Would it grieve you, coufin, if my aunt were to 
 propofeMr. Worfhipton to you inftead of Sir John? 
 
 MISS MARTIN (within). 
 No, my dear^ not at all. 
 
 WORSHIPTON (in a kw voice). 
 You fee I am in favour with the niece, Sir John, 
 the' the aunt gives the preference to you. 
 
 HANNAH (within). 
 
 I thought as much, for he's a very pretty gentle= 
 man, isn't he ? 
 
A e O M E D Y. JI3 
 
 MISS MARTIN (withhlj. 
 
 He is even fo. 
 
 HANNAH f within). 
 And he dreifes fo pretty and new fafhionM,. 
 don't he ? 
 
 MISS MARTIN (within). 
 
 It is very true. 
 
 HANNAH (within). 
 
 And then he talks fo clever, hke the fine captain 
 that run off with Mifs Money. He is as clever 
 every bit, altho' he don't fvvear fo much ; an't he, 
 Mary ? 
 
 MISS MARTIN ( Within), 
 
 I make no doubt of it. And had Lady Good- 
 body laid her fnare to catch him for me, it would 
 not have grieved me at all. 
 
 woRSHiPTON (in triumph). 
 Do you hear that, Sir John ? 
 
 HANNAH (within). 
 It would not have grieved you at all ? 
 
 MISS MARTIN (wlthbl). 
 
 No, my dear ; for with all thefe precious quali- 
 ties of his, his good or bad opinion is of no confe- 
 quence to me. I could bear fueh a creature to fuppofe 
 I have defigns upon him, without being uneafy 
 ijibout the jnatter. (Walking up and down dlflurbed^ 
 
 P3 
 
ai4 THE COUNTRY INN: 
 
 and then talking to herfelf,) To appear to Sir John 
 Hazelwood as a female fortune hunter, endeavour- 
 ing to draw in a wealthy hufband for her own con- 
 venience — O, it is not to be endured ! To be de- 
 graded in the eyes of the very man whofe good 
 opinion I fhould mofl value — it is enough to make 
 one diftraded ! 
 
 (Worihipton retires behind Sir John n^ery 
 ' foolijhly^ who remains fixed to the fpot with 
 furprife.) 
 
 HANNAH CwithinJ, 
 Do you love Sir John ? 
 
 MISS MARTIN C within J. 
 No, my dear, I am not weak enough to do that, 
 when I know I fhall never be beloved again. Could 
 I have gained his good opinion, I fhould have been 
 contented, without pretending to his heart. 
 
 SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD f vehemently J > 
 But thou flialt have both, by this blefled hour ! 
 
 MISS MARTIN (within J, 
 But now, as my aunt carries on her attack, I 
 don't know how to maintain my credit : I fhall be 
 compelled to be downrightly rude to him. 
 
 SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. 
 
 Ay, very right, very right, my brave glr] 1 — It is 
 ■a <:lorious qirl ! I adore her for her fpirit. 
 
A C O M E D Y. 21^ 
 
 HANNAH fwithinj. 
 It gets very cold : I'll Ihut the door now, for the 
 fmoke is all gone. 
 
 MISS MARTIN (wlthhl). 
 
 What, has the door been {landing open all this 
 while ? 
 
 HANNAH (ivithinj. 
 Didn't you fee me open it to let out the fmoke ? 
 
 MISS MARTIN ( Wlthhl), 
 
 I am fo haraffed and vexed I don't fee what is 
 before mine eyes : fhut it direftly. 
 
 (Hannah y7?///j ihe door), 
 
 SIR JOHN HAZEL WOOD. 
 
 We are dark now, but I hear David's footfleps 
 in the paffage. Poor fellow ! I have affronted him. 
 David ! friend David ! (Calling,) 
 
 Re-enter David ijulth a light, looking very four. 
 
 DAVID. 
 
 What do you want, hr ? 
 
 SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. 
 
 To be lighted to our rooms, my good David. — 
 Nay, don't look fo grave, man. I fpoke rather 
 fhortly to you, indeed, becaufe I was thinking of 
 fomething elfc at the time ; but you are too wife, 
 
 P4 
 
2i6 . THECOUNTRYINN: 
 
 my good David, to mind fuch fmall trifles as 
 thefe. _ 
 
 DAVID (with his face brightening). 
 Lord love you, fir ! I have both given and taken 
 fhort words ere now : that is nothing to me. But 
 I wifh 1 may remember to call your honour in the 
 morning, for as I was a faying, a man with a fhort 
 memory 
 
 SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. 
 
 Yes, yes, let us have it all now, as we go along ; 
 and put this under your pillow to prevent you from 
 over-fleeping yourfelf, my friend David. 
 
 (Giving him vwney,) 
 
 DAVID. 
 
 O Lord, fir, I can't refufe any thing your honour 
 offers me, but there is no occafion for this, 
 
 SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. 
 
 Put it in your pocket, man : there is a virtue 
 
 in it. (They move on; Sir John following David, 
 
 and Worfhipton kicking his fhins frovi fide to 
 
 fide J with offe6led carekffnefsy as he goes qfter 
 
 them.) 
 
 SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD (archly turning as he goes 
 
 out J, 
 Thou'rt making a ftrange noife with thy feet, 
 Worfhipton. (Exeunf. 
 
„. A COMEDY. 217 
 
 SCENE II. Worfhipton'^ chamber. 
 Enter Worshipton, calling as he enters^ 
 
 WORSHIPTON, 
 
 Jenkins ! Jenkins ! 
 
 JENKINS (without J ^ 
 
 flere, fir. 
 
 Enter Jenkins in his great coat and boots, 
 
 WORSHIPTON. ■ 
 
 Are you ready to fet off for this fame licenfe ? 
 
 JENKINS. 
 
 Yes, fir. In a moment. * 
 
 WORSHIPTON. 
 
 Well, make good fpeed then : there is no time 
 to lofe. Remember all the diredions and precau- 
 tions I have given you : and think as thou goefl 
 along that thou art working for thyfelf as well as 
 me, for thy fervlces fhall be nobly rewarded. Thou 
 fhalt have a ilice out of Sir Rowland that will 
 fatten thee up by and by into a man of fome confe- 
 quence. Good fpeed to thee, my good Jenkins ! 
 and ufe thy difcretion in every thing, — Haft thou 
 befpoke mufic for our ferenade ? 
 
 JENKINS. ^ 
 
 I have found a forry fiddler, who has got but 
 :hr£e firings to his violin, for the fourth is fupplied 
 
 5 
 
iiS THE COUNTRY INN: 
 
 by a bit of pack-thread ; and an old Highland 
 piper, who has flopped heie on his way from Lon- 
 don to Lochaber; befidei a bear-leader, who is 
 going about the country with his hurdy-gurdy, 
 
 WORSHIPTON. 
 
 Well, well ! if they make but noife enough it 
 will do. But the mofl important thing is to have 
 the chaife in waiting behind the old mill, that 
 while the mufic is dinning in the ears of the old 
 lady and her woman, we may convey our prize to 
 it without being fufpeded. Have you engaged 
 Will in our intereft ? and does he fay the road be- 
 tween this and Middleton church is now p affable ? 
 
 JENKINS. 
 
 You may depend upon him, fir, and the road too, 
 
 WORSHIPTON. 
 
 Thou art fure I may depend upon him ? 
 
 JENKINS. 
 
 Sure of it, fir. He will do much, he fays, to 
 ferve your honour, but he'll go thro' fire and water 
 to vex the old beldame. Lady Goodbody he 
 means : he owes her a turn, I believe, for a half- 
 crown file fcrubbed off him when fhe paid him for 
 the lafl ffage he drove her. 
 
 WORSHIPTON. 
 
 This is fortunate. Where is Sir John jufl now ? 
 
A COMEDY. 
 
 tai9 
 
 JENKINS. 
 
 With old Rycroft : he always gives him his 
 draughts with his own hand, left it Ihouid be 
 negleded. 
 
 WDRSHIPTON. 
 
 Then I may go to the ftabie without danger, and 
 have fome converfation with Will myfelf. By the 
 bye I have never vifited that old fick devil yet ; do 
 you tell him that I enquire for him fometimes ? 
 
 ^ JENKINS. 
 
 I do, fir, and Rycroft don't exped more from 
 you. 
 
 WORSHIPTON. 
 
 Very well, that is enough. — But v/e lofe time. 
 Here is money for thee : fet off immediately. 
 
 (Jenkins receives money and exit. 
 
 woRSHiPTON (alone). 
 If this fucceeds now, it will be a devilifh lucky 
 turn in my fortune ; for I ihouid have found it a 
 difficult matter to have lived much longer upon 
 credit. (Mufing a while. J I wilh after all it were 
 a lefs expenfive thing to be a man of fafhion. Gold, 
 as the proverb fays, may be bought too dear. — No, 
 no : it can't be bought too dear by one who knows 
 how to fpend it with fpirit. I fhall, at leaft, have 
 every thing my own way, for fhe is a great fool ; 
 that is one good thing we are fure of. . (Exit* 
 
125 THE COUNTRY INN: 
 
 SCENE III. A pajfage or outer room. 
 
 Enter sir john hazelwood, looking eagerly to the 
 
 oppofite fide of the Jlage* 
 
 SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. 
 
 Here comes a lady, but not the one I'm in wait 
 for. 
 
 Enter Hannah. 
 
 SIR JOHN HA.ZELWOOD. 
 
 Good morning, Mifs Ciodpate, I hope your 
 morning dreams have not been unpleafant : you 
 are early up. 
 
 HANNAH. 
 
 I miflook the hour when the clock flruck, for it 
 is a queer-founding clock they have here, and don't 
 ilrike at all like the one we have at home. 
 
 SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. 
 
 Good young ladies like every thing at home beft, 
 
 HANNAH. 
 
 Yes indeed I do, for it was made by Mr. Pendlam, 
 the great clock-maker in London. Isn't he clock- 
 maker to the king ? 
 
 SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. 
 
 Indeed I don't know ma'am. — But what pretty 
 gloves you have got, Mifs Ciodpate j aren't they of 
 a particular colour ? 
 
A COMEDY. 2zi 
 
 HANNAH. 
 
 La ! do you think them pretty ? My aunt fays 
 they are not pretty, but I think they are, and that 
 was the reafon why I bought them. 
 
 SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. 
 
 And an excellent one too, madam. Pray when 
 did you fee your worthy father, Sir Rowland ? I 
 hope he enjoys as good fpirits as he ufed to do long 
 ago ? 
 
 HANNAH. 
 
 I faw him the twenty-fourth of laft September, 
 and he was very well, I thank you, fir. 
 
 SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. 
 
 Does he never leave home now ? 
 
 HANNAH. 
 
 O, there is Mifs Martin coming ; I mufl go away, 
 
 SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. 
 
 And why muft you go ? 
 
 HANNAH. 
 
 Becaufe my aunt fays — — in cafe you fhould 
 have any thing to fay to her. 
 
 SIR JOHN 'HAZELWOOD. 
 
 You are perfectly right to do whatever yout aunt 
 defires you. fExh Hannah. 
 
22i THE COUNTRY INNs 
 
 Enter Miss MartiiNT by the oppofite fide^ Sir John 
 looking at her zvith great fatisfacUon as Jhe ap- 
 proaches. She curtfies Jllghtly^ continuing to pafs on» 
 
 SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. 
 
 Good morning, madam, 
 
 MISS MARTIN. 
 
 Good morning, fir. 
 
 SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. 
 
 Do you pafs me fo haflily, Mifs Martin ? To 
 run away fo were enough to put it into a vain 
 perfon's head to beheve himfelf dangerous. 
 
 MISS MARTIN. 
 
 Perhaps then, yours is not without that idea. 
 
 SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. 
 
 Yet I ought not to be flatter'd by it neither ; for 
 women, it is faid, fly from fmall dangers, and en- 
 counter the greater more willingly. 
 
 MISS MARTIN. 
 
 Yes, Sir John, we are the reverfe of the men in 
 this refpedl, which accounts likewife for your de- 
 taining me here. 
 
 SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. 
 
 Nay, in this you are miftaken : it is no mean 
 danger that proves my boldnefs at this moment. 
 
 C Placing himfelf between her and the door gayly,) 
 
A C O M E D Y. 22 
 
 >> 
 
 MISS MARTIN. 
 
 Your boldnefs indeed is obvious enough, what- 
 ever I may think of your courage. — But I have no 
 particular defire to pafs this way: I can find out 
 my way to the breakfafl-room by another door if 
 you have any fancy for (landing fentry at this 
 poll. ( Tuniing to go by anotfier dcGr.) 
 
 SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD (quitfuig the door J. 
 And you will leave me thus fcornfuUy. There 
 IS an old proverb I could repeat about woman's 
 fcorn. 
 
 MISS MARTIN. 
 
 I know your old proverb perfedly well. Sir John; 
 and I am obliged to you for mentioning it at pre- 
 fent, fince it fets me completely at liberty, without 
 ill manners, to fay, I am heartily tired of this par- 
 ley. fExit ijuiib affeded carkjfnefs, 
 
 SIR JOHN HAZEL Vv^OOD. 
 
 Well, this is ftrange enough ! (he will charm 
 me, I believe, with eveiy thing that is difagreeable 
 to me ; for I diflike a gay woman, I can't endure a 
 talking one, and thefe kind of fnip-fnap anfvvers I 
 deteft. — But I have been too particular in my no- 
 tions about thefe matters : I have always been too 
 fevere upon the women : — I verily believe they are 
 better kind of creatures than 1 took them for.— — - 
 
124 THE COUNTRY INN: 
 
 Softly, however ! I will obferve her well before I 
 declare myfelf. (Exit. 
 
 Enter Amaryllis, with a coat in his hand^ and 
 drejfed in bis night-gown, 
 
 / 
 
 AMARYLLIS (alonej. 
 What a plague is the matter with the firing of 
 my bell this morning that it won't ring ! 1 wifh my 
 Dolly would come and brufh this coat for me. 
 (Lijiening,) I hear her voice coming up flairs \ 
 fhe'U be here immediately. — This girl becomes 
 every day more pleafing and more necefTary to 
 me. Ever fmce I entered this houfe flie has 
 aired my linen, fet my flippers by the fire in a 
 morning (for, good foul 1 fhe heard me complain 
 that I am troubled with a chillnefs in rny feet), and 
 done all thofe little kindly offices about me with 
 fuch a native grace as beggars all refinement. — But 
 what, indeed, are the embellifhments of artful man- 
 ners to the graces of fimple unadorned nature ?-— 
 She is at hand. — Dolly ! my fvveet Dolly ! 
 
 (Calling to her,) 
 
 DOLLY (without,) 
 
 Coming, fir. 
 
 AMARYLLIS- 
 
 There is fomething of natural harmony in the 
 very tones of her voice. 
 
A COMEDY. 22S 
 
 ,^ 
 
 DOLLY (without^ in a jharp angry key). 
 Get down to the kitchen, you vile abominable 
 cur ! Do you think I have nothing to do but mop 
 the flairs after your dirty feet ? Get down to the 
 kitchen with you ! (The howling of a dog heard 
 without,) Yes, yes, howl av/ay there 1 Til break 
 every bone in your ikin, if you come this way 
 again, that I will. 
 
 Enter Dolly. 
 
 t 
 
 AMARYLLIS. 
 
 Why Dolly, my good girl, this Is rather an 
 unpretty way of talking. 
 
 DOLLY. 
 
 'TIs but the dog, fir. Vile, nafly hound ! he is 
 worfer than his mailer. 
 
 AMARYLLIS, 
 
 Than his mafler ? 
 
 DOLLY. 
 
 Yes, than his mafter, Mr. Worfhipton. His 
 dog's tricks are like his own, for he don't care 
 what trouble he gives to a poor fervant. 
 
 AMARYLLIS. 
 
 So you don't love Mr. Worfhipton, Dolly ? 
 Should you have treated a dog of mine fo, eh ? 
 (pinching her cheek kindly,) You fmile at that 
 queflion, you gipfy : 1 know you would not. 
 
226 THE COUNTRY INN: 
 
 DOLLY. 
 
 I fhould indeed have had fome more regard for 
 the brute, fo as he had belonged to your honour. 
 
 AMARYLLIS. 
 
 I thank you, my fweet girl, but you ought to 
 fpeak gently to every thjng. — And don't call me 
 '* your honour." I don't like to hear my pretty 
 Dolly call me fo. 
 
 DOLLY. 
 
 O daify 1 what (hall I call you then ? 
 
 AMARYLLIS, 
 
 Call me Sir, or Mr. Amaryllis, or when you 
 would be very kind to me, my dear Mr. Amaryllis. 
 
 DOLLY. 
 
 My dear Mr. Amarals. 
 
 AMARYLLIS. 
 
 Amaryllis is my name, Dolly. 
 
 DOLLY. 
 
 Yes, yes 1 I know your name is Amarals. 
 
 AMARYLLIS. 
 
 No, child, Amaryllis. — But you'll pronounce it 
 better by and by. And if my Dolly will take this 
 coat and brufli it for me, when flie brings it to my 
 
 I 
 
A COMEDY. 22- 
 
 chamber again, I have fomething to fay to her in 
 private which will not, I hope, be difpleaPmg to 
 her. (Exit^ looking tenderly at her, 
 
 DOLLY (alone). 
 What can he have to fay to me now? Ods 
 dickens ! Til wager he means to buy me a new 
 gown. — Faith ! he means fome other thing per- 
 haps. Well, if he were not fo much taken up 
 with his books, and his papers, and his poetry, and 
 fuch trafh, I fhould like mightily to keep a maid of 
 my own, and be call'd Mrs. Amarals. — Fll bring 
 it to this if I can, (Going out iv'ith the coat,) He 
 fhall brufh his own coat then, howfomever. (Exit. 
 
 END OF THE THIRD ACT. 
 
 Q^ 
 
^2S THE COUNTRY INN 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 SCENE L Moon-light: a Jit Id or f?nall court behind 
 the bin^ and every thing covered with fnow* 
 
 ^/z/^r Fiddler, Piper, ^zWHurdy-Gurdy-Man, 
 each with his injirument. 
 
 fiddler. 
 
 xlow devilifh cold 'tis ! 'tis well we are fortified 
 with roafi: beef and brandy, friend : didn't I tell 
 you we fhould want it all ? (To Piper.) 
 
 PIPER. 
 
 Very true : but you would not keep a lady of 
 family and condition waiting till we cramm'd our- 
 
 felves, Maillier John. 
 
 HURDY-GURDY-MAN. 
 
 Dat would be impolite in verite. 
 
 ' FIDDLER. 
 
 Damn me! if I would play with an empty fl:o- 
 mach to the bed lady in Chriftendom. What the 
 devil makes her fancy that our mufic will found 
 better in this here cold field than within doors in 
 fuch a night as this ? I likes to be fnug myfelf, 
 and I never likes to put any one to hardfhip. 
 
A COMEDY. i29 
 
 PIPER. 
 
 Why thou art a good-humour'd, kindly-hearted 
 fellow, John ; I mufl fay that for thee. But this 
 is the true way for all love mufic, di na ye ken ? 
 Out among the high rocks, or under a caftle-wall, 
 man ! — But now, as we are all to play thegether, as 
 it were in a concert (taking out bis fnuff-box^ and 
 rapping on the lid with an air of importance )<i di na 
 ye think, gentlemen, it will be expedi-ent to enquire 
 firft, whether we can play the fame tunes or not, 
 as I fuppofe none of us trouble ourfelves with 
 mufic-books, and fick like* 
 
 FIDDLER. 
 
 I can play a pretty many tunes, Piper, but none 
 of them all goes fo well on my fiddle as Ally 
 Croaker. 
 
 PIPER. 
 
 Ay, that is good enough in town to play to an 
 orange-woman under a lamp-poft, or fick like ; but 
 this is a lady of family, man, and fhe mud have 
 Something above the vulgar. 
 
 FIDDLER. 
 
 Play any thing you pleafe, then : it will be all 
 the fame thing in my day's work whether I play 
 one thing or another. 
 
230 THE COUNTRY INN: 
 
 PIPER. 
 
 Day's work, man ! you talk about playing on 
 your fiddle as a cobler would do about mending of 
 Ihoes. No, no ! we'll do the thing decently and 
 creditably. 
 
 HURDY-GURDY-MAN. 
 
 Suppofe we do give her de Httle chanfon d'amour? 
 
 PIPER. 
 
 Song a moor ! what's that ? 
 
 HURDY-GURDY-MAN. 
 
 I do play It very pretty on my hurdy-gurdy* 
 
 PIPER. 
 
 Ay, you may play it well enough, perhaps, for 
 your Italian foreigners, or Tick like, that don't know 
 any better ; but any body that has been in Lo- 
 chabar, good troth ! would count it no better inan 
 jargon, man. 
 
 HURDY-CURDY-MAN. 
 
 But I do fay when de peoples of my country 
 hear your pipe, dey do fo. (Stopping his ears^ and 
 rimiicking one who runs away.) And I do lay dat I 
 play more better mufic dan you, one, two, ten, 
 tvventy times over. 
 
A C O M E D Y. 231 
 
 PIPER. 
 
 Lord help ye, man ! it's lang fm pride began : 
 will ye compare yourfelf to the Laird of M'Rory's 
 ^ piper. 
 
 FIDDLER. 
 
 A great affair to be fure of the Laird of Mac- 
 Rory's piper. 
 
 PIPER. 
 
 You mun eat a bow o' meal before you be like 
 him tho'. 
 
 FIDDLER. 
 
 Thank God ! I have more chriflian-like viduals 
 to eat. 
 
 PIPER. 
 
 Better than you or your grandfather either, ha' 
 been glad o' worfe fare. 
 
 FIDDLER. 
 
 Yes, that may be the cafe in your country like 
 enough, where, unlefs it be a loufy taylor, or fick 
 like (iiwnicking hhn)^ few of you tafte any thing 
 that has ever had life in it. 
 
 PIPER. 
 
 •Sir, an' it were not for refpedl to the lady yonder 
 (pointing to the window where Hannah appears j, I 
 
 0.4 
 
2ZZ THE COUNTRY INN: 
 
 would run this dirk into that nafly bulk of yours, 
 and let out fome o' the plum-pudding you pre- 
 tend to be flulFed wich, you fwine that you are ! 
 
 FIDDLER. 
 
 O never mind the lady, Mafler M'"Rory; I'll 
 box you for two -pence, (Putting himfelfin a boxing 
 fojlurc.) 
 
 PIPER. 
 
 Done, fir, for half the money. (Putting bimfelf 
 in the fame pofture*) 
 
 HURDY-GURDY-MAN. 
 
 Defe men very foolifh : my hurdy-gurdy and I 
 be but flrangers in dis country : we will keep out 
 of de way. (Retiring to a corner of thejlage,) 
 
 Enter Worshipton and Jenkins. 
 
 worshipton. 
 Hold, hold ! what is all this for ? I hired you 
 to give us harmony and not difcord, and be damn'd 
 to you ! 
 
 FIDDLER, 
 
 You fliall have that too, an' pleafe your honour. 
 
 WORSHIPTON. 
 
 But I want no more than I bargained for, fo 
 keep this for fome other occafion, if you pleafe. 
 
A COMEDY. 233 
 
 FIDDLE R (giving Up). 
 
 Well, it don't fignify, I can pick a quarrel with 
 him another time.- 
 
 PIPER (to Fiddler). 
 
 Since the gentleman defires it, fir, I fhall let you 
 
 alone for this time ; but damn you, fir, if you fay 
 
 a word againfl: my country again. Til make you a 
 
 man of no country at all. (They take up their hi' 
 
 Jlruments^ and go to different fides of the Jiage^ 
 
 ftill making figns of defiance to one another,) 
 
 woRSHiPTON (going to the window)^ 
 Are you there, my charming love ? 
 
 HANNAH. 
 
 Yes, I have been here fome time, 
 
 WORSHIPTON. 
 
 I could not come fooner. — Remember your pro- 
 mife ; and in the mean time what mufic ihall thej 
 play ? 
 
 HANNAH. 
 
 Juft let them play a concert. 
 
 WORSHIPTON. 
 
 A concert. — Well, gentlemen, you'^are defired 
 to*play a concert, i 
 
234 ^^'^ COUNTRY INN; 
 
 FIDDLER. 
 
 That IS to fay we are all to play together. What 
 fhsll we play ? (To Piper.) Shall we play the 
 Lady's Fancy f 
 
 PIPER. 
 
 A cuftock for the Lady's Fancy, 
 
 FIDDLER. 
 
 The Soldier's Delight then ? 
 
 PIPER. 
 
 for the Soldier's Delight ! a tune for 
 
 a two-penny alehoufe. 
 
 HURDY-GURDY-MAN. 
 
 Don't mind him fto Fiddler), he be waflipifh ? 
 you and I will play Ma chere iimie. 
 
 PIPER. 
 
 Well, well ! play what you pleafe, both of you, 
 but I'll play the battle of Killy Cranky, and hang 
 me, if your "Ah Me" will be heard any more than 
 the chirping of a cricket in the hearth. (They begin 
 
 to play^ and the Piper drowns them both with 
 
 his noife.) 
 
 WORSHIPTON ( /topping his ears). 
 Give over ! give over ! blefs my foul ! the 
 fqueaking of a hundred pigs and the fow-driver at 
 
A COMEDY. 235 
 
 their heels is nothing to this, CGoing to the window*) 
 Well, my love, how did you like the concert ? 
 
 ' HANNAH (above)* 
 Very well, I thank you. 
 
 woRSHiP^oN (afide). 
 A lady of precious tafte ! (afide.) But would it 
 not be better to hear them one at a time ? Which 
 of them fhall I defire to play firfl ? (Aloud.) 
 
 HANNAH (above). 
 
 Bid that fiddler there, without the breeches, 
 play me a tune on his bagpipes. 
 
 PIPER. 
 
 I mud let you to wit, madam, that I am no 
 fiddlei J and the meanefl man of all the M^Rorys 
 would fcorn to be a fiddler. My father before me 
 wa> piper to the laird, and my grandfather was piper 
 to the Highland Watch at the fiege of Quibec ; and 
 if he had not piped long and well to them, madam, 
 there wad ha' been lefs French blood fpilt that day. 
 Jet me tell you that, madam. 
 
 WORSHIPTON. 
 
 My good Mr. M'Rory, ilie meant you no offence, 
 
 I affure you fhe refpects your grandfather very 
 
 much. Do oblige us with a tune on your bagpipes. 
 
 (Piper 7nakes a profound bow, andfcanding by 
 
 the ftde feme ^ half concealed^ plays a Highland 
 
 fee-bro.J 
 
236 THE COUNTRY INN: 
 
 woRSHiPTON Cto Piper). 
 I tliank you, fir ; your mufic is excellent : it % 
 both martial and plaintive. — But where is our 
 little warbler ? Ha I here flie comes. 
 
 Enter Sally. 
 
 Come, my good girl, can you ^ing the fong I gave 
 you t 
 
 SALLY. 
 
 Yes, fir, 
 
 WORSHIPTON. 
 
 Let us have it then. 
 
 SONG. 
 
 Ah^ Celia^ beauteous^ heavenly inaid! 
 
 In pity to thy JJjepherd'' s hearty 
 Thus by thy fatal char jus betrafd^ 
 
 The gentle balm of hope imparts 
 
 Ah ! give me hope in accents fweef^ 
 Sweet as thy Inters melodious fir ain ; 
 
 Vll lay my laurels at thy feet ^ 
 
 And blefs the hour that gave me paiiu 
 
 WORSHIPTON. 
 
 Very well fuRg, indeed, f Tb Hannah.) Don't 
 you think, my charming Hannah, we have had 
 mufic enough ? 
 
AGO ME D Y. ZS1 
 
 HANNAH. 
 
 Juft as you pleafe : I don't care. 
 
 WORSHIPTON. 
 
 I'll fend them ofFthen. (To Jenkins, who conies 
 
 forward, J Take them all to the other fide of the 
 
 houfe, and make them play under Mifs Martin's 
 
 window. You underfland. (Afide,J 
 
 JENKINS. 
 
 Yes, fir. C Exeunt Jenldns and mufic^ and enter 
 Will, who retires to a corner ofthejiage^ 
 
 woRSHiPTON Cto Hannah). 
 How did you like my fong, Hanabella ? 
 
 HANNAH. 
 
 Very well : but la ! it an't the fong you pro- 
 mifed to make upon me : jt don't fay one word 
 about either you or I. 
 
 WORSHIPTON. 
 
 Ay, but it does tho' ; for you are Celia, and I 
 am the fnepherd, and that is the fafhion of love- 
 fongs. 
 
 HANNAH. 
 
 Well, that is fo droll ! 
 
 WORSHIPTON. 
 
 So it is. — And now, my dearefl: creature, fulfil 
 
23S THE COUNTRY INN: 
 
 your promife, and come over the window to me ; 
 the poitchaife is waiting for us. 
 
 HANNAH. 
 
 La ! is it the yellow chaife that flands commonly 
 in the yard ? 
 
 WORSHIPTON. 
 
 I can't tell you what colour it is, but it carries 
 us ofF to be married. Come over the window, 
 my love. 
 
 HANNAH. 
 
 La ! 1 didn't promife to go over the window : 
 Aunt fays they never do good who get over the 
 window to be married : I only promifed to run off 
 with you. 
 
 WORSHIPTON. 
 
 But that is juft the fame thing. Do come now I 
 there is no time to be lofl. You have only to fet 
 your foot upon that ftone which juts out from the 
 wall, and you are in my arms in an inftant. 
 
 HANNAH. 
 
 No, no ! old aunt Gertrude went over the win- 
 dow to be married, and fhe fell and broke her leg, 
 and never was married at all. 
 
 WORSHIPTON. 
 
 But you can't break your leg here, the wall is fa 
 low. — Gor r'^, come, there is no time to lofe. 
 
A COMEDY. " 239 
 
 HANNAH. 
 
 O no, no ! I know I fhall come to harm. 
 
 WORSHIPTON. 
 
 Do, my dearefl: Hanabella, there is not the leaft 
 clanger, (In a coaxing tone of voice,) 
 
 HANNAH. 
 
 O no, no ! aunt Gertrude broke her leg, and 
 I'm fure I fhall break mine too. 
 
 WORSHIPTON (lofing all patience)* 
 Damn your aunt Gertrude, and all the fools of 
 the family ! Til give you leave to cut my head off 
 if you fall. 
 
 HANNAH. 
 
 I'll go away, I won't ftay here to be damned* 
 (Whimperings and turning from the window). 
 
 WORSHIPTON. 
 
 Forgive me, my love ; don't go away : I'll do 
 any thing to pleafe you. — What the devil fhall we 
 do \ 
 
 WILL ( coming forward ) , 
 Don't prefs the lady to get over the window, fir ; 
 I'll find a way of getting her out at the door, 
 which I fhall explain to you afterwards. 
 
ii4<> THE COUNTRYjNN: 
 
 WdRSHIPTON. 
 
 But her chamber enters thro' the old lady^s ; fo 
 how can you get her out ? 
 
 WILL. 
 
 By unkennelling the old lady, to be fure ; Fll do 
 that fafl enough. 
 
 woRSHiPTON fto Hannah). 
 
 Then wait in your chamber, my deareft creature, 
 
 trll we come for you. (Afide as be goes off with 
 
 Will.) What a devil of a fool it is ! who could have 
 
 thought (he would have been fo obflinate. (Exeunt, 
 
 SCENE II. A f mall Hall^ with the doors of fever at 
 
 rooms opening into it* 
 
 . Enter Worshipton, ajid Will with a candle and 
 
 burnt paper in his hand, 
 
 will (thrufling the burnt paper under one of the 
 
 doors J, 
 Now, my good Lady Charity ! I'll be even with 
 you for the half-crown you faved off me. — She'll 
 fmell the burning foon enough, I warrant ye ; for 
 your notable ladies, hke her, poke their nofes into 
 every corner, and get out of bed at every little 
 noife, to fee that no rat be running off with one of 
 their old fhoes. — ^Do you go, pleafe your honour. 
 
A COMEDY. 241 
 
 and wait at that door there, which is the only one 
 that opens to the ftaircafe, and Til fend the young 
 lady to you immediately. You told her our plan? 
 
 W^ORSHIPTON. 
 
 Yes, I returned to the window, and told her. 
 
 WILL. 
 
 I have procured a trufly lad to drive in my pJace, 
 and you'll find every thing as you ordered it. 
 
 WORSHIPTON. 
 
 I thank you, my good fellow : I'll make your 
 fortune for this. 
 
 WILL. 
 
 I know your honour is a noble-minded gentle- 
 man. fExit Worfhipton, 
 
 WILL Calone^ lijienhig at the door). 
 Yes, yes, (lie fmells it now : I hear her ftirrlng, 
 CBaivling very loud.) Fire ! fire ! fire ! The houfe 
 is on fire 1 Fire 1 fire ! fire ! 
 
 Enter Lady Goodbody in her mght-cloihes^ foL 
 
 lowed hN YidJimh, 
 
 LADY GOODBODY. 
 
 Mercy on us ! how flrong I fmell it here ! 
 Where are all the fervants ? Call every body up. 
 f£A7/ Hannah by the Jl air cafe door,) Is that the 
 way out ? Stay, Hannah, and take me with you. 
 
 R . 
 
242 THE COUNTRY INN. 
 
 WILL. 
 
 Your Ladyfliip had better take hold of my ariHy 
 and FU take you fafe out. 
 
 LADY GOODBOBY. 
 
 Do take me out ! do take me out ! Fh"e ! fire ! 
 fire ! is there nobody coming to us ? (Takes hold of 
 WillV ann^ zvbo Jlaggers along with her firji to one 
 Jidc ofthejiagc, and then to the other,) Why, what 
 are you about, fellow ? Fli get better along by 
 myfelf. 
 
 WILL. 
 
 Never fear ! never fear ! FU warrant FU take 
 care of your Ladyfhip. 
 
 LADY GOODBODY. 
 
 Why don't you go fafler then ? Let go my 
 arm, I fay. Is the fellow mad or drunk ? 
 
 V/ILL. 
 
 I'll take care of your Ladyfhip. Old ladles are 
 often a flumbling : take good care of your feet, 
 madam. 
 
 LADY GOODBODY. 
 
 Look to your ovm feet, fool ! and let me alone. 
 
 The man's diflracled! let go my arm, I fay. (She 
 
 Jiriiggles to get free : he keeps foft hold of her^ and 
 
 hobbles zig-zag over thefiage^ Jhe all the while calling 
 
A COMEDY. 243 
 
 cut Jire^ till they get to the Jiaircafe door^ where he 
 falls down with his body right acrofs the door to pre- 
 nyent its openings as if he were in a fit. J Heaven pre- 
 ferve us ! the man's in a fit, and the door won't 
 open. Who's there ? Fire ! fire ! fire ! 
 
 Enter Landlady and Dolly. 
 
 LANDLADY. 
 
 Fire in my houfe, mercy on us 1 how flrong it 
 fmells here. O lud ! lud ! I'm a ruin'd woman 1 
 Where can it have broke out ? O lud ! lud ! 
 
 DOLLY. 
 
 Lack-a-daify 1 I fmell it over head. I'll pawn 
 my life it is in the north garret, where my new 
 gown lies, O dear ! O dear I 
 
 LANDLADY frunni?2g diflradedly about J. 
 Fire ! fire 1 Water ! water ! will nobody aiTift 
 a poor ruined Vv'oman? Oh, all my good furniture! 
 Oh, my new dimity bed ! 
 
 Enter Sir John Hazel wood in his 7iizht'9-own, 
 
 SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. 
 
 Confound your new dimity bed I Where is Mifs 
 Martin ? 
 
 LADY GOODBODY. 
 
 O my child ! my child ! where is my child ? 
 
 R 2 
 
244 THE COUNTRY INN: 
 
 SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. 
 
 ril ofQ for her. — But here fhe comes : all's 
 
 o 
 
 well now ; let it burn as it will. ( Enter Mifs 
 
 Martin, and Sir John runs eagerly up to her^ but 
 
 Jiops JJjort fuddenly.) My old fick fellow is in bed, 
 
 and can't ftir a limb to fave himfelf ; I muft carry 
 
 him out in my arms. CGoing hajiily out^ but is 
 
 Jioppcd by Amaryllis, who enters grotefquely 
 
 drejjed in his nightcap ») 
 
 , AMARYLLIS. 
 
 Where are you going ? where has it broke out I 
 
 LANDLADY. 
 
 O lud, fir ! it is broke out up flairs, and all my 
 goods will be burnt. Who will aflift a poor ruin'd 
 
 woman 
 
 ? 
 
 AMARYLLIS. 
 
 There is no fire up fi:airs, I aflure you, but I 
 fmell it here. 
 
 LANDLADY. 
 
 Then it, is down flairs, and we fliall all be burnt 
 before we can get out. (They all crowd about the 
 fiaircafe door,) Raife that great fellow there. 
 
 LADY GOODBODY. 
 
 He's in a flrong hyfterick fit. 
 
A COMEDY. 24j 
 
 DOLLY, ' 
 
 Give him. a kick o' the guts, and that will cure 
 his extericks. 
 
 SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. 
 
 A hafly remedy, gentle maiden. 
 
 (Sir John and Amaryllis //// Will neck and 
 heels from the door. J 
 
 Enter 'Daxi'd fro?n the Jlair cafe, 
 
 DAVID. 
 
 Who flopped the door there? what's all this 
 buflle for ? 
 
 LANDLADY, 
 
 O, David, David ! isn't there fire IdcIow flairs^ 
 David ? ; . 
 
 DAVID. 
 
 Yes, as much as will roafl an t^^y If you blow 
 it well. 
 
 LANDLADY. 
 
 Nay, but I'm fure the houfe is on fire, for I 
 dreamt this very night that Pompey's whelp was 
 gnawing a hole in my apron, and -that bodes me no 
 good. I'll go and look all over the houfe. Come, 
 Doll. (Exeunt Landlady and Dolly. 
 
 SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD (to Amaryllis). 
 We had better fearch too. 
 
 (Exeunt Sir John and Amarylli?. 
 
 R3 
 
246 THE COUNTRY INN: 
 
 DAVID. 
 
 What's the matter with Will ? 
 
 LADY GOODBODY. 
 
 He's in a flrong fit. 
 
 DAVID. 
 
 I never knew him in one before : Fm afraid he's 
 dead, poor fellow ! What will become of old 
 Grizei his mother now ? He gave the bed half of 
 his earnings to keep her out of the workhoufe. 
 
 LADY GOODBODY. 
 
 Did he indeed ! good young man ! Run and get 
 afTillance for him. But, happen what will, old 
 Grizei flian't go to the workhoufe, for I'll take 
 care of her myfelf. Hade, good David 1 run for 
 the apothecary dh-eclly. (Exit David.) Go, Mary, 
 fetch me fome drops from my room. (Exit Mifs 
 Martin.) Poor young man ! 
 
 WILL (getting up J and falling on his knees to Lady 
 
 Goodbody). 
 
 O, my good blefled lady ! Fm a Jew, and a 
 Turk, and a Judas Ifcariot. I have played the 
 knave with you all this while out of fpite. If I had 
 not been a bead I might have known that you were 
 a main good, charitable lady. — But Fll fetch her 
 back again : Fll run to the world's end to ferve 
 you. 
 
A COMEDY. 247 
 
 LADY GOODBODY. 
 
 You are raving, I fear : who will you fetch 
 back ? 
 
 WILL. 
 
 The great helrefs, your niece, madam, who is 
 run off to marry Mr. Worfhipton, and all by my 
 curfed contrivance too. 
 
 LADY GOODBODY. 
 
 The great heirefs, my niece ! 
 
 WILL. 
 
 Yes, my lady ; your niece, Mifs Clodpate : but 
 I'll fetch her back again, tho' every bone in my 
 Ikin fhould be broken. 
 
 LADY GOODBODY. 
 
 This is flrange, indeed ! ( Confidcrhig a while,) 
 No, no, young man, don't <go after her : fhe is of 
 age, and may do as flie pleafes. 
 
 W^ILL. 
 
 Ods my life, you are the bed good lady alive ! 
 ril run and tell my old mother what a lady you 
 are. 
 
 LADY GOODBODY. 
 
 Nay, ril go and fee her myfelf ; I may be able 
 to make her fituation more comfortable, perhaps. 
 
 R4 
 
24_8 THE COUNTRY INN': 
 
 v/iLL (hurjiing into tears). 
 Thank you, madam ! Heaven knows I thank 
 you ! but as long as I have health and thefe two 
 hands, FlI take care of her who took care of me 
 before I could take care of myfelf. 
 
 LADY GOODBODY. 
 
 You are a good young man, I fee, and I have a 
 great mmd to take care of you both. She has 
 brought you foberly up, I hope, and taught you to 
 read your Bible. 
 
 WILL. 
 
 Lord, madam ! old Grizel can*t read a w6rd 
 herfelf, but many a time flie defires me to be good 
 — and fo I will : hang me if I don't read the Bible 
 from beginning to end, hard names and alto- 
 gether ! 
 
 LADY GOODBODY. 
 
 Come into the parlour with me : you mufl tell 
 me more of this flory of Mr. Worlhipton and my 
 niece. 
 
 Re-enter Miss Martin with the drops, 
 
 MISS MARTIN. 
 
 1 fought them every where, and thought I fhould 
 never 7 
 
A COMEDY. 249 
 
 LADV GOODBODY. 
 
 We don't want them now ; cany them back 
 again. (Exeunt Lady Goodbody and Will by one 
 fide^ and Mifs Martin by the other, 
 
 SCENE III. The Inn Tard, with the Jl able -door in 
 fronts at which Will appears^ as if ready to f addle 
 a horfe. 
 
 Enter AmaPvVLlis. 
 
 AMARYLLIS. 
 
 I hear, Will, you are going by Lady Goodbody's 
 orders to defire the young couple to return to her 
 from church : 1 fhould be much obliged to you if 
 you would take Dorothea behind you, for (he has 
 got ibme bufinefs in the village this morning, and 
 there is no conveyance for her unlefs you take her 
 up. 
 
 WILL. 
 
 What, our Doll do you mean ? 
 
 AMARYLLIS. 
 
 Yes, Will. 
 
 WILL. 
 
 Hang her! let her walk: Blackbeny won't 
 carry double. 
 
 AMARYLLIS. 
 
 I am fure he will, if you try him. 
 
2iP THE COUNTRY INN: 
 
 WILL. 
 
 Why fhould I hobble all the way with a fat 
 wench behind me ? She's able enough to walk, 
 
 AMARYLLIS. 
 
 Don't be fo ill-natured now : fhe would not be 
 fb to you if file could ferve you. 
 
 WILL. 
 
 N05 to be fure : as far as a kick o' the guts goes 
 to cure one of the extericks, kindly chriflian ! fhe 
 \\'ill be ready enough with her fervice. 
 
 AMARYLLIS. 
 
 Come, come ! don't be fo crufly now. Here is 
 money for you ; Blackberry muft carry double. 
 
 (Giviitg him money,) 
 
 WILL. 
 
 Ay, to be fure, if I coax him well, I don't know 
 but he may : for tho' he is but a brute he has as 
 many odd humours about him as any reafonable 
 creature. 
 
 AMARYLLIS. 
 
 Do, my good fellow, and put a foft pillion under 
 her, for the road is very rough. 
 
 WILL. 
 
 Nay, hang me if I do that ! fhe an't fo delicate^ 
 good footh ! — Let her be ready to fet off in ten 
 
A COMEDY. 2ji 
 
 minutes, If fhe means to come, for I won't wait an 
 inftant for the firft madam in England. A fofc pil- 
 lion for her truly ! (Grufnbl'mg as he goes mto the 
 
 Jlqhle,) 
 
 AMARYLLIS (alone») 
 He has been my rival, I fee, by his fpite. But 
 no wonder! my charming girl mull have many 
 ^dmirers. (E^it. 
 
 END OF THE FOURTH ACT, 
 
 '\ 
 
2S^ THE COUNTRY INN.^ 
 
 A C T V. 
 
 SCENE I. The Kitchen. Landlady difcovered 
 going up and down, hufy with her family affairs^ 
 and David with two countrymen^ drinking a pot of 
 beer together. 
 
 FIRST MAN Cdrinking). 
 My farvice to you, David. 
 
 DAVID (drinking). 
 
 And here's to your very good health. Mailer 
 Simons. But as I was a faying, if I were 'Squire 
 Haretop, d'ye fee, I would look after mine own 
 affairs, and not let myfelf be eaten up by a parcel 
 of greedy fpendthrifts and wandering newfmongers. 
 I would look after mine own affairs, d'ye fee, that 
 is what I would. 
 
 SECOND MAN. 
 
 To be fure, David, it would be all the better for 
 him, if fo be that he were in the humour to think 
 fo. 
 
 DAVID. 
 
 Ay, to be fure it would, Mafter Gubbins. For 
 this now is what I have always faid, and advifed, 
 and commented, and expounded to every body, 
 that a man who don't look after his own affairs, 
 
AGO M E D Y. 253 
 
 IS, at the bed, but a filly colt that ftrews about his 
 own fodder. 
 
 LANDLADY. 
 
 Lord help ye, David ! would any one think to 
 hear you talk, now, that you had been once the 
 mafter of this inn, and all by negleding of your 
 own concerns are come to be the fervant at laft. 
 
 DAVID (with great contempt). 
 Does the filly woman think, becaufe I did not 
 mind every gill of gin, and pint of twopenny fold 
 in the houfe, that I could not have managed my 
 own concerns in a higher line ? If my parents 
 had done by me as they ought to have done, 
 Mafter Simons, and had let me follow out my 
 learning, as I was inclined to do, there is no know- 
 ing what I might have been. Ods life ! I might 
 have been a clerk to the king, or mayhap an arch- 
 bifliop by this time. 
 
 CA knocking at the door^ Landlady opens it^ and 
 enter two Fai-mers.J 
 
 FIRST FARMER. 
 
 Is Dolly within ? 
 
 LANDLADY, 
 
 No, fhe is gone a little way a-field this morning 
 about fome errands of her own. 
 
2^4 "THE COUNTRY INNs 
 
 SECOND FARMER. 
 
 That is a pity now, for we bring her fuch rare 
 news. ' - 
 
 LANDLADY. 
 
 Lack-a-daifv ! what can that be ? 
 I 
 
 SECOND FARMER. 
 
 Her uncle, the grazier, is dead at lafl ; and tho' 
 he would never allow her a penny in his lifetime, 
 as you well know, he has died without a will, and 
 every thing that he has comes to Dolly. 
 
 FIRST FARMER. 
 
 Ay, by my faith ! as good ten thoufand pounds, 
 when houfe and ftock, and all is difpofed of, as any 
 body would wifn to have the handling of. 
 
 LANDLADY. 
 
 Ten thoufand pounds 1 how fome people are 
 born to be lucky ! A poor woman like me may 
 labour all her life long, and never make the twen- 
 tieth part of it. 
 
 Enter Sally. 
 Come hither, Sally : did Doll tell you where fhe 
 was going this morning ? 
 
 SALLY. 
 
 No, but I can guefs well enough ; for flie is all 
 
A C O M E D Y. 2J5 
 
 drefs'd in white, and I know it is to Middletoft 
 church to be married to that there gentleman that 
 writes all the fongs and the metre. 
 
 LANDLADY* 
 
 ^Tis lucky it's no worfe. Step into the parlour, 
 firs, andril come to you prefently. fExeufit Farmers 
 and SdWy different zvays,J What luck fome people 
 have ! married to a gentleman too ! fortune makes 
 a lady of her at once. 
 
 DAVID. 
 
 By my faith ! and fortune has been in great want 
 of (luff for that purpofe when fhe could light upon 
 nothing better than Doll. They lack'd of fifh to 
 make a dilh that filled their pan with tadpoles. 
 
 LANDLADY. 
 
 Don't be fo fpiteful, now, David ; fome folks 
 mud be low in this world, and others mufl behisfh. 
 
 DAVID. 
 
 Yes, truly, fhe'll be high enough. Give fome 
 folks an inch and they'll take an ^W; let fortune 
 make her a lady, and (he'll reckon herfelf a coun- 
 tefs, I warrant ye.—- Lord help us! 1 think I fee her 
 now, in all her fluff filks and her great bobbijig top- 
 knots, holding up her head as grand and as grave 
 as a cat looking out of a window.— Foh ! it were 
 enough to make a body fi ck. 
 
256 THE COUNTRY INN; 
 
 LANDLADY. 
 
 Fy, David ! you are as fplteful now as if fome- 
 body were taking fomething out of your pocket ; 
 I'll affure you fhe has a more genteeler behaviour 
 than mod young women in the parifh : I have 
 given her fome leflbns myfelf. 
 
 DAVID. 
 
 Ay, by my faith ! and her gentility fmacks devil- 
 ifhly of the place that flie got it from. 
 
 Re-enter Sally in great hojie, 
 
 SALLY. 
 
 Lack-a-daify ! I went to the flable juft now to 
 tell Will about Dolly's great fortune ; and he is 
 gone, and Blackberry is gone, and the chaife and 
 horfes are gone. 
 
 LANDLADY. 
 
 There is witchcraft about this houfe !— I'll pawn 
 my hfe fome of the gentlefolks are mifling too ; let 
 us go and* fee. / (Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE II. Enter Lady Goodbody, Miss 
 Martin, and Sir John IIazelwood. 
 
 SIR JOHN HAZEL v/ood (/peaking as he enters. J 
 I am heartily forry for it : my nephew alone is 
 to blame, and he will be fevcrely puniflied for his 
 
A COMEDY. 257 
 
 fault. — You exped them to return when the cere- 
 mony is over : we fhall fee them foon then. 
 
 LADY GOODBODY. 
 
 I dare fay we fhall : and in the mean time let us 
 drop this difagreeable fubjed. 
 
 SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. 
 
 Forgive me. Lady Goodbody, for appearing to 
 regret fo much the honour of connecting my fa- 
 mily with yours. 
 
 LADY GOODBODY. 
 
 Indeed, Sir John, I could have wiflied to have re- 
 ceived that honour from another party. Your 
 nephew, however, fets you a good example in mar- 
 rying, tho' Fm afraid it will be loft upon you, 
 
 MISS MARTIN (fretfully). 
 
 Your Ladyfhip has teafed Sir John fo often upon 
 this fubjed, that, if he has any fpirit at all, he will 
 certainly remain a bachelor from mere contradic- 
 tion. 
 
 SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. 
 
 Yes, Mifs Martin, that is a motive urged with 
 authority by thofe who recommend it from expe- 
 rience. Nay fo greatly, it is faid, do young ladies 
 delight in it, that every thing they do ought to be 
 explained by the rule of oppofition. When they 
 
 S 
 
253 THE COUNTRY INN: 
 
 frown upon us it is^ a fmile of invitation ; when 
 they avoid us it is a fignal to ftand upon the watch 
 for a tete-a-tete ; (approaching her ivith an arch 
 fmile as Jhe draws herfelf up wit!) an affected indif- 
 ference,) but when they tofs back their heads at 
 our approach, in all the ftudied carelefTnefs of con- 
 tempt, we may confider ourfelves as at the very 
 pinnacle of favour. Is it allowable, madam, to 
 take this rule for my guide ? 
 
 MISS MARTIN. 
 
 By all means, Sir John ; felf-love will naturally 
 teach you to judge by that rule which proves mod 
 for your own advantage. 1 hope, however, you 
 will allow thofe unlucky men upon whom w^e beilow 
 our fmiles, to find out another for themfelves. 
 
 LADY GOODBODY ( to Mifs Martin, dlfpleafed). 
 You have got a iharp difagreeable way of talking 
 of late, which is not at ail becoming, child ; you 
 ufed to fmile and look good-humoured to every 
 body. 
 
 MISS MARTIN. 
 
 And fo I may again, madam, when I am with the 
 poor filly folks who don't know how humiliating it 
 is for them to be fo treated : I hope I lliall always 
 be civil enough to fpare Sir John Hazelvvood that 
 mortification. (Making him an ajfe^led and ironical 
 
 ciirtefy.J 
 
A COMEDY. 2j9 
 
 LADY GOODBODY (peevijhhj). 
 
 Let us have no more of this ! — Sir John, i fhall 
 now give up teafing you about matrimony. I fee 
 you are incorrigible. 
 
 SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. 
 
 Then you fee further than I do, madam, for I 
 rather think it poflibie I may be perfuaded to enter 
 into it at laft. 
 
 LADY GOODBODY. 
 
 I'm fure I mofl earneftly wifh it for your own 
 fake ; and fo confident am I of your making an 
 excellent hufband, that I would even venture to 
 recommend you to the deareft relation I have. 
 
 MISS MARTIN (afide^ breaking away from themfud- 
 denly^ and hurrying to the other end of the roofu.J 
 At it again ! I can bear this no longer. 
 
 SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD (to Lady Goodbody.) 
 
 You fee, madam, this converfation is interefling 
 only to you and me : had I not then better make 
 love to your iadyfhip ? 
 
 LADY GOODBODY. 
 
 Why there vvas a time, Sir John, when I was not 
 without admirers. 
 
 Sa 
 
26o THE COUNTRY INN: 
 
 SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. 
 
 How much I jfhould have liked — but it would 
 have been a dangerous gratification — to have feen 
 thefe attra6lions in their full ftrength which are 
 ftill fo powerful in their decline. 
 
 LADY GOODBODY. 
 
 There is ftill a good likenefs of me, as I was in 
 thofe days, which Mary now wears upon her arm : 
 whiift I go to give fome orders to my woman, make 
 her pull off her glove and fhew it to you. You'll 
 have the fight of a very pretty hand and arm by 
 the bye; our family is remarkable for pretty hands. 
 
 (Exit, 
 
 SIR jopiN HAZELWooD (going lip to Mifs Martin). 
 May 1 prefume, madam, thus authorized, to beg 
 you will have the condefcenfion to gratify me. 
 
 MISS MARTIN. 
 
 1 can't polTibly : It is not on my arm at prefent. 
 
 SIR JOHN HAZELV70OD. 
 
 Nay, but I fee the mark of it through your glove: 
 may I prefume to alTift you in pulling it off? (Offer- 
 ing to take bold of her glove, whilji floe puts 
 aivay bis hand with great difpleafiire.J 
 
 MISS MARTIN. 
 
 You prefume indeed : I can't fuiTer it to be 
 pulled off. 7 
 
A C M E D Y. 261 
 
 SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD, , 
 
 Then I mufl indeed be prefumptuous, for pofi- 
 tively I will fee it. (Taking hold of her hand, whilji 
 Jhe^JiruggUng to pull it awaj from him without effed, 
 at lafi, in her difirefs, gives him with the other hand 
 a good box on the ear, and then, hurfting into tears, 
 throws h erf elf into the next chair, and covers her face 
 with both her hands,) My dear Mifs Martin for- 
 give me ! I fear I have behaved ungeneroufly to 
 you : but belie,ve me, carelefs as I may have ap- 
 peared, I have beheld you with the mod paflion- 
 ate admiration. (Kneeling at her feet.) 
 
 MISS MARTIN ( tumlng from him difdainfully). 
 
 Get up, Sir John, and find out fome amufement 
 
 more becoming your underitanding and your years. 
 
 (Walks to the bottom of the flage with a [fumed 
 
 dignity, whilft Sir John fus down much agi. 
 
 tated on a chair on the front: foe, turning 
 
 round, perceives his agitation, and forgetting 
 
 her difpleafure, runs up to him eagerly.) 
 
 MISS MARTIN. 
 
 Good heaven ! is it pofTible that you are thus 
 afFe£led. What is it that difturbs you fo much? 
 
 SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. 
 
 A very foohOi dijtrefs, madam, but it will not 
 long difturb me. 
 
 S3 
 
262 THE COUNTRY INN: 
 
 MISS MARTIN. ; 
 
 I hope It will not. 
 
 SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. 
 
 Nay, it /hall not, madam. — Fh-fl when I beheld 
 you, I was weak enough to thmk that I difcovered 
 in an afTemblage of features by no means (pardon 
 me) particularly handfome, as many worthy and 
 agreeable quahties as would have been unpardon- 
 able in the mofl ardent phyfiognomift. I faw thro' 
 the weak defigns of your aunt, and applauded your 
 delicacy and fpirit. I will confefs, that paffing by 
 the door of your apartment the other night, as it 
 flood open, I heard you m.ention me to your coufm 
 in a way that completely enfnared me. 1 was fool- 
 i(h enough to beheve I had at lait found a woman 
 
 o 
 
 in whofe keeping I might entrufl: my happinefs. 
 But it was a weaknefs in me : I fee my folly now ; 
 and this is the lail time I (liall be the fport of vain 
 capricious woman. 
 
 MISS MARTIN. 
 
 Is it pofiible!— Oh, we have both been deceived! 
 I have been deceived by fomething very far difr 
 ferent from vanity — my wounded pride ftill whif- 
 pering to me that I was the objecl of your ridicule: 
 and you have been deceived by a phyfiognomy 
 that has indeed told you untruly when it ventured 
 to promife any thing more from me than the ordi- 
 nary good qualities and difpofition of my r«. — 
 
 5 
 
A C O M E D Y. 26^ 
 
 We have both been deceived ; but let us part good 
 friends : and when I am at any time inclined to be 
 out of humour with myfelf, the recolledion that I 
 have been, even for a few deceitful moments, the 
 objedl of your partiality, wdll be foothing to me. 
 
 SIR JOHN HAZEL WOOD ( catchiug hold of hcT US JloQ 
 
 goes away J, 
 
 No, madam, we mud not part. ( Looking Jled- 
 fcijily and ferioiijly in her face.) Can you, Mifs 
 Martin, for once lay afide the filly forms of w^oman- 
 Ihip, and anfwer me a plain queflion upon which 
 the happinefs of my life depends ? Does your 
 heart indeed bear me that true regard which would 
 make you become the willing partner of m*y way 
 thro' life, tho' I promife not that it ihali be a 
 flowery path, for my temper and habits are par- 
 ticular. 
 
 MISS MARTIN. 
 
 Indeed, Sir John, you addrefs me in fo flrange 
 a way, that I don't know v/hat I ought to fay. 
 
 SIR JOHN HAZELW^OOD, 
 
 Fye upon it ! I expeded a fimple, I had almoft 
 faid a manly anfwer, from you now. (Faufes^ ex^ 
 ped'mg an anfwer from her^ whilft floe rejuahu filent 
 and emharraffed.) No, I fee it is impoffible : the 
 woman works within you (till, and will not fuffer 
 you to be honell. Well, FIl try another method 
 
 S 4 
 
264 THE COUNTRY INN: 
 
 with you. C Taking her hand and graf ping it firmly,) 
 If you do not withdraw from me this precious 
 hand, I (hall fuppofe you return me the anfwer I 
 defire, and retain it as my own for ever. 
 
 MISS MARTIN. 
 
 Why, you have hurt it fo much in that foolifh 
 flruggle, that you have not left it power to with- 
 draw itfelf. 
 
 SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. 
 
 Now, fye upon thee again ! this is a filly and 
 affeded anfwer. But let it pafs : I find notwith- 
 flanding all my particular notions upon thefe mat- 
 ters, I mufl e'en take thee as thou art with all thy 
 faults. (^^Jf^^^Z ^-^^^ hand devoutly,) 
 
 MISS MARTIN. 
 
 I think I hear Worfhipton's voice. 
 
 SIR JOHN HAZELW^OOD. 
 
 Ah, my poor miferab-e bridegroom of a nephew! 
 I mufl be angry with him now, and 1 know not at 
 prefent how to be angry. 
 
 Enter Worshipton ^;2<i Hannah. 
 
 WORSHIPTON. 
 
 My dear uncle, I crave your blefling. 
 
 SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. 
 
 I think, fir, it would become you better, in the 
 firfl place, to crave my pardon. 
 
, A C O M E D Y, 265 
 
 WORSHIPTON. 
 
 The world makes great allowance, my good fir, 
 for young men of fafhion in my fituation j know- 
 ing us to be of a free, carelefs, and liberal difpo- 
 fition, it calls us not ftridly to account in matters 
 of elopement. 
 
 SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. 
 
 A liberal difpofition ! No, fir ; more felfifh than 
 the mifer who hides his hoarded gold in the earth. 
 I wifh you had made what is really right, and not 
 what the world thinks allowable, the rule of your 
 condud. 
 
 WORSHIPTON. 
 
 I fhan't argue with you about condud. Sir John ; 
 it is a devilifh awkward word in a young fellow's 
 mouth : but if you will do me the honour of vifit- 
 ing me in town next winter, I fhall introduce you 
 to fuch fociety and amufements as country gentle- 
 men have not always the opportunity of knowing. 
 You will, I doubt not, have more deference for the 
 world when you are better acquainted with it. 
 
 SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. 
 
 You are infinitely obliging, my moil liberal fir. — 
 And fo this is all the apology you mean to offer for 
 deceiving a young girl, and making her the victim 
 of your frivolous and fantaflical wants ? 
 
2G6 THE COUNTRY INN: 
 
 WORSHIPTON. 
 
 No, no ! 1 do mean to make an apology to the 
 old lady. — Ha ! .ha ! ha ! tho' 1 can't help laugh- 
 ing when I think how I have cheated that won- 
 derful piece of goodnefs and circumfpedion. I 
 mufi: coax her a little to bring round the old fellow, 
 my father-in-law, for I mull have a brace of thou- 
 fands to begin with immediately. 
 
 SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. 
 
 Yes, you are perfectly right to make as much of 
 him as you can. (Sir John lea72s thoughtfully 
 
 againjl the fide fcene^ and Worfhiptony?rz^/j 
 conceitedly up and down ^ wh'ilfl Mifs Martin 
 and Hannah come forward from the bottom of 
 the ftage^ engaged in convcrfaticn.J 
 
 HANNAH Cin a hufy halfzuhfper). 
 So you fee, My dear Mary, you muH: jufi: tell 
 my aunt that he ran away with me, and I could not 
 help it. For, O la ! he is fo in love with me you 
 can't think ! And do you know we were married 
 by fuch a queer-looking man : he had fifteen holes 
 in his cailock, for I counted them all over the time 
 of the fervice. And do you know, when we came 
 to the church door, Mr, Worfhipton had never 
 a ring to put upon my finger. And do you know 
 he borrowed an old ugly filver one of a woman 
 who fold ballads by the gate, and gave her half-a- 
 guinea for it, tho' it is not \yorth a fixpcnce. But 
 
A C O M E D Y. 2^7 
 
 I'm jufl: as good a married woman, you know, for 
 all that, as if it had been gold. (Holding up her 
 finger with the ring upon it.) An't I ? 
 
 MISS MARTIN. 
 
 I believe it will make no great difference, 
 
 HANNAH. 
 
 I thought fo. — Now do fpeak to my aunt for me, 
 
 MISS MARTIN. 
 
 I certainly will, my dear Hannah, tho' you have 
 played fo fly with us. 
 
 HANNAH. 
 
 But la ! don't tell her about the half guinea for 
 the ring, for that would make her angrier than 
 all the reft of it. — O lud ! here fhe comes : (land 
 before me a little bit. (Shrinking behind Mifs 
 
 Martin's back, J 
 
 Enter Lady Goodbody, 
 
 LADY GOODBODY. 
 
 Well, Mr. Worlhipton, what have you donQ 
 with my niece ? 
 
 WORSHIPTON. 
 
 There {he is, madam. (Hannah co?nes from be-^ 
 
 hind backs ^ and makes Lady Goodbody an awkzvard 
 
 frightened curtefy,) We are both come t^ beg your 
 
268 THE COUNTRY INN: 
 
 forgivenefs, and I hope fhe will not fufFer in your 
 ladyfhip's good opinion for the honour fhe has con- 
 ferred upon your humble fervant. 
 
 LADY GOODBODY. 
 
 He mufl be a very humble fervant indeed who 
 derives any honour from her. 
 
 WORSHIPTON. 
 
 We hoped from the meflage you were fo obliging 
 as to fend us, that we fhould not find you very 
 fevere. 
 
 LADY GOODBODY. 
 
 I think, however, I may be allowed to exprefs 
 fome difpleafure at not being confulted in a matter 
 fo interefling to my family, without being con- 
 fidered as very fevere. 
 
 WORSHIPTON (afide to Sir John.) 
 I only wonder flie is not more angry with me. 
 (Aloud to Lady Goodbody.) I was afraid, ma- 
 dam, of finding you unfavourable to my wifhes, 
 and durft not rifk my happinefs. But 1 hope you 
 have no doubt of the honour of my intentions. 
 
 LADY GOODBODY. 
 
 Certainly ; I cannot doubt of their being very 
 honourable, and very dihnterefted alfo. — 1 have 
 known men mean enough and felfifli enough to 
 pofTefs thcmfelves by fecret elopements of the for- 
 
A C O M E D Y. 269 
 
 tunes of unwary girls, whilfl they have had nothing 
 to give in return but indifference or contempt. 
 Nay, 1 have heard of men fo bafe as to take ad- 
 vantage of the weaknefs of a poor girl's intelleds to 
 accomplifli the ungenerous purpofe. But it is im- 
 poffible to afcribe any but difmterelted motives to 
 you, Mr. Worfhipton, as Mifs Clodpate has but a 
 very frnall fortune. 
 
 woRSHiPTON (Jlarting,) 
 What do you mean, madam ? the only child of 
 your brother. Sir Rowland : you calPd her fo 
 
 yourfelf. 
 
 LADY GOODBODY. 
 
 I told you (he was the only child of my brother 
 by his wife Sophia Elmot ; but difagreeable cir- 
 cumflances fometimes take place in the bed fami- 
 lies, which it goes againft one's feelings to repeat ; 
 and there was no necelTity for my telling you, in 
 indifferent converfation, that he has married his 
 own cook maid a year and a half ago, by whom he 
 has two flout healthy boys. 
 
 (Worfhipton Jlands like one petrified for feme 
 tlme^ hut perceiving a f mile upon Mifs MartinV 
 face^ takes courage. J 
 
 WORSHIPTON. 
 
 Come, come ! this joke won't pafs upon me: Vin 
 not fo eafily played upon. 
 
270 THE COUNTRY INN 
 
 SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. 
 
 It IS a joke Tm afraid that will not make yoii 
 merry, Worfhipton. 
 
 WORSHIPTON. 
 
 I'll believe nobody but Hannah herfelf, for (he 
 can't be in the plot, and fhe is too fnnple to deceive 
 me. (^Ti? Hannah.) Pray, my good girl, how 
 many brothers have you got ? 
 
 HANNAH. 
 
 La [ only two ; and one of ihem is called Row- 
 land after my father, you know, and one of them 
 little Johnny. 
 
 W^ORSHIPTON. 
 
 O, hang little Johnny, and the whole fools of 
 the race I I am ruined beyond redemption. 
 
 C Pacing up and down^ and iojjtng about his arms 
 in defpair.J 
 
 HANNAH Cgoing tip to hiJiuJ 
 La ! Mr. Woriliipton, what is the matter ? 
 
 MISS MARTIN (pidlhig hcT hack.) 
 Don't fpeak to him now. 
 
 LADY GOODBODY (going Up to him foothinglyj. 
 Don't be fo much overcome, Mr. V/orJfhipton ; 
 things are not fo very defperate. Hannah will have 
 
A C O M E D Y. 27 1 
 
 five thoufand pounds at her father's death : he al- 
 lows her the interefl of it in the meantime, and I 
 fhall add two hundred a year to it. This, joined 
 to your pay may, I think, with prudence and eco- 
 nomy, enable you to live together in a very fnug 
 comfortable way. 
 
 V/ORSHIPTON. 
 
 Damn your fnug comfortable ways of living! my 
 foul abhors the idea of it. I'll pack up all I have 
 in a napfack firll, and join the wild Indians in 
 America. — I wifh I had been in the bottomlefs 
 ocean ere I had come to this accurfed place. 
 
 SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. 
 
 Have a little patience, Worfhipton, and hear my 
 plan for you. I'll pay your debts ; you fhall have 
 the fame income you had before, with more pru- 
 dence perhaps to manage it well ; and your wife 
 ihall live with her friends in the country. 
 
 HANNAH. 
 
 No, but I'll live with mine own hufband, for he 
 knows well enough he is mine own hulband. 
 
 fTaking hold of WorMptou, ivhlljl he Jljak 
 her 0^ in dlfgujh) 
 
 2i 
 
 LADY GOODBODY. 
 
 How can you ufe your wife fo, Mr. Worfhipton! 
 
2)2. THE COUNTRY INN: 
 
 HANNAH (whimpering,) 
 Oh ! he don't love me ! Oh dear me ! he don't 
 love me a bit ! ' 
 
 WORSHIPTON. 
 
 What is the creature whimpering for? I fhall 
 run diilraded ! 
 
 SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. 
 
 For God fake be more calm ! If you'll promife 
 to live prudently in town, we fhall manage your 
 lady in the country for you. But remember, 
 Edward, the firft time I hear of your old habits 
 returning upon you, (he fhall be fent to London to 
 pay you a vifit. 
 
 WORSHIPTON. 
 
 dog that I am ! and fo this is all that I have 
 
 made of my plots and my Idiot and fool that 
 
 I am! 
 
 SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. 
 
 ' Conlider of it, Worfhipton, and confider of it 
 well. 
 
 WORSHIPTON. 
 
 1 am dillradled, and can conlider of nothing. 
 Enter Auaky-l-li^^ followed by Dolly ^«JLand«^ 
 
 LADY. 
 AMARYLLIS. 
 
 I am come to pay my compliments to you, Wor* 
 
A C O M E D Y. 273 
 
 flilpton, with all poffible good will ; I wllh you 
 and your fair bride joy, mod cordially. 
 
 WORSHIPTON. 
 
 Nay, I wifli you joy, Amaryllis. 
 
 AMARYLLIS. 
 
 Ha ! who has been fo officious as to tell you of 
 my marriage already ? 
 
 WORSHIPTON. 
 
 Married ! — No, faith ; I gave you joy becaufe I 
 thought you a bachelor flill. Married ! what a 
 dog you have made of yourfelf! — But no; your 
 refined, your angelic Delia has favoured your wiflies 
 at laft, and with fuch a woman, you may indeed 
 be a married man without being miferable. 
 
 LANDLADY (to Worfliipton). 
 
 What did you fay about Delia, fir ? he is mar- 
 ried to our Doll. 
 
 AMARYLLIS (fretfully to Landlady). 
 Who defired you to follow me here, ma'am ? 
 
 LANDLADY. 
 
 It was your own wedded wife, fir, that defired me 
 to come ; and fince you have chofen to marry the 
 maid, I fee no reafon you have for to turn up your 
 nofe at the miftrefs. And you need not go for to 
 
 T 
 
274 THE COUNTRY INN: 
 
 be aihamed of her neither : flie is as clever a girl as 
 ever whirled a mop, and as honefl: a girl too; and 
 that is more than can be faid for many a one that 
 carries her head higher. 
 
 WORSHIPTON (hurfthig into a laugh). 
 Heaven and earth, Amaryllis ! are you married 
 to Mrs. Dolly ? 
 
 AMARYLLIS. 
 
 Dorothea Is a very good girl, Mr. Worfhipton. 
 
 WORSHIPTON. 
 
 Yes, yes ! 1 fee 'ris even fo. Ha! ha! hal (laughs 
 
 ing "dole rdly for a long i'wie^ till he is obliged to hold 
 
 both his fides. J This is excellent ! this is admirable! 
 
 1 thank thee Amaryllis ! thou haft been playing the 
 fool as well as niyfelf. Give me thy hand, man. — 
 
 Ha! hal ha! 
 
 SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD (f^pp'^^g foTivard, oftcr 
 having whifpered fome time behind backs with the 
 Landlady). 
 
 No, good nephew, moderate your laughter a 
 little : Amaryllis has been playing the fool in a very 
 different w^ay from you \ for he has married his 
 bride without expeding one farthing with her, and 
 learns on returning from church, as our good land- 
 lady has been informing me, that an uncle of hers 
 
A C O M E D Y, 27j 
 
 is jufl dead, who has left her a very handfome for- 
 tune. 
 
 (Worfhipton, whofe mirth Jlops in a moment^ 
 endeavours io refinne the laugh again ^ hut 
 finding it wont do^ retires in confufion to the 
 bottom of the ft age,) 
 
 SIR JOHN HAZELwooD (to Amaryllis aiid Dolly)i 
 Much happinefs may you both have in your good 
 fortune ! With the woman of vour choice and a 
 competency, Amaryllis, you v/ill be in the mo(i 
 favourable ftate of all others for courting the mufes, 
 
 AMARYLLIS. 
 
 Yes, Sir John ; with my own flender patrimony, 
 and the fortune my wife brings to me, I hope to 
 make my little cot no unfavoured haunt of the fair 
 fillers. I am not the firfl poet who has been caught 
 by the artlefs charms of a village maid ; and my 
 wife will have as much beauty in my eyes, drefs'd 
 in her rulTet gown, as the 
 
 DOLLY. 
 
 But I v/on*t wear a rulTet gown tho' : I have 
 money of my own, and TU buy me filk ones. 
 
 SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD, 
 
 Well faid, Mrs. Am.aryllis ! Gentle poet, your 
 village maid is a woman of fpirit. 
 
 AMARYLLIS. 
 
 She is untaught, to be fure, and will fometim^es 
 fpeak unwittinglv. 
 
,7,p . THE COUNTRY INN: 
 
 SIR JOHN PTAZELWOOD. 
 
 Never mind that, my good fir ; we fliall have 
 her taught. You fhall make my houfe your home 
 till your cot is ready for you, where I foon hope to 
 have a lady who will take fome pains to form your 
 charming Dorothea for her prefent fituation. 
 
 LADY GOODBODY. 
 
 So you are to have a lady then ? If you had 
 told me io before, I might have fpared all my ar- 
 guments upon this fubjecl. 
 
 SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. 
 
 Indeed, madam, you might have fpared them, 
 tho' they were very good ones, I confefs : the fight 
 of this lady (taking Mifs Martin'j hand) made 
 every other argument unnecelTary. I hope you 
 will give me your blefTing with her. I want but 
 this, and will not enquirq of you how many bro- 
 thers file has. 
 
 LADY GOODBODY. 
 
 So my Mary has caught you after all. Thank 
 God for it ! She is good enough for any man, and 
 I would rather give her to you than to any other 
 man in the w-orld. As for her brothers, flie has 
 but one, and he has increafed inflead of diminifiiing 
 her fortune. 
 
 SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. 
 
 Talk no more of thefe things, I hate the very 
 name of fortune at prefent» 
 
A COMEDY. 277 
 
 // 
 
 LADY GOODBODY. 
 
 Pardon me ; but I mud tell you what my ne- 
 phew Robert did : It may be good for another 
 new-made nephew of mine to liden to it. (Glancing 
 a look to Worfhipton.) He and his filler were left 
 orphans without any provifion : I bought him a 
 commiflion in the army ; and with the addition of 
 fifty pounds which I fent him every year on his 
 birth-day, as a godmother's gift, he contrived to 
 live refpeclably without debt, and was efteemed by 
 his brother officers. 
 
 SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. 
 
 I know it well : a friend of mine had the plea- 
 fure of knowing him abroad, where he ferved with 
 diflindion and honour. 
 
 LADY GOODBODY. 
 
 Yes, he was afterwards ordered abroad with his 
 regiment, where he had it in his power to acquire 
 a little money with integrity; the bed part of which 
 (three thoufand pounds) he fent home to his filler 
 imm.ediately, that fhe might no longer be dependent 
 even upon me ; and it fhall be paid down to you. 
 Sir John, upon her wedding-day. 
 
 SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. 
 
 No ; God forbid that a country gentleman fliould 
 add to his ample income the well-earn'd pittance of 
 a foldier ! I will have nothing from the young hero 
 
278 THE COUNTRY INN. 
 
 but the honour of being allied to him ; and what 
 advantage may accrue, by the bye, to my family, 
 by fetting fo fiiir an example to fuch members of it 
 as may not have walked altogether in his footfteps. 
 
 WORSHIPTON. 
 
 Well, well, I underfland you ; but tell me no 
 more of your good-boy (lories at prefent : this 
 crofs-fated day has taught me a powerful leffon 
 which makes every other fuperfluous. (Exeunt^ 
 
CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUSj 
 
 OR 
 
 THE LAST OF THE C/ESABS : 
 A TRAGEDY, 
 
 IN FIVE ACTS. 
 
 T4 
 
PERSONS OF THE DRAMA, 
 
 MEN: 
 ConstantinePaleologus, Emperor of the Greeks » 
 Mahomet, the Turkijh Sultan. 
 
 Othus, a learned Greeks 
 RoDRiGO, a Genoefe naval corn- 
 
 Friends of Con- 
 ftantine, and be- 
 
 mander^ y longing to his 
 
 brave band of 
 volunteers* 
 
 JusTiNiANi, a noble Genoefe^ 
 
 and a f oldie r^ 
 Petronius, 7 Gr^^y^j, and fecret agents of Mz^ 
 Marthon, 5 hornet. 
 OsMiR, vizir to Mahomet. 
 Heugho, an old domejiic officer of Conflantine'i". 
 Othorxc, a rude but generous adventurer. 
 
 Fortune-teller^ Citizens^ Attendants^ Isfe* ' 
 
 WOMEN: 
 Valeria, wife o/* Conllantine. 
 Ella, daughter ^Petronius. 
 Lucia, a lady attendant on Valeriao 
 
 Ladies and Attendants. 
 
 The Scene in Conflantlnople, and in the camp of 
 Mahomet, near the City, 
 
CONSTANTINE PALEQLOGUS. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 SCENE I. A large platform on the roof of the pa^ 
 lace of 'FeivomuSy from which are feenfpires and 
 towers^ and the broken roofs of houfes^ Sffr. with 
 the general appearance of a ruined city^ the dijiant 
 parts involved in f moke. Ella /> dif covered with 
 an attendant^ ftanding on a balcony belonging to 
 afmall tower^ rifingfrom the fide of the platform. 
 As the curtain draws up the found of artillery is 
 heard. 
 
 Enter Othus and Marthon, 
 
 OTHUS. 
 
 Ah, fee how fadly chang'd the profped is 
 Since firft from our high ftation we beheld 
 This difmal fiege begin ! 'Midfl level ruin. 
 Our city now fhews but its batter'd towers. 
 Like the jagg'd bones of fome huge animal, 
 Whofe other parts the mould'ring hand of time 
 To duft refolves. 
 
282 COKSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS : 
 
 MARTHON (coldly). 
 
 It does indeed fome faint refemblance hold 
 To what thou haft coinpar'd it to.— How is't 
 Art thou not from the wails ? 
 
 OTKUS. 
 
 No, not immediately. 
 
 MART HON, 
 
 Wert thou not there when Mahomet's huge 
 cannon 
 
 Open'd its brazen mouth and fpoke to us ? 
 
 How brook'd thine ears that deep tremendous 
 
 found ? 
 The coafts of Afia and th' Olympian heights. 
 Our land begirded feas, and diftant ifles. 
 Spoke back to him again, in his own voice, 
 A deep and furly anfwer ; but our city. 
 This laft imperial feat of Roman greatnefs : 
 This head of the world, this fuperb fuccelTor 
 Of the earth's miftrefs, where fo many Cssfars 
 In proud fucceflive lines have held their fway, 
 What anfwer fent Ihe back ? 
 
 OTHUS, 
 
 Fye, hold thy tongue ! 
 Methinks thou haft a pleafure in the thought. 
 This head o' the world — this fuperb fuccelTor 
 Of the earth's miftrefs, as thou vainly fpeak'ft. 
 Stands midft thefe ages as in the wide ocean 
 The laft fpar'd fragment of a fpacious land 
 
A T R A G E D Y. aSj 
 
 That in fome grand and awful miniflration 
 
 Of mighty nature has ingulphed been, 
 
 Doth Uft aloft its dark and rockv cliits 
 
 O'er the wild wade around, and fadly frowns 
 
 In lonely majefty. But fhame upon it ! 
 
 Her feeble, worthlefs, and degen'rate fons -— 
 
 MARTHON. 
 
 Yes, what fay'fl thou of them ? they aifo are 
 The fragments of a brave and mighty race. 
 Left on this lonely rock. 
 
 OTHUS. 
 
 No, blafl: them I on its frowning fides they clufler 
 Like fiUy fea-fowl from their burrow'd holes. 
 Who, flaring fenfelefs on th' invaders toil, 
 Stretch out their worthlefs necks, and cry " caw ! 
 
 caw !" 
 O, Paleologus ! how art thou left. 
 Thou and thy little band of valiant friends. 
 To fet your manly bofoms 'gainfl: the tide ! 
 Ye are the lafl fparks of a wafted pyre 
 Which foon fhall be trode out.— 
 We are the laft green bough of an old oak, 
 Blafted and bare : the lovelier do ye feeni 
 For its wan barrennefs ; but to its root 
 The axe is brought, and Ivith it ye mull fall.-— 
 
 Ye are O God ! it grafps my fwelling throat 
 
 To think of what ye are. 
 
284 CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUSi 
 
 MARTHON, 
 
 A brave band, truly : r- 
 
 But ftill our gallant emp'ror and his friends, 
 Oppos'd to Mah'met and his num'rous hofl 
 With all his warlike engines, are in truth 
 As if one tofs'd againfl the whirl'd-up fands 
 Of their Arabian plains^ one grafp of duft. 
 
 OTHUS. * 
 
 Yes, they are few in number, but they are 
 The eflence and true fpirit of their kind ; 
 The foul of thoufands. A brave band they are^ 
 Not levied by the power and wealth of flates \ 
 And the bed feelings of the human heart 
 Have been the agents of their princely chief. 
 Recruiting nobly. Virtuous Sympathy, 
 Who on the weaker and deferted fide 
 His ample, lib'ral front doth ever range ; 
 Keen indignation, who, with clenched hand 
 And flernly-liafning eye, ever beholds 
 The high o'erbearing crefl of proud oppreflion^ 
 And gen'rous Admiration, above all. 
 Of noble deeds, whofe heav'n-enlighten'd fmile, 
 And imitative motion, ever wake 
 With eager heart-throbs at the glorious fight 
 Of manly daring, have unto their numbers 
 Some fcore of dauntlefs fpirits lately added ; 
 Such as would ride upon the whirlwind's back. 
 If it might be, and with Heaven's spearmen cope. 
 
A TRAGEDY. i3j 
 
 With fuch a band, methinks, all things are pof- 
 fible* 
 
 MART HON (fmiling). 
 Why, thou foft man of peace. 
 Who in gay banquets fpend'fi: thy giddy nights, 
 And o'er fome fculptur'd Itone, or ancient lore. 
 Each idle morning waft'il: In the cool fliade, 
 Thou fpeakeft with a bold and warUke voice ! 
 
 OTHUS Cthrozu'mg back his cloak ^ and Jhewing under 
 it a warlike garb, with the fcarf and devices be* 
 longing to the imperial band). 
 Ay, and wear'ft too a bold and warlike form. 
 Behold what now I am 1 thou fhrinkefl back. 
 And looked flrangely on me : give thy lips 
 No friendly blefling to my new eftate ? 
 
 MARTHON. 
 
 Heaven blefs the brave ! 
 
 OTHUS. 
 
 Amen ! but thou art cold. (Sound of artillery is 
 
 hea'-'d again,) 
 O hear that found ! 
 D(5th it not flir thee as it thund'ring growls 
 Along the diftant lliore ? (Shaking his head, ) 
 
 It moves thee not. 
 Is that the found of female voices near us ? 
 
 MARTHON.- 
 
 Yes \ fee'll thou not on yon high balcony 
 3 
 
286 CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS* 
 
 That pale and fearful maid ? her watchful ear 
 Is ever turn'd to ev'ry diftant found. 
 
 OTHCJS. 
 
 My gentle kinfwoman upon the watch ! 
 I know for whom ffie fears ; nor do I marvel ; 
 For fhe was prefent on that crowded fhore, 
 When Genoa's captain brought his gen'rous fuc- 
 
 cour. 
 And faw the brave contention of thofe men. 
 In their proud vellels bearing boldly on. 
 With wavy pennants floating on the wind, 
 Whofe armed fides, like a goodly bank. 
 Breaded the onward tide of oppofition. 
 
 f Speaking with a great deal of appropriate gejiurc.) 
 No wonder that her fancy has been mov'd ! 
 Oh, it did flli the women on our walls — 
 The infants— yea, the very houfhold curs. 
 That from their kennels turn'd to look upon it !-*- 
 But for that motley crowd of moving things 
 
 Which we mifcall our men Nay, by the light. 
 
 Thou too doft hear me with a frozen eye I 
 
 Enter Ei.la haftilj from the balcony^ and puts her 
 hand eagerly upon the ffooidder of Othus, ivho 
 turns round fur pr fed, 
 
 ELLA. 
 
 What fayed thou of him ? where fights he now ? 
 Or on the land, or on fome floating fence ? 
 
A TRAGEDY. 2^7 
 
 OTHUS. 
 
 Of whom fpeak'il thou, fair Ella ? 
 
 ELLA. 
 
 Nay, nay ! thou knovv'ft right well. Did I not 
 
 fee thee. 
 High as I flood, e'en now, tolTmg thine arms, 
 And motioning thy tale with fuch fit geflure 
 As image fhips and fails, and daring deeds ? 
 Of whom fpeak even the beggars in our flreets 
 When they fuch action ufe ? Thou know'fl right 
 
 well. 
 Of Genoa's captain, and of none but he. 
 Did'fl fee him from the walls ? 
 
 OTHUS (finiling). 
 
 My little kinfwoman, 
 Thou lookeft with a keen and martial eye 
 As thou dofl queftion me : I faw him not y 
 I come not from the walls. 
 
 ELLA. 
 
 Didfl thou not talk of him as I defcended ? 
 
 OTHUS. 
 
 Yes, of that noble fight.— But dofl thou fee 
 
 (Fointing to his drefs.) 
 There are more warriors in the w^orld, Ella, 
 Tho' men do talk of us, it muft be granted,^ 
 With adion more composM. Behold me now 
 
 
28S CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS : 
 
 The brave Rodiigo's comrade, and the friend 
 Of royal Conflantine ; who is in truth 
 The nobleft bead o' the herd, and on the foe 
 Turns a bold front, whilfl with him boldly turn 
 A fev/ brave antlers from a timid crowd. 
 That quakes and cowrs behind. 
 
 ELLA* 
 
 Yes, Othus, I did mark thy martial garb : 
 Heaven's angels blefs thee ! 
 
 OTHUS. 
 
 And earth's too, gentle Ella. C Artillery heard 
 
 again*J 
 
 ELLA (to Oihns ^ Ji art ing fearfully J, 
 
 O dofl: thou fmile and fuch light words afFe£b 
 Whild ruin growls fo near us ! hath fad ufe 
 Made mifery and fport, and death and merriment. 
 Familiar neighbours ? — I'll into my chamber. 
 
 Enter Petronius and a dif gulfed Turk. 
 
 PETRONius (fiernly to Ella). 
 
 Yes, to thy chamber go : thou liv'ft methinks. 
 On the houfe-top, or watching in the towers. 
 I like it not ; and maiden privacy 
 Becomes thy ftate and years. (To Othus.) Ha ! art 
 
 thou Othus ? 
 Thou'rt well accoutred, footh ! I knew thee not. 
 
A T R A G E D Y. 289 
 
 * 
 
 MARTHON. 
 
 Yes, he is now a valiant foldier grown : 
 His Grecian lute, and pen, and books of grace 
 Are thrown afide, and the foft lettered fage 
 Grafps a rude lance. 
 
 ELLA. 
 
 Nay, mock him not, for it is nobly done. 
 
 PETRONius (Jlernly to Ella). 
 
 Art thou ftiil here ? (Exit Ella abafjjed and 
 
 chidden. 
 And now, my Lord, (Turning to Othus). 
 
 oTHus (angrily). 
 And now, my Lord, good evening: 
 I too, belike, fhall trefpafs on your patience. 
 If longer I remain. (Exit. 
 
 PETRONIUS. 
 
 Well, let him go, it fuits our purpofe better. 
 But who could e'er have thought in warlike garb 
 To fee him guis'd ? He, too, become a fool ! 
 
 MARTHON. 
 
 He thought, as well I guefs, to move me alfo 
 His brave devoted brotherhood to join: 
 This was his errand here. 
 
 U 
 
290 CONST ANTINE PALEOLOGCJS ^, 
 
 PETRONIUS. 
 
 I do believe it well : for Conftantine, 
 With many fair and princely qualities 
 That in his clear morn no attention drew. 
 Now, on the brow of dark adverfity, 
 Hangs like a rainbow on a furly cloud. 
 And all men look to him. But what avails 
 This growing fentiment of admiration 
 To our good means ? Good Turk, where is thy 
 gold ? 
 
 TURK f giving hi 711 a bag J, 
 There, Chriftian, whom 1 may not well call good, 
 
 PETRONIUS. 
 
 That as thou wilt : but Mahomet thy mafler 
 Shall find me ilill his faithful agent here. 
 This very night, as 1 have promised to him. 
 The people fliall in infurrection rife. 
 Clam'ring to have the city yielded up j 
 And if your narrow caution (tint me not 
 In that which rules the ftorm, it (hall be raised 
 To the full pitch. 
 
 TURK. 
 
 And what is that, Petronius I 
 
 PETRONIUS. 
 
 More gold. Ay, by thy turban and thy beard! 
 There is a way to make our timid fluggards 
 
A TRAGEDY. 291 
 
 The Sultan's work within thefe walls perform 
 Better than armed men. 
 
 tURKt 
 
 And what Is that, I pray ? 
 
 PETRONIUS. 
 
 Why, more gold ftill. 
 
 I have in pay, befides our mutinous rabble, 
 
 Who bawl, and prate, and murmur in our ftreets, 
 
 Prophets, and conjurers,. and vifion feers. 
 
 And wife men not a few, whofe fecret haunts 
 
 The timid flock to : many are the palms 
 
 That muft be touched. — There are within our walls 
 
 Of idle, ilothful citizens, enow. 
 
 If with their a6live maJler they fhould join. 
 
 Still to defend them : therefore;'l)e aiTur'd, 
 
 He who (hall keep this fickle, wav'ring herd 
 
 From fuch wife union, lliall to Mah'met give 
 
 This Miflrefs of the Eaft. 
 
 TUPvK. / 
 
 Fear not -, thou flialt be fatisfied. 
 
 PETRONIUS. 
 
 Right : let us now to work : 'tis near the time 
 When, from the walls returning with his friends. 
 The Emperor his ev'ning hour enjoys, 
 And puts off warlike cares : now let us forth, 
 And urge thofe varlets on. CTo Marthon.) 
 
 Do thou into the eaftern quarter go, 
 
 U 2 ^ 
 
■ig-^ CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS : 
 
 And fllr them up. Where is our trufty Gorbus? 
 The weflern is his province. Send him hither : 
 We mufl fome counfel hold : meantime within 
 I wait his coming. Be thou fpeedy, Marthon. 
 
 (Exit Marthon r 
 Remember, friend. (To the Turk.) 
 
 TURK, 
 
 Thou fhalt be fatisfied. 
 
 PETRONIUS, 
 
 Good fortune fmile upon us ! f Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE 11. A State Apartment in the Imperial 
 Palace^ with fplendid Jidehoards fet forth ^ on which 
 ore feen cups and goblets^ Efff . as if prepared for 4 
 grand repajl^ and fever al domeftics crofftng thefiage^ 
 carrying different things in their hands. 
 
 Enter Heugho, followed by a Stranger and twa in^ 
 
 ferior domeftic Officers, ' . 
 
 HEUGHO (after looking over every thing). 
 Is naught omitted here ? the rubied platters 
 And the imperial cup — I fee them not. ' 
 
 FIRST OFFICER. 
 
 What boots it now, encompafs*d thus with foes 
 And death and ruin grinning at our fide. 
 To fet forth all this fumptuous garniture. 
 
A T R A G E D Y. 293 
 
 Which foon fliall in a Turkifh haram fhine ? 
 The Emp'ror heeds it not. 
 
 HEUGHO (Jlamping with his foot)* 
 Dog, but I heed It ! 
 And were the floating remnant of a wreck. 
 With the fea bellowing round it, all that now 
 Remain'd of the eaftern empire, 1 thereon. 
 Until the lail wave wafh'd us from its fide. 
 Would humbly offer to brave Conftantine 
 The homage due to mine imperial lord. 
 Out on thee, paltry hind ! go fetch them hither. 
 
 (Exit Officer. 
 
 STRANGER. 
 
 This is the hour, you fay, when Conftantine, 
 Like a tir'd woodman from his daily toil, 
 Unclafps his girded bread ; and with his friends 
 Enjoys his focial meal right cheerfully 
 For one fo overfhadow'd with dark fate. 
 I am a ftranger here, and, by your leave^ 
 I fain would tarry fllll to have one view 
 Of his mofl noble countenance. 
 
 HEUGHO. 
 
 Thou'rt welcome. 
 And, gentle ftranger, thou wilt fee a prince. 
 Who ably might have reign'd, had not his heart 
 To the foft fhades of friendly intercourfe 
 Still turn'd, as to its true and native place. 
 A prince with loving friends, but lacking troops : 
 
 U3 
 
294 CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUSs 
 
 Rich in the dear good-will of gen'rous minds, 
 But poor in kingly allies. One thou'lt fee, 
 Whofe manly faculties, befet with gifts 
 Of gentler grace, and foft domeftic habits, 
 And kindlieil feelings, have within him grown 
 Like a young foreft-tree, befet and 'tangled. 
 And almoft hid with fweet incumb'ring fhrubs ; 
 That, till the rude blaft rends this cluft'ring robe. 
 Its goodly hardy flem to the fair light 
 Difcovers not. Hark ! now they come : 
 
 (FloiiriJJj of trumpets,) 
 Stand thou fecure, and fee whate'er thou wilt. 
 
 (Calling iofome people offthejiage,) 
 
 Ho ! you without ! move there with more difpatch. 
 
 (Several domejllcs again crofs thejlage as before,) 
 
 STRANGER. 
 
 See, yonder come the brave imperial friends. 
 If right I guefs. They bear a noble mien. 
 And who is he who foremoit walks with fteps 
 Of gravely-meafur'd length, and heavy eyes 
 Fix'd on the ground ? (PoirUmg offthcfvage.) 
 
 HEUGHO, 
 
 That is Jufliniani ; a brave foldier, 
 Who doth o' tiptoe walk, with jealous care, 
 Upon the very point and higheil ridge 
 Of honour's path, demure and circumfped. 
 Like nicefl maid, proud of her fpotlefs fame \ 
 A fteady, cheerlefs friend, 
 
 5 
 
A T R A G E D Y. i^s 
 
 STRANGER. 
 
 And who Is he with open, lib'ral front. 
 Who follows next ? 
 
 HEUGHO. 
 
 He is the brave Rodrigo ; 
 That Genoefe, who, with four gallant fhips. 
 Did in the front of the whole Turkifh fleet 
 So lately force his palTage to our port, 
 Bearing us gen'rous and mod needful fuccour. 
 Does he not look like one, who in the fight 
 Would fiercely ftrive, yet to the humbled foe 
 Give quarter pleafantly ? 
 
 STRANGER. 
 
 And who comes after with more polifh'd afped, 
 put yet, methinks, keen and intelligent ? 
 
 HEUGHO. 
 
 Oh, that is Othus ; a foft lettered fage, 
 ' Who wears his foldier's garb with its firft glofs. 
 
 STRANGER. 
 
 Conftantine comes not yet ? 
 
 HEUGHO. 
 
 No ; firft of all to his imperial dame. 
 Who o'er his mind a greater influence has 
 Than may, perhaps, with graver wifdom fuit, 
 
 U4 
 
296 CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS : 
 
 Being a dame of keen and lofty palTions 
 The' with fair virtues grac'd, he ever pays 
 His dear devotions : he will join them Ihortly. 
 But foftly, here they are. 
 
 Enter Justiniani, Rodrigo, Othus, and many 
 others of the Emperor* s friends^ armed as if re« 
 turned from the walls* 
 
 rodrigo (to Jufliniani). 
 
 Thou'rt fternly grave : has aught in this day's 
 fight 
 Befall'n, thy eager temper to difturb? 
 
 JUSTINIANI. 
 
 Your firfl direfted fire fhould, in good right. 
 Have been againfl that Turkifii ftandard fent, 
 Rear'd in their front. ' 
 
 RODRIGO. 
 
 And fhall we feriouily expend our ftrength 
 In paying Wjorfhip to each Turkilh rag 
 That waves before our walls ? 
 But frown n )t on me, friend : perhaps Fm wrong. 
 We who are bred upon a bark's rough fide. 
 And midft the rude contention of the waves. 
 Mull force our Iteady purpofe, as we may. 
 Right in the teeth of all oppofmg things, 
 Wreflling with breakers on the fcourged rock 
 Or tilting it with a fcal's cub, good faith ! 
 As it may chance, naught do we know of forms. 
 
A TRAGEDY. 297 
 
 OTHUS. 
 
 Another time, valiant Jiifliiilani, 
 With more refpedt to warlike ceremony 
 We will conduct ourfelves. 
 Rodrigo well hath pled his own excufe ; 
 And I, thou knoweft, am but new in arms, 
 
 JUSTINIANI. 
 
 Methinks, ev'n to a child it had been plain 
 That, when fo circumftanced 
 
 OTHUS. 
 
 Hufh, hufli, I pray thee, now ! the emp'ror comes: 
 This is his hour of cheerful relaxation, 
 Snatch'd from each circling day of bufy cares, 
 A faint gleam thrown acrofs a difmal gloom^ 
 Let us not dark it with our petty brawls. 
 
 Enter Constantine* 
 
 CONSTANTiNE (faluting them). 
 
 A pleafant meeting to us all, brave friends. 
 After our day of toil ! There be amongfl us 
 Tir'd Hmbs that well have earn'd their hour of reft; 
 This kindlv-focial hour, this fleetins: blifs 
 Of the tir'd labourer. Undo our bracings. 
 And let us fup as lightly as we may. (Taking off 
 his helmet^ which he gives to cm attendant, J 
 This galls me ftrangely : 
 Mine armourer, methinks, has better /kill 
 
298 CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS; 
 
 To mar men's heads than fave them. 
 Nay alj of you, 1 pray. (They all begin to take off 
 their helmets^ and part of their armour*) 
 And gentle Othus too, unbrace thyfelf : 
 How likefl thou the gripe of foldiers' geer ? 
 
 OTHUS. 
 
 "Worn in the caufe for which I wear it now. 
 It feelo like the clofe hug of a rough friend. 
 Awkward but kindly. 
 
 CONSTANTINE. 
 
 Thanks, gen'rous Othus! it had pleas'd me better 
 ToVe had the gentle fervice of thy pen. 
 Thou could'fl have told, if fo it might have been, 
 How brave men aded, and how brave men fell. — 
 Well, let it be. (Turnmg afide to check his emotion^ 
 
 and then ajfuming a chcerfid face,) 
 You gallant feamen, in th' applauding view 
 Of the throng'd beach, amidfl the tempeft's rage, 
 Ev'n on the laft plank of your fever'd bark, 
 Ride it careeringly, my brave Rodrigo ! 
 
 RODRIGO, 
 
 Yes, royal fir ; with brave true-hearted mates 
 All things we do and bear right cheerfully. 
 
 CONSTANTINE. 
 
 And fo will we. — Your hand, my gallant friend! 
 And yours, and yours, and yours, my brave 
 Eubedes — - 
 
A TRAGEDY. 
 
 299 
 
 And noble Carlos too — and all of you — 
 
 C Taking all their hands ^ one after another. J 
 I am indeed fo mated. 
 
 Bring me a cooling cup, I pray, good Heugho, 
 My tongue is parch' d. (Heugho prefents a cup io 
 
 him kneeling. 
 What, ^Wt thou ilill upon thine aged limbs 
 Thefe cumb'rous forms impofe ? Thefe furly times 
 Suit not fuch ceremony, worthy Heugho, 
 
 HEUGHO. 
 
 Be health and fweec refrefhment in the draughty 
 My royal mafter ! 
 
 CONSTANTINE (tajllng it J. 
 And fo there is : few cups prefented thus 
 Come with fuch kindnefs. But I have, in truthj 
 Shrunk, as a potentate, to fuch fmall grafp. 
 That now I fairly may put in my claim 
 To the afFedions of a man. — Brave friends. 
 Health to ye all ! (D rinks ^ then turning with a 
 
 /mile to Jufliniani.) 
 Julliniani, I with thee alone 
 Have caufe of quarrel in this day's long toil. 
 
 JUSTINIANI. 
 
 How fo, an' pleafe your highnefs ? 
 The holy hermit, counting o'er his beads. 
 Is not more fcrupulous than I have been 
 Js'aiight of Ills facred duty to omit. 
 
500 CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS : 
 
 CONSTANTINE. 
 
 Thou put'fl a grofs affront upon the worth 
 Of all thy warlike deeds ; for thou from them 
 Claim'fl not the privilege to fave thyfelf 
 From needlefs dangers. On the walls this day 
 Thou haft expofed thyfelf like a raw ftripling. 
 Who is afliam'd to turn one ftep afide 
 When the firft darts are v/hizzing paft his ear. 
 Rodrigo there, beneath an afs's pannier 
 Would fave his head from the o'er-palling blow, 
 Then, like a lion iffuing from his den, 
 Burft from his flielter with redoubled ardour. 
 Pray thee put greater honour on thyfelfj 
 And I will thank thee for it, 
 
 JUSTINIANI, 
 
 I ftand reproved, 
 
 CONSTANTINE. 
 
 I'm glad thou doft. — Now to our focial rites! 
 No tir'd banditti in their nightly cave, 
 Whofe goblets fparkle to the ruddy gleam 
 Of blazing faggots, eat their jolly meal 
 With toils, and dangers, and uncertainty 
 Of what to-morrow brings, more keenly feafon'd 
 Than we do ours. — Spare not, I pray thee, Heugho, 
 Thy gen'rous Tufcan cup : 1 have good friends 
 Who prize its flavour much. (As he turns to g9 
 with his friends to the bottom of the flagey 
 where a curtain between the pilars being 
 
A TRAGEDY. 301 
 
 drawn up, dif covers their repajl fet out, a 
 Citizen enters in hafte,) 
 
 CITIZEN. 
 
 I crave to fpeak unto the emperor, 
 
 CONSTANTINE. 
 
 What Is thine errand ? 
 
 CITIZEN. 
 
 My royal fir, the city's in commotion : 
 From ev'ry ftreet and alley, ragged varlets 
 In crowds pour forth, and threaten mighty things. 
 But one, whom I out-ran, comes on my fleps 
 To bring a fuller tale. 
 
 CONSTANTINE (to Citizen). 
 Thou'rt fure of this ? 
 
 CITIZENa 
 
 It Is mofl certain. 
 
 CONSTANTINE (tO OthuS.) 
 
 What thlnk'Il thou, good Othus ? • 
 
 0THU9. 
 
 I doubt it not : 'tis a degraded her3 
 That fills your walls. This proud imperial city 
 Has been in ages pajfl the great high-way 
 Of nations driving their blind millions on 
 To death and carnage. Thro' her gates have pafl 
 
ioi CONSTANTINE paleologus,^ 
 
 Pale cowled monarchs and red-fworded faints^ 
 
 Voluptuaries foul, and hard-eyed followers 
 
 Of fordid gain — yea all detefted things. 
 
 She hath a common lake or fludge-pool been^ 
 
 In which each pafling tide has left behind 
 
 Some noifome fediment. She is choak'd up 
 
 With mud and garbage to the very brim. 
 
 Her citizens within her would full quietly 
 
 A pagan's ilaves become, would he but promife 
 
 them 
 The fure continuance of their flothful eafe. 
 Some few reftraints upon their wonted habits 
 And Mah'met's gold, no doubt, have rous'd the 
 
 fools 
 To this unwonted ftir. 
 
 CONSTANTINE. 
 
 It may be fo : I fliall wait further tidings. 
 Meantime, my friends, go ye, and as ye can. 
 Snatch a (liort foldier's meal. fTbey hefitate,) 
 
 Nay, go I pray you ! 
 I muft not to my friends fay " 1 command." 
 
 CThey all go immediately^ and without any order ^ 
 
 Jlandmg round the table^ begin to eat, J 
 (To the Citizen, remaining Jlill on the front of 
 thejiage,) 
 And fo thou fay'fl But lo ! another meflenger. 
 
 Eiiter another Citizen in great hafte, 
 
 SECOND CITIZEN. 
 
 The citizens in crowds — the men and women — 
 
A TRAGEDY. 
 
 303 
 
 The very children too — mine eyes have feen it— . 
 In crowds they come ■ 
 
 CONSTANTINE.' 
 
 Take breath, and tell thy tale 
 Diftindlly. From what quarter comefl thou ? 
 
 * 
 
 SECOND CITIZEN. 
 
 I'm from the eafl. 
 
 Enter Third Citizen. 
 
 THIRD CITIZEN* 
 
 I come to tell your highnefs that the city 
 Is in commotion; ev'n with flefh-forks arm'd. 
 And all the implements of glutt'nous lloth. 
 The people pour along in bawling crowds. 
 Calling out, " bread," and " Mah'met,*' and ^^ fur*. 
 
 render," 
 Towards the royal palace. 
 
 CONSTANTINE. 
 
 And whence art thou ? 
 
 THIRD CITIZEN. 
 
 Fm from the weilern quarter. 
 
 CONSTANTINE. 
 
 Ha ! fpreads it then fo wide ? C Calling to his 
 
 friends at the bottom ofthejiage.) 
 
$64 CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS 
 
 o 
 
 Friends, by your leave, 
 J fomewhat muft upon your goodnefs bear. 
 Give me my helmet and my fword again : 
 This is no partial fray. (Beginning to ar?ny ivhilft 
 
 all the reft follow his example, J 
 
 RODRIGO. 
 
 Well, let us joflle with thefe ragged craft. 
 And fee who grapples bed. (Buckling on his ar* 
 
 ^ mour gayly.J 
 
 JUSTINIANI. 
 
 A foldier fcorns to draw his honoured blade 
 On fuch mean foes : we'll beat them oiF with flicks, 
 
 OTHUS. 
 
 "Words will, perhaps, our better weapons prove. 
 When us'd as brave men*s arms fhould ever be. 
 With fkill and boldnefs. Sv^ords fmite fmgle foes. 
 But thoufands by a word are flruck at once. 
 
 CAs they all gather round Conftantine, a7id are 
 ready to follow him^ enter Valeria in great 
 alartn^ followed by Lucia, and fever al ladies. J 
 
 VALERIA {to Conftantine). 
 O, haft thou heard it ? 
 
 CONSTANTINE. 
 
 Yes, my love, they've told me* 
 
A T R A G E D Y. 305 
 
 VALERIA, 
 
 From the high tower my ladies have defcry'd 
 The dark fpires redd'ning in their torches* light, 
 Whilft, like the hoarfe waves of a diftant fea. 
 Their mingjed voices fwell as they approach. 
 
 CONSTANTiNE. 
 
 It is a florm that foon will be o'erblo wn : 
 I will oppofe to them a fixed rock. 
 Which they may beat againft but cannot fhake. 
 
 VALERIA. 
 
 That is thyfelf. — O, no ! thou fhalt not go ! 
 Yea, I am bold ! misfortune mocks at ftate. 
 And ftrong aiFe6lion fcoms all reverence ; 
 Therefore, before thefe lords, ev'n upon thee. 
 Thou eaftern Casfar, do I boldly lay 
 My woman's hand, and fay, " thou fhalt not go. 
 
 » 
 
 CONSTANTINE. 
 
 Thy woman's hand is ftronger, fweet Valeria, 
 Than warrior's iron grafp. 
 But yet it may not hold me. Strong afFedion 
 Makes thee mod fearful where no danger is. 
 Shall eaftern Csefar, like a timid hind 
 Scar'd from his watch, conceal his cowering head ? 
 And does an empire's dame require it of him? 
 
 X 
 
3o5 CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS : 
 
 VALERIA. 
 
 Away, away, with all thofe pompous founds ! 
 I know them not. I by thy fide have fhar'd 
 The public gaze, and the applauding fl-iouts 
 Of bending crowds : but i have alfo fhar'd 
 The hour of thy heart's forrow, ilill and filent. 
 The hour of thy heart's joy, I have fupported 
 Thine aching head, like the poor wand'rer's wife. 
 Who, on his feat of turf, beneath heaven's roof, 
 Reds on his way. — The florm beats fiercely on us: 
 Our nature fuits not with thefe worldly times. 
 To it mod adverfe. Fortune loves us not; ' 
 
 She hath for us no good : do we retain 
 Her fetters only ? No, thou flialt not go ! 
 
 ^ (Tw'ming her arms round bin?.) 
 
 By that which binds the peafant and the prince. 
 The warrior and the Have, all that do bear 
 The form a: id nature of a man, I flay thee ! 
 Thou fhalt not go. 
 
 CONSTANTINE. 
 
 Would'fl: thou degrade me thus ? 
 
 o 
 
 VALERIA. 
 
 Would'fl thou unto my bofom give death's pang? 
 Thou lov'fl me nor. 
 
 CONSTANTINE (ivltb emoi'wn^ Jlretchlng out hh 
 hands to hh friends^ ^vho Jiand at fome dijiancej-. 
 My friends, yc fee how 1 am fetter'd here. 
 
A T R A G E D Y. 307 
 
 Ye who thus bravely to my fortunes cling 
 With generous love, lefs to redeem their fall 
 Than on my waning fate by noble deeds 
 To fhed a parting ray of dignity : 
 Ye gen'rous and devoted ; (till with you 
 I thought to fhare all dangers : go ye now. 
 And to the current of this fwelling tide 
 Set your brave breads alone. (Waving them off 
 with his hand^ and then turning to her.) 
 Now, wife, where would'fl: thou lead me ? 
 
 VALERIA ( pointing with great energy to the friends 
 who are turning as if to go out). 
 There, there ! O, there ! thou haft no other way, 
 (Britfhing away her tears hafiily^ and then af- 
 fuming an air of dignity^ fhe takes Conftan- 
 tine by the haiid^ and leading him acrofs the 
 fiage^prefeyits him to his friends.) 
 Moft valiant, honour'd men, receive your chief. 
 Worthy the graceful honours of your love. 
 And heaven's protecting angel go with you ! 
 
 (Exeunt Conftantine and his friends^ paying 
 ohcfance to her as they retire^ which fJje re^ 
 turns with the profoundeji rcfpecl^ continuing 
 to look after them till they are out of fight ; then 
 returning to the front of the ftage with a deep 
 figh^ remains for fome time with her eyes fixed 
 on the ground.) 
 
 LUCIA. 
 
 My dear and royal miftrefs, be not thus ! 
 The people will their fov'reign lord refpe^t, 
 
 X 2 
 
3oS CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS: 
 
 VALERIA. 
 
 Will they ? Where is my little Georgian maid, 
 Whofe grandfire, tho' a brave and fov'reign prince. 
 Was piece-meal torn by a ferocious crowd ? 
 
 LUCIA. 
 
 She told a wonderful furcharged talc, 
 Perhaps to move your pity : heed it not. 
 
 VALERIA. 
 
 Ah ! whereunto do all thefe turmoils tend — 
 The wild contention of thefe fearful times ? 
 Each day comes bearing on its weight of ills. 
 With a to-morrow fhadow'd at its back 
 
 More fearful than itfelf. A dark progreflion — 
 
 And the dark end of all, what will it be ? 
 
 LUCIA. 
 
 Let not fuch gloomy thoughts your miad o'er- 
 call ; 
 Our noble emperor has on his fide 
 The dark and potent povi^ers. 
 
 VALERIA. 
 
 What is thy meaning ? 
 
 LUCIA. 
 
 A rarely-gifted man, come from afar. 
 Who fees ftrange vifions rife before his fight 
 Of things to come, hath folemnly pronounced it. 
 
A T R A G E D Y, .509 
 
 That Paleologus has on his fide 
 The dark and potent powers. 
 
 VALERIA. 
 
 Alas ! alas ! are they the friends of virtue ? 
 Who told thee this ? 
 
 LUCIA. 
 
 One unto whom he told fuch marv'llous things 
 As did all natural knowledge far exceed. 
 
 VALERIA. 
 
 Thou dofl imprefs me with a ftrange deflre. 
 As tho' it were upon my mind imprefs'd 
 By fecret fupernatural power. Methinks, 
 Were this dread night with all its dangers paft, 
 I too would fain — ^ Ha ! hark ! what noife is 
 that ? (Lijiening with great alarm, J 
 
 Hark, hark ! it is the found of many founds. 
 Mingled and terrible, tho' heard afar. 
 
 LUCIA. 
 
 Shall I afcend the tower, and give you notice. 
 Whate'er I fee ? 
 
 VALERIA C eagerly J. 
 
 ril go myfelf. (Exit in great alarm., followed by 
 
 Lucia and ladies. 
 
 END OF THE FIRST ACT. 
 
 X3 
 
3 10 CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS .- 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 SCENE I. An open Street before the imperial pa^ 
 lace, A crowd of men^ women ^ and children dif 
 covered^ hearing in their hands torches^ with clubs ^ 
 Jiicks^ l^c, and thefiage entirely lighted by the red 
 glare of their torches caji up againji the walls of the 
 building. The confufed noife and clamour of a 
 great crowd is heard as the curtain draws up. 
 
 FIRST CROWD. 
 
 i loLLA ! let them come forth who trouble us. 
 And love they blood and beating they fhall have It, 
 
 SECOND CROWD. 
 
 Surrender ! bread and wine, and peaceful days ! 
 Surrender, devils, or ye fhall pay the coft, 
 
 (All the Crowd call out clamoroujly^ and bran* 
 difh their torches^ iffc, in a threatening raanner 
 againji the palace,) 
 
 THIRD CROWD. 
 
 Mud we, men well indruded, rear'd, and che- 
 rifh'd. 
 The chiefeft of all townfmen of the earth ; 
 We, whom all nations know and look upon 
 
 5 
 
A T R A G ED Y. 311 
 
 With envious worfhip — mud we from our meals 
 And quiet couches, like your rude barbarians, 
 Be fcar'd and rous'd with the continued bellowing 
 Of curft artillery ? it is a (hame. 
 
 FIRST CROWD. 
 
 It is a crying, an infulting (hame. 
 Ev'n Mahomet regards our pollfli'd race 
 And rare acquirements ; but for Conftantine 
 
 SECOND CROWD. 
 
 Ay, ay ! let him come forth with his bafe crew 
 Of favage (t rangers ; and fliould they refufe us, 
 Ev'n with good teeth and nails, fail other means. 
 We will do vultures' work upon them all. 
 CAll of them calling out together^ and bra7idijh'mg 
 
 their torches^ l^c, as before, J 
 Holla ! holla ! we fav to you again ; 
 Emperor ! Condiantine ! come forth to us ! 
 
 (A grand door of the palace opens ^ from ivhich 
 two flights ofjlairs defend into thejireet^ ahd 
 Conftantine with his friends appear coining 
 cut upon the landing place. The Crozvd raife 
 a great noife upon feeing him, and he fir etches 
 out his hand as if he wijloed tofpcak^ but they 
 Jim continue loud and clamoro^is,) 
 
 CONSTANTINE. 
 
 Audience, If that your ibv'roigu may command it. 
 
 X 4 
 
312 CONSTANTINE Px\LEOLOGUSi 
 
 FOURTH CROWD. 
 
 Yes, let us hear what he will fay to us. 
 (Several together.) There is no harm in that : peace 
 all of you ! 
 
 CONSTANTINE. 
 
 Behold me at your wifh, affembled citizens : 
 Was it the voice of children or of foes 
 That caird me forth ? 
 
 THIRD CROWD. 
 
 Go to with niocking words! are we thy children? 
 
 CONSTANTINE. 
 
 Ye fay, indeed, too truly ! children do 
 Support, and honour, and obey their fire : 
 They put their aiding hand to every burden 
 That preiTes on him : ever gather round him 
 When dark misfortune lowers ; and, ftrong in them. 
 He hfts his honoured head amidfl the florm, 
 Blefling and blefs'd. 
 
 Eut I have flood in the dark pafs alone. 
 Facing its fiercefl onfet. In your homes, 
 YeVe llretch'd your eafy limbs and fann'd your 
 
 brows, 
 Whilft 1 in parching toil have fpent the day. 
 Aided by flrangers. Ye too truly fay 
 "Are we thy children ?"— — When my fky was 
 clear. 
 
A TRACED Y. 3^3 
 
 Ye foUow'd me with fond applauding love. 
 
 And bade God blefs your fire ; but \yhen it 
 
 lower'd, 
 Back to your homes ye fhrunk, and gen'rcus 
 
 ftrangers 
 Are by my fide where children fliould have flood. 
 
 (A confufed imaimir rifes mnongfi the?n^ and fome 
 call out,) He fpeaks good reafon, neighbours, 
 
 (Others call out.) Out on it ! all fair words ! 
 (Others,) Peace, firs ! we'll hear him out, 
 
 (Others,) No \ no ! no ! no ! (Brandijhing their 
 
 torches violently,) 
 oTHORic (breaking through them with a great club 
 
 iri his hands). 
 
 Peace, friends, I fay ! I am a ftrong Hungarian, 
 And i will hear him out. (The clamour fubfides,) 
 
 CONSTANTINE. 
 
 Yes, when the tempeft lower'd ye fhrunk away. 
 But if fome gen'rous fhame has mov'd you now — 
 If, thus alfembled, with repentant zeal 
 Ye would return, behold thefe open'd arms ! 
 O there be flill amongfl ye men fufficlent 
 To fave your city, your domeflic roofs, 
 Your wives, your children, all that good men love- 
 Were each one willing for a little term 
 To face but half the dangers which perforce 
 Not doing this, he ftands expofed to ; 
 To bear but half the toils which I bear daily. 
 And Ihall bear lovingly, 6 
 
J 14 CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS : 
 
 FIRST CROWD. 
 
 Go to ! furrender and have done with it. 
 
 Who thanks — who calls upon thee for thy tolls ? 
 
 CONSTANTINE. 
 
 That voice which, in the hour of trial, bids 
 The good man give his foft and fenfitive frame 
 To death and torture, and ev'n fearful woman 
 Bend her fair neck unto th' uplifted ftroke. 
 Calls upon me — yea, and I will obey it ! 
 
 OTHORIC. 
 
 By the good faints he fpeaks like a brave man. 
 
 riRST CROWD. 
 
 A6ls he like one ? will he come down to us ? 
 (Several fpeak'mg together,) He does ; he comes 
 in truth ! 
 (Conflantine, after /peaking iii dumb JI)oiv to bis 
 friends^ defcends the Ji airs. J 
 
 SECOND CROWD. 
 
 Sy^ in good faith, he comes unarmed too ! 
 
 CONSTANTINE. 
 
 No, citizens, unarm'd I am not come ; 
 For ev'ry good man here fomc weapon wears 
 For my defence. 
 
A T R A GED Y. 315 
 
 FOURTH CRO\yD. 
 
 Yes, he fays well; and we'll defend him too. 
 (Several others, J And fo we will \ huzzal huzza! 
 huzza ! 
 Long live brave Conftantlne, our noble Emperor! 
 ( Many /peaking at once,) No, no ! peace and fur- 
 render is our call ! (Raifing loud cries ^ and 
 brandifiing their torches with violent threat- 
 ening gejlures.) 
 
 FOURTH CROWD. 
 
 Hear him out, fools, aad he'll perhaps confent 
 To hon'rable furrender. 
 
 CONSTANTINE ( to Fourth Crowd, and thoje who 
 range themf elves on his fide J* 
 No, friends ; if in this hope with me ye (land, 
 Turn to your place again ; for whilfl I breathe. 
 With men enough in thefe encompafs'd walls ^ 
 To fire one gun, never flaall Turkifh banner 
 Upon our turrets wave. In this firm mind. 
 Upon thofe walls I am content to die. 
 By foe-m.en ilain, or, if heav'n wills it fo. 
 Here on this fpot, by thofe I will not name* 
 
 OTHORIC. 
 
 No ! we will die firPi, be it as it may. 
 Ere one hair of thy noble head fhall fall ! 
 
5:r6 CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS : 
 
 CROWD (on Co\\?L2.XiXm^ s fide ) , 
 
 Long live brave Coiiflantine ! brave Paleologus ! 
 Huzza I huzza 1 
 
 CROWD (on the oppofitefide). 
 
 No ; bread, and peace, and Mahomet, fay we ! 
 
 (Both parties call out tiimultuoiijly ^ and threaten 
 
 one another^ and Rodrigo, Jufliniani, and 
 
 Othus riijld doivn among Ji them^ leaving their 
 
 other friends to guard the door of the palace, J 
 
 SECOND CROWD. 
 
 Ay, thou fea-iion ! thou too needs mud come 
 To growl upon us. (To Rodrigo. 
 
 RODRIGO. 
 
 No, ftiith ! I know you well : ye are at large 
 A let of fpft, luxurious, timid flaves. 
 On whom a cat v/ith muffled paws might mew. 
 And ye would turn from it. — But ftill amongfl: you, 
 I would upon it pledge my main and claws. 
 There are fome honeft fouls who have ere now 
 Oi]afl''d their full bumpers to a brave man's he^ilth. 
 And I, in footh, am come, vA\h their good leave, 
 J'o fiiake hands with them all. (Holding out his 
 
 hand invitin^y to the oppofite croivd»J 
 Come ; who loves valiant vvorth and Paleologus, 
 Give me his hand. 
 
A T RAGED Y. 317 
 
 {Many of the crowd giving him their hands,) There 
 is one for thee, 
 (Second,) Ay, and there- (Third.) And there. 
 
 RODRiGO (to one ivhohefitatcs). 
 And thou too, for thou wear'ft upon thy brow 
 A foldier's look : I mud perforce have thee. 
 
 (Cajiing up his hat in the air^ and joined by all 
 the crowd on his Jid^\) 
 Long live brave Conftantine ! huzza ! 
 
 (This they continue to do till the oppofite party 
 are difpirited and beat off the Ji age, Rodrigo 
 then prefents his 7iewly-acquired frieiids U 
 -Conftantine.) 
 
 CONSTANTINE. 
 
 1 thank you all, my brave and zealous friends. 
 Within the palace walls I'll now conduct you. 
 And martial there my new-galn'd ftrengh, for 
 
 which 
 I give heaven thanks* 
 
 (Exeunt Conftantine, followed by his friends^ 
 ^c, Rodrigo walking hfl^ andjuft ahcut iQ 
 go offthejiage, when Othoric re-enters by the 
 oppofite fide ^ and calls after hinuj 
 
 OTKOaiC. 
 
 Hark ye 1 a word with ye, my noble captain. 
 
 RODRIGO (returning). 
 What Would'ft thou fay ? 
 
3i8 CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS: 
 
 OTHORIC. 
 
 Look on my face ; my name is Othoric ; 
 Fm (Irong, thou fee'll, and have a daring foul : 
 Look on my face ; my name is Othoric : 
 Think'll thou thou fhalt remember me, tho' thou 
 Shouid'fl ne'er again behold me ? 
 
 RODRIGO. 
 
 I fiiall, my friend : thou haft a daring counter 
 nance. 
 
 OTHORIC. 
 
 My deeds fhall not belie it. With this crowd 
 I came, a (Iranger of moft defpVate fortune. 
 And hir'd by treach'rous men fell work to do. 
 But now, unhir'd, FU do for your brave mafter 
 A deed that flnll make Turkiih ears to tingle. 
 And Chriftian too, or fail it or fucceed-- 
 
 RODRIGO. 
 
 What wilt thou do ? 
 
 OTxIORIC. 
 
 The confcioufnefs of what one arm performs 
 Let one heart keep. 
 
 RODRiGO. 
 
 Heaven aid and profper then thy fecret thought, 
 If it be good and. honed 1 Fare thee well 1 
 
 fExeun t fever ally. 
 
A TRAGEDY. 519 
 
 SCENE II. A f mall narrow Street ^ before a pri- 
 vate fornbre-looking houfe. 
 
 Enter Othus and Rodrigo. 
 
 OTHUS. 
 
 Move flowly here, for now we pafs the fane 
 In which the myftic vifion-feeing fage 
 To ears of faith fpeaks his wild oracles. 
 
 RODRIGO. 
 
 What, he of whom we've heard fuch marv'Uous 
 things ? 
 
 OTHUS. 
 
 Yes ; fuch perturbed times his harvefl prove. 
 When anxious minded in dread of coming ill. 
 Would draw afide, impatiently, the veil 
 Of dark futurity. — Softly, I pray : 
 A female form now ifTues from the door : 
 It moves, methinks, like Ella. 
 
 Enter YA.hAfro?n the houfe with a female Attend ant r, 
 
 RODRIGO f eagerly J, 
 It is herfelf, and I will fpeak to her. 
 Fair maid, as v/ell I guefs by that light trip, 
 Thy lover's fate hangs on a lucky thread ; 
 Tough, and well whiten'd in a kindly fun. 
 
^120 CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUSi 
 
 ELLA. 
 
 Well hafl thou guels'd : fortune is pafUng kind ; 
 She leads thee, fights for thee, and guards thy head 
 From ev'ry foe-man's ftroke. 
 
 RODRIGO. 
 
 Ay, but thy lover, Ella j was it not 
 Of him we fpoke ? 
 
 ELLA. 
 
 Fye, do not mock me thus ! 
 
 OTHUS. 
 
 In truth he mocks thee, Ella, and no faith 
 To fates foretold or myflic fages gives. 
 
 RODRIGO. 
 
 Believe him not, fweet maid. We feamen, truly. 
 Small dealings have with learn'd forcery ; 
 Nor bead, nor book, nor ring, nor mutter'd rhymes. 
 Are for our turn : but on the fea-rock's point, 
 In ihape of hern, or gull, or carrion bird, 
 Our unfeed wizards fit, and, with ilretchM throats, 
 Speak (Irange myflerious things to wave-tofsM men, 
 With many perils compafs'd. Nay, ofttimes 
 The mermaid, feated on her coral (tool, 
 Spreading her yellow hair to the funn'd breeze, 
 Will fmg a fong of future fortunes fair 
 I'o him v/ho has the luck to meet with her : 
 And ev'n the nightly winds will thro' our fhrouds 
 
A TRACED Y. 321 
 
 Diftln^live voices utter unto thofe, 
 Who in their florm^rock'd cradles lie and think 
 Of their far-di(tant hornes.— I do believe 
 That all good fortune fhall betide thy love. 
 Being thy love ; for that doth far outdo 
 All other fortune ; and befides, no doubt, 
 A fair and courtly youth* 
 
 ELLA. 
 
 Go to ! go to ! thou mocked me again ! 
 I love a brave man 
 
 RODRIGO. 
 
 And not pafling fair. 
 Nor very courtly ? 
 
 OTHUS. 
 
 No, nor wearing now 
 His youth's bed bloom j but fomewhat weather- 
 beaten, 
 And funn'd on fultry fhores ? 
 
 ELLA. 
 
 Fie on you both, you hold me in derifion ! 
 Fm young, and all unlearn'd, and well I know 
 Not pafTmg fage ; but do I merit this ? 
 
 (Turns to go away from them in tears, J 
 
 RODRIGO. 
 
 By heavens thou fhalt not go ! {Catching hold of 
 
 her ha?id to prevent her. J 
 Y 
 
522 CONST ANTINE PALEOLOGUS: 
 
 Thou fweetefl thing 
 
 That e'er did fix its lightly-fibred fprays 
 
 To the rude rock, ah ! would' (1 thou cling to me ? 
 
 Rough and florm-worn I am : but if thou lov'il 
 
 me, — 
 Thou truly dofl, I will love thee again 
 With true and honeft heart, tho' all unmeet 
 To be the mate of fuch fweet p;entlenefs. 
 
 OTKUS» 
 
 I hear a noife of footfleps : we'll retire ; 
 Let us purfue our way. (Looking behind as they 
 
 gooff. 
 *Tis one belonging to Valeria's train, 
 Who hither comes with quick and eager gait. 
 
 (Exeimt. 
 
 SCENE III. A large fomhre ?'oo?n, with myjlica! 
 jftgures a?id Jlrange characters painted upon the 
 walls, and lighted only by one lamp, burning upon a 
 table near the front of the Jl age. 
 
 Enter a Conjuror in a long loofe robe, and Petro- 
 Nius, meefwg him^ by oppofite fides, 
 
 PETPvONIUS. 
 
 Well, mygoodfage, how thrives thy myflic trade? 
 Go all things profperoufly ? 
 
 conjuror. 
 As thou couldll wilh : to many a citizen 
 
A T RA GED Y. 325 
 
 1 have the fix'd decree of fate foretold, 
 Which to the fultan gives this mighty city, 
 Making all oppofition and defence 
 Vain ; and their fuperftition works for us 
 Mod powerfully. 
 
 PETRONIUS. 
 
 So far 'tis well ; but be thou on thy guard ; 
 I am exprefly come to caution thee. 
 Should any vifit thee, whom thou fufpedlefl 
 To be connected with th' imperial friends. 
 Be fure thy vifions fpeak to them of things 
 Pleafant to loyal ears. 
 
 CONJUROR. 
 
 Fear not ; I have already been forewarned, 
 And have fuch caution foUow'd. 
 
 PETRONIUS. 
 
 Thou haft done wifely : ftill keep on thy guard, 
 And be not ev'n furpris'd if thou, ere long, 
 Should'ft have a royal vifitor. My agents, 
 Who in th' imperial palace are on watch, 
 Have giv'n me notice that Valeria's mind 
 Is this way bent. If fo, let thy delufions 
 Still tempt her in the city to remain, 
 For herein is the fultan much concern'd. 
 Hufh ! we are interrupted. 
 
 • Enter a Servant. 
 
 SERVANT (to Conjuror). 
 
 A noble matron craves to fpeak with thee, 
 
 Y 2 
 
324- CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS; 
 
 CONJUROR. 
 
 Dofl thou not know her ? 
 
 SERVANT. 
 
 No ; in a black dole 
 She's clofely veil'd ; yet noble is her gait ; 
 And her attendant underneath his cloak. 
 But ill conceard, wears an imperial crefl. 
 
 PETRONius and conjuror fbolb together). 
 Can it indeed be fhe ? (Paufing to conftder,) 
 
 CONJUPvOR. 
 
 ril venture it. (to Servant.) Go and condu£l her 
 hither. (Exit Servant. 
 
 It mufl be fhe : I'll boldly venture it. 
 
 PETRONIUS. 
 
 Thou may'il with Httle rilk: meantime, remember 
 The caution I have given thee. 
 
 CONJUROR. 
 
 Truft to my ikill, and be a while withdrawn, 
 My noble patron. (Exit Petronius. 
 
 Enter Valeria, concealed under a long black Jlole^ 
 followed by Lucia and twofe?naIe Attenda?2ts^ who 
 remain at the bottom of the Jiage whilft J])e comes 
 forward. 
 
'^S 
 
 i-r - 
 
 A TRAGEDY. 
 
 CONJUROR. 
 
 Approach, great dame. 
 
 VALERIA. 
 
 Yes, in misfortunes fo; 
 That is my eminence : and unto thee 
 I come, an anxious fuitor, if that truly 
 Th' unfeen myflerious powers with whom thou 
 
 deal'd, 
 To human weal and woe alliance bear. 
 And may unto the care-rack'd mind forefhew 
 The path of awful fate that lies before it. 
 I do befeech thee ! 
 
 CONJUROR. 
 
 Say thou doft command ; 
 For thro' that fable dole, were it as thick 
 As midnight's curtain, flill I could behold 
 Thy keenly-glancing eye, and the dark arch 
 Of royal brows accuftom'd to command. 
 
 VALERIA. 
 
 Ha ! do ft thou fee me ? 
 
 CONJUROR. 
 
 Yea; and who Is he, 
 Whofe fhadowy unreal form behind thee towers. 
 As link'd with thine tho' abfent ? O'er his head 
 Th' imperial eagle foars, and in his hand 
 He grafps the emblem of fupreme command. 
 
 Y3 
 
326 CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS-, 
 
 VALERIA C throwing back the Jlole ivith ajlonijhme'i^ 
 
 mixed %uith fear). 
 O, mofl myflevious and wonderful ! 
 Nothing is hid from thee : thou fee'ft afar 
 The diilant death's day of the fwathed babe. 
 Falling in hoary age, and the life's morn 
 Of thofe who are not. — -Here then all confefs'd, 
 A wretched emprefs and a trembling wife, 
 I ftand before thee. O let thy keen eye 
 Thro' the dark mill that limits nature's fight. 
 Follow that phantom o'er whofe head doth foar 
 Th' iniperal bird ! for, be it good or ill. 
 His fate is mine, and in his fate alone 
 I feek to know it. 
 
 CONJUROR. 
 
 Andliafl: thou flrength to bear it ? art thou firm? 
 For ^hat which fmites mine eye mud fmite thine 
 ear. 
 
 VALERIA (alarmed.). 
 Thou reck'nefl then to look on dreadful things ? 
 
 CONJUROR. 
 
 I may or may not ; but with mind not brac'd 
 In its full flrength, feek not thy fate to know. 
 
 VALERIA (after a hefitating paife of great agitation). 
 
 I can bear all things but the dread uncertainty 
 Of what I am to bear. 
 
A TRAGEDY, 327 
 
 CONJUROR. 
 
 Then fhall it be unto thee as thou wilt. 
 
 ( After fome 7nyJlerioiis inoilons and 7nidtering to 
 
 bimfelfy he turns his face towards the bottom 
 
 of the Jiage^ as if he had his eye fteadfijily 
 
 fixed upon fome diftant point; and continues 
 
 fo for fome time without moving^ whilft fhe 
 
 fiands watching his countenance eagerly^ with 
 
 her face turned to the front of the fl age,) 
 
 VALERIA (impatiently^ after a paufej, 
 O ! what doll thou behold ? 
 
 CONJUROR. 
 
 Nay, nothing yet but the dark formlefs void. 
 
 Be patient and attend.^ 1 fee him now : 
 
 On the tower'd wall he fiands : the dreadful battle 
 Roars round him. Thro' dark fmoke, and fheeted 
 
 flames, 
 And (howers of hurtling darts, and hifling balls. 
 He (Irides : beneath his fword falls many a foe : 
 His dauntlefs breall: to the full tide of battle 
 He nobly gives. — Still on thro' the dark Itorm 
 Mine eye purfues him to his fate's high cope— ^ 
 
 VALERIAf 
 
 His fate's high cope ! merciful, awful heaven ! 
 
 (After a paufe,) 
 O, wherefore doft thou paufe ? thine eyes roll 
 terribly : 
 
 Y4 
 
S^S CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS : 
 
 What dofl thou fee ? thou look'fl on things moil 
 
 dreadful ! 
 O look not thus, but fay what thou dofl fee ! 
 
 CONJUROR, 
 
 I fee a frowning chief, the crefcent's champion. 
 In bold defiance meet thy valiant lord. 
 The fight is fierce and bloody. ^ 
 
 VALERIA. 
 
 Again thou paufeft yet more terribly. — 
 Hafl thou no utterance for what thou feefl ? 
 O God ! O God ! thou look'fl upon his death ! 
 
 (Cbfping her bands 'violently,) 
 Dofl thou not fpeak ? wilt thou not anfwer me ? 
 Thou look'ft upon his death ! 
 
 CONJUROR. 
 
 I look on nothing, for thy frantic terrors 
 Have broke the fabric of my air-fhap'd vifion, • 
 And all is blank. 
 
 VALERIA. 
 
 And will it not return to thee again ? 
 O fix thine eyes, and to it bend thy foul 
 Intently, if it fliil may rife before thee, 
 For thou hafl made me frantic ! 
 
 CONJUROR (after a paufe^ and fixing his eyes as 
 
 before*) 
 The forms again return — ■ 
 
A T R A G E D Y. 329 
 
 The champions meet : the fight Is fierce and ter- 
 rible : 
 The fateful flroke is given ; and Conftantine 
 
 VALERIA. 
 
 Merciful heaven ! 
 
 CONJUROR. 
 
 And Conflantine lays the proud crefcent low. 
 
 VALERIA (paufwgfor a moinent as if to be ajfured 
 that Jhe has heard right ^ and then holding up her 
 hands in extafy.J 
 It is ! it is ! O words of blifs !— Thou fee'fl it i 
 
 My Conftantine lays the proud crefcent low ! 
 
 Thou look'ft upon it truly ; and their forms 
 
 Before thee move, ev'n as the very forms 
 
 Of living men ? 
 
 CONJUROR. 
 
 Even fo. 
 
 VALERIA. 
 
 O bleffed fight ! 
 It is not witch'ry's fpell, but holy fpirits 
 Sent from a gracious heav'n that fhapes fuch forms; 
 And be it lavvlefs or unhallow'd deem'd, 
 Here will I kneel in humble gratitude. 
 
 CONJUROR C preventing her from kneeling). 
 
 No, no, this muft not be : attend again : 
 There's more behind. 
 
530 CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS: 
 
 VALERIA. 
 
 Ka ! fa^r'il thcu more behind ? — Or good or evil? 
 
 CONJUROR. 
 
 Mixed I ween : 'tis ilill in darknefs lapp'd* 
 
 VALERIA. 
 
 In darknefs let it reft : Fve heard enough. 
 I would not look upon thine eyes again, 
 And in my fancy fliape thy unfeen fights, 
 
 For all that e'er Is that which lies behind 
 
 A far extended vifion ? (Paiifing anxionjl'j,} 
 
 Thou wilt not anfwer me — -well, refl it fo. 
 But yet, O forward look for one fliort year^ 
 ^4nd fay who then fliail be this city's lord. 
 
 CONJUROR. 
 
 Thy hufband and thy lord, moft mighty dame. 
 Shall at that period be this city's lord, 
 
 VALERIA. 
 
 Then I am fatisfied. Thou haft my thanks. 
 My very grateful thanks. There is thy recompenfe^ 
 And this too added. (Groing him a piirfe^ and theti 
 
 a ring from her hand,) 
 We ihall meet again 
 In happier days, when the proud crefcent's low. 
 And thou fliait have a princely recompenfe. 
 
 (Turning to her Attendants as floe goes away, J 
 Come, Lucia \ come, my friends 5 the ftorm will 
 pafs, 6 
 
A T $1 AGED Y. 33; 
 
 And we fliall fmile in the fair light of heaven 
 
 In happier days. (Exit ^followed by her Attendanis. 
 
 CONJUROR (looking at his reward J. 
 Good footh, this ahnofi: fmites a'rainft my heart; 
 But goes file not far happier than fhe came ? 
 Have I not earn'd it well ? 
 
 Re-enter Petronius. 
 
 PETRONIUS. 
 
 Thou haft well earn'd it. 
 What ! harbour fuch poor fcruples in a breafl 
 So exercifed in a trade hke this ? 
 Fye on't ! But if thy confcience is fo nice. 
 Know that thou haft In all good likehhood 
 Predicted truly \ and her lord and huft)and 
 Shall be ftill, as thou fay'ft, this city's lord. 
 
 CONJUROR, 
 
 How fp ? 
 
 PETRONIUS. 
 
 Haft thou not fkill enough to guefs ? 
 Much has the fultan of Valeria heard \ 
 And, with the future beauties of his palace. 
 His fancy, in the moft diftinguifti'd rank, 
 Already places her. Thou wilt ere long, 
 I can foretel by certain fleeting fhapes 
 Which at this moment dance before mine eyes, 
 A favour'd, famous, courtly prophet be. 
 
3S^ COxYSTANTINE PALEOLOGtlS : 
 
 My little Ella too, taught by my art,, 
 May plavy perhaps her part ; and fo together 
 We'll amicably work. — May it not be ? 
 Put up thy gold and fay it is well earned. 
 
 CONJURORr 
 
 It niufl be had, and therefore mufl be earned, 
 Falfely or honelHy. — Does Conflantine, 
 As fpeaks this morning's rvnnour, fend agaia 
 Another enibadV to Mahomet 
 With terms of peace I 
 
 PETRONIUS, 
 
 He does, my friend : already in the palace 
 He, and his band of felf-devoted fools. 
 Deliberate on li. Thou, at no great rifk, 
 May'n. prophefy the iifue of their counfels. 
 
 CONJUROR. 
 
 I have adventured upon bolder gueffing, 
 
 PETRONIUS. 
 
 Excepting that flight aid from Genoa, 
 Which by the mailer of a coafling veilel. 
 Kept fecretly on watch, I am inform'd 
 Is now almoft within fight of the coaft, 
 No hope remains to Conflantine. And this 
 Shall not deceive him long ; for Fve difpatch'd, 
 in a fwift-failing fkiff, a trufly agent. 
 Who fliall with coflly bribes and falfe reports 
 Betev ^heir boldnefs from all defp'rate etibrts 
 
A T RACED Y. z]* 
 
 oj 
 
 To force a pafTage to the block'd-up port : 
 A thino- Rodrio-o's bold fuccefs aione 
 Hath taught us to believe e'en pofTible. 
 
 CONJUROR. 
 
 Thanks for your information, my good lord : 
 Fll profit by it. 
 
 PETROXIUS. 
 
 But ufe it prudently. And fo good day, 
 Weil thrive thy trade, and all good luck attend us. 
 
 ( Exeunt fcveraIJ\\ 
 
 SCENE IV. An apartment in the imperial palace ^ 
 with a 'viezu through a grand arched door of an- 
 other apartment^ in zvhieh are dif covered Con flan- 
 tine, Othus, Jufliniani, Rodrigo, and others^ 
 arifing from a council table, They enter and come 
 forward. 
 
 CONSTANTINE. 
 
 Well, my brave friends, I to your care intrufl 
 This lad attempt by honourable treaty 
 To gain peace from the foe. Heaven blefs your 
 efforts. 
 
 JUSTIKIANI. 
 
 All that Ilridl honour will permit to us 
 Shall be mod truly done, imperial lord, 
 And one ilep farther on we cannot go. 
 
334 CON^Sf ANTINE PALEOLOGUS 
 
 CONSTANTINE. 
 
 Had I wifh'd more than this, Juftiniani, 
 i had fent other minifters. — — 
 Heav*n blefs your efforts, brave ambaiTadors^ 
 And make you wife as brave ! 
 
 If we fucceed not^ 
 As much I fear, it is my earned wifli. 
 Ere the grand pufh that fhall our fate decide^ 
 To meet you all in bleffed charity, 
 And join with you, perhaps, in the lad rites 
 Of chrillian worfhip that wuthin our walls 
 Shall e'er be celebrated. 
 
 OTHUS. 
 
 Your wifh fhall be fuifiird : we all dedre it. 
 
 CONSTANTINE. 
 
 I thank you. In an hour hence be prepared 
 To fet out for the fultan's camp. So, brothers, 
 Good day, and all good favour. 
 
 (Exeunt all but Conflantine and Othus* 
 
 CONSTANTINE (to Othus as be is about to go after 
 
 the others J » 
 Wilt thou go alfo, Othus ? 
 
 OTHUS. 
 
 Not if your highnefs does command my flay. 
 
A T R i\ G E D Y. ^35 
 
 CONST ANTIiSTE. 
 
 Ah, gentle friend ! I do no more command ! 
 But this diflreiles thee. Well, gen'rous man. 
 Thou art commanded. (Pointing to a feat ^ and they 
 
 both fit.) 
 Here, by thy friendly ^idt^ 
 I'll give my heart a uttle breathing ipace ; 
 For oh ! the gen'rous love of thefe brave men. 
 Holding thus nobly to my finking fate, 
 Prelles it forely. 
 
 From thee nor from myfelf can I conceal 
 The hopelefs (late in which I am befet. 
 No foreign prince a brother's hand extends 
 In this mine hour of need ; no chriflian ilate 
 Sends forth its zealous armies to defend 
 This our begirded crofs : within our walls, 
 Tho* with th' addition of our later friends, 
 I cannot number foldiers ev'n fufficient 
 To hold a petty tov/n 'gainft fuch vafl odds. 
 I needs mull fmile and wear a brow of hope. 
 But with thee, gentle Othus, 1 put off 
 AH form and feeming ; I am what I am, 
 A weak and heart-rent man. — Wilt thou forgivs 
 
 me ? 
 For I in truth mud ween. 
 
 OTKUS. 
 
 Yes, unreftrained weep, thou valiant foul 
 With many a wave o'er-ridden ! Thou ftrlv'ft 
 nobly 
 
SS6 CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUSi 
 
 Where hearts of llerner fluff perhaps had funk : 
 
 And o'er thy fall, if it be fo decreed. 
 
 Good men will mourn, and brave men will flied 
 
 tears. 
 Kindred to thofe which now thou fhed'fl. Thy 
 
 name 
 Shall in fucceeding ages be remember'd 
 When thofe of mighty monarchs are forgot. 
 
 CONSTANTINE. 
 
 Deceive me not ; thy love deceiveth thee* 
 Men's aftions to futurity appear 
 But as th' events to which they are conjoin'd - 
 Do give them confequence. A fallen ftate. 
 In age and weaknefs falTn, no hero hath ; 
 For none remain behind unto whofe pride 
 The cherifh'd mem'ry of his ads pertains, 
 
 no, good Othus, fame 1 look not for. 
 But to fuftain in heaven's all-feeing eye, 
 Before my fellow men, in mine ov/n fight. 
 With graceful virtue and becoming pride. 
 The dignity and honour of a man, 
 
 Thus ftation'd as I am, 1 will do all 
 That man may do, and I will fuffer all — 
 My heart within me cries, that man can fuffer. 
 
 C Starting up luitb vehemence^ and holding up 
 both hands firmly clench) cd,) 
 Shall low-born men on fcaffolds firmly tread. 
 For that their humble townfmen fliouid not blufli. 
 And Ihall I (brink ? No, by the living God ! 
 
 1 will not fhrink, albeit I fhed thefe tears. 
 
A T R A G E D Y. 337 
 
 OTHUS. 
 
 To be 111 toils and perils, nay in fufFerings, 
 With th' applauding fympathy of men 
 /Upon his fide, is to the noble mind 
 A ftate of happinefs beyond the blifs 
 Of calm inglorious eafe. 
 
 CONSTANTINE. 
 
 O no, good Othus ! thou misjudged of me. 
 I would, God knows, in a poor woodman's hut 
 Have fpent my peaceful days, and fhar'd my cruft 
 With her who would have cheer'd me, rather far 
 Than on this throne ; but, being what I am, 
 I'll be it nobly. 
 
 OTHUS. 
 
 Yes, thou wilt be it nobly, fpirit as brave 
 As e'er wore C^far's name 1 
 
 CONSTANTINE (fmUing forrowfiillj ) , 
 
 Yes, there is caufe for me ; there is good caufe. 
 But for thofe valiant men, link'd in my fate, 
 Who have in other lands their peaceful homes 
 And dear domeftic ties, on whom no claim 
 Lays its ftrong hold — alas ! what caufe have they ? 
 What is their recompenfe ? Fame is not mine ; 
 
 And unto them O this doth prefs my heart ! 
 
 A heart furcharg'd with many cares, and prefs'd 
 With that befides, which more than all — with that 
 Which I have wreflled with — which I have drove — 
 
 Z 
 
SsS CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS : 
 
 With that which comes between me and myfelf— 
 The felf that as a chriftian and a man 
 I flrongly drove to be 
 
 OTHUS. 
 
 You have before fome fecret caufe of trouble 
 Hinted in broken words : will not your highnefs 
 Unto a faithful friend 
 
 CONSTANTINE f turning away from him). 
 No, no, good Othus ! 
 Sometimes I dream Hke a diftra^led man 
 And nurfe dark fancies. Power and lawlefs will — 
 Defencelefs beauty — Mahomet — Valeria — 
 Shape out of thefe wild words whatever thou wilt. 
 For I can fay no more* 
 
 OTHtrs. 
 Alas, I know It all ! 
 
 CONSTANTINE. 
 
 And yet why Ihouid It thus diflurb my mind ? 
 A thought, perhaps, that In no other bread 
 Hath any fhelter found. — It is my weaknefs : 
 I am afhamed of it. — I can look 
 On my fhort-fated fpan and its dark bound : 
 I can, God (trength'ning me, my earthly tafk 
 Clofe as becomes a king ; and, being clos'd. 
 To that which in this world's tumultuous ilage 
 Shall happen after it, I am as nothing. 
 
A TRAGEDY. 
 
 339 
 
 OTHUS. 
 
 Alas ! my royal mafter, do not thus 
 To racking thoughts give away ! is there not means 
 To free you from this pain, if you to ufe them 
 Have courage ? Let the emprefs be convey'd 
 Far from thefe walls. It is a cruel remedy. 
 But it will give you peace. 
 
 CONSTANTINE. 
 
 I did attempt it, but fhe has fo clofely 
 Entwin'd herfelf upon me — O, my friend. 
 It needs muft pafs! I in th' unconfcious grave 
 Shall be at reft. 
 
 OTHUS. 
 
 But does fhe know the nature of your fears ? 
 
 CONSTANTINE. 
 
 O no ! fhe does not ! from that hateful fubjedl, 
 As from a hideous ferpent, ftill with her 
 I've kept aloof. — Alas ! what can I do ? 
 I could as well into her noble heart 
 Thrufl the barb'd dart as tell her what 1 fear. 
 
 OTHUS. 
 
 Perhaps fhe flill, as from the common horrors 
 Of a fack'd town, may be conjur'd to flee. 
 And here Ihe comes ; be it at leaft attempted, 
 
 Z2 
 
340 CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUSr 
 
 Enter Valeria, Lucia, and attendant Ladies* 
 
 VALERIA (to Conftantlne). 
 I come to claim thy promife : one (hort hour, 
 A hafly funbeam thro' the cloud's dark fkirt, 
 Thou giv'll: to me, and I mufl: claim my right. 
 Thy friends too, ere they go, fhall be my guefts : 
 I have brought powerful fuitors to alTift me. 
 
 (Pointing to her ladies,) 
 Ha ! what difturbs thee ? how is this, my love ? 
 Thy face is chang'd and troubl'd — What new 
 caufe 
 
 CONSTANTINE. 
 
 O, n(3 new caufe ! one that has much difturb'd 
 me. 
 
 VALERIA. 
 
 And one to me unknown ? 
 
 CONSTANTINE. 
 
 Speak to her, Othus ! 
 
 OTHUS. 
 
 By many various ills and cares opprefs'd^ 
 Your royal lord is ftill mod clofely touch'd 
 With that which does your weal regard. What fate 
 May, in a florm-ta'en city, of dire fights 
 And horrid cruelties, have in referve, 
 
 3 
 
A T R A G E D Y. 341 
 
 If fuch the city's doom, who can forefee ? 
 O, let him then his painful (fation hold, 
 Gen'rous Valeria ! from one care reliev'd, 
 Hi« heavieft care, the thought of leaving thee 
 The involv'd witnefs of fuch horrid things 1 
 
 VALERIA. 
 
 What would'fl thou fay in this ? Think'fl thou 
 the ruin 
 In which he perlflies will have for me 
 Or form or circumftances ? It will be 
 Th' upbreaking cra(h of all exifting things, 
 That undiftinguifh'd is, and felt but once. 
 Othus, thou talk'ft like an unfldlful fage : 
 It was not thus thy mafler bade thee fpeak. 
 
 CONSTANTINE. 
 
 Valeria, hard neceflity compels us. 
 I have already fafe afylum fought 
 For the lad tender remnant of our race. 
 That fomething might from this dire wreck be 
 
 fav'd, 
 And ihall I not for thee ^ 
 
 VALERIA. 
 
 No ; I am nothing 
 But what I am for thee ! When that is finifh'd — 
 
 CONSTANTINE. 
 
 Ah, my Valeria, but that will not finifli ! 
 Thou ftill may'it be for me — thou flill may'ft bear 
 
 Z3 
 
342 CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS: 
 
 Honour'd memoral amongfl living men 
 
 Of him who was thy lord. — Good Lucia, aid me. 
 
 And gentle Servia too, and all of you! 
 
 (To the Ladies). 
 Cling round your miflrefs with your foothing love. 
 And fay that in a foreign land you'll be 
 The faithful friends and foothers of her woe. 
 Where ev'ry virtuous heart will bear to her 
 The kindred ties of holieft fympathy. 
 Say ye will be with her in kindheft zeal: 
 Ye will not leave her ? 
 
 LUCIA and the other Ladies. 
 
 No, we'll never leave her ! 
 CGatheri?ig roimd her affectionately,) 
 Mod dear and royal Miflrefs, whilfl life holds. 
 In what'er land, in what'er flate you are, 
 We'll never leave you, 
 
 VALERIA. 
 
 I know it well : thanks to your gen'rous love ! 
 But yet forebear, nor thus befet me round. 
 
 (Putting them gently from her^ and fixing her 
 eyes upon Conftantine.) 
 O, Paleologus ! haft thou for me 
 In fancy fhap'd a world and an exiftence 
 Where thou art not ? (Running to him andfalUn^ 
 
 on his 7ieck.) 
 Here is my world, my life, my land of refuge, 
 And to no other will I ever flee. 
 Here Hill is light and hope ; turning from this. 
 All elfe is round me as a yawning tomb. 
 
 '•^ 
 
A T R A G E D Y. 343 
 
 CONSTANTINE. 
 
 My dearefl love ! my gen'rous honour'd love i 
 My fweet Valeria ! thou diftra^lefl me ; 
 But have thy way, for I can urge no more. 
 Let dark fate come : 1 will abide its word. 
 
 VALERIA. 
 
 Nay, fay not dark ; there is a hope within me ; 
 'Tis fure, 'tis flrong, it cannot be deceitful. 
 
 ( A ftgnai heard from without,) 
 Hark ! hark ! a fignal ! 
 
 f Voices are heard calling without, J Ships are in 
 fight 1 fupplies and warlike aid ! 
 
 VALERIA (holding up her hands), 
 O blefled found ! there is falvation in it. 
 
 Heaven fends us aid ! (Voices again call out as be* 
 ^ fore^ and the fignal is repeated,) 
 
 Again the bleifed found ! 
 
 And here Rodrigo comes, wearing a face 
 
 Of welcome tidings. 
 
 flnter Rodrigo, 
 
 Succours, brave Rodrigo ? 
 
 rodrigo. 
 
 Yes, (hips from Genoa are now in fight. 
 Bearing, no doubt, brave aid, if to the port 
 They can make good their entrance. 
 
 (All except Conftantine.) Good heaven be blefs'd 
 
 Z4 
 
344 CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS: 
 
 CONSTANTINE. 
 
 And fays Rodrigo " if" ? (^Shaking bis bead, J 
 
 VALERIA. 
 
 Nay, fear not, they will enter ; with them comes 
 Another brave Rodrigo ; thro' barr'd adamant. 
 Did it oppofe them, they will force their way. 
 
 RODRIGO. 
 
 If they but have one jot of manhood in them. 
 They'll do all poffible things. 
 
 VALERIA. 
 
 Ay, and all things are poffible ! 
 
 CONSTANTINE. 
 
 In truth, thou talk'fl with fuch exulting confi- 
 dence. 
 Thou almoft tempteft me to grafp at hope. 
 
 (^Voices call out as before y and a fignal from the 
 towers, J 
 
 VALERIA. 
 
 The animating found ! Come, come ! O, come ! 
 And o'er the blue waves hail the blelTed fight. 
 
 CRuns out exultingly^ every one following her 
 with animated alacrity. 
 
 END OF THE SECOND ACT. 
 
A TRAGEDY. 345 
 
 ACT IIL 
 
 SCENE I. The Turkijh Camp: the teni of Mz-^ 
 
 hornet, who is dif covered fitting alone i?i the 
 
 eaftern manner^ with a great Jheet of parchment 
 
 fpread out before him^ which he is conftdering at" 
 
 tentively, 
 
 MAHOMET (after tracing fome lines with a pen or 
 
 pencil)* 
 
 Jrio, Ofmir! art thou here? 
 
 Enter Osmir. 
 
 Come hither, vlzir ; follow with thine eye 
 The various difpofitions of this plan 
 Which for our grand attack I here have traced, 
 God and the Prophet being on our fide. 
 That mingled broil of fierce and dreadful fight 
 Which (hall not ceafe till from the lift of nations 
 This eaftern empire, with its long told line 
 Of paltry Caefars, be expung'd and blank. 
 Shall not be long delay'd. 
 
 OSMIR. 
 
 All things muft yield unto the towering fpirit 
 And comprehenfive genius of your highnefs. 
 Permit your flave. (Looking over the plan,) 
 
 Conceiv'd, indeed, with deep and wondVous fkill ! 
 
9 
 
 ^?4^ CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS : 
 
 But mighty lord, if that a worm may fpeak. 
 Your van, methinks, is of a motly clafs. 
 The vile refuge and garbage of the camp ; 
 Are muffelmen led on in glory's path 
 By fuch as thefe ? 
 
 MAHOMET (fmiling fiercely). 
 
 No ; but brave muflulmen o'er fuch as thefe 
 May (tep to glory's path. Garbage, I truft. 
 Is good enough for filling ditches up. - 
 Some thoufand carcafes, living and dead, 
 Of thofe who firfl fhall glut the en'my's rage, 
 Pufli'd in, pell-mell, by thofe who prefs behind 
 Will rear for us a bridge to mount the breach 
 Where ableft engineers had work'd in vain, 
 
 OSMIR. 
 
 This did efcape my more contra6led thoughts. 
 A.nd here your highnefs ftations Georgian troops : 
 Are they fure men in fuch important fervice ? 
 
 MAHOMET (fmillng again). 
 Ay, fure as death ; here is my furety for them* 
 See'lt thou what w-arriors in the rear are plac'd, 
 With each a cord and hatchet in his hand ? 
 Thofe grizly hangmen, in their canvas ileeves. 
 Fight for me better than an armed band 
 Oi chridian knights full cap-apee. — Look o'er it : 
 Something, perchance, may have efcap'd my 
 thoughts, 6 
 
A TRAGEDY. 
 
 347 
 
 OSMIR (after again examinhig it). 
 No ; every thing is confummately plann'd. — 
 But, mighty fultan, this old officer. 
 Whom you have flation'd here with your new 
 
 troops. 
 Is not to be relied on. 
 
 MAHOMET. 
 
 How foj Ofmir ? 
 
 OSMIR. 
 
 It is fufpeded that he has receiv'd 
 The en*my*s gold ; one thing, at lead, is certain. 
 He has had private meetings with the foe. 
 
 MAHOMET. 
 
 What ! art thou fure of this ? — Send for him 
 
 quickly. 
 The fool midfl blocks and bowftrings has fo long 
 His bafe head tott'ring worn, he thinks, no doubt. 
 It needs muft be his own. Send from him quickly. 
 And fee that which is needful done upon him. 
 
 (Draiv'nig the pen Jiernly acrofs the name on 
 
 the plan,) 
 There ; from the world of living things I blot him; 
 Another takes his place. (Giving a paper to Ofmir.) 
 Thefe are the ufual orders for the night ; 
 Alfemble thou the fev'ral officers, 
 And give to each his own particular charge. 
 
348 CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS: 
 
 OSIMER. 
 
 Your flave obeys. CExit, 
 
 MAHOMET (alone, after mufingfor a little while). 
 
 Have I done well to give this hoary vet'ran. 
 Who has for thirty years fought in our wars. 
 To the death-cord unheard ? (Stei-nly, after paufing 
 
 afhort fpace.J 
 I have done well. 
 In my difguifed rounds, but two nights fince, 
 Lift'ning at his tent door, I heard him fpeak 
 Words that methought approach'd to flight efteem 
 Of my endowments and capacity. 
 Yes, he is guilty. (After walking up and down fe- 
 deral times he opens another fcrolL } 
 But I will fear no treafon : here is that 
 On which I may rely. In mortal man 
 I have no trull ; they are all hollow flaves. 
 Who tremble and deteft, and would betray. 
 But on the fates, and the dark fecret powers. 
 So fay thofe fure unerring calculations 
 Of deep aflrology, I may depend. (Sitting down 
 
 again, and confidering the fcrolLJ 
 Ay, It muft needs be fo : this conftellation 
 In clofe conjuQion with the warrior's flar, 
 Trac'd back in magic numbers three times three. 
 And nine times nine, and added three again. 
 Unto the hour of my nativity. 
 Makes it infallible. Here have I mark'd it 
 
A T R A G E D Y. 349 
 
 With mine own fcience, num'ral, learn'd, and fure. 
 Ha ! ha ! your foolifh chridians now beheve 
 Men's future fortunes are by wizards feen, , 
 In airy forms pourtray'd, like mimick (hows, 
 And trufl thereto with fond fimplicity. 
 
 (Othoric, who about the middle of this fpeech 
 has made his appearance from behind the cur- 
 tain of the tent^ difgidfed like a Turk^ but 
 without a turban^ now, Jlealing clofe up to 
 Mahomet, Ifts up his dagger tojirike,) 
 What do I hear ? 
 
 OTHORIC. 
 
 It Is thy fate, blind Turk, uncalculated. 
 
 (Striking.J 
 
 MAHOMET (^parrying the blow with his floeathed fct- 
 mitar, which he afterwards drazus,) 
 
 Ho ! help without ! treafon and parricide ! 
 Ho ! guards without, I fay ? (Guards rujh in, and 
 Othoric is feized, after defending himfelf def- 
 perately,) 
 
 MAHOMET. 
 
 (To Othoric.) Who art thou ? What dark tyran£ 
 
 fet thee on 
 To do this murderous and horrid deed ? 
 
 OTHORIC. 
 
 And think*ft thou fuch deeds horrid? — But I 
 came 
 To aft and not to fpeak* 
 
350 CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS: 
 
 MAHOMET. 
 
 Say rather, villain, to be aded on. 
 Do racks and burning iron pleafe thee well 
 That thou fhould'fl earn them with fuch defp'rate 
 
 pains. 
 (To the Guards, J Stretch out his arms, and let me 
 
 look on them. (Looking at his arnis^ and 
 
 fur-veying him all over^ he Jhrinks back as 
 
 from a danger efcaped^ and then /miles 
 
 grimly,) 
 There will be tough work on thofe fmewy limbs 
 When they are dealt with. — Lead the traitor off. 
 I will give orders for his fate ere long. 
 
 (To Othoric, who is about to /peak. J 
 Thou {halt not fpeak : I hate thy horrible face. 
 Lead him away ? (Exit Othoric and Guards^ met by 
 
 Petronius and Marthon, who enter as they 
 
 are going out,) 
 
 PETRONIUS. 
 
 What prifoner is this they lead along ? 
 
 , MAHOMET. 
 
 A dark affaflin in my tent conceal'd, 
 Whole daring hand ev'n now aim'd at my life. 
 
 PETRONIUS (cajling up his eyes to heaven). 
 The life of great and godlike Mahomet ! 
 It makes my blood turn cold. 
 
 MARTHON. 
 
 I too am (lunn'd, and tremble at the thought. 
 
A T R A G E D Y. ^a 
 
 j:) 
 
 MAHOMET. 
 
 Yes, all may tremble whoin the dark purpofe 
 Have part or knowledge had. 
 
 PETR.ONIUS and marthon fbofb alaiinedj* 
 
 What means my lord ? 
 
 (Mahomet walks feveral times acrofs the Jl age 
 with angry Jl rides ^ ivhilji they look fearfully 
 upon one another^ and then going Jlernly up to 
 ihenu) 
 
 MAHOMET. 
 
 I know the bafe tranfa6lIons of lail night : 
 Ye ftufF'd my gold into the dirty palms 
 Of thofe who fhook their torches in the air, 
 And cried long live brave Paleologus. 
 I know it all : think ye with upcaft looks. 
 And mumm'ry fuch as this, to blind mine eyes ? 
 
 PERONius (falling on his knees). 
 
 As there's a God in heav'n, to you, great 
 faltan ! 
 We have been true 1 (Marthon kneels alfo.) 
 
 MAHOMET. 
 
 Up, crouching Haves I when men {q bred as you 
 are 
 ^ Thus lowly kneel, my very foul adhors them. 
 
3S^ CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS: 
 
 PETRONIUS. 
 
 Your death, great monarch, were to PaleologuB 
 Triumph and fafety, but to us fwift ruin. 
 
 MARTHON. 
 
 And (hall fufpiclons fo improbable 
 Fall upon us, who in your fecret fervice 
 Have dangers brav'd, and from your hands alone 
 Look for the recompenfe ? 
 
 PETRONIUS. 
 
 If we lad night have fail'd 
 
 ^ MAHOMET CJlamping with his foot). 
 I will not hear you ! 
 
 Enter Osmir, 
 Ofmir, know'fl thou this horrible attempt ? 
 
 OSMIR. 
 
 I do great prince, and blefs the Prophet's arm 
 That has preferv'd you. What bafe enemy 
 Has arm'd the defp'rate villain ? 
 
 MAHOMET. 
 
 Petronlus here and his fmooth Grecian friend 
 Throw accufation on the emperor. 
 
 OSMIR. 
 
 This moment in your camp there is ariiv'd 
 
A TRAGEDY. 35S 
 
 An embaflage of his mod honour'd friend^ 
 Sent by the emperor to treat of peace. 
 
 MAHOMET. 
 
 At this unlikely hour ? 
 
 OSMIR. 
 
 Yes, time now prefles, and, as I fhould guefsj 
 The hopes of fuccour from thofe friendly vefTels 
 That vainly have attempted through your fleets 
 To force a paflage, raifmg fhort-liv'd joy 
 Full foon extinguifn'd, has to this late hour 
 Delay'd their coming. 
 
 Hope gone, they now are humbled fuitors. Here 
 Within your power, you have the chiefefl men • 
 Of the brave friends on whom he mod depends p 
 This does not look like preconcerted plots 
 Of fecret murder, at this very hour 
 To be attempted. 
 
 5 
 
 MAHOMET* 
 
 No, Ofmir, there is reafon in thy words. 
 
 OSMIR. 
 
 But if your highnefs thinks it h expedient,, 
 1 will ftraightway arrefl them.i- 
 
 MAHOMET Cqfter hefttatlng). 
 No 5 they are valiant men, and do as fuch 
 
 A a 
 
3j4 CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS ; 
 
 Claim honour from a valiant foe. Go fay. 
 That by the morning's dawn they fhall have au- 
 dience ; 
 The open camp, with wide-mouth'd cannon 
 
 cloth'd. 
 And all my lofty garniture of war. 
 Shall be my hall of ftate. Secure thofe men 
 Until my farther orders. (Pointing to Petronius 
 and Marthon, and cxif^ folhwed by Ofmir. 
 Remain Petronius and Marthon guarded. J 
 
 Ff6.ST GUARD. 
 
 Come oii, my mafters, we*ll conduct you fafely. 
 
 MARTHON Cto Petronius). 
 Is It to plunge me in this dreadful gulf 
 That your curs'd leiTons have feduc'd my youth ? 
 
 PETRONIUS. 
 
 Upbraid me not. I have not for myfelf 
 A better fate referv*d. But we are noble. 
 And of high Hneage ; fear not, for the fultan 
 Will ftill refped us. 
 
 SECOND GUARD. 
 
 Ay^ fo belike he will ; your noble heads 
 May with the royal fcimitar be chopt, 
 If he is much inclined to honour you. 
 Some men ere now, in other fultans' days, 
 Have been fo honoured. f Exeunt. J 
 
A TRAGEDY. 
 
 3S5 
 
 SCENE II. y^n open /pace in the camp^ with the 
 jfanizaries and Tiirkijh troops drawn up in order. 
 Cannon and warlike engines feen mixed with the 
 tents, A jl our ijh of trumpets ; enter Mahomet^ 
 with O^MiR and his train, and places himfelf in a 
 chair offtate near the front of thefiage. Another 
 flourifh of trumpets, and enter Othus, Justi- 
 nian i, and RoDRiGO, with a fmall train of At' 
 iendants, walking Jlowly up the Jlage, 
 
 MAHo?viET (to Ofmir, as they come forward). 
 
 Thefe men approach us with a hardy flep. 
 Nor wear the fuppliant's humbled brow. Come 
 
 they 
 To fue or to command lis ? (To Othus and the 
 
 other deputies, who make obeifance to hinu) 
 You are permitted to declare your errand. 
 If your hard-leflbn'd chief, more prudent grown. 
 Will now refign his proud imperial city 
 Into the hands to whom high heaven's decree. 
 And power on earth rehftlefs, foon (hall give it, 
 I will receive that which he cannot hold 
 With grace and favour^ 
 
 OTHUS. 
 
 High heaven's decrees are known to mortal man 
 But in th' event fulfill'd ; and for earth's power, 
 The cannon flanked cohorts, and wide front 
 Of far extended numbers, ihew it not 
 To him, who in the fmall and fecret fortrefs, 
 
 A a 2 
 
3SG CONST ANTINE PALEOLOGUS : 
 
 E'en of one brave man's breaft, more help dif- 
 
 covers, 
 Oft in til' afrounding hour of the dorm's pitch. 
 Than in an armed hofl. Imperial Conftantine 
 Will live or die within his city's walls 
 As m.ay become their mafler. — Neverthelefs, 
 He will fo far to hard necelTity 
 
 MAHOMET. 
 
 I hear no more : your words are inelFe61:ual, 
 And fall as powerlefs as the ruffian's fword, 
 Vfhom now, within my tent, your royal maderj,. 
 Compeird no doubt by hard neceffity, 
 Has hired to murder me. 
 
 jusTiNiANi (Jlepping boldly forward). 
 Sultan, thou iltteil where thou fafely may'fl 
 Say vvhat thou wilt, therefore of all mankind 
 Thou moft art bound to fay but what is meet. 
 Flit thofe accufnig words that thou haft utter'd 
 Into uhe mouth of anv other Turk, 
 Wore he a giant's form, for in your camp 
 1 know that fucli there be, and I will prove it. 
 With this good foldier's arm, a curled falfehood. 
 
 OTHUS (to Jufliniani, pidling him hack). 
 Thou art not wife.— Great fultan hear me fpeak* 
 If any bafe attack upon your life 
 Has been attempted, let the murd'rous villain. 
 If ftill he breathes, be here before us brought. 
 In prefcnce of your highnefs we will queflion him : 
 
A T R A G E D Y. 357 
 
 Perchance he will confefs what fecret foe 
 Has arm'd his daring hand. 
 
 MAHOMET (after giving orders to a guard In dumb 
 ' Jhow^ who immediately goes out J, 
 Your fuit is granted. 
 Thefe men fpeak boldly, vizir. ( Afide to Ofnih*.) 
 
 OS MIR (afide to Mahomet). 
 They flirink not from the proof. 
 
 Enter Otuokic fettered and guarded, 
 
 MAHOMET (to OthoHc). 
 
 As thou may'fl hope a mitigated doom, 
 I here command thee that thou truly anfwer 
 Whate'er thofe Roman deputies demand, 
 
 OTHORIC. 
 
 1 do not hope a miticrateddoom. 
 And therefore, fultan, cannot be commanded: 
 But if this brave man here will queftion me, . 
 
 (Foi?2ting to Rodrigo.) 
 For in his prefence I do feel my fpirit 
 To manhood's height brac'd up, FU truly anfwer, 
 Tho' every word did in my fmews iix 
 The burning pincer's tooth. 
 
 RODRIGO. 
 
 Ha! Othoric art thou not? the {[lono: Hun- 
 
 garian ? 
 
 Aa3 
 
358 CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS? 
 
 OTHORic (fmiling). 
 Ay, thou remembereft my name — I thank thee—^ 
 It pleafes me to think thou'lt ne'er forget it. 
 Afk what thou wilt, and 1 will anfwer thee ; 
 Bid me do what thou wilt, and 1 will do it. 
 Barring the hindrance of thefe chains. 
 
 RpDRIGQ. 
 
 Thanks to thee ! 
 Then, whatfoe'er the fultan aiks of thee, 
 Anfwer him truly. He will point his quefliqns 
 Where his fufpicion points. 
 
 OTHORIC. 
 
 1 will obey. 
 
 MAHOMET CJiernly). 
 Who hired thee, thou bold and hard-brow^ 
 villain, 
 Such horrid deed to do I 
 
 OTHORIC. 
 
 I have been twice hired, mighty Mahomet, 
 
 To do fell deeds, in which Fvc lack'd performance, 
 
 MAHOMET. 
 
 And who firft: hired thee ? 
 
 OTHORIC. 
 
 Thyfelf. 
 
A TRAGEDY. 3S9 
 
 MAHOMET. 
 
 Bafe traitor ! 
 Dar'fl thou belie me to my very face ? 
 
 OTHORIC. 
 
 That I belie thee not be this my token ; 
 My hire was given to me by Petronius, 
 Told from a fable bag, on whofe feal'd mouth 
 Thy fcimitar and crefcent were imprefs'd. 
 
 OTHUS. 
 
 Petronius ! 
 
 OTHORie. 
 
 Yes, that fmooth, fubtle Greek, 
 
 MAHOMET. 
 
 He hir'd thee not to take the life of Conftantine ? 
 
 OTHORIC. 
 
 True ; I was hir'd for wafleful infurredlion. 
 Not for deliberate murder. Tho' moil wretched, 
 A flranger, grip'd by hard neceflity, 
 The price he gave me ne'er had bought this arm 
 ^o fuch an ^d. 
 
 MAHOMET, 
 
 And who did hire thee for this fecond deed. 
 Which thou mufl needs deliberate murder call ? 
 
 A a4 
 
36o CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUSs 
 
 OTHORIC. 
 
 ^Twas Conftantine. 
 
 JUSTINIANI. 
 
 Thou lieflj fowl, artful villain ! 
 
 MAHOMET. 
 
 Peace I command ! ye fliall not interrupt him« 
 •'Twas Conilantine that hir'd thee ? 
 
 OTHORIC. 
 
 Yes, great fultan ! 
 But not with gold, and he himfelf, I ween, 
 Unconfcious of the act, 
 
 MAHOMET. 
 
 What did he bribe thee with ? 
 
 OTHORIC. 
 
 "With that which does but feidom prove the means 
 Of like corruption — gen'rous admiration 
 Of noble manly virtue. I beheld him, 
 Like a brave flag encompafs'd by bafe curs. 
 And it did tempt me. — Other bribe than this 
 Have 1 had none ; and to no mortal ear 
 Did I reveal my purpofe. 
 
 (Mahomet puts bis hand on his forehead and 
 feems dijiurhed^ whilji the deputies hold up 
 their hands emltin^IyO 
 
A TRAGEDY. ^6i 
 
 vJ' 
 
 RODRIGO (to Othoric). 
 O for a galley mann'd with fuch as thou art. 
 Therewith to faqe a hundred armed (hips, 
 Creatur'd with meaner Hfe ! 
 
 Yet thou mud die, brave heart! yet thou mud die. 
 Thou haft done that which in no circumftance 
 Man's hand may do, and therefore thou muft 
 
 perifh. 
 But I'll remember thee : thy name is Othoric : 
 I will remember thee, 
 
 OSMIR (to Mahomet, who covers his face andfeems 
 difturh^d^ after a paifej. 
 
 Your highnefs gives no orders to your flavc 
 Touching the prifonen 
 
 MAHOMET (uncovering his face angrily). 
 His crime is plain : death be his inftant doom. 
 
 OSMIR. 
 
 And in what mode ? or fmiple or with pains ? 
 
 MAIiOMET. 
 
 piflrad me not. 
 
 OTHORIC. 
 
 Vizir, be not fo hafly, 
 I bear with me what wall redeem my life, 
 And gain the fultan's pardon. 
 
^6i CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS ? 
 
 OSMIR. 
 
 Ah ! thinkefl thou to gain him with that bribe 
 Which Conftantiiie gaye thee? (Shaking his head,) 
 
 OTHORIC. 
 
 No, not with that. I wear upon this arm 
 A potent baud, with fubtile magic wrought. 
 That, wherefoe'er 'tis on my body rubb'd 
 With muttered words which 1 alone do know, 
 Maketh the part firm and invuhierable 
 To fword, or bullet, or the arrow's point — 
 To all ofFenfive things. Believe me not. 
 But fee the proof. — Relieve mine arms, I pray^ 
 That I may fhew this wonder, 
 
 MAHOMET. 
 
 Unlock his fetters : if he tamper with us. 
 His tortures are enhanced. ' 
 
 pTBjORic Cto the guard who Jlands next him ^ after 
 he has beem unfettered^ and at the fame time un- 
 covering his left arm J. 
 
 Young Turk, thou wear'fl: a dagger by thy fide: 
 To (hew that I am made as other men. 
 Of flefh and blood as foft and fenfitive. 
 When with no charm fecur-d, ihruft It, I pray 
 
 thee. 
 Into this nerved flefh. Nay, do not fhrinkj 
 For I fhrink not. 
 
A T R A G E D Y. ^63 
 
 MAHOMET. 
 
 Do it, thou timid flave ! 
 (The guard Jlightly wounds Othoric'^ arm with 
 the -point of the dagger.) ^ 
 
 OTHORIC. 
 
 You fee it is an arm of fie(h and blood \ 
 And fo you'll find my body in all parts, 
 Thruft where you will. — But mark me^ whercr 
 
 foe'er 
 1 rub this band, your weapens have no power. 
 
 (Ofening bis hreqft and rubbing it with a brace* 
 
 let which he takes from his arm^ at the fame 
 
 fnne muttering fome my flic al words to him^ 
 
 felf.) 
 Now try if e'er the floutefl arm amongfi: you. 
 With pike, or fpear, or keenly-temper'd blade. 
 Can pierce this charmed breaft. 
 
 MAHOMET (to an Attendant), 
 
 Attempt it, brawny flave ; thine arm is ffrong. 
 (To Ofmir.) Give him a flronger weapon. — Now 
 the proof ! (The flave receiving a fword 
 from Ofmir, runs with full force upon Otho- 
 ric, who falls down^ pierced through the 
 breafi^ and utters a convulfive laugh as he ex* 
 pi res, J 
 
 RODRIGO (exultingly), 
 p, bravely done, thou.fpirit of true proof! 
 
^64 CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS: 
 
 JUSTINIANI. 
 
 Yes, nobly has he fhunn'd the degradation 
 Of flavifii punifhment. 
 
 OTHUS. 
 
 It was a lofty mind in a rude flate 
 Of wild diftorted virtue ; crofs the fancy 
 It ftaiks a gloomy, dark, gigantic Ihade, 
 Angei or fiend we know not. 
 
 ^lAHOMET (afide to himfclf turning gloomily away J ^ 
 And Conflantine is ferv'd by men like thefe ! 
 
 OTHUS (to Mahomet). 
 
 Seeing that of this crime our royal mafter 
 Doth clearly fland acquitted, by your word, 
 Mofl mighty Mahomet, we are permitted 
 TTo flate his wifhes. 
 
 ■ MAHOMET, 
 
 No, ambalTadors ; 
 I have already faid I hear no more 
 Unlefs ye yield the city. — Leave ye have 
 In fafety to return. — You and your chief 
 O'er a volcano's thinly-bridged gulf 
 Have ta'en your ftand, and the dire crafh is near, 
 
 OTHUS. 
 
 And with our chief in that tremendous ruin. 
 If it mufl be, we will fmk lovingly. 
 
A TRAGEDY, s^S 
 
 JUSTINIANI. 
 
 We will fink honourably. 
 
 RODRIGO. 
 
 We will fmk glorioufly. Ay, by heaven's light. 
 And cheerly too, great fultan ! (Pqjfing the body 
 
 of Othoric as they turn to go away,) 
 Thou noble wreck, thou wert rigg'd gallantly ! 
 
 (Epceiint Othus, Jufliniani, Rodrigo, and their 
 attendants,) 
 
 MAHOMET ( coming forward to the front of the Jlage^ 
 and Jlanding for fome time in a thoughtful pofture 
 much dijlurhed.) 
 And Condantine is ferv'd by men like thefe ! 
 
 OSMIR (to Jlaves^ -pointing to the body ^f Othoric). 
 
 Take up the carcafe of that favage ruffian. 
 And (lick it on a Hake for vulture's food. 
 
 MAHOMET (turning round angrily ) , 
 No, reptiles ! let it have a foldier's grave. 
 
 OSMIR. 
 
 This is exceeding mercy \ ne'erthelefs, 
 Your orders, mighty prince, fhall be obey'd 
 By thofe who are as dull beneath your feet. 
 
 MAHOMET, 
 
 Yes, I do know that I fhall be obey'd. 
 
3^6 COiMSTANT|NE PALEOLOGUSf 
 
 By thofe who are ^ -I am begirt with ilaves. 
 
 CTurnhig aw ay J and Jlamping on the ground aL 
 he walks,) 
 Mine eneirsy is ferv'd by men like thefe ! 
 I will give orders with all preffing fpeed 
 That now my grand attack forthwith be made : 
 What next may be attempted by fuch foes 
 Who may divine, 
 
 OSMIR. 
 
 That is the fafed counfel. 
 
 (Exeunt Mahomet, tojfing his arms and mut- 
 tering as he goes out* J 
 
 END OF TUE THIRD ACT. 
 
A TRAGEDY. 367 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 An out'pojl belo7igingto the TurkiJJ:) camp^ with a view 
 of the city of Conjiantinople on the back ground j 
 feen in the dlmnefs of cloudy moonlight. 
 
 Enter feveral Tiirkijh Soldiers by different ways^ 
 
 meeting one another. 
 
 FIRST TURK. 
 
 Jrlo ! who are ye ? our friends ? 
 
 SECOND TURK. f 
 
 I know thy voice. 
 
 FIRST TURK. 
 
 Yes, we are friends ; but let us feparate. 
 And gain our tents as quickly as we may : 
 For now thro* all the camp the bufy flir 
 Of warlike preparation is begun ; 
 And ere the morning davn, each armed Turk 
 Mufl: hold him ready for th' approaching day 
 Of havock, blood, and fpoil. Come, let us on ! 
 
 THIRD TURK. 
 
 Yes y but, good comrades, do once more look 
 back, 
 
:6S CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS: 
 
 And fee, thro' the wan night, thofe building>' 
 
 gleam 
 With the lall Chriflian fires that e'er fhall burn 
 Within thofe circhng walls. 
 
 SECOND TURK. 
 
 Ay, there the Prophet has prepar'd our reft. 
 There foon, midft heap'd-up fpoils, and the wild 
 
 wailings 
 Of fetter'd beauty, in our new-won homes, 
 We'll caft our reeking fcimitars afide. 
 And lay us down in foft and lordly fioth. 
 Comrades, it is an animating fight. 
 But quickly let us gain our tents. — Hufh ! hufli ! 
 What Turk comes prowling this way, and alone r 
 It looks Hke Mahomet. 
 
 FIRST TURK. 
 
 It is the fultan on his nightly rounds, 
 Difguis'd 5 let us avoid him. 
 
 THIRD TURK. 
 
 I'd rather crofs a tiger on my way ; 
 For, as the humour hits, it may be fatal 
 To know or not to know him. At the belt 
 We fhall be deem'd but lawlefs ftragglers here : 
 Let us all feparate and gain our tents. 
 
 (EKCunt hqftily^ all different ways*) 
 
A T R A G E D Y. 369 
 
 Efifer MahoxMET dif gulfed^ followed at a dijlance by 
 
 the Vizir, 
 
 MAHOMET f alone y after walking thoughtfully from 
 the bottom of the ftage^ whllft Ofmir remains on the 
 hack ground). 
 
 What boots this reftlefs wifli ? 'tis all blank 
 filence 
 On that for which my greedy ears fLiil watch. 
 There's ne'er a Turk, who, o'er his ev'ning pipe. 
 Will not far rather talk of darino; feats 
 By petty robbers done, than all the fame 
 And grand achievements of his fov'reign lord. 
 'Tis cheerlefs filence all ! Dull, flupid race ! 
 They arm them for to-morrow's fight, 'tis true. 
 With much alacrity, and talk of conqueil, 
 Carnage, and fpoils ; but for their fultan's name. 
 The name of Mahomet, thro' all the camp 
 I've fcarcely heard its found. Nay, once I heard it 
 In accents harfli pronounc'd, but as to liflen 
 I nearer drew, my fteps the fpeaker fcar'd. 
 And all was into fearful filence hufli'd. 
 Their fultan's name ! — Pell feize the flupid Haves ! 
 O, Conflantine ! it is not thus thy foldiers 
 Do arm themfelves for thee. 
 
 r 
 
 Ho, Ofmir ! art thou near me ? 
 
 OS MIR (advancing). 
 Yes, my lord. 
 
 MAHOMET. 
 
 Hafl thou been lid'ning too f 
 Bb 
 
370 CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS : 
 
 OSMIR. 
 
 Yes, fultan ; and I find your Muflulmen 
 Their arms preparing for to-morrow's battle. 
 Beneath your royal (landard mod determined 
 To conquer or to die. 
 They under your approving eye will fight, 
 As in the funfhine of propitious heaven. 
 
 MAHOMET. 
 
 Yes, I am in their minds full truly grown 
 A thing of gen'ral attributes compos*d — 
 A heaven of funfliine or of lowering florms : 
 But as a man and leader, in whom live 
 The mental and corporeal quahties 
 Of Mahomet Pefl feize the ftupid flaves ! 
 
 E?2ter Petronius and Marthon, muffled up 
 in cloaks. 
 But who comes here ? twice on my rounds already 
 Thofe men have crofs'd me: am 1 known to them? 
 By the great Prophet they (hall bear their fecret 
 Where fecrets are fccure ! — Ho ! flop flaves there ! 
 Stop, in the ful tan's name ! (Running upon themfu- 
 riovfly^ and lifiing his fcimitar over the head 
 of PetroniuSj who immediately difcovers him- 
 
 PETRONius ( difcovering himfelf)* 
 Crufh not a worm, my lord. 
 
 MAHOMET. 
 
 A worm indeed 1 What ireafon brings ye here. 
 
A TRAGEDY. 371 
 
 Sculkmg, thus muffled up in dark difguife ? 
 Have I not warn'd ye both that ye do Hve 
 Beneath mine iron power in (tri^tefl: fauhlefifnefs ? 
 For that when ye are found but to tranfgrefs 
 The galhng limits of impofed duty 
 Even a hair's breadth, there abideth you 
 A recompence more dreadful than torn Haves, 
 Writhing in horrid ecftafy, e'er knew. 
 Beware : ye have no power to ferve me nov/, 
 And unfuccefsful traitors are mod hateful. 
 
 PETRONIUS. 
 
 It is, great Mahomet, to make amends 
 For unfuccefsful fervices, that here 
 Thou find'il us, on our way within the city 
 To gain for thee fome ufeful information 
 Againft to-morrow's pufh. Still in our power 
 Some little aid remains. 
 
 MAHOMET. 
 
 If thou fay'fl true, return to me again, 
 Leading thy beauteous daughter in thy hand. 
 Ere two hours pafs, who fhall within my teiit 
 A pledge remain for thy fufpicious faith 
 Until the city's ta'en. — Begone, I charge you. 
 And anfwer not again. (Exeunt Petronius and 
 
 Marthon. 
 Are all mine orders iflued for the morrow ? . 
 To each refpective officer aflign'd 
 His talk and llation? and my rearward troops. 
 Mine axe and cord-men, they are not forgotten ? 
 
 B b 2 
 
37^ CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS: 
 
 OSMIR. 
 
 No, pleafe your highnefs, nothinp^ is forgotten. 
 
 And by the early dawn fA rnixture of confufed 
 
 dijlant founds heard from the city, J 
 
 MAHOMET. 
 
 What founds are thefe ? 
 
 OSMIR. 
 
 Haft thou forgot we are fo near the city ? 
 It is the murm'ring night-founds of her ftreets, 
 Which the foft breeze wafts to thine ear, thus foftly 
 Mix'd with the chafings of the diftant waves. 
 
 MAHOMET (eagerly). 
 And let me liften too ! I love the found ! 
 Like the laft whifpers of a dying enemy 
 It comes to my pleas'd ear. (Lijlening*) 
 
 Spent art thou, proud imperial queen of nations. 
 And thy laft: accents are upon the wind. 
 Thou haft but one voice more to utter ; one 
 Loud, frantic, terrible, and then art thou 
 Amongft the nations heard no more. Lift ! lift I 
 I like it well ! the lion hears afar 
 Th' approaching prey, and ftiakes his briftling mane. 
 And lafties with his tail his tawny fides, 
 And fo hear I this city's nightly found. 
 
 OSMIR. 
 
 It is indeed a rich and noble conqueft 
 Which heaven unto its favoured warrior gives. 
 
A TRAGEDY. 373 
 
 MAHOMET. 
 
 Yes, Ofmir ; I (hall wear a conqueror's name. 
 And other ages fliall of Mah'met fpeak, 
 When thefe dumb ilaves are crumbling in the duft. 
 But now the night wears on, and with the dawn 
 Mufl the grand work begin. 
 Yet one thing dill remains; I mud remind thee 
 That to my gen'ral orders this be added : — 
 Silent fhall be the march : nor drum, nor trump. 
 Nor clafh of arms, fhall to the w^atchful foe 
 Our near approach betray : filent and foft, 
 As the pard's velvet foot on Libya's fands. 
 Slow dealing with crouch'd (houlders on her prey. 
 
 OSMIR. 
 
 I have already given the (Iri^left orders. 
 
 MAHOMET. 
 
 Then all is well : go where thy duty calls. 
 In the mean while I'll fnatch an hour of red, 
 And dream, perhaps, that lovely Grecian dames, 
 Even with a crowned beauty in their band, 
 Are lowly bent to kifs my purple feet. 
 
 CA diflant bell heard from the city,) 
 What deep and didant bell is this which founds 
 So folemnly on the dill air of night ? 
 
 OSMIR. 
 
 It comes from St. Sophia's lofty dome, 
 Where Condantine, with his fmall band of friendsj 
 
 Bb3 
 
374 CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS: 
 
 As I have learnt, fhould at this hour aflenible. 
 To join together in rehgious rites 
 Of folemn preparation for to-morrow. 
 Which they regard as their lafl day of life. 
 And this as their lad ad of focial brotherhood. 
 
 MAHOMET. 
 
 Brave men ! do they fo meet ? (Pauftng.) 
 
 But it mufl be. 
 Why fhould it move me ? Heaven decrees their 
 
 doom : 
 I a£l by high commiflion, tho' for inftruments 
 I have but thefe dumb flaves. (Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE II. A pillared aijle or open /pace in the 
 church of St, Sophia, with other parts of the church 
 feen in perfpccHve. The great bell heard. 
 
 Enter Heugho, met by an inferiar Prie/l. 
 
 PRIEST. 
 
 Thou com'ft before thy mailer and his friends : 
 How far are they behind ? 
 
 HEUGHO, 
 
 Not many paces. (Bell founds again. J 
 
 PRIEST. 
 
 Werefore did'll thou flart ? 
 
A T R A G E D Y. 575 
 
 HEUGHO. 
 
 It fmote mine ear mod llrange and dolefully. 
 Is there foul in its found which fadly fays. 
 It is the lad bell that fhall Chriftians warn 
 To holy rites within thefe fated walls ? 
 How many hundred years this facred pavement 
 Has with the tread of Chriftian feet been worn ! 
 And now Heaven's will be done ! 
 
 PRIEST. 
 
 So muft we fay, if that our turn be come. 
 We are a wicked and luxurious race, 
 And we have pull'd this ruin on our heads. 
 
 HEUGHO. 
 
 But there are thofe who needs mud fall be- 
 neath it, 
 Whofe noble worth deferv'd a better fate. 
 
 PRIEST. 
 
 Think ye the grand aflault will be fo foon ? 
 
 HEUGHO. 
 
 'Tis fo believ'd : and fee where now they come. 
 In gen'rous love and brotherhood united, 
 Who fhall, perhaps, no more fee evening's clofe. 
 Or under focial roof of living men 
 E'er meet again. 
 
 Bb4 
 
o 
 
 76 CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS 
 
 PRIEST. 
 
 Nay, do not weep, good Heugho ; 
 For in that blefTed place they fhall be join'd 
 Where great and good men meet.~But I muft 
 
 hafle 
 
 To give my brethren notice. (Exit. 
 
 Enter Constantine, with Othus, Rodrigo, 
 Justin IANI5 ajid others of his friends^ who walk 
 with folemn Jleps and bareheaded towards the 
 front of the Jiagc^ the great hell founding for the 
 lafi time as they advance, Conflantine then flops ^ 
 and ftr etching out his arm as if he wifhedtofpeak^ 
 they all gather refpeclfully round hinu 
 
 CONSTANTINE. 
 
 My friends, there greatly preffes on my heart 
 Somewhat I've much defir'd to fay to you. 
 If a full heart Vv^ill grant me fo much voice. 
 
 OTHUS, 
 
 Then fpeak it, royal fire, we all attend 
 With ears of love and moll profound refpe(51:, 
 
 CONSTANTINE. 
 
 Thus ftation'd on a dark and awful verge^, 
 In company with you, my noble friends, 
 1 have defired, in this folemn ad. 
 To make my peace with God. But, on my foul 
 
A TRAGEDY. 
 
 If any unforgiven wrong to man 
 
 Yet reds, how ihail I lift my hands to him 
 
 Who has made all men, and who cares for all. 
 
 As children of one grand and wond'rous houfe. 
 
 Wherein the mightieft monarch of the earth 
 
 Holds but a little nook ? 
 
 I have been one, plac'd on a giddy height 
 
 Of feeming greatnefs, therefore liable. 
 
 In nature's poor infirmity, to a6ls 
 
 Of blind and foolifh pride. I have been one 
 
 In much real feeblenefs, upheld, defended. 
 
 By voluntary aid and gen'rous zeal 
 
 Of valiant ftrangers owing me no fervice. 
 
 And therefore liable, in the mind's weaknefs. 
 
 Its faddeft weaknefs, to ungrateful thoughts 
 
 Tinctur'd with jealoufy. If towards you. 
 
 My noble friends, I have contracted guilt, 
 
 I trull: — I know-— I beg — wh^t fliall I fay ? 
 
 Your gen'rous hearts to all your deeds of love 
 
 Will add a lad forgivenefs. . 
 
 OTHUS. 
 
 O no, mofl royal Conflantine ! to us 
 And to all men thou'fl ever worthy been. 
 Noble and gracious ; pardon at our hands 
 Thou needed none. 
 
 OMNES. 
 
 O no, thou needed none I 
 As we to thee have faithful followers been. 
 Thou' ft ever been to us a gen'rous lord. 
 
 377 
 
'??T 
 
 78 CONSTiVNTIxNE PAI.EOLOGUS ; 
 
 CONSTANTINE. 
 
 Your love would make it fo : would that, in, 
 
 deed, 
 A voice within me feal'd its fair report ! 
 Alas ! it doth not ; therefore now indulge me.. 
 If there be one amongft you, unto whom. 
 With dark forbidding brow, in a ftern moment, 
 Tve given ungenerous pain ; one whofe kind 
 
 fervice. 
 I have with foolifli and capricious humours 
 More irkfome made ; one whofe frank opennefs 
 Of manly love, offer'd to me as man 
 In gcn'rous confidence, with heartlefs pride 
 1 coldly have repell'd ; yea, if there be 
 One oi you all that ever from my prefence 
 1 have with faddenM heart unkindlv fent, 
 I here, in meek repentance, of him crave 
 A brother's hand, in token of forgivenefs. 
 And be it in true charity (Iretch'd forth, 
 As to a man of much infirmity. 
 Who has with many trials been befet. 
 Wounding oft-times in bitternefs of foul 
 The love he fhould have honoured. 
 What 1 is there none that will to me hold out 
 The palm of charity ? 
 
 Tnen ril embrace ye all, and, w^ith eas'd heart. 
 Believe myfelf forgiven. (Embracing ihem all as 
 
 they crowd affeBionately to bim,, and co??iin 
 
 lajl to R-odrigo.) 
 And thou, my bold Rodrigo, who canft brave 
 
A T R A G E D Y. 379 
 
 The tempefls when they rage, and onward hear, 
 With the oppofed (Irength of towering navies 
 Black* riing before thee, com'ft thou to my bread 
 In foft forgiving love ? I know thou dolt. 
 
 RODRIGO. 
 
 Ay, in that love that would forgive to thee 
 The fum of all thy fins, tho' multiplied 
 Ten thoufand thoufand fold.— - 
 That would do in thy fervice — O curfed limit ! 
 That there fhould be what to man's finew'd 
 
 ftrength, 
 In all the burning zeal of righteous boldnefs, 
 Impoffible is. (Clenching his hands vehemently,) 
 
 OTHUS (to Rodrigo). 
 Geafe ! dofl thou not refpe6l thefe holy wails ? 
 
 RODRIGO. 
 
 I dq refpedl them, Othus ; ne'er a head. 
 Shorn to the fcalp, doth bow itfelf more humbly 
 Before heaven's throne than mine, albeit in truth 
 My words unfeemly are. 
 
 CONSTANTINE. 
 
 Come to my heart, my friend i He reigns above 
 
 Who will forgive us both. (Embraces Rodrigo, 
 
 and then obfcrving Heugho, ivho has Jlood 
 
 behind^ not prefiiming to approach him ivith 
 the rejl,j 
 
 But there is one who (lands from me aloof 
 
3So CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS: 
 
 With modefl: backwardnefs, unto whofe charity 
 I mufl be debtor alfo. Worthy Heiigho, 
 Since earlieft youth I from thy friendly hand 
 Have daily kindly offices receiv'd, 
 Proffer'd with love, exceeding far all duty 
 Belonging to thy (late ; yet, ne'erthelefs, 
 I once, in a mofl vile and fretful mood, 
 Vex'd with crofs things, thine honoured age for- 
 got. 
 
 HEUGHO. 
 
 Oh, fay not fo, my dear and royal mafier. 
 It breaks my heart that you ihould (lili remember. 
 
 CONSTANTINE. 
 
 Well, well, be not thus mov'd, my worthy 
 lieugho, 
 I know lam forgiv'n ; but lay thy hand. 
 Thine aged hand, upon thy mailer's head, 
 And give him a lad bleffing. Thou art now 
 Like to an ancient father with us grown, 
 And my heart fays that it will do me good. 
 
 CBowing bis head^ whilji Heugho, lifting up 
 his aged hands over him^ is unable to fpeak^ 
 bid hurjls into tears ^ and fails upon bis maf 
 ier*s neck* The band of friends clofe round 
 and conceal them : afterwards they open to 
 inake ivay^ and Conllantine cojnes forward 
 with a firm enlightened countenance.) 
 And now, my noble friends, it pleafes me 
 To think we all are knit in holy bands 
 
 8 
 
A T R AG E D Y. 581 
 
 %/" 
 
 Of fellowdiip ; preparM, in virtue's (trength, 
 Nobly to fight on earth, or meet in heaven. 
 
 OTHUS. 
 
 Yes, Conftantine, we to each other will 
 True brothers prove, and to our noble chief 
 Devoted followers, vv^hate'er betide. 
 What fay ye, valiant friends ? 
 
 OMNES. 
 
 All, all of us ! 
 
 CONSTANTINE. 
 
 I know you v/ill, full well, I know you will. 
 Oh, that in earth it had been granted me 
 Your gen'rous love to've recompens'd 1 alas ! 
 Ye can but fhare with me — 
 
 OxMNES. 
 
 No other recompenfe. 
 But fharing fates with thee, our noble chief. 
 Do v^e defire, and on thy royal hand 
 Here will we feal it. 
 
 CONSTANTINE (eagerly preventing them as they ars 
 about to kneel and kifs his hands ), 
 Forbear ! forbear ! within thefe facred walls 
 Bend before worthlefs man the humble knee ! 
 Fye, let not fuch fiiame be ! 
 Am I your chief? then be it fhewn in this, 
 That to the mighty Majefly of heaven 
 
5Si CONSTANTlNE PALEOLOGUS: 
 
 I humbly bow, more lowly than ye all. 
 And do, on your behalf, devoutly beg 
 The blelling of our Mafler and our Sire. 
 
 (Kneeling and bozv'mg his head very low to the 
 ground^ then riflng afterivards with dignified 
 folemnity,) 
 Now to thofe facred rites of our bled faith, 
 In which the humble foul ennobled bows. 
 In mem'ry of the dearefi: brotherihi}3 
 That ever honour'd man, I lead you on. 
 My noble brothers* (Exeunt Conilantine, tifr. by 
 another aijfJc^ which may he fuppofed to lead to 
 the altar of the xhiirch^ whilji feveral priefs 
 are feen at a diftance in their robes ^ as if 
 waiting to receive them.) 
 
 SCENE TIL A Hall., or Anti-room in the Imperial 
 
 Palace. 
 
 Enter PiiTRONius and Marthon difguifed. 
 
 PETRONIUS. 
 
 So faj hath this well-counterfeited fignet. 
 And this difguife, befriended us : here flop : 
 Whilft Conilantine and his mad band are abfent 
 On their religious ceremony, here 
 We will remain conceai'd until that Ella, 
 Returning (for 'tis near her wonted time. 
 As they have told us) from Valeria's chamber, 
 Shdl give us fair occafion. — Roufc thee, Marthon^ 
 
A TRAGEDY. 383 
 
 Thou feem'il like one bereaved of all fenfe 5 
 What Is the matter with thee ? 
 
 MARTHON. 
 
 Nothinsj ; but thus to pafs with culprit feet 
 Beneath the fhade of night, thefe well-known 
 
 courts 
 Which 1 fo oft have trod in front of day. 
 With the firm footfteps of an honeft man. 
 Doth make me 
 
 PETRONIUS. 
 
 Fye ! thou art become a fool. 
 Shake oft fuch v/eaknefs : we're compelled to this. 
 We fhail beneath the fultan's iron fwav, 
 Difgrac'd from the late failure of our plots. 
 Live like lafiiM flaves, if the bewitching beauty 
 Of my young Ella come not to our aid 
 To bend his rugged nature. Strong in her. 
 We fhall not merely fafe protection find. 
 But higheil favour and authority ; 
 And tho' by ftealth I needs mufl bear her hence, 
 Being my daughter, I, in nature's right ' 
 
 MARTHON. 
 
 Hufh ! now I hear a lightly-founding flep. 
 Draw^ back a little fpace. (They Jlcp afide^ whiljl 
 Ella enters^ and walks acrojs thejiage.) 
 
 PETRONIUS (in a half voice ^JlcaHngf of tly up to her. J 
 Ella ! 
 
3S4 CONSIWNTINE PALEOLOGUS .• 
 
 ELLA (Jiarting). 
 What voice is that which names me ? 
 
 PETRONIUS. 
 
 Ella ! 
 
 ELLA. 
 
 Oh ! 'tis the found that I moft dread to hear ! 
 
 PETRONIUS. 
 
 Say'fl thou fo, Ella, of thy father's voice ? 
 Have my misfortunes, with the world's fair favour, 
 Depriv'd me alfo of my only child ? 
 
 ELLA. 
 
 No, no ! they have not : had misfortune only 
 Cafl its dark fliade upon thee, I had lov'd thee 
 And cherifh'd thee in a lone defert, father. 
 But — but thou art 
 
 PETRONIUS. 
 
 Ha ! wherefore doft thou paufe ? 
 What would'fl thou fay ? what is there in thy 
 mind ? 
 
 ELLA. 
 
 Thoughts which I will not utter.— -Oh, depart ! 
 Thou'rt not in fafety. All men do condemn thee. 
 Thou art not come for good. — Oli, fly from hence! 
 Ruin, and fhame, and death abide thee here : 
 Oh, fly, my wretched father. 
 
A T R A G E B Y. 3^5 
 
 PETRONIUS. 
 
 Yes, I will fly, but thou (halt go with me j 
 If not, I will remain and meet my fate* 
 
 ELLA. 
 
 Good heaven forbid ! thou'It drive me to dlf- 
 traction. 
 O mifery ! (Wringing her hands in great dijirefs^ 
 nxshiljl Marthon advances to Petronius zuith 
 fupplicating lovk.J 
 
 PETRONItlS. 
 
 Away ! thou art a fool : we mull be firm. 
 
 (To Marthon.) 
 Wring not thy hands thus wildly, fimple maid : 
 Thou goeft to be with me no wand'ring outlaw. 
 But one in fplendour greater than a queen : 
 The favoured miftrefs of the mightyfultan. f T'cElla.) 
 (Ella gives a hud Jhriek^ and jlruggles to get 
 from him.) 
 
 Enter Rodrigo. 
 
 RODRIGO. 
 
 Audacious villain ! quit thy curfed hold, 
 Or take death for thy pains. 
 Ha ! thou fnrink'll back, and muffled up thy face« 
 Say who thou art, or thro' thy villain's heart 
 ril thrufl this rapier. 
 
 Cc 
 
386 CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS: 
 
 ELLA (pulling Rodrigo back). 
 
 Hold, I do befeech thee 1 
 For pity, hold ! it is my wretched father. 
 
 RODRIGO. 
 
 Wretched indeed ! 
 
 ELLA. 
 
 Ay, therefore pity him. 
 Let him efcape : he hath done me no harm. 
 He is here as a fox in his lafl wiles. 
 Who fiielter feeks within the very kennel 
 O' the rous'd pack : Oh, have fome pity on him ! 
 He is my father. 
 
 RODRIGO. 
 
 Sweet Ella, hang not thus upon mine arm : 
 It hath no power to flrike whom thou call'fl father, 
 Shame as he is unto that honoured name. 
 But there are ties upon me, gentle maid: 
 The fafety and the interefts of Conflantine 
 I am bound to defend : and ihall a traitor 
 
 ELLA. 
 
 Oh 1 oh ! 
 
 RODRIGO. 
 
 Fear not : our royal mafter is return'd 
 From blefled rites of holieft charity 
 With meekly chaflen'd foul ; whatever his crime?, 
 
 4. 
 
A TRAGEDY. 387 
 
 He IS in fafety — fafety as aflured 
 As thine own harmlefs felf. 
 
 Enter Constantine. 
 
 coNSTANTiNE Cto Rodrigo). 
 Thou fpeak'fl with an unwonted earneflnefs ; 
 
 I've mark'd thy geflures j fomething moves thee 
 
 much. 
 Who are thefe ftrangers ? (Turning to Petronius 
 and Marthon, who^ uncovering their facesy 
 Jiand confejfed before him,) 
 Ha ! Marthon and Petronius ! What new treafon 
 
 Is now on foot, that here but judge I harflily ? 
 
 Ye are, perhaps, flruck with the circumftances 
 Of thefe mod folemn times, repentant grown. 
 And if ye be, in a good hour ye come ; 
 I am myfelf a w^ean'd and pardon'd man. 
 Marthon, thou once wert wont to fpeak the truth ; 
 What brought ye hither ? 
 
 MARTHON. 
 
 Mod gracious prince, with no repentant mind 
 We hither came ; but one of us, at leaft. 
 Shall hence depart with a heart deeply fmitten. 
 
 CONSTANTINE. 
 
 Confefs then what new treafon. ye devifed. 
 
 ELLA. 
 
 No treafon ; none to thee, mofl royal Conflan- 
 tine. 
 
 Cc 2 
 
^88 CONST ANTINE' PALEOLOGUS; 
 
 For me he came, arm'd with a parent's right. 
 
 To bear me to the haughty fultan's camp, 
 
 To live in queenly Hate. But, Oh proted me ! 
 
 Let me remain and die with thofe I love 
 
 In decent maiden pride. Retain me here, 
 
 But pardon him : no treafon brought him hither. 
 
 CONSTANTINE. 
 
 Petronius, has thy daughter told me true 5 
 Was this thine errand ? 
 
 PETRONIUS f approaching Conflantine). 
 Yes, molt gracious prince. 
 
 CONSTANTINE. 
 
 Off then, difgrace to nature and to manhood !" 
 Wouid'fl: thou to fhameful and degrading llavery 
 Betray thy virtuous child ? Say thou cam'lt hither 
 To thrull i' the dark thy dagger thro' my heart. 
 And I will call thee finlefs. 
 
 PETRONIUS. 
 
 Wherefore this flern and bitter execration ? 
 I came to place her but a few hours fooner, 
 Sav'd from th' approaching florm, where your high' 
 
 dames. 
 Yea, with their royal miftrefs at their head. 
 Full fhortly fnall be placed. 
 
 CONSTAKTINE. 
 
 V Detefted wretch ! what fiend has whifper'd to 
 
 thee 
 Such hideous thoughts ? man durft not tftter them* 
 
A T R A G E D Y. 389 
 
 PETRONIUS. 
 
 Man might, at leail, furveying the pofition 
 And afped of thefe times, in his own mind 
 This plain and flirewd conjecture form. But not 
 On fuch loofe bottom do I ground my words ; 
 Mah'met himfelf hath fworn that your Valeria 
 Shall at the head of his mo ft favour'd wives 9. 
 
 CONSTANTINE* 
 
 Hold thy detefted tongue ! for one word more 
 Is inftant death. Tempt me not with thefe hands, 
 Which hath the fymbols touch'd of blefled peace. 
 To do a horrible a6l. 
 
 PETRONIUS. 
 
 I but repeat that which the fultan hath 
 In public faid. 
 
 CONSTANTINE. 
 
 Forbear ! forbear ! 1 tell thee. 
 ('Wrenching his fword^ fcahbard and all^ from 
 his fide ^ and tojfing it from hinu) 
 There 1 there ! liodrigo : caft it from my reach : 
 I^et not a weapon be within my grafp, 
 Or \ (hall be accurfed. (After a violent flruggle of 
 
 pajftonj 
 I dare fpeak to him now. — Ho ! guards without ! 
 
 ELLA. 
 
 Oh, m^rcy ! njercy ! 
 
 Cc3 
 
590 CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS^ 
 
 Enter Guards. 
 
 CONSTANTINE (to Guards). 
 Take thefe two men, Petronius and his friend. 
 And thro' the city to our outmoft pofl 
 Condud: them fafely : there, in perfect liberty. 
 Permit them to depart where'er they lift. 
 (To Petronius.) Now, I'm revenged upon thee : get 
 
 thee hence, 
 And utter not a word. — Go thou, Rodrlgo, 
 And with the gentle Ella in thy hand, 
 Condud them to the palace gate. Hence quickly! 
 
 MARTHON. 
 
 Nay, let Petronius go : I will remain. 
 And with the meaneft foldier on your walls 
 Spend my laft blood, if a true penitent 
 
 CONSTANTINE f waving him off impatiently). 
 Well, be it as thou wilt: but hence and leave me! 
 
 RODRiGO (to Ella, as he leads her out). 
 Did I not tell thee he was fafe, my Ella ? 
 
 (Exeunt all hut Conftantine, who^ after walk" 
 ing up and down for fo7ne time in a perturbed 
 manner^ ftarts at the found of Valeria'^ voice 
 without,) 
 
 CONSTANTINE. 
 
 JHa ! here fhe comes ! alas ! how fliall I now 
 
A T R A G E D Y. 391 
 
 Look on her face, and hear her voice of love ! 
 It is diftradion ! 
 
 Enter Valeria. 
 
 VALERIA. 
 
 My Conftantine, art thou fo long return'd. 
 And yet to me no kindly fumnions fent. 
 Long as I've watch'd for it ? — What is the matter ? 
 Thy brow is dark : thefe are difturbed looks : 
 What is the matter ? 
 
 CONSTANTINE. 
 
 Nothing, nothing. 
 I am, thou know'ft, with many cares perplex'd. 
 Follow me to thine own apartment j here 
 I cannot fpeak to thee. 
 
 VALERIA (afide^ looking eagerly at him as^ they go 
 
 out J, 
 
 What may this be ! (Exeunt, 
 
 SCENE IV. Valeria' J Apartment. 
 
 Enter Const antine, followed by Valeria, who 
 remain Jtlent for fome time^ Jhe looking anxioufly 
 with wififul expedation, 
 
 VALERIA. 
 
 Now we are here, my Lord, in the ftill privacy 
 Of this my inmoft bower, but thou art filent. 
 
 (Paufes^ and he is ftill filent,) 
 C c 4 
 
39S CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUSj 
 
 There is a look of fadnefs on thy face 
 Of diflurb'd wretchednefs, that never yet, 
 Ev'n in thy darkefi: hours, I've feen thee v/ear : 
 Why art thou thus ? 
 
 CONSTANTINE. 
 
 And dojfl thou afk ? I've been, in deep humility, 
 Making a fanner's peace with God and man, 
 And now -^ — ^r- and now (His voicefauItering,J 
 
 VALERIA. 
 
 What would you fay, my lord ? 
 
 CONSTANTINE, 
 
 And now I am with thee. 
 
 VALERIA. 
 
 And art thou fad for this ? hafl thou not iliil, 
 Loofe from all (hackles of impofed date. 
 Been with me in thine hours of joy or grief. 
 Like a way-faring man, who fitdng down 
 On the green bank, his cumb'rous veftment opens 
 To the foft breeze ? 
 
 CONSTANTINE, 
 
 Yes, my Valeria ; I have been with the^ 
 As with a true yoke heart, fo (Irong in love 
 That ev'n the thought which fcudded o'er my 
 
 mind 
 With culprit's fpeed from fliameful confcioufnefs. 
 Was not from thee conceal'd. 
 
A T R A G E D Y. 393 
 
 But now the hour is come, when ev'n with thee 
 I mud perform a talk — a taik of pain, 
 
 VALERIA. 
 
 Speak ; what mean'ft thou ? 
 
 CONSTANTINE. 
 
 All have, ev'n in the deareft intercourfe 
 Of heart with heart, in fome untoward moment 
 Tranfgreflbrs been, and prov'd the caufe of pain 
 Where mofl: they lliould have banifli'd it : and all. 
 In quitting earthly ties, do anxioufly 
 Defire, in the true bleffing of forgivenefs. 
 To part with thofe whom they have held mofl: dear. 
 Now dofh thou underfland mc ? (Holding out both 
 
 his hands to her* J 
 
 VALERIA. 
 
 i do ! I do ! thou hail my deareft blefnng. 
 The deareft thoughts and worfhip of my heart. 
 But oh ! what doft thou fay ? — part ! — how, my 
 
 Conftantine ! 
 Where doft thou go ? thou doft not leave the city ? 
 
 CONSTANTINE. 
 
 No, love, but on its wall I go ere long, — 
 For in a little hour the day will break 
 Which .muft its fate decide, — -that part to acl. 
 Which, before God and man, in honeft pride, 
 I'm call'd on to perform. 
 
394 CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS ^ 
 
 VALERIA. 
 
 But from thofe walls vidorious thou'lt return. 
 
 (Conftantiney;;///^^ forr awfully.) 
 Nay, but thou fhalt return: high heav'n decrees it j 
 Virtue, and every good and blefled thing 
 Have made it fure. Ev'n in a faith as ftrong 
 As at this moment 1 do hold to this, 
 Methinks, upon the chaPd and tofling waves. 
 Of the wild deep I could thus firmly tread. 
 Nor wet my fandal's thong. (Walking acrofs the 
 Jlage with firm fteps of Jiately confidence^ and 
 then going up to bim with an encouraging 
 fmilcj 
 
 Be thou aflur'd ! 
 I know it fhall be fo. A myftic fage. 
 Whom I, unknown to thee, have vifited — 
 Pardon this weaknefs of thine anxious wife — 
 Darting his eye on forms of woven air. 
 Saw thee in combat with a Turkifli champion. 
 And faw the crefcent falL 
 
 CONSTANTINE. 
 
 And may'ft thou not believe, that ere they clofe 
 Their mortal warfare, many a boaftful Turk 
 beneath thefe arms fhall fall ? - ' 
 
 VALERIA. 
 
 Ay, but on furer words I refl my faith ! 
 For I did bid him onward cad his eye 
 Into time's reach, and fay, who of this city^ 
 
A T R A G E D Y. 395 
 
 After the courfe of twelve revolving moons. 
 Should be the fov'reign lord ; and he replied. 
 In plain and fimple words, thy lord and hufband. 
 
 CONSTANTINE. 
 
 And nam'd he Conftantine ? 
 
 VALERIA. 
 
 What other name but that of Conftantine 
 Could to thefe appellations be conjoin'd ? 
 Thou turned from me with perturbed looks : 
 Thou Ihalt not turn away : tell me ! O, tell me ! 
 What fudden thought is this that troubles thee ? 
 (Catching bold of him eagerly as he turns from 
 her,) 
 
 CONSTANTINE. 
 
 Aik not ; Oh, do not afk ! 'tis pafs'd already 
 As fhoots a glaring meteor 'thwart the night. 
 Frightful but hafly. 
 
 VALERIA. 
 
 Thou muft tell it me, 
 
 CONSTANTINE. 
 
 Di{lra<3: me not. 
 
 VALERIA. 
 
 Nay, nay, but thou muft tell me« 
 What other name but that of Conftantine 
 Could to my lord and huiband joined be? 
 
395 CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS; 
 
 CONSTANTINE (finking down upon a chair quite over^ 
 come, and covering his face with his hands as he 
 fpeaks with a quick perturbed voice), 
 Mahomet! Mahomet! 
 
 (Valeria ftcps hack from him^ holding up her 
 hands in amazement ; then he^ after a patfe^ 
 looking up to her with a felf upbraiding eye,) 
 I have offended in this very hour 
 When my prefs'd foul figh'd for that loving peace 
 Which in its earthly clofe the foul defires. 
 1 have oifended. 
 
 VALERIA. 
 
 Yes, thou hall: offended, 
 All the offences thou haft ever done me 
 Are in this fell and cruel ftroke comprised j 
 And any other ftroke, compared to this, 
 Had fall'n upon me lightly. 
 
 CONSTANTINE. 
 
 It was a thought that hafte4 faft away. 
 And came unbidden. fGoing up to her peyiitentlj,) 
 
 VALERIA (turning away in anger). 
 There is no thought doth ever crofs the mind 
 Till fome preceding kindred fentiment 
 Hath made a path-way for it. 
 
 CONSTANTINE. 
 
 Yes, my Valeria, thou indeed fay'ft true ; 
 
A TRAGEDY. 391 
 
 But turn not from me angrily. My mind. 
 Ere now, confider'd has the character, 
 The faith, the power of Mahomet.— Frown not.-^ 
 Valeria thou art fair. — Nay, do not frown ! 
 
 VALERIA^ 
 
 What dofl: thou fay? haft thou until this mo- 
 ment 
 
 Referv'd for me this bafe degrading No : 
 
 Torn and defaced be every hated form 
 
 Of outward grace ! it is cur curfe, our fhame ! 
 
 (Tearing her hair ^violently,) 
 
 CONSTANTINE. 
 
 O be not thus ! — forgive a hafty thought I 
 Think how a doating hufband is diftradled, 
 Who knows too well a lawlefs vigor's power. 
 
 VALERIA. 
 
 What is his power ? it naught regardeth me, 
 
 eONS-TANTINE* 
 
 Alas 1 the frowns of a detefling bride 
 Deter him not ! 
 
 VALERIA ffmilirig contemptuoii/lyj. 
 But will he wed the dead ? 
 
389 CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS : 
 
 CONSTANTiNE (ftarting). 
 "What fay'fl thou ? Oh, what meaning is there 
 here 1 
 Yes, yes ! I know it all ! but it is dreadful : 
 It makes the cold chill o'er my limbs to creep : 
 It is not well : it is not holy* No ! 
 O no, my noble love, mine honour'd love ! 
 Give to thy fallen lord all that the foul 
 To widow'd love may give, but oh Hop there ? 
 Heav'n will protecl thee in the hour of need ; 
 And for the reft, erafe it from thy thoughts. 
 Give it no being there. 
 
 VALERIA. 
 
 It hath no being there. Heav'n will prote<5l me: 
 And he who thinks me helplefs thinks me mean. 
 
 CONSTANTINE. 
 
 I thmk thee all that e'er was tenanted 
 Of nobleft worth in loveheft female form : 
 By nature excellent, defedive only 
 In this, that fortune has thy virtues link'd 
 To the vex'd fpirit of a ruin'd man, 
 Who in his hours of anguifli has not priz'd them 
 As did become their worth. 
 
 VALERIA (rujhing into bis arms J 6 
 
 No, thou haft priz'd them. 
 In thy blind love, far, far beyond their worth. 
 
A T R A G E D Y. 399 
 
 My uncurb'd paffions have, alas ! too oft 
 Vexation added to that burden'd heart 
 I fhould have cheer'd and lighten'd : on my head 
 Refls all the blame that e'er between us pafs'd. 
 And I alone have need to be forgiven. 
 
 (T^hey weep on one another* s necks without /peak' 
 ing^ when an alarm bell is heard at a dijiance^ 
 and Conftantine breaks fuddenly from her,) 
 
 CONSTANTINE. 
 
 It IS the 'larum of my farther watch. 
 
 VALERIA. 
 
 1 fcarcely heard it : art thou fure of It ? 
 
 (A fecond alarm bell heard nearer,) 
 
 CONSTANTINE. 
 
 And hark ! a nearer tower repeats the found. 
 The enemy's in motion. — I mud arm, 
 And infhantly. 
 
 VALERIA. 
 
 Then let me be with thee till the lad moment, 
 I have a holy relick of great power ; 
 It is, I truft, worth all thine arms befide ; 
 And from this hand of love thou (halt receive it. 
 
 CONSTANTINE (f?niUng forrowfully.) 
 Thanks, fweet Valeria 1 fiOiii thy hand of love 
 
40O CONSTANriNE PALEOLOGUSr 
 
 I will with love receive whate'er thou wilt. 
 
 CA third alarm bell is heard Jlill louder^ and 
 enter Attendants in hajle,) 
 YeS) yes, I heard it ^ go, prepare mine arms. 
 
 (To Attendants^ and exeunt * 
 
 SCENE V. A fpacloiis Hall in the Palace, 
 
 Enter Rod rig o, witb Ella hanging fondly upon 
 him^ and continue their way as if int eliding to pafs 
 through ity when a trumpet founds without^ andfhey 
 flop fldort^ 
 
 RODRIGO. 
 
 It is the found that famnions us to meet : 
 There is no farther grace : therefore, fweet Ella, 
 My pretty Ella, my good loving Ella, 
 My gentle little one that haog'il upon me 
 With fuch fond hold, in good footh we mud part. 
 Here bid heav'n blefs me, and no farther go* 
 
 ELLA. 
 
 Mull: it be fo ? I will bid heaven blefs thee. 
 And all good faints watch o*er thy precious life j 
 And they will blefs and guard thee in the hour 
 Of fearful death. In this I have true faith \ 
 Yet, on the veiy brink, to hold thee thus 
 Clafp'd in my grafp, and think how foon — Alas ! 
 From many points will fly the whizzing balls. 
 And fliowering darts, and jav'lins fent afar, 
 Aim'd by fell flrength ; wilt thou efcape all this I 
 
 2 
 
A T R A G E D ^. 401 
 
 RODRIGO* 
 
 Fear not, fweet Ella ! whizzing balls there be 
 That, in midway, are from their courle declin'd 
 By the poor orphan's little lifped prayer ; 
 And there be arrows that are turn'd afide. 
 In their fwift flight, by the foft fighs of love, 
 Unheard of earthly ears. This is a creed. 
 In the good faith of which poor feamen climb 
 Their rocking mafls, in the full roar of battle. 
 And we'll believe it* < 
 
 ELLA. 
 
 It is a bleffed one : I would believe it. 
 
 RODRIGO. 
 
 Yes, we'll believe it. Whilfl our battle roars, 
 Thou'lt think of me in thy lone diflant tower. 
 And be to me a gallant armed mate. 
 With prayers and wifhes ftriving powerfully. 
 Give me thy hand : we will not weep and wail : 
 We will part cheerfully. — God blefs thee, Ella ! 
 Nay, hang not on me thus. 
 Thou lov'fl: a brave man : be thou valiant then. 
 As fuits a brave man's love. 
 
 ELLA. 
 
 O no ! I've fondly fix'd myfelf upon thee, 
 Moft worthlefs and unfuited to thy worth. 
 Like a poor weed on fome proud turret's brow, 
 I wave, and nod, and kifs the air around thee. 
 But cannot be like thee. 
 
 Dd 
 
4©2 CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGU^i 
 
 ' RODRIGQ. ' 
 
 Heav'n blefs thee, little flower! I prize thee more 
 Than all the pride of female ftatelinefs. 
 
 ELLA. 
 
 Dofl thou ? then I am happy : I am proud : 
 I will not wiih me other than I am. 
 
 RODRIGO. 
 
 Ah, if we part not inflantly, my Ella, 
 I feel in faith, rude as my nature is, 
 I foon fhall be like thee ! — My friends approach : 
 Let us not meet their gaze — It mud be fo — 
 Sweet one, farewel ! — ^Wilt thou fliil cling to me ? 
 
 ELLA, 
 
 O no, I go : they fhall not fee thee weep, 
 Tho' I do blefs thiee for it. 
 
 RODRIGO (leading her bqftily back to the door by 
 
 ijuhlch they entered). 
 
 Well then, brave lafs, upon thy lovely head 
 Heaven's favour reft ! — Nay, do not fpeak to me. 
 
 (Fr eventing her as Jlje is endeavourijig to fpeak,) 
 
 Farewel ! farewel ! (Exit Ella, and he returns to 
 
 the front ofthejlage^ where he flands inufing 
 
 for rowf idly ; when enters to him Juftiniani, 
 
 and^ going up to hiin^ touches his Jhoiddcr,) 
 
 "What doft thou want ? (Turning angrily,) 
 
A T R A G E D Y. 403 
 
 JUSTINIANI. 
 
 Thou'rt thoughtful. 
 
 RODRIGO. 
 
 No, I think as others do 
 With fuch day's work before them, in good truth, 
 Not paffing merrily. 
 
 JUSTINIANI. 
 
 From the high tower I've feen th' approaching 
 foe ',- 
 It feems a dark and llrangely-mixed mafs 
 Of life, wide moving in the mifty light 
 Of early dawn. — I've fought in many a field. 
 As valiant men and armed warriors fight. 
 But fuch a ftrange aflemblage of new modes 
 Of mingled war as we this day mufl face, 
 I never yet encounter'd. 
 
 RODRIGO. 
 
 Well, we fliall know the fcent and flavour of it 
 When we have tailed it. 
 
 JUSTINIANI. 
 
 We fhall be fmother'd up with the mean prefs 
 Of worthlefs matter, as a noble fleed. 
 Beneath the falling rafters of his fhed 
 Ignobly perifhes. 
 
 RODRIGO. 
 
 Fear not, proud foul; we fhall have men to fight, 
 
 Dd 2 
 
404 CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS; 
 
 And room enough in fome nook of the breach 
 To grapple with them too. 
 
 JUSTINIANI. 
 
 Good fortune ever fhone on thee, Rodrigo : 
 Thou flill hail been a bold careering bark. 
 Outriding ev'ry ftorm. If thou fhouldfl: e'er 
 Again return to our dear native land, 
 Tell to my countrymen whate'er thou know'fl 
 Pertaining to my fate this fateful day : 
 Let me not be forgotten. 
 
 RODRIGO. 
 
 I will, my friend : but better fate than thine 
 I look not for, tho' ftill I bear myfeif 
 As one aflfur'd of good. — Thou'rt dark and 
 
 gloomy — 
 Does aught reft on thy mind ? 
 
 JUSTINIANI (Jlr'iding away from him gloomily). 
 No, nothing, nothing ! (A trumpet founds 
 
 without,) 
 
 RODRIGO. 
 
 Ay, hark, another of our gallant band 
 Has join'd us with his followers. 
 
 C Another trumpet founds,} 
 And now another : are they all affembled ? 
 
 Enter Othus, and fever al of the imperial Friends* 
 
 OTHUS. 
 
 On their high wooden turrets, and huge beams 
 
A TRAGEDY. 405 
 
 Of warlike engines, rais'd aloft in air, 
 Gleams the firft light of this high-fated day ; 
 And, wide expanded, thro' the farther mills 
 Moves the dark rurkifli hod, 
 Thou'rt a tried foul, Rodrigo, I but new 
 To fuch tremendous, ftrange expedancy : 
 Now is the hour when the foul knows itfelf. 
 
 CRifing on tiptoe with a corifcioiis finile.) 
 
 RODRIGO. 
 
 Ay, Othus, thou doft wear the countenance 
 Of a true man : give me thine honed hand. 
 Are all our friends affembled ? (Trumpet founds,) 
 
 OTHUS. 
 
 This fays they are : and here comes, lad of ^11, 
 Our northern friends. 
 
 Enter more of the Friends. 
 
 Now we are all affembled. Gondantine, 
 He alfo comes ; and fadly by his fide. 
 In mournful dignity, moves his high dame, 
 Proudly contending with her woman's heart. 
 
 Enter Constantine and Valeria, attended. 
 
 coNSTANTiNE (returning the general falute of the 
 
 chiefs). 
 
 Good morrow, noble brothers and brave leaders : 
 Are we all here convened ? 
 
 Dd3 
 
4o6 CONST ANTINE PALEOLOGUS: 
 
 OTHUS. 
 
 Yes, our great chief and brother : of your friends 
 There lacks not one. 
 
 CONSTANTINE. 
 
 Then to their love, fo help me, Mighty Power, 
 Who hold'ft within thy grafp the fouls of men ! 
 Neither fhall we be lacking. — : — Now, Valeria. 
 
 (Drawing himfelf up with a proud hut tender 
 ftnile^ as if to encourage her to behave 7iobly^} 
 
 VALERIA. 
 
 I underfland that fmile. 
 Here with thy gen'rous friends, whofe love to thee 
 Mofl dearly celled in my heart I wear. 
 And unto whom I have defired much, 
 Before we part, thefe grateful thanks to pay — 
 
 (Making greatful obeifance to the chiefs,) 
 Here to thofe noble friends, and to God's keeping, 
 I leave thee.— Yet, be it permitted me — 
 For that thy noble head and lib'ral brow 
 Have ever cheer'd me as my ftar of day, 
 Bleffings and bleffings let me pour upon them ! 
 
 (Putting her hand upon his head fervently^ and 
 kiffing his forehead.) 
 For that thy gen'rous bread has been the hold 
 Of all my treafur'd wifhes and dear thoughts. 
 This foud embrace. (Embracing him,) 
 
 Yea, and for that thou art 
 
A T R A G E D Y. 407 
 
 My fire, and fov'reign, and moO: honoured lord, 
 This humble hoi/iage of my heart receive. 
 
 (Kneeling and kijjing his hand* J 
 
 CONSTANTINE (raifmg and etnbracing her with great 
 
 emotion J. 
 No more, my dearefl and mod noble love ! 
 Spare me, O fpare me ! Heaven be thy protedion ! 
 Farewel ! 
 
 VALERIA, 
 
 Farewel ! (Valeria is led off by her Attendants y 
 ivhilji Conftantine continues looking fadly 
 after her for fome time^ then turning to his 
 friends y who gather about him^ without faying 
 u wordy they go all off thejiage together in 
 profound filence,) 
 
 ^ND OF THE FOURTH ACT, 
 
 D d 4 
 
4o8 C0N5TANTINE PALEOLOGUS 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 SCENE L An open /pace near the walls of the 
 city^ luith half-ruin^ d hoiifcs on each fide ^ arid a row 
 of arched pillars thrown acrofs the imddle of the 
 ft age ^ as if it were the remains offome ridned public 
 building; thro* which is fecn^ in the hack-ground^ 
 (I breach in the walls ^ and the coifufed fighting of 
 the befiegedy enveloped in clouds cffmoke and ditft^ 
 The noife of artillery^ the battering of engmes^ and 
 the cries of the combatants heard as the curtain 
 draws up^ and iuany people dif covered on the front 
 cf the fiagCy running about in great hurry and con- 
 fufion^ andfome jnounted upon the roofs of the hoifes 
 overlooking the battle, 
 
 VOICE (calling from the wall), 
 
 OEE ! fee ! how, clufter'd on each other's backs. 
 They mount like fvvarming bees, or locufls Hnk'd 
 In bolt'ring heaps ! Pour fire upon their heads ! 
 
 SECOND VOICE. 
 
 Caft down huge beams upon them ! 
 
 THIRD VOICE. 
 
 Hurl down the loofep'd fragments of our w^ll ! 
 
A T R A G E D Y. 409 
 
 FOURTH VOICE. 
 
 Ho 1 more help here 1 more flones ! more beams ! 
 more fire ! 
 Weapons are ufelefs now. 
 
 FIRST VOICE. 
 
 See how that giant Turk, hke an arch fiend. 
 Climbs on yon living mountain of curv'd backs ! 
 He gains the wall ! O hurl him headlong down ! 
 He is hurl'd down! ( A great Jhout from thebefieged.) 
 
 SECOND VOICE. 
 
 Send to the emperor or to Rodrlgo : 
 They on their diiFVent ftations hold it bravely ; 
 This is the weakefl: point. Ho ! fend for aid ! 
 
 ( Exeunt fever al fold'iers from the walls as if rim- 
 ing for fuccour. The noife of artillery^ ^r. 
 U heard as before^ and afterwards a loud 
 crajlj as offome building falling. Enter 7nan^ 
 people in great terror from the walls ^ rwming 
 off by the front oftheftage different ways^ a?id 
 enter at the fame time, Constantine a?2d 
 fc?}ie of his friends, who flop them,) 
 
 CONSTANTINE. 
 
 Turn, turn ! O turn, my friends ! another pufli ! 
 Let us flill flop the breach, or fall Hke men. 
 
 (Enter JusTiNiANi/rc;/V the walls with a hafly 
 and dlforderedftep, pale and writhing with 
 pain,) 
 
4IO CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS : 
 
 Merciful heav'n ! do mine eyes ferve me truly ? 
 
 Juftiniani, v/ith pale haggard face, 
 
 Retiring from his poft ! 
 
 Where are you going, chief? (Stopping hhnjiernly,) 
 
 JUStlNIANI. 
 
 "Where nature, urg'd beyond the pith of nature. 
 Compels me. Mldfl yon dreams of liquid fires. 
 And hurling ruins and overwhelming mafs 
 Of things unknown, unfeen, uncalculable. 
 All arms and occupation of a foldier 
 Are loft: and turn'd to naught : man's ftrength is 
 
 naught ; 
 The fangs of hell are in my new-torn flefh ; 
 I muft: on for a fpace and breathe frefh air, 
 
 CONSTANTINE, 
 
 Go to ! this moment is the quiv'ring ridge 
 That ftands between our fuccefs or our ruin : — 
 The fight of thy turn'd back from their fcrew'cj 
 
 pitch 
 Will turn more hearts than all the preffing foe : 
 Thou muft: not go. 
 
 JUSTINIANI. 
 
 I am a mortal man : 
 The fangs of fiends are in my new-torn flefii : 
 Natjire compels me, and I muft: have fuccour. 
 
 (Exit haftily^ and writhing with pain, J 
 
 CONSTANTINE. 
 
 Alas ! God pity him ! one lucklefs ^lon^ent 
 
A TRAGEDY. 41X 
 
 Of weaknefs and of anguifh brings to him 
 A wound that car^.ot be up-bound. Poor nature! 
 ( Znter many fugitives from the walls.) 
 Turn, turn, O loidiers ! let not this fhame be. 
 
 (To the fugitives.) 
 
 (A" he Is cndeavoiirmg with his friends to rally 
 
 them and pitfh forward^ a terrible fpotit is 
 
 heard^ and enter a great crowd of fugitives 
 
 from the walls.) 
 
 What fhout was that I 
 
 FUGITIVE, 
 
 The Turks have gain'd the breach, and thro' it 
 pour 
 Like an o'erboiling flood. 
 
 CONSTANTINE. 
 
 Then Is th.e city loft — the dark hour come— 
 And as an emperor my talk is clos'd. 
 God's will be done ! (Throwing away the imperial 
 
 purple.) 
 Now is there left for me thefe fmew'd arms. 
 And this good fword, the wherewithal to earn 
 A noble foldier's death. 
 
 Come on with me who will, and fliare the fate 
 Of a brave comrade, 
 
 A FUGITIVE (joined by feveral others)* ' 
 
 Yes, we'll fhare thy fate. 
 Comrade or fov'reign, noble Conftantine ! 
 We >Yill die by thy fide. (Exit Conftantine,/^/- 
 
412 CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS: 
 
 lowed by his friends and fever al of the fugi- 
 tives, and pajfing through the pillars to the 
 hack-ground, rufhes amidfi the confufion of the 
 fight, A terrible noife of arms, ^c, and pre- 
 fentlj one of the pillars in the middle of the ft age 
 falling down, a wider view of the battle is 
 opened, and the Turks arefeen rufhing through 
 the breach, and bearing every thing before 
 them,) 
 
 Re-enter Const antine wounded, but ftill fighting 
 bravely, though opprefjed with numbers, and falls 
 down near the front of the ft age, the enemy pajfing 
 on and leaving him, 
 
 CONSTANTINE. 
 
 Am I then left ! 
 Oh, is there ne'er a Chrlftian foldier near me 
 That will cut off my head ? Ho ! thou Turk there I 
 
 {To a Turk who is going to pafs him,} 
 
 TURK, 
 
 Art thou not dead ? 
 
 CONSTANTINE. 
 
 No, one half of me, Turk, is living ftill, 
 (Raiftng hi?nfelf half t(p from the ground, J 
 And ftill a match for thee. 
 
 TURK. 
 
 Ila ! fay'ft thou fo ? we'll put it to the proof. 
 
' A T R A G E D Y. 415 
 
 Yet thou'rt a brave man, tho' thou art a Greek, 
 I would far rather let thee die in peace. 
 
 CONSTANTINE. 
 
 No, no ! have at thee ! (pujhing at the Turk with 
 his fword^ who tunmig againji hitn as he is 
 half raifed from the ground^ thrufis him 
 through the body. J 
 
 I thank thee, friendly foe-man, this will do : 
 
 Thou haft done me good fervice. 
 
 TURK. 
 
 And thou art welcome to it. Fare thee well I 
 A good death to thee ! for thou art no Greek. 
 
 CExit. 
 
 CONSTANTINE. 
 
 Ay, this will do : this hath the true ftern gripe 
 Of potent fpeedy death. My tafk is clofed. 
 I now put off' thefe weeds of flefh and blood. 
 And, thanks be unto him who cloth'd me in theml 
 Untarnifh'd with difgrace. What cometh after 
 Full furely cometh well. 'Tis a dark pafs.— — 
 C Catching at a dropt garment that has been left 
 by fojiie of the fugitives on the ground ?iear 
 him, J 
 Here is a ready fhrowd to wrap my head : 
 This death deals fhrcwdly with me. (Covers his 
 face and dies^ after a confider able Jl niggle,) 
 
 4 
 
414 CONSTANTINJE PALEOLOGUS ? 
 
 Enter Rodrigo, Othus, and Marthon, with 
 two or three of their followers ^Jighting bravely with 
 a party of Turks ^ whom they beat off the Jlage^ 
 
 OTHUS. 
 
 Now for a fpace thofe ruffians fland aloof: 
 This is a paufe that calls upon the mind : 
 What fhall we do ? 
 
 PvODRIGO. 
 
 What do men do, when they together fland^ 
 On the lad perch of the fwift-finking wreck ? 
 Do they not bravely give their parting cheer, 
 And make their lail voice loud and boldly found 
 Amid (I the hollow roarings of the ftorm ? 
 Ev'n fo will we : we'll bear our manhood up 
 To the laft pulh. 
 
 OTHUS. 
 
 Thou fpeakeil well, brave feaman : thou dofl 
 fpeak 
 What the heart owns : we will do even fo. 
 But Oh, that our brave leader now were near us» 
 Living or dead ! Doth no one know his fate ? 
 I thought by him t' have died. 
 
 FIRST FOLLOWER. 
 
 What corpfe is this fo cover'd ? on its fandal 
 It wears th' imperial bird in fretted gold. 
 
A T R A G E D Y. 41; 
 
 OTFIUS. 
 
 Then it is he ! (Tearing off the cover hig eagerly 
 
 from the head of Conftantine.) 
 O thou brave heart ! thou haft got to thy reft 
 With honour : heav'n be praifed that thou haft ! 
 Here round thee our laft gathering point fhall be ; 
 Here will v/e fight, nor fhall thy honoured body 
 Suffer, whilft one of us has ftrength to fight. 
 The flighteft infult. 
 
 RODRIGO. 
 
 Ay, they fliall hack us into raven's meat; 
 Ere on his gallant corpfe there be imprefs'd 
 One touch of impious hands ! (A loud nolfe of 
 
 Jlorieking and terror heard without,) 
 
 OTHUS. 
 
 Hear the wild cries of terror and defpair, 
 Mix'd with the din of carnage ! Now thofe 
 
 cowards, 
 Who let this brave man all unaided perifh. 
 Are futt'ring that which, in his felleft pinch. 
 The valiant never fuHers. 
 But fee, the enemy again returns 
 With doubled fury ! 
 
 - RODRIGO. 
 
 Come they ? then we are ready for the^n. Yonder 
 Stands a fmall walled dome, v/ithin whofe portal 
 
 W^e for a time mav face ten thouiimd foes : 
 
 -J 
 
 5' 
 
4iG CONST ANTINE PALEOLOGUS : 
 
 There will we take our ftand, and there will we 
 Do our lafl deeds of men. Come on, brave mates ! 
 Take up our honoured treafure ; and, fo burden'd. 
 He that doth grapple with us had as lief 
 Pull from the lion's hug his bofom'd w^help. 
 
 fT/je folloivers take up the body^ and Othus 
 and Rodrigo retire^ defending it bravely from 
 a -party of Turks ^ who enter and fail upoyi 
 them as they are bearing it off,) 
 
 SCENE II. An apartment in one of the towers of 
 
 the palace* 
 
 Enter Valeria in great alarm^ followed Z^y Lucia 
 
 and Attendants. 
 
 VALERIA. 
 
 Louder and louder dill the dreadful found 
 Of battle fwells. Is it not nearer us ? 
 This lofty tower the widefl view commands ; 
 Open that lattice quickly, f Pointing to a windoicf 
 which Lucia opens, and then, ritjljing on ea- 
 gerly to look,florinks back again.) 
 I pray thee look thyfelf, mine eyes are darkj 
 And I fee nothing. Oh, w^iat fee'ft thou ? . 
 Tell me whatever it be. 
 
 LUCIA (looking out J. 
 
 Nothing but clouds of fmoke and eddying dull • 
 A dun and grumly darknefs fp reads o'er all, 
 From which arife thofe horrid founds, but naught 
 Diftinclivc of the fight can I diicern. 
 
A T RAG ED Y. 41/ 
 
 VALERIA C after pacing backward and forward with 
 an unequal^ reftlefs^ agitated Jiep J, 
 
 Oh, will this flate of tofling agony 
 No termination have ! Send out, I pray thee, 
 Another melTenger. 
 
 LUCIA. 
 
 Indeed I have in little fpace of time 
 Sent many forth, but none return again. 
 
 VALERIA. 
 
 In little fpace ! Oh it hath been a term 
 Of horrible length ! fuch as rack'd fiends do reckon 
 Upon their tofling beds of furgy flames, 
 Told by the laflies of each burning tide 
 That o'er them breaks. — Hark ! the quick fl:ep of 
 
 one 
 With tidings fraught ! Dofl: thou not hear it ? 
 
 LUCIA. 
 
 No; 
 I hear it not. 
 
 VALERIA. 
 
 Still Is it "the falfe coinage of my fears ? 
 Ah ! hearing, fight, and every fenfe is now 
 Falfe and deceitful grown. — FU fit me down. 
 And think no more but let the black hour pafs 
 In ftill and fixed fl:upor o'er my head. (Sits down 
 upon a low feat ^ and fupports her bended head 
 upon both her hands,) 
 
 E e 
 
41 8 CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS : 
 
 LUCIA (lyvening). 
 
 Now I do hear the found of real feet 
 In hafte approaching. 
 
 VALERIA (Jlarting up). 
 
 Some one brings us tidings. 
 What may they be ? Oaick (leps (hould bring us 
 good. 
 
 Enter Messenger. 
 
 Say ail thou haft: to fay, and fay it quickly. 
 If it be good hold up thy blefled hand, 
 And I will blefs the token. — No, thou doft: not ! 
 ^Tis evil then.— How is it with my lord ? 
 What dangers (till encompafs him? 
 
 MESSENGER. 
 
 No dangers. 
 
 VALERIA. 
 
 And doll thou fay fo with that terrible look ? 
 Is he alive ? Have all deferted him ? 
 
 MESSENGER. 
 
 No, round his body (till fome brave men fight, 
 And will not quit him till they be as he is. 
 
 (Valeria, uttering a loud Jhriek^ falls back into 
 the arms of her attendants^ and is carried off^ 
 followed by Lucia and the Meffenger,) 
 
A TRAGEDY. 
 
 SCENE III. A hall in the palace. 
 
 419 
 
 Enter a Crowd of frightened JVo??ien, andfeem hurry^ 
 ing on to fonie place of greater fe cur it y. 
 
 FIRST WOMAl<!' (yiopping J, 
 
 No, we are wrong ; we'll to the eaftern tower. 
 That is the mod retired ; that lad of all 
 Will tempt their fearch. 
 
 SECOND WOMAN. 
 
 In the deep vaulted caverns of the palace. 
 Might we not for a while conceal'd remain. 
 Till heav'n Ihall fend us means ? 
 
 OMNES. 
 
 Ay, thou art right ; that is the bed of all : 
 We'll to the vaults. fAs they are all turning and 
 hurrying back again ^ enter a domejiic Officer of 
 the palace <, and flops them,) 
 
 OFFICER. 
 
 Where do you run with fuch wild looks of fear? 
 Think ye the Turks are paffing thro' the city. 
 Like the fliort vifit of a fummer's dorm. 
 That you in holes and rocks may fafely hide 
 Until it be o'erblown ? 
 
 FIRST WOMAN. 
 
 Oh, no ! we know that they are come for ever ! 
 Yet for a Httle while we fain would fave us 
 From fearful things. 
 
 E e 2 
 
420 CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS : 
 
 , OFFICER. 
 
 I come to tell you that by Mah'met's orders 
 The cruel Turks have ftopp'd their bloody work. 
 And peace again is in our walls. 
 
 FIRST WOMAN. 
 
 Say'ft thou ? 
 And art thou fure of this ? and haft thou feen it ? 
 
 OFFICER. 
 
 Yes, I have feen it. Like a fudden gleam 
 Of fierce returning light at the ftorm's clofe, 
 Glancing on horrid fights of wafte and forrow, 
 Came the fwift word of peace, and to the eye 
 Gave confcioufnefs of that which the wild uproar 
 And dire confufion of the carnage hid. 
 
 FIRST WOMAN. 
 
 Alas ! be there fuch fights within our walls ? 
 
 OFFICER. 
 
 Yes, maid, fuch fights of blood ! fuch fights of 
 nature ! 
 In expedation of their horrid fate, 
 Widows, and chiidlefs parents, and 'lorn dames, 
 Sat by their unwept dead with fixed gaze, 
 In horrible ftillnefs. 
 
 But when the voice of grace was heard aloud. 
 So ftrongly ftirr'd within their roufed fouls 
 The love of life, that, even amidft thofe horrors. 
 
A T R A GED Y. 421 
 
 A joy was feen — joy hateful and unlovely. 
 
 I faw an aged man rife from an heap 
 
 Of grizly dead, whereon, new murder'd, lay 
 
 His fons and grandfons, yea, the very babe 
 
 Whofe cradle he had rock'd with palfied hands, 
 
 And fhake his grey locks at the found of hfe 
 
 With animation wild and horrible. 
 
 I faw a m.other with her murdered infant 
 
 Still in her arms fad lock'd, fpring from the 
 
 ground — 
 No, no ! I faw it not ! I faw it not ! 
 It v/as a hideous fancy of my mind : 
 I have not feen it. 
 But I forget my chiefeft errand here. 
 
 FIRST WOMAN. 
 
 And what is that ? 
 
 OFFICER. 
 
 It is to bid you tell your royal miflrefs. 
 It may, perhaps, fomewhat affuage her grief. 
 That Othus and Rodrigo, with fome followers, 
 The lad remains of the imperial band. 
 Fighting, in all the ftrength of defperation. 
 Around the body of their fallen chief. 
 Have mov'd to gen'rous thoughts the fultan's bread; 
 Who has their valour honour'd with full leave, 
 In blefled ground, with miUtary pomp. 
 Becoming his high date and valiant worth. 
 To lay his dear remains. This with their lives 
 On honourable terms he freely grants, 
 
 Ee 3 
 

 422 CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS % 
 
 FIRST WOMAN. 
 
 And do thofe brave men live ? 
 
 OFFICER. 
 
 They do ; but Othus foon I fear will be 
 With him he mourns. — Delay no more, I pra}' 
 Inform the emprefs fpeedily of this. 
 
 FIRST WOMAN. ' 
 
 Alas ! Ihe is not in a (late to hear it : 
 The phrenzy of her grief repels all comfort.-— 
 But foftly! — hufh !— methinks I hear her voice. 
 She's coming hither in the refllefs wand'rings 
 Of her untamed mind.- — Stand we afide. 
 And fpeak not to her yet. 
 
 Enter Valeria with her hair diJheveUed^ and in all 
 the wild diforder of ^violent forrow^ followed by 
 Ella and Lucia, who fecm endeavoiirmg to foot he 
 her. 
 
 VALERIA. 
 
 Forbear all words, and follow me no more. 
 1 now am free to wander where I lift ; 
 To howl i' the defert with the midnight winds,. 
 And fearlefs be amidft all fearful things. 
 The ftorm has been with me, and I am left 
 Torn and uprooted, and laid in the duft 
 With thofe whom after-blafts rend not again, 
 I am in the dark gulf where no light is. 
 1 am on the deep bed of funken floods, 
 
A TRAGEDY. 423 
 
 Whofe fwoln and weU'rino; billows rife no more 
 To bear the tolTed wreck back to the flrand. 
 
 LUCIA. 
 
 Oh, fay not fo ! heav'n doth in Its good time 
 Send confolation to the {harpefh woe. 
 It (till in kindnefs fends to the tried foul 
 Its keened fuffVings. So fay holy men ; 
 And therein good men trufl. 
 
 VALERIA. 
 
 I hear, I hear thee ! in mine ear thy voice 
 Sounds like the feeble night-fly's humming noife 
 To him, who in the warfare of vex'd jQeep, 
 Strives with the phantoms of his inward world. 
 Yes, there be comfort when the fun is dark, 
 And time hath run his courfe, and the ftilFd fleepers 
 Lift up their heads at the tremendous crafh 
 Of breaking v/orlds. — I know all this. — But here. 
 Upon this living earth, v/hat is there found ? 
 It is a place of groans and hopelefs woe. 
 Let me then tear my hair and wring my hands. 
 And raife my voice of anguifh and defpair, 
 This is my portion now, all elfe is gone. 
 
 LUCIA, 
 
 Nay, think not virtuous innocence forfaken : 
 Put in high heav'n thy trufl, it will fuflain thee^ 
 
 VALERIA. 
 
 Ah ! I did think when virtue bravelv floodg 
 
 E e 4 
 
424 CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS : 
 
 Fronting its valiant bread to the fierce onfet 
 
 Of worthlefs power, that it full furely flood : 
 
 That ev'ry fpiritual and righteous power 
 
 Was on its fide : and in this faith, oftimes, 
 
 Methought I could into the furnace mouth 
 
 Have thrufl my hand, and grafp'd the molten flames. 
 
 Yet on his head it fell : that noble head. 
 
 Upon whofe manly gracefulnefs was fix'd 
 
 The gaze of ev'ry eye. 
 
 Oh ! on his lib'ral front there beam'd a look. 
 
 Unto the which all good and gen'rous hearts 
 
 Anfwer return'd. — It was a gentle head, 
 
 Bending in pleafant kindlinefs to all ; 
 
 So that the timid, who approached him trembling. 
 
 With cheer'd and vaunting fteps retir'd again. 
 
 It was a crowned head, yet was it left 
 
 ExposM and fencelefs in the hour of danger : 
 
 What fhould have been his fafety was his bane. 
 
 Away, poor mock'ry of a wretched llate ! 
 
 (Tearing the regal ornaments from her neck^ and 
 
 fcattering them about.) 
 Be ye ftrew'd to the winds ! But for this let 
 We had been bleil ; for he as truly loved. 
 In fimpled tendernefs, as the poor hind. 
 Who takes his humble houfe-mate by the hand. 
 And fays, " this is my ail." — Off, curfed band ! 
 Which round our happinels hath been entwin'd 
 Like to a llragfling cord : upon the earth 
 Be thou defac'd and trampled ! (Tearing the tiara 
 
 from her head and Jiamfing upon it^ then 
 . pacing up and down dijlradedly.j 
 
A T R A G E D Y. 425 
 
 LUCIA. 
 
 Alas ! my royal miftrefs, be Intreated ! 
 This furious grief will but enhance its pain : 
 Oh, bear yourfelf as more becomes your ftate ! 
 
 VALERIA. 
 
 Yes, I will bear me as becomes my ftate. 
 I am a thing of wretchednefs and ruin. 
 That upon which my pride and being grew 
 Lies in the duft, and be the dud my bed. 
 
 (Throwing herf elf upon the ground^ andpiijhlng 
 
 away Lucia and her other Attendants^ who 
 
 endeavour to raife her up again, J 
 Forbear ! forbear ! and let me on the ground 
 Spread out my wretched hands. It pleafes me 
 To think that in its bread there is a reft — 
 Yea, there lie they, unheeded and forgotten. 
 To whom all tongues give praife, all hearts give 
 
 bleffing. 
 Oh, ev'ry heart did blefs him tho' he fell. 
 And ne'er a faving hand was found — Oh ! oh ! 
 
 ( Burfting into an agony of grief ^ and laying her 
 
 head upon the ground^ covered with both her 
 
 hands.) 
 
 ELLA (to Lucia and Attendants), 
 
 Do not furround her thus ! Til fit and watch her. 
 I will not fpeak, but fit and weep by her ; 
 And (he fliall feel, ev'n thro' her heavy woe. 
 That fyrapathy and kindnefs are befide her. 
 
426 CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS: 
 
 VALERIA (ralfing her head J » 
 There fpoke a gentle voice : is Ella near me ? 
 
 ELLA. 
 
 Yes, I am near, and iliall be ever near yoUe 
 
 VALERIA. 
 
 Wilt thou? I do believe, fvv^eet maid, thou wilt. 
 Lay thy foft hand on mine.—- Yes, it feels kindly. 
 Had he, thy vahant love, been near his lord — 
 Ay, they did love each other with that love 
 Which brave men know^— Oh, ev'ry noble flranger. 
 In admiration of his noble worth. 
 Did call him lord ; whilfl they, his native fubjeds. 
 They who had feen him grow within their walls,— 
 Alas ! where lightly tripp'd his infant fteps j 
 Where in gay fports Lis flripling's ftrength was 
 
 tried ; 
 Where tov^^er'd in graceful pride his manly bloom ; 
 Even there a lifelefs, ghaflly form he lies. 
 
 Enter another Domeftic Officer, and feeing Va- 
 leria on the ground Jleps hack^ 
 
 LUCIA (to the Officer). 
 What wouldTc thou here ? 
 
 officer. 
 I mufl-, perforce, fpeak my unwelcome tidings. 
 The fultan is already in the palace. 
 And follows hard my fleps with a fix'd puipofe 
 To fee the emprefs. 
 
A T R A G E D Y. 427 
 
 VALERIA (raifing herf elf half from the ground). 
 What fearful words are thefe ? in my foul's an- 
 guifli 
 Comes this fo quickly on me ? Be it fo ! 
 I cleave to th' earth ! what have I now to diO ? 
 I am a Hilled thing, abas'd and crufli'd ; 
 What boots it now who gazes on my woe ? 
 
 Enter Mahomet with Osmir and his Train, 
 
 MAHOMET Cto Ofmir, after lookijig at Ydltn^flead- 
 
 fafilyj, ' 
 
 She flirs not, Ofmir, ev'n at my approach, 
 She fits upon the ground, unmov'd and {x\\\. 
 Thou forrow-clouded beauty, not lefs lovely 
 
 (Goi?2g up to her,) 
 For this thy mournful flate ! — She heeds me not. 
 Emprefs and fov'reign dame, unto thofe titles 
 Which thou fhalt ever wear, vouchfafe regard. 
 Still fhe regards me not. (To Ofmir.) 
 
 Widow of Conflantine ; (After a paufe,) 
 
 VALERIA (roufing h erf elf quickly ) . 
 Ay, now thou called on me by a name 
 Which I do hear. There is ftrength in the found 
 To do all pofTible things ! Rifing quickly from the 
 
 ground^ and accojling Mahomet ivith an air 
 
 of high affumedftate.) 
 What would'ft thou fay to her w^ho proudly wearj 
 That honoured title ? 
 
42» CONST AXTIXE PALEOIjOGUS : 
 
 MAHCMET. 
 
 Widow of Confiantme ; I come doc here 
 In the Hem fpirit of a conqn'ror. 
 The ilaughtcT ox your people, by my order. 
 Is ftopp*d ; and to ycur bravely faHen lord 
 I have decreed fuch Rin'ral cbi'ecuies 
 As fuits a valiant warrior and a king. 
 Othns, and brave Rodrigo, and tho^ men 
 Who to the lall their mailer's corpfe defended, 
 I have with honc^ ;;:-c'c. — TiScks there i-zr.: 
 
 ftill 
 That, from the dark cloud which fo deeptj ihades 
 That awful beauty, one approving ray 
 Might fofilv draw ? Speak, and it {hall be doae, 
 
 Afk augiit from ihee . 
 
 MAHOMET. 
 
 Yes. whatk)c'er thou wik : 
 For now too well I feel 1 have no power 
 That can oppofe thy T^ilL 
 
 1 CTTC von thanks : I have a thing to afe. 
 
 MAHOMZT. 
 
 Name it, and it is graaiei?. : 
 
A T R A G E D Y. 429 
 
 VALERIA. 
 
 A place in the quiet tomb with my faira lord, 
 Therein to reft my head. This is my boon. 
 
 MAHOMET. 
 
 Well, and it ihall be granted, fair Valeria, 
 When that fair form is fitted for fuch reft. 
 But whilft — C Approaching her 'ivith an air of freer 
 
 admirauon.) 
 
 VALERIA C putting hi/ii at a di fiance haughtily J ^ 
 
 No more : — I do not alk it fooner. 
 Yet that it be a fealed deed between us. 
 Permit me here to put into your hands 
 A mark'd memorial. Some few paces off 
 It is depofited ; I will return 
 
 And give it to you inftantly. fExit, attended by 
 
 Lucia, Ella, lye.) 
 
 MAHOMET (^/5 Ofmir, looking after her as foe goei 
 
 out J, 
 
 See, with what awful iovelinefs (he moves ! 
 Did all our bower'd prifons e'er contain 
 Aught like to that ? 
 
 OSMIR. 
 
 It does, indeed, a wond'rous mixture feem 
 Of woman's Iovelinefs with manly ft ate : 
 And yet, methinks, I feel as tho' it were 
 
4^3 CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS s 
 
 Strange, and perplexing, and unfuitable, 
 'Tis not in nature. 
 
 MAHOMET. 
 
 Think'fl thou fo, good vizir ? 
 
 Thou'rt right, belike, but it is wond'rous graceful. 
 
 CA loudjloriek of women heard without,) 
 
 What dirieks are thefe ? Run thou and learn the 
 
 caufe. (Olniir goings is prevented by Valeria, 
 
 who re-enters with her robe wrapped acrofs 
 
 her breajl^ and fapported by Lucia, and Ella, 
 
 and her other Attendants^ whofeem in great 
 
 afflidlon round her, 
 
 VALERIA (fpealung as Jhe enters). 
 
 Mourn not ; the thing is paft that was to be* 
 Condudl me to the fuitan : I have (till 
 Strength to fulfil my tafk. 
 
 MAHOMET. 
 
 Great Prophet ! what is this ? What had thou 
 done? (To Valeria.) 
 
 VALERIA. 
 
 Brought thee the mark'd memorial of my right. 
 
 (Shewing a dagger,) 
 And that I now am fitted for that reft, 
 The honoured reft which you have granted me. 
 Being the fix'd condition of your promife. 
 Here is the witnefs. (Opening her robe^ and /hew- 
 ing the wound in her breajl,) 
 
A T R A G ED Y. 4jt 
 
 MAHOMET. 
 
 Oh fad and cruel fight 1 h there no aid ? 
 Oh live, thou wond'rous creature, and be aught 
 Thy foul defires to be ! 
 
 VA L E R I A Rafter Jinking back into a feat^ fupported bj 
 
 her Attendants J. 
 I now am what my foul defires to be, 
 And what one happy moment of wound flrength 
 Beyond the pitch of fhrinking nature makes me ; 
 Widow of Conftantine, without reproach, 
 And worthy to partake the honoured relt 
 Of the brave lord whofe livhig love I fharM, 
 As fhares the noble wife a brave man's love. 
 
 MAHOMET. 
 
 Prophet of God, be there fuch ties as thefe ! 
 
 Enter Rodrigo, and Othus 'wounded and f up- 
 porting bimfelf feebly upon his jheathed fujord. 
 
 VALE p. I A. 
 
 And here come, in good time, my living friends: 
 I fhall once more thofe gen'rous men behold. 
 The fad remains of thofe who lov'd their lord. 
 
 (Holding out a hand to each ofthe?n,J 
 You know brave brothers, how it is with me ; 
 For fuch you were to him, and fuch to me 
 My heart now truly owns you. 
 
 8 ' .' 
 
432 CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS: 
 
 OTHUS. 
 
 Yes, we have heard : they told us as we enter'd. 
 Mod noble woman, worthy of thy lord ! 
 
 ( Endeavouring feebly to kneel and kifs her handy 
 whilji Rodrigo doesfo on the other fide of her,) 
 
 Valeria: 
 
 This day's rough tempeft's o'er, my good Rod- 
 rigo, 
 And thou flill liv'ft to drive in other florms : 
 Heaven's high blelTmg and my dying thanks 
 Reft on thy gen'rous worth ! — I would fay more. 
 But now 1 feel I may not. 
 Where art thou, Ella ? C Putting Ella's hand in his* J 
 
 Here do I return 
 The truft thou gaveft me ; and if the fultan 
 Will yet to me one laft requeft vouchfafe. 
 He will confirm this gift. 
 
 MAHOMET. 
 
 It is confirm'd. 
 
 VALERIA. 
 
 I thank you, gracious vidor. 
 Heaven blefs you both ! (To Ella and Rodrigo, 
 
 who both kneel and kifs her hands,) 
 Othus, the dead go to their filent reft, 
 
 (To Othus, looking fixedly at hi?7i,J 
 And are no more remember'd : but thy lord — 
 He whom thou lovedft — he whom all hearts lov'd— 
 
 7 
 
A T R A G E D Y. 433 
 
 He who fo noble and fo gentle was — 
 Well fkiird art thou to paint the deeds of men-^ 
 Thou wilt not fufFer hini to be forgotten ? 
 What means that woeful motion of thy head ? 
 Mine eyes wax dim, or do I truly fee thee ? 
 Thy vifage has a (l range and ghaftly look : 
 How is it with thee ? 
 
 OTHUS. 
 
 As one who flandeth at the city's gate, 
 Thro' which his earlier friends have paft, and waits 
 Impatiently, girt in his traveller's robe. 
 To hear the welcome creaking of its bars. 
 
 VALERIA. 
 
 Ah ! art thou wounded then ? Alas ! alas ! 
 Art thou too of our company ? fad travellers 
 Unto a world unknown. 
 
 OTHUS. 
 
 Nay, fay not fad, tho' to a world unknov/n. 
 The fofler'd nurfling, at th' appointed feafon. 
 Who leaves his narrow crib and cottage-home 
 For the fair manfion of his lordly fire. 
 Goes to a world unknown. 
 
 VALERIA. 
 
 Ay, thou would'll cheer me, and I will be cheer'd. 
 There reigns above who calls his dark fliade o'er us. 
 Mantling us on our way to glorious light. 
 I have offended, and I fhould be fearful, 
 
 Ff 
 
434 CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS: 
 
 But there is fent in mercy to my heart, 
 
 For which I humbly give ■ O no, I may not ! 
 
 Death is upon me now. - Ella and Lucia : 
 Stand clofer to me : let m.e firmly grafp 
 Something that 1 have lov*d. (Caiching held of 
 
 them luitb a convulftve grafp.J 
 It will foon ceafe : 
 
 Farevvel unto ye all ! f Dies. J 
 
 (Afolemnpaufe^ alljlanding round and gazing 
 upon the body* J 
 
 OTHUS. 
 
 And this is the lad form that we do wear, 
 Unto the fad and folemn gaze of thofe 
 Who have beheld us in our days of joy. 
 Honour and deepefi rev'rence be to thee, 
 Thou honoured dead ! ( Bozving refpcdfuUy to the. 
 
 body, J 
 
 MAHOMET. 
 
 Great God of heav'n ! was this a woman's fpirit 
 That took its flight ? 
 
 RODRIGO* 
 
 Let ev'ry proudeft worfhip be upon her. 
 For fhe is numbered with the gallant dead. 
 Not in the trophied field, nor fcusptur'd dome> 
 No, nor beneath tte dark and billowy deep 
 Lies one, o'er whom the valiant Uvino: would 
 With truer zeal their lofty banners wave. 
 Or bid the deep-mouth cannon nobly tell 
 How brave men mourn the brave. 
 
A T R A G E D Y. 435 
 
 How is It, Othus ? fomething in thine eye 
 Of joyous fadnefs looks upon me wiftfuUy. 
 
 (To Othus, who takes him tenderly by the hand,) 
 
 OTHUS. 
 
 DoH thou not guefs ? — But I would fpeak to 
 thee 
 Of a brave foldier, who, ia one fhort moment 
 Of nature's weaknefs, has a wound receiv'd 
 That will unto his life as fatal prove 
 As felled foe man's thruft : who in his reft 
 Will not be mourn'd as brave men mourn the 
 
 brave. 
 Juftiniani in his cave of fhame ■ 
 
 RODRIGO. 
 
 And therein let him perifh 1 
 He hath difgrac'd«a foldier' s honeft fame : 
 He hath difgrac'd the country of his birth : 
 
 He hath It makes me ftamp upon the ground 
 
 To think that one, who grafp'd with brother's 
 
 hand 
 The noble Conftantine, (hould bafely turn. 
 Name not his curfed name ! 
 
 OTHUS. 
 
 Art thou fb ftern ? In a lone cave he groans, 
 On the damp earth, in deepeft agony 
 Of the foul's fhrewdeft fufFerings. I have 
 By an old foldier been advis'd of this, 
 And I would go to him, but that I feel 
 
 Ff 3 
 
43^ CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS : 
 
 I needs muil go where a more powerful call 
 Doth fummon me. 
 
 RODRiGo (foftened). 
 Ah ! mufl thou then fo foon, my gen'rous Othus! 
 Muft thou fo foon ? Well, afk whatever thou 
 
 wilt : 
 I give my chafed paflion to the winds. 
 Ah ! goefl thou ? Do I the laft remain 
 Of thofe who lov'd the noble Conflantine? 
 The laft of a brave band ? Alas ! alas ! 
 
 (Embracing Othus tenderly*) 
 
 OS MIR (to Mahomet, who Jlrides up and down in 
 
 gloomy agitation), 
 Moft mighty Mahomet, what thus difturbs you ? 
 May not your flave in humble zeal be told ? 
 
 MAHOMET. 
 
 Away ! away ! thy humble zeal I know; 
 Yea, and the humble zeal of fuch as thou art. 
 The willing fervice of a brave man's heart. 
 That precious pearl, upon the earth exifts. 
 But I have found it not. 
 
 (Turning to Othus and Rodrigo.) 
 Ye valiant men who have fo ferv'd your prince, 
 There ftill is in the world a mighty monarch. 
 Who, if he might retain you near his throne. 
 Shall he fay near his heart, in fuch dear zeal I 
 Would think his greatnefs honour'd. 
 
A T R A G E D Y. 437 
 
 OTHUS. 
 
 Great fultaii, thou hafl: conquer'd with fuch arms 
 As power has given to thee, th' imperial city 
 'of royal Conftantine ; but other arms. 
 That might the friends of Conftantine fubdue, 
 Heav'n has denied thee. 
 
 RODRIGO. 
 
 No, mighty prince; they who have ferv'd for 
 love. 
 Cannot like flying pennants be transferred 
 From bark to bark. 
 
 m 
 
 MAHOMET ('unpatientlyj. 
 I underfland you well, and you are free. 
 Mine arms, fuch as they are, of heav'n are blefs'd. 
 That is enough. 
 
 OTHUS. 
 
 That were indeed enough ; but heaven ofttimes 
 Succefs beftows where blefling is denied. 
 A fecret fpirit whifpers to my heart, 
 That in thefe walls your weaken'd wretched race. 
 Slaves of their flaves, in gloomy prifon'd pomp 
 Shall fhed each others blood, and mske thefe towers 
 A place of groans and anguifh, not of blifs. 
 And think not when the good and valiant perifli 
 By Worldly power o'erwhelm'd, that heaven's hioh 
 
 favour 
 Shines not on them. — Oh, no ! then (hines it men:. 
 
43S CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS. 
 
 For then in them it fhews th' approving world 
 
 The worth of its beft work. 
 
 ^nd from their fate a glorious leflbn fprings ; 
 
 A leiTon of fuch high ennobling power ; 
 
 Connefling us with fuch exalted things 
 
 As all do feel, but none with fuch true force. 
 
 Such joy, fuch triumph, as a dying man. 
 
 (Falling back into the arms of Rodrigo.) 
 
 FINIS. 
 
 / 
 
POETICAL WORKS lately publljhed by Long- 
 MAN, Hurst, Rees, and Orme. 
 
 1. THE LAY of the LAST MINSTREL: a Poem. 
 -By Walter Scott, Efq. Elegantly printed by Ballantyne, 
 in Quarto. Price il. 15s. boards. 
 
 2. THE MINSTRELSY of the SCOTTISH BOR- 
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 Date, founded on local Tradition. With an Introduction and 
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 il. IIS. 6d. boards. The Third Volume maybe had feparate. 
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 the Bi(hup of Droniore did for England, by publilhing the Reliqucs of An- 
 cient Englifh P.)etry- The materials aie analogous; the fele£litjns are 
 nivide with equal tafte; the co'.re<ftions are insinuated with fimilar dexte. 
 rily ; theotigina! c mpoJitiuns are manuf:!(5lured in fuilable coduiiie. If 
 they be lefs iimplj and naairal, they aie nure ftiinulant and fanciful, ihan 
 the poems ihev imitate " Critical lie'cif^zc, Nov. 1803. 
 
 3. SIR TRISTREM, a Metrical Romance of the Thir- 
 teenth Century. By Thomas of Ercildoune, called the 
 Rhymer.. Edited from the Auchinleck. MS. by Walter, 
 Scott, Efq. Advocate. Superbly printed in Royal Svo. by 
 Ballantyne. (Only 150 Copies printed.) Price 2I. 2s. boards. 
 
 4. MADOC: a Poem, in Two Parts. By Robert 
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 5. JOANof ARC, an Epic Poem. By Robert Southey. 
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 *' Il atfjid? us pltafuie to fee that a poem, the uncornmon merit of 
 which was recognized by us at its Iir<l appearance (fto Mjnihly Review 
 for April 1796), has fo f.ir obtaineii the f-indtion of ihe public as to produce 
 a demand for a fecond edition. We aif) aie gratified in obfeiving that the 
 author iiis fo much fubdued the fell-conhdence and impatience of youth 
 US to fubmit to the lafk of a very caieiul revifion of the whole, and to make 
 ample facrifices of fuch parts as could not iLind the fcrutiny of his malurer 
 jud-;ment." Moiitlily Revinc, Jan. 1799, 
 
 6. POEMS, including The Visions of th^ Maid or 
 Orleans. By Rob£r.t Southey. 2 vols. Price iis. in 
 boards. 
 
 " Among the youthful poets of the prrfent day Mr. Southey bears no 
 
 incondderabie lank. He couiu-d the Mufcs at an e^uiy age, and ihev did 
 
 not treat his advances with difdain. He is not one of thofe cool veriihers 
 
 Who tamely purfue 4 fpiritlefs cuuife, for he fiequeiuiy difplavs feeling, 
 
 Ufte, and genius." Ciltiral Revitr.i:, June 1779. 
 
Poetical Works publiJJjed by Longman mid Cd, 
 
 7. THALABA, the DESTR.OYER, a Metrical Ro- 
 mance, with copious Notts. By Robert Southey. Ele- 
 gantly printed in 2 vols. Foolfcap, 8vo. Price 14s. in boards. 
 
 8. METRICAL TALES, and other POEMS. Selefted 
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 •* So much genius and origin.nlity are difcovered in this publication, that 
 we wifh to fee another from the fame hand, written on more elevated fuL- 
 jedly, and in a more cheerful difpoiition.'* ^lonihiy Revieiv, Juna 1799. 
 
 '* The author has thought for himfelf; he has deeply lludied human 
 nature in the book of human adtion, and he has adopted his language fiom 
 the fame fources as his feelings. Aware that his poems are io mateiially 
 different from thufe upon which general approbation is at prefent bc- 
 ftowed, he hiiS now defended them ia a preface of fome length ; not with 
 the foolifh hope of reafoning his readers into the approbation of ihefe par- 
 ticular poems, but as a neceffary jutiificauon of the fpecies of poetry to 
 •which they belong. It would be no mean, it would indeed be a very lofty 
 praife, to alTert of a writer that he is able to pour into other bofoms power- 
 ful feelings of a particular clafs, or belonging to a particular order of men. 
 To this praife Mr. Worcfworth lays a well-lupported ciaim. He declares 
 himfelf the poet cliiefly of low and rulllc life (fome fpecimens of ability he 
 has given in other lines, but this is evidently his excellence), and he pour- 
 trays it, nut under its difgufling forms, but in fituations atfording, as 
 he thinks, the heft foil for the elTential palTions of the heart, incorporated 
 with an elementary and durable ihttc of manners, and with the beautiful 
 and permanent ioims cf nature. Kach feparatc poem has, as its diftin<fl 
 purpofe, the developcnient of a feeling, which gives importance to the 
 iidlion and fituation, and not the action or fuuation to the feeling." 
 
 Brtt'i/h Critic ^ Feb. iSoi. 
 
 " The rcfle<flions which occur in * a dcfcription of the old Cumberland 
 Beggar' arc admirable, as are many others in this moft fafcinating puMica- 
 lion. There is all the mora! }.'.ith and nervous torce of Cowper in this para- 
 graph, without niiy fcmblance of imitation; and il Mr. Wordfworth Ihould 
 proceed to poetic ilights of equal altitude, and fhould foar as long upon the 
 wing, we doubt not that he will obtain a niche near the author of the Talk in 
 ihe temple of ' aye enduring fame'." 
 
 Monthly Mirror f June 180X. 
 
 10. THE POEMS of OSSIAN, &c. containing the 
 POETICAL WORKS of James Macpherson,. Efq. in 
 Profe and Rhyme : with Notes and lUnilrations. By Mal- 
 colm Laing, Efq. Elegantly printed by Ballantyne, on a 
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 of Macpherfon. In 2 vols. 0£tavo. Price j1. ios. in boards. 
 
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 Printers- Street, 
 
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