3GT %i MISCELLANEOUS PLAYS, BY JOANNA BAILLIE, LONDON: PRINTED FOR LONGMAN, HURST, REES, AND ORME, PATER* NOSTER-ROW, AND A. CONSTABLE AND CO. EDINBURGH. l804« ... . . Strahan and Preflon, Printers -Street. TO THE READER i hough 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, I mud neverthelefs beg for a few minutes to trefpafs upon his patience. — It has been and Mill is, my ftrongeft defire to add a few pieces to the flock of what may be called our national or permanently acting 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 fubject of a particular paffion ; fo that we might have an idea of what kind of a man he would have been had no * See page 58. of the introdutfion to the " Series of Plays." Az jy^SOTS ( iv ) circumftances ever arifen to bring that paffion vio- lently into action. I have endeavoured alfo dis- tinctly to difcriminate the inferior characters, be- caufe they, not being allowed to exhibit violent paffion, left they mould too much interfere with the principal object, had more need of fuch diflincTt difcrimination to prevent them from being altoge- ther infignificant, and to prevent each play from becoming a mere picture of paffion which might be tedious and heavy to an audience accuftomed to variety of character and incident. This I have done, how unfkilfully foever I may have done it, with a hope, which I will not yet abandon, that fome 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, were thofe plays more fuccefsfui than I dare flatter myfelf to expect, they all require too much power of expreffion and delicacy of difcrimination in the actor who reprefents the principal character— 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 1 have the flighted intention of difcontinuing the "Series of Plays." So far from it, I hope that work will go on the better for being occafionally broke in upon by pieces of a different kind i and though I admit they are not altogether well ( v ) as well as wifhing fomctimes to vary my employ, ment, I have long fince propofed to myfelf not to confine my pen entirely to one talk, but to write from time to time, as inclination might lead me or circumftances fuggeft, an unconnected or (may I fo call it ?} a free, independent play, that might have a chance of pleafing upon a ftage, circum- ftanced as ftages generally are, with no particular advantages. I have wiflied to leave behind me in the world a few plays, fome of which might have a chance of continuing to be a&ed 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 amufement 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 fhall be equally for- tunate in any other ; no, not even in that which moft 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 circumftanced, I ftill think plays upon that plan are capable of being made upon the ftage more interefting than any other fpecies of drama. A3 ( VI ) - 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- ferably difappointed." I offer to the public, therefore, a work of a kind fo nearly related to that in which I have already had Tome degree of fuccefs and en- couragement, with almoft the diffidence of an en- ' tirely inexperienced writer. To publifh a volume of mifcellaneous plays, 1 am? very fenfible, is making a large demand upon the attention of my readers, and expofing the plays themfelves likewife to the danger of being read in. a way that will diminifh their effect, 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 impreflion upon the mind ; and though we are not obliged to read all the plays of a volume, one fol- lowing another, fo that they miift crowd, and joftle, 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 fhut up the book after the fir ft portion of it is over, and wait till he has properly digefted what he has got before he proceed with the remainder ? I am inclined to believe that each of the plays in the feries has at firft fuffered confiderably from being read in this manner ; but in pieces connected with one another this mode of publication is in fome degree necefiary, at leafl: there is in it more pro- priety. So much am I convinced of this, that it was at one time my intention to publifh thefc ( vii ) plays only orte at a time, and it is with fome dif- ficulty that I have been prevailed upon to give up this intention. May I then beg of my reader to pardon, in the firft place, fo great a demand upon his attention by offering at once a volume of plays to his perufal ; in the next place, to have the good- nefs not to read it haftily, but to paufe, fome days at lead, between each play, that they may have in this refpecl the fame advantages which new plays generally have. Let him not fmile : this lad is a requeft which I earnedly make, and if it is not complied with, I fhall almod be tempted to think myfelf hardly treated*. I mud alfo mention, that each of the plays con- tained in this volume has been, at one time or other, offered for reprefentation to one or other of * It may be urged, indeed, that unconnected poems bound up together, and almoft every other fpecies of com* pofition mull iuffer for being read in Iiafty fucceffion in the fame way. And fo in fome degree they do. But in read- ing defcriptions of nature, fucccffions of thoughts, and nar- ratives of every kind, the ideas they reprefent to the mind are as troops drawn out before it in loofe marshalled array, whofe moft animated movements it furveys hall as a fpec- tator ; whilft in reading a drama, where every character fpeaks immediately in his own perfon, we by fympathy rum, as it were, ourTelves into the battle, and fight under every man's coat of mail by turns. This is an exercife of the mind fo clofe and vigorous, that we retire from it ex- haufted ; and if curiofity fhould urge us on without fuffi- cient reft to the next engagement that calls for us, we enter the held bev/ildered, and fpiritlefs, and weak. A 4 ( viii ) our winter theatres, and been rejected. 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 otherwife it muft 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 muft, in this cafe, have either appeared pufillani- rooufly timid in fhrinking from that open trial to which my contemporaries fubmit, or fullenly and ungracioufly 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 refpecling ftage effect and general impreffion 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, I may become carelefs or forgetful of thofe requifites in the drama that peculiarly refer to the ftage. But if I know any thing at all of my own character, this will not be the cafe. I mall perfevere in my tafk, circum- ftanced as I am, with as anxious unremitting an at- tention to every thing that regards the theatre as if I were there forthwith to receive the full reward of all my labours, or complete and irretrievable con- demnation. So ftrong is my attachment to the ( (« ) drama of my native country, at the head of which, ftands one whom every Britifh 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 fhall have put into the power of future managers to bring them upon the ftage with lefs rifk of lofs than would be at prefent incurred, is fufficient to animate me to every exertion that I am capable of making. But I perceive a fmile rifing upon the cheek of my reader at the fanguine calculations of human vanity, and in his place I fliould mod probably fmile too. Let that fmile, however, be tempered with refpea, when it is confidered how much mankind is indebted to this pleafing but deceitful principle in our nature. It is neceflary that we mould have fome flattery to carry us on with what is arduous and uncertain, and who will give it to us in a man- ner fo kindly and applicable to our neceflities as even we our own feives ? How poor and ftation 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 charafter of Kay ner, to exhibit a young man of an eafy, amiable ( * ) temper, with delicacy of fenti'ment and a well prm* cipled mind, tempted, in the extremity of diltrefs, to join with unworthy men in the propofed com- million of a deteftable 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 firmnefs of a hero, but with the druggies 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 refpe&able and becoming. One who afpires not to admiration but fhrink& from contempt y and who being naturally brave in the field, and of a light buoyant difpofition, 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 fome good affections, there is a foundation of natural depravity, greatly ftrengthened by the bad education he has received from an ab- furdly indulgent mother, brought by his crimes to an untimely end, and meeting it with a very different Jpirit. Of the characters of the two principal women in this piece, oppofed to two women of a very dif- ferent defcription I (hall fay nothing. The fecond and inferior perfons of the drama I have endea- voured to delineate with fufficient difcnmination to ( * ) make us feel acquainted with them, though much force or originality is a praife 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 difirefling, but fcarcely at any time folemn or dignified, will be difpleafmg to thofe who are acouftomed 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 rior patched fcenes unconnected with the main bulmefs, but have endeavoured to make every thing arife naturally from the circumftances of the (lory, I {hall not on this fcore be very much cenfured*. , This play was written many years ago, when I was not very old, and dill younger from my igno- rance of every thing regarding literature than from my years. This, however, I 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, Acl: III. in the court of the prifon, where the fongs of the confined chief of banditti and a flight fketch of his character are introduced, though very appropriate to the place, ftands loofe from the bufmefs of the play, and may therefore be confidered as fuperrluQus and contradiding what I have faid above. But as it is fhort, and is a fancy come into my head from hearing ftories in my childhood of Rob Roy, our Robin Hood of Scotland, I cannot find in my heart to blot it out, though, either on the ftage or in the clofet, I make any body welcome to do it for me by pafling it over. ( *» ) ally referring to the particular circ urn (lances under which it was written, ought not to be brought be- fore the public, but (when thofe circumftances are very extraordinary) as a literary 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 ftranger, I thought there was fuf. ficient matter in it, with fome alterations, to make an interefling 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- proaching to comic, my reader will readily believe it was fufficiently rugged and hobbling ; I have, therefore, taken the liberty of writing in plain profe all thofe parts where I thought blank verfe would be cumberfome and (lilted. The only fcenes in the play that remain exactly or nearly as they (lood in the original are, that between Rayner and the Old Man of the wood, in which I have fcarcely altered a Tingle word, and that, Ad 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, fugged to my readers certain fources from which he will fuppofe my ideas mult certainly have been taken. Will he give me perfect credit when I allure him, at the time this play was written, I had not only never read any 10 ( xi » ) German plays, but was even ignorant that fuch things as German plays of any reputation exifted? I hope -I am almoft bold enough to fay, I know that he will. And that I may not abufe his faith by fmug- gling any thing under its proteftion not flriclly en- titled to it, I muft inform him that the (hort fcene between Rayner and his fervant Herman, which I thought in fome degree necefTary to fhew the cha- racter and temper of the matter, and to intereft us in his favour before the great aftion of the piece begins, was entirely introduced in my later altera- tions, and is therefore liable to whatever charge of imitation it may feem to deferve, though I have not been fenfible, in writing it, of having any particular clafs of authors in my mind. Of the comedy that follows it I mail fay but little. To thofe who are chiefly accuftomed, in works of this kind, to admire quick turns of thought, pointed expremon, witty repartee, and the ludi- crous difplay of the tranfient palling follies and fafhions ot the world, this play will have but kw attradions. The reprefentation of a few charac- ters, not, I believe, « over-ftepping the modefly of nature," who are conneded together in a very Am- ple plot, carried on throughout with cheerfulnefs, unmixed with any pretenfions to great refinement of fentiment, or delicate ftrokes of tendernef*, is all this piece has to boaft of: and with no higher pre- tenfions, the greater proportion of my readers will not, letter myfelf, find fault with me for having made it a kind of divifion or fiepping.ftone between ( XIV ) the two tragedies ; where, if they do not enjoy a brilliant funfhine, they may at leaft 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 largeft theatre, enriched as it then was by two actors whofe no* ble appearance and ftrong powers of expreffion feemed to me peculiarly fuited to its two principal characters. The fubjecl of it is taken from Gib- bon's account of the fiege of Conftantinople by the Turks. It was a fubjecl: that preffed itfelf upon me, at a time when I had no thoughts of writing at all, and (if I may ufe the expreflion) would be written upon. The character there difplayed of Conftantine Paleologus, the laft of the Caefars, a modeft, affectionate, domeftic man ; nurfed in a lux- urious court in habits of indulgence and indolence ; without ambition, even without hope, roufing 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 fubjecls, fupported alone by a generous band, chiefly of ftrangers, devoting themfelves to him from generous attachment ;— -to fee him thus circumftanced, nobly fronting the ftorm, and perifhing as became the laft of a long line of kings, the laft of the Romans; — this was a view of man — of noble and dignified exertion which it was impoflible for me to refill, though well ( xv 1 aware that no play I am capable of writing can ever foe equal to what fuch a fubject deferves. So muck was I pleafed with thofe generous ties — may I be permitted to make ufe of a fcriptnre 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 object of the piece. But convinced that fomething more was requifite to intereft a common audience, and give foifficient variety to the fcenes, I introduced the cha- racter of Valeria, and brought forward the domeftic qualities of Conftantine as well as thofe of the un- fortunate prince and beloved leader. Mahomet and Juftiniani are the only characters in the piece, Conftantine ..excepted, that are not imaginary. The fir ft will be found, I hope, to correfpond with the character given of him by the hiftorian. To alter, for the idle convenience of poetry, confpicuous, or indeed any characters that have been known in the world, appears to me highly blameable, though in filling up an outline given us by hiftory we cannot well avoid heighten- ing or diminishing the general effect, juftiniani, if I well remember (for I have not the hiftory by ine at prefent to refer to), was a noble Genoefe, who, after a life diftinguifned for military honour, dik graced himfelf by being the firft to turn his back when the Turks attacked the breach on the day of the laft general afiauk, and was the immediate Cgufe of the city being taken. He is faid after- ( *vi ) 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 the reputation of a foldier. To him I have ventured to oppofe a mi- litary character of a very different defcription, in the commander of the Genoefe vefiels which fo gallantly forced their way into the port of Conftan- tinople during the liege; and if I have dwelt too much on the rough generous gallantry of a brave feaman, and given too many aliufions throughout the whole to the dangers and viciffitudes of a fea- faring life, my country, which has owed fo much to brave men of this clafs, will (land forth in my de- fence, and fay, that a Briton upon this fubjec~t writes proudly, and therefore is tempted to write pro- fufely. In the other imaginary characters, 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 Conftantinople then were, amongft them were ftill to be found the chief remains of ancient literature and refinement*. * The chara&er of Othoric, or rather the circumftance of his death, I have taken from an account I have read fome- where, I believe in one of Dr. Moore's Novels, of a High^ land fergeant, who faved himfelf by a fimilar ftratagem from the torments prepared for him by the American Indians. ( xvii ) Perhaps in the conduct of this tragedy I have fometimes weakened the interefl of it by attending too much to magnificence and mow* But it was intended for a large theatre, where a play is rather looked at than liftened to, and where, indeed, by a great proportion of the audience, it cannot be heard j and though I might now very eafily remove that fhow, yet to place in its ftead what it has molt probably kept back* would be almoft impoflible. For that which has probably been prevented by it, mould 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 actors 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 actors in the higheft line of tragedy, will eafily admit that I have not finned, without a llrong temptation. I hope alfo that this, (landing alone, as a fingle offence of the kind, amonglt a confi- uerable number of plays which, if I live long enough, my prefent talk will probably increafe to, may be forgiven. .; I am fenfible there is not that ftrength and com- pactnefs of plot ; that clofe connection of events producing one another in this play, which is a great perfection in every dramatic work, and which I am, forry to fay is a perfection that is not to be found a ( xviii ) in any work of mine that I have hitherto publiftied. However, I flatter myfelf I have in this inftance a good excufe to make. It appears to me that, in taking the fubjeft of a poem or play from real itory, we are not warranted, even by the prerogatives of bardfhip, to aflign 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 the 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 bruftiwood, and hang a few ftorm-ftunted oaks on its bare peaks; he may throw a thin covering of mift on fome un- toward line of its acclivity, and bring into ftronger light the bold floried towerings of its pillared cliffs; he may even ftretch the rainbow of heaven over its gigantic head, but its large and general form mull remain unaltered. To have made a romantic paffion 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 muft then have done what I confider as wrong. It would be impertinent to proceed farther in pointing out the meric, if it has any, or demerit of this tragedy, of which I cannot pretend to be a very clear-fighted or impartial judge. I leave it, with its; companions, to my reader, who will, I doubt pot, *3 ( xix ) perufe them all 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 the 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. RAYNER A TRAGEDY, IN FIVE ACTS. B PERSONS OF THE DRAMA. MEN: Rayner. Count Zaterloo, a worthlefs diffipated nobleman of ruined fortune, and chief of a band of lawlefi ruined men, like hjmfelf * > Gentlemen and followers of 'Zaterloo, Sebastian, J Hard ib rand, an old general. Mardonio, a monk. Old Man of the Wood. Ohio, a negro attached to the pr if on. Herman ,fervant to Rayner. Richard. Bertram. Gobas. Keeper of the Prifon, Clown, Executioners, Turnkey, Jailor, Meffenger, Landlord, Confeffor, Crowd, &c. j WOMEN: Elizabeth. Countess Zaterloo, mother to Zaterloo* Mir a, a courtezan. Alice, friend to Mira. Scene, — Germany, near the frontiers of Poland and Silefia. R A Y N E R ACT I. SCENE L A noife of voices and unruly merriment is heard, whilfi the curtain draws up y and dif- covers Count Zaterloo, Bernard, Sebaftian, and others of their band, feated round a table with wine, £sfc. » COUNT ZATERLOO. J-JA I ha ! ha ! ha ! with all this noify mirth, Should fome grave (hanger, on his way milled, Now pufh the door a-jar, and look upon us Thus fet, what clafs of men mould we be deem'd ? A fet of light hearts, fnug in fortune's lap, Who will not go to bed becaufe we may ? Or club of fharpers, flufh'd with full fuccefs, New from the fpoiling of fome fimple fool ? Or troop of (trolling 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 coft of lady's tears ? BERNARD. No, no, thou haft not hit upon it yet : He'd take thee for the heir of fome old mifer, B 2 4 RAYNER: Treating thy friends, as firfb fruits of thy kingdom, With flowing bumpers to the quiet reft Of thy good kinfman's foul, COUNT ZATERLOO. Ye?, Bernard, thou fay'ft: well : and thy dark vifage, Lank and unfuited to all mirth, would mark thee The undertaker, who amongfl: the guefts Had come on matters of his fable trade, Grinning a flrange, uncomely, jaw-bone fmile O'er the fair profpett of his future gains. SEBASTIAN. Methinks, at leaft, in this gay, jolly band, He fcarcely would difcover needy men, Who better days have feen. / COUNT ZATERLOO. Tut, man! thou art too grave; thou art too grave — Which of you fung that fong with merry lay Some few nights fince ? Come, let us have it now- SONG. Te who fain would happy be, Give the hand, and join with me : They who toil the weary day, They who bend with locks of grey, They who tread the beaten way, Fools who work that we may play> A TRAG ED Y. Fold their weary arms tofleep, Come, let us our vigil keep. Fellows, join, and never fear ; Te who would be happy, hear. With the fiber and the meek, Lighter flies the paffing week ? In his dwelling warm andfleek, Brighter fmiles the rich man's cheek ? Wifer things may wife men fay, But we are wiferfar than they. Come, light fpirits, light and free, Wifeft they whofoolifo be. He who hammers at the pot, He who frews for every fit, He who made my hofe and coat, Is a better man I wot ; Tet were we formed, events declare, He to work and I to wear. Miflrefs of the mifly fhroud, 0, lovely moon ! come from thy cloud. When thou oerloottfl the ocean's brine, Ourf elves we view in foods of wine. Our constancy refembles thine ; Like thee in borrowed robes wefhine ; Then let us, in thy kindred light, Still ivake, the rulers of the night. B 3 RAYNER COUNT 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 zaterloo (pretending not to hear J. Fill up your glafs, and let the flafk go round. BERNARD. What has become of Halbert, doft thou know? Count zaterloo (JIM pretending not to hear). This wine is richly flavour'd, is it not ? BERNARD. It is. — But Halbert j know ye aught of him ? COUNT ZATERLOO. The devil take thy queftion, afldng fpirit ! For when thou get'ft a notion by the fkirt, Thou, like an Englifh bull-dog, keep'ft thy hold, And wilt not let it go.-^ He (hot himfelf in prifon fome months fmce : Jtfow, there's thine anfwer for thee ; art thou fatis- fied? (A deep and long paufe ; then Zaterloo JiarU up as if he recollected fomethitig.) He will be with us ere I've pav'd his way. A TRAGEDY. 7 SEBASTIAN. — Haft thou fome new aiTociate 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 foftefl; witch'ries of refinement As e'er own'd cherifh'd heir of wide domains, In palace nurs'd. SEBASTIAN. I've feen him when a youth. But he fince then has of a foreign ftate The foldier been ; and had not now returned, But in the hope, 'tis laid, of being heir To his great uncle's vaft: and rich pofTeflions, 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 ftroke 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 betroih'd, with whom he thought to fhare B4 8 RAYNER: His promif'd wealth. But thefe things reft, — Thus driven as we are To this uncertain, daring courfe of life, The flronger and the more refpectable Qur 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 fellowfhip, £1111 rubs Againft my nature. Such a man as Rayner Is precious, and, once gain'd, is fure and fteadfaft. But few days fince 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 fhrinks the member newly torn, From every flighted touch. Seeing him thus, I mark'd him for my man, BERNARD. Did'ft thou accoft him ? COUNT ZATERLOO. Yes ; when to my greeting, which Jhe 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 haft fo often promis'd me: Ay and fo oft forgot, fo I muft call it, I would now fcorn, fince thou doft flight my love. COUNT ZATERLOO. Indeed, my Mira, thou {halt have that robe Before two days be pad : I fwear to thee. Then do not look fo frowningly, my love ; I know thou haft a foft relenting nature \ Smile my forgivenefs. MIRA. O thou provoking man 1 thou know'!!: 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'rv of thy tongue ; Yet thou wilt vex me thus, and break my heart. Oh ! 'tis too much ! (pretending to burjl into tears*) COUNT ZATERLOO. I cannot fee thee weep : what would'ft 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 ( aftde to Bernard^. Bernard, I think I muft e'en go with her. See thou to Rayner : I will foon return. (Aloud,) Then let us go, my love, thou doft com- pel me. Thy hand, fweet Mira. (Exeunt Zaterloo andMm.) BERNARD. Well, gentle friends, it is bleft liberty Our noble chief enjoys. I mud to Rayner. 26 RAYNER: Stay if you will, and keep ye merry here. fOmnes.J No, we are tir'd, we will retire to reft. (Exeunt. SCENE II. Rayner's Lodgings. Enter rayner alone. RAYNER. Be (till, ye idle thoughts that tofs me thus, Changing like reftlefs waves, but ever dark ; Or fome one of you o'er his fellows rife, And bear a fteady rule. Adverfity ! Thou'ft come upon me like an ambuftYd foe In armed ftrength. If I had mark'd thy courfe, I might have girt myfelf for thine approach, While diftant (till, and met thee like a man. But when new-fetter'd in a lover's bonds, And dazzled too with hope's deceitful brightnefs, Cam'ft thou like a thick cloud of defart fand, And in dark night o'erwhelm'd me : deepeft 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-betroth'd, the lover's fancy, Ye wove your fheeny maze of mingled thoughts, Like fparkling dew^webs in the early Sun ! {after apaufe.) Elizabeth ! methinks ev'n now I fee her, As in the horrors of my lalt night's dream, When, after following her thro' flood and fire, A TRAGEDY. 27 She turn'd to me, and her weak arms ftretch'd forth. But ah ! how changed, how pale, and fpent, and keen ! As if already blighting poverty, That portion which her love mud fhare with me, Had marr'd — ceafe, ceafe, bafe thought, it fhall not be! (Enter Herman with a knapfack on bis back, as if prepared for a journey*) What, my good Herman, art thou fo foon ready ? HERMAN. Yes, my dear mafter, 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 mould as foon have thought of deferting my friend (pardon my boldnefs, fir) in a wild wood amongft favages, as leaving you here in this ftrange place in the ftate you are in at prefent. Pardon my boldnefs, fir. 1 RAYNER. Thou haft no boldnefs to pardon, Herman : thou art well entitled to call thyfelf my friend ; there is not one amongft thofe who have borne that name, who would have done more for me than thou haft done. HERMAN. Ah fir ! rayner (affuming a look of cbeerfulnefs), Fy, do not look fo fadly upon me, man ; thanks ** RAYNER: A : to thy good nurfing and the good broth thou haft made me, I am getting ftrong again : and as for the ftate of my coffers, for which thou fo much con- cerned thyfelf, do not let that diflurb thee. My tide of means is, to be fure, pretty well ebb'd juft now; but fome wind or other will fpring up to fet it a flowing again. In the mean time thou knoweft I would travel alone : perhaps I may ramble about a little while myfterioufly, like the wandering Jew or fome of thofe lonely philofophers which thy old ftories tell thee about, and there is no knowing what I may find out to do me good. The philofo- pher's (tone, thou knoweft, may as well fall into my hands as thofe of any other wanderer, fo pray thee, man, dont look fo ruefully upon me. I ' HERMAN. Ah, my dear matter ! there is fomething here that hangs heavy on my heart, and fays, if I leave you now, fome evil will befal you : I befeech you let me {lay with you, I fhall find fomething to do in this town, and I can ►rfT RAYNER. ' -' &£ No, no, no ! Speak of this no more— we have argued this point already. And what is this which thou .putted: down fo flyly upon the table ? (taking up a little packet which Herman has put fecretly upon the table,) Ha ! the jewels I have given thee in room of thy wages ! out upon it ! thou wilt make me angry with thee now, and it grieves me to be angry A TRAGEDY. 29 with thee. Put it up, put it up : I command thee to do it ; and thou kaoweft I have not often ufed this (tern word* HERMAN. O no, fir ! You have not indeed ufed it ; and I (hall never meet with another matter like you, RAYNER. Thou wilt meet, I hope, my dear Herman, with a far better matter than I have been to thee, though not with one for whom thou wilt do fo much kindly fervice as thou haft done for me ; and for this caufe, perhaps, thou wilt not love him fo much. God profper thee for it, wherever thou goeft ! — lake this embrace and biefling for all thou haft done for me. Farewel ! farewel ! thou muft be gone now ; indeed thou muft. God blefs thee, mygood Herman. (Piifhing Herman gently off the Jiage, who wipes his eyes and fee ms unwilling to go. J Exit Herman.) • rayner (alone J. Now am I left alone : there's no one near me That e'er hath loved or cared for me. Methinks I now can better look i'th' furly face Mine alter'd ttate, and bear to be in want. I am alone, and I am glad of it. Alas ! chang'd heart of mine ! what is that ftate Which gives to thee^fuch thoughts ? — Elizabeth — At it again! This ftrong idea ttill ! 30 RAYNER: I am diftra&ed 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 laft night ; they've faftenM on me Fell thoughts, which, tho' I fpurn them, haunt me ftill. Would I had never met them I Here comes my landlord with his furly face Of debts and claims, and ev'ry irkfome thing. (Enter Landlord with a letter.) Good morrow, Landlord. LANDLORD. I thank you, fir ; I am glad to hear you call me Landlord, for I began to be afraid you had miftaken me for your Hoft. RAYNER. I underftand you well enough, and indeed I have proved your patience, or rather your impatience, much longer than I wifhed. You have a letter in your hand. LANDLORD (giving it)* There, Sir ; if it bring you the news of any good luck, I fhall be glad of it. ■ rayner (agitated). 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 whilfl thou art here. Have the goodnefs at leaft not to (land fo near me. LANDLORD. So I muft not occupy a place in my own houfe, forfooth, for fear of offending the good folks who do me the honour to live in it. (retires to the bottom of the f age muttering to himfelf.) rayner (after opening the letter with great emotion and reading it), O what is this ! Abandon'd by the friend with whom fhe hVd, And coming here to join me with all fpeed ! O God ! O God ! (finks down upon a chair in violent agitation.) Landlord, (running up to him). What is the matter now ? RAYNER. Beyone, begone ! I cannot anfwer thee. $z RAYNER: Enter count zaterloo. COUNT ZATERLOO. Ha, Rayner ! how is't with thee ? thou look'fl wildly. (To Landlord.) Speak to me, friend : he heeds not what I fay : Has any new misfortune happen'd to him ? LANDLORD.' I fear there has, fir. COUNT ZATERLOO. Roufe thee up, brave Rayner, A friend is come to thee. rayner (ftarting up). Ha, is it thee ? Com'ft thou upon me now, my tempter ? now, Ev'n in my very moment of diftraction ? Thou know'ft thy time : fome fiend has whifper'd to thee. Ay, ay ! fay what thou wilt. COUNT ZATERLOO. Thou'rt furely mad ; I came not, on my word, To fay aught to thee which an honeft ear Might not receive ; nor will I even fpeak, Since it fo moves thee — — i ATRAGEDY. 33 • /. 7 > r '^ rayner (interrupting him eagerly J. Ah, but thou mud ! Thou muft fpeak that, which, in its darkeft hour, Pufh'd to extremity, 'midlt ringing dizzinefs The ear of defperation doth receive, And I mud liften to it. COUNT ZATERLOO. What, fay'fl: thou fo? 'Tis well (afidej, but be more prudent, We are o'erheard. (looking fufpicioujly to Landlord> who has retired a few paces behind* J Come with me to my lodgings ; There wait my friends; all things (hall be concerted: Come with me inftantly j the time is precious. rayner (in a tone of de/pair, clafping his hands vehemently ) \ Ay, ay ! I'll go with thee. (Exeunt Count Zaterloo and Rayner: Manet Landlord. landlord (coming forward J . What's this I've overheard ? Is this devil now going to tempt the poor diftreffed young man to do fome foul deed in his neceflity ? — 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 flopping D 34 RAYNER: /hort.J No, no ! foftly 9 foftly ! I dare fay it is only fome (harping bufinefs they have got on hand, fuch as needy Gentlemen are fometimes forced to follow : f I have got my confcience newly cleared off at con- feffion laft week, and I am to make an offering next holy dry to the fhrine of our patron St. Bernard ; this is no time, goodfooth, to lofe fuch a fum upon fcruples. (Exit END OF THE FIR&T ACT. .Inolbnea obo3fij&; . a A TRAGEDY, 3* ACT II. SCENE I. A wood : dark nighty with a pale gleam of dijlant lightning feen once or twice on the edge of the horizon . Advancing by the bottom oftheflage, a few moving lights, as if from lanthorns y arefeen^ and at the fame time fever al fignal- calls and loud whifiles are heard, with the diflant anfwer returned to them from another part of the wood : Enter Count Zaterloo, Rayner, Sebaftian, and others of the band, armed, and a few of them bearing in their hands dark lanthorns. It is particularly requefied if this play Jhould ever be acled, that no light may; be permitted upon theflage but that which proceeds from the lanterns only. count zaterloo (to Sebaftian). They mud be near : didft thou not hear their call? <• ' SEBASTIAN. Methought I did ; but who in this wild wood May credit give to either eye or ear ? How oft we've been deceiv'd with our own voices, From rocky precipice or hollow cave, 'Midft the confufed found of ru filing leaves, And creaking boughs, and cries of nightly birds> Returning feeming anfwer ! COUNT ZATERLOO, Rayner, where ftandeft thou ? Da %, 3$ RAYNERj 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 : Didft thou not alfo hear them ? • RAYNER. I know not truly if I did. Around me, All Teems like the dark mingled mimicry O 'ev'rifli fieep ; in which the half-doubting mind, Wilder'd and weary, with a deep-drawn breath, Says taitfeif, " Shall I not wake ?" COUNT ZATERLOO. Fy, man ! Wilt thou not keep thy foldier's fpirit up ? To-morow's fun will be thy waking time, And thou wilt wake a rich man and a free. RAYNER. My waking time ! — no, no 1 I mud fleep on, And have no waking. COUNT ZATERLOO. Ha ! does thy mind mifgive thee on the brink ? RAYNER. What panes in my mind, to thee is nothing, A TRAGEDY. 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 &e. 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 (till fkipp'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 (till, as far as we have travers'd : No gleaming torch gives notice from afar, Nor trampling hoofs found on the diftant road. ! COUNT ZATERLOO. Then muft we take again our fev'ral routs, That haply we may learn, ere he approach, r>3 3 8 K A y N E R» What ftrength 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 fhorter compafs Attack them near the centre of the wood. SEBASTIAN. The night grows wond'rous dark : deep-fwelling gufts And fultry ftiUnefs take the rule by turn ; Whilft o'er our heads the black and heavy clouds Roil flowly on. This furely bodes a florm. 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, croffing our fortunes, BERNARD. Fear not ! For, be the tempeft of the devil's raifing, 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 1 Growl fky and earth and air, ne'er trouble ye ; They are fecure who have a friend at court. (Exeunt* j A TRAGEDY. 39 SCENE II. A different part of the wood, wild and favage : the Scene JIM darken 'd, and a Jiorm of thunder and lightning, accompanied with haiU Enter rayner. RAYNER. I know not where thefe men have fhelter'd them, I've mifs'd their fignal : this loud dunning din Devours all other founds. Where (hall I go ? Athwart this arch of deep embodied darknefs, Swift (hiv'ring lightnings glare, from end to end Mantling the welkin o'er in vivid flames j Or from aloft, like fheeted cataracls Of liquid fire, feem pour'd. Ev'n o'er ray head The foft and mifty-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'rng hail Beats on my (hrinking 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 befome lone dwelling in the wood. (Exiti SCENE III. The infide of a cave : an Old man difcoverd fitting by a fmall table ?nade of coarfe planks, with a lamp burning dimly upon it : the thunder heard Jlill very loud. OLD MAN. Doth angry heav'n flill roll its loudeft peal I>4 40 RAYNER; O'er th' unbleft head ? Ay, thro' its deaf 'ning roar I hear the blood-avenging Spirit's voice, And, as each furious turmoil fpendsits ftrength. Still founds u: on the far- receding florin Their diftant growl. 'Tis hell that fends irs fire and devils up To lord it in the air. The very wind, Rifing in fitful eddies, horribly founds, Like burfts of damn'd howlings from beneath. Is this a ftorm of nature's elements ? • O, no, no, no! the blood-avenging fpirits Ride on the madding clouds : there is no place, Not in the wildeft den, wherein may reft The unbleft head. (Knocking heard without.) > Ha ! knocking at my door ! (Paufes and lift ens much alarmed: knocking heard ftill 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, i « 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. A TRAGE DY. 41 RAYNER (without). I do not afk admittance as a gueft, Would'ft thou not fave a creature from deftru&ion, Ev'n a dumb animal ? unbar the door, And let me lay my body under (helter. (Old Man makes 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 fhut a flranger out to the rude night. I would, fo circumftancecj, have ftelter'4 thee, OLD MAN. He tries to move me with a foothing voice. (Afide.) ' (Aloud,) Thou art a knave 5 I will not let thee in. RAYNER (without). Belike I am, yet do not fear my wiles : All men are honeft in a night like this. OLD MAN, Then I will let thee in, whoe'er thou art : Thou haft fome fenfe, fhouldft thou lack bette r things. (He unbars a /mall door, and Rayney enters much ruffled and exbaujied by the Jlorm, and without his hat*) RAYNER, Vm. much beholden to thee. 4 2 XAYNER: OLD MAN. No, 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 lofing 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 ventur'd onwards. (Old Man, offering him bread and dry ed fruits.) OLD MAN. Perhaps thou'rt hungry. RAYNER. I thank you gratefully. OLD MAN. There is no need* Fail to, if thou haft any mind to it. RAYNER. I thank you truly, but I am not hungry. OLD MAN. Perhaps thou'rt dainty : IVe naught elfe to gite ihee. A T R A G E D Y. 45 RAYNER. I fhould defpife myfelf, if any food Could bear fuch value in my eftimation, As that it fhould to me a ftraw's worth feem, To feed on homelieft, or on richeft fare. OLD MAN. So much the better. (They Jit 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 Jlernly at Rayner, who looks fixedly upon him again, and both remain for fome time filent.) OLD MAN. Why look'ft thou fo \ What is there in my face that thou would'ft fcan? I'm old and live alone : what would'ft thou know ? RAYNER. I crave your pardon, and reprefs all wifhes That may dilturb you* OLD MAN. The night wears on, let us both go to reft. RAYNER. I thank you, for in truth I'm Yery tir'd. 4* RAYNER: old man (pointing to bis couch)* 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, which he wraps about him, laying himfelf down in a corner of the cave. The Jiorm now heard at a diftance. After walking up and down for feme time, the Old Man goes clofe up to Rayner, who appears afleep> and looks ear- nejlly upon him; Rayner opening his eyes feems furprifed.) OLD MAN, Be not afraid, I will not cut thy throat. rayner (far ting half up from the ground). Nay, heaven fuch deed forfend ! I fear thee not : I can defend myfelf. (Grafping his fword.) OLD MAN. Be not offended ; but methought thy looks Didfeem 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 reft again, ftill keeping his drawn fivord in his hand. The Old Man goes to rejl likewfe, but jhortly after Jlarts from his couch in great agitation.) ATRAGEDY. 45 OLD MAN. It is mine hour of horror : 'tis upon me ! I hear th'approaching found of feet unearthly : I feel the pent-up vapour's chilly breath Burft from the yawning vauk :— It is at hand. ( Turning towards the door as if he f aw fame one enter,) Ha ! com'ft thou ftill in white and (heeted 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 doft thou want? If thou haft power, as feeming, Stretch forth thine arm and take my life ; then free From flefhy fears, in nature as thyfelf, III 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 meeting frightful and unhallow'd. (In the vehemence of his agitation he throws out his arm and Jirikes it againfi Rayner, who alarmed at his ravings has left his re/ling-place 9 and flolen foftly behind him.) Ha 1 what art thou? (ftarting and turning round to Rayner.) _ RAYNER. Nay, thou with briftling locks, loofe knocking joints 4« R A Y N E R i And fixed eyeballs flarting in their fockets* Who fpeak'ft thus wildly to the vacant fpace, Say rather, what art thou. OLD MAN, I am a murderer. (Rayner^r/j Back from him and drops his /word. J Ah ! wherefore dofl thou flare fo flrangely on me? There's no blood on me now ! 'tis long fince paft. Haft thou thyfeif no crime, that thus from me Thou doit in horror fhrink ? RAYNER. Mod miferable man ! OLD MAN. Thou truly fay'il, for 1 am moft miferable. RAYNER. And what am I ? (After a difturbedpaufe.) The Itorm did rage and bellow thro* the air, And the red lightning fhiver'd : No traveller would venture on his way In fuch a night. — O, blerTed, blefTed florin ! For yet it hath not been, and (hall be never. Mod great and Merciful ! fav'd from this gulf, May I to thee look up ? — No : in the dufl — (As he bows himfelf to the earthy and is about to kneels the report off re arms is heard without, and he ft arts up again.) 'Tis done! — O, it is done !— the horrible act! (Exit, beating his forehead violently. J A TRAGEDY. tf OLD MAN. r J What may this be ? fome band of nightly robbers Is near my cave, committing violent deeds. Thy light, weak flame, (hall not again betray me, And lure unwelcome vlfitors. (Puts out the lamp ; and after a dark paufe, enter Count Zaterloo fupporting himfelf on Firft Gentleman, who bears a dark lantern , which he fets down on the ground^ and fqftens the door of the -cave carefully behind them* J COUNT ZATERLOO. I am wounded grievoufly : who would have thought Of fuch a powerful guard of armed men Attending on his journey. He is flain : Did'ft thou not fee him tall? FIRST GENTLEMAN. Yes ; we have kill'd our bird, but loft the egg% 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 poffeffion (dif covering Old Man.) f m Something living here! What art thou ? • OLD MAN. I am a thing no better than yourfelves* 4* RAYNER: . FIRST GENTLEMAN. The better then for thee that thou art fo» COUNT ZATERLOO. Conduct 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 mult, 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- iance, 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 fiage otherwife nerfetlly dark. Enter gob us on the front ofthejlage. GOBUS. I fear they will all efcape from us amongft thefe 'tangled paths and vile perplexing thickets. A man cannot get on half a dozen of 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 thorn- bum or a briar after all. A plague upon't ! I'll run no more after them if they mould 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 ftart of us now, and we can fcarcely ex- pert they will have the civility to wait till we come up with them. COMPANION. Ay, Ay, Gobus, that is a lazy man's argument. Why, there was one of them feen by Bertram not five minutes fince, 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 $4 R A Y N.E R: his companions notice, and they will run to his afliftance. gobus. Well, well, let them manage it the bed way they can, and let us join our friends yonder, who keep watch "by the body ; there is good ftore of dried flicks in that corner, we may make a fire and warm ourfelves till they return. (Horn heard without.) • COMPANION. Ha ! there is the fignal, and dofe at hand too. He has caught his man and wants afliftance ; let us run to him, or the villain will efcape. (Exeunt Companion and Gobus, who follows rather unwillingly, whiljl the men who were watching the body run eagerly to the front of J J 6 'J FIRST MAN. It founded to the right hand of us ; ' let us ftrike into this path, (Horn founds again. J . SECOND MAN. Ay, there it founds again ; it is to this hand of us, but it is fo dark there is no finding our way. FIRST MAN. We bave been fo long by the torch-light that the darknefs is darker to us: run back and A TRAGEDY. S l fetch the light with thee. (Several other attend- ants from different parts of the wood run acrofs the ft age, calling to one another with great eagernefs, whilfi the Second Man running back again to the bottom of the jlage, fnatches the torch from the tree, and comes forward with it, • Enter Bertram, Gobus, and others, with Rayner as their prif oner. J gobus (fpeaking as they enter). Here is light ! here is light, friends ! bring him near it, 1 pray you, that we m3y fee what kind of a fifh we have caught in our net. Ay, juft as I faid now, as hang'd a looking villain as ever fcowl'd thro' the grates of a dungeon. See what 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 fader 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 nrft. 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 finner he'll get one of his hands loofe if we do not take care of him. (Attempting to tighten the cords round Rayner \f arms,) E 2 52 RAYNER: Bertram (putting him away with indignation). For fhame, man, he is bound tight enough ; 1 will not fuffer thee to lay a finger upon him : and as for the hang'd face thou talk'ft of, alack a day ! it goes to my heart to fee him, fuch a goodly-look- ing gentleman, for fuch I'll be fvvorn he is. GOBUS. Ay, no doubt ! it is ever thus with thee. Thou did'fl never in thy life fee a thief go to the gal- lows without crying out, " alack a day ! what a fine looking fellow it is !" Ay, and if he could but make fhift to howl out half a verfe of a pfalm along with his father confeffor, thou wert fure to knotch him down upon thy holiday tables as one of the hew 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 away J, and do not flare thus upon the prifoner ! art thou not afham'd to flare in an unhappy man's face after this fafhion ? we don't know what hard fate may have brought him into thefe circumflances (to the attendants). Move on : fre are lbfmg time here. ATRAGEDY. . . 5 3 GOBUS. What, will you not pinion him more clofely ? BERTRAM. No, beaft ! I would rather flea the fkin off that fool's back of thine than gall a hair's breadth of his body (in a foftened voice to Rayner). Speak, Sir, if the- rope hurts your arms ; we will not ufe you cruelly. RAYNER. What did'ft thou fay to me ? was there kindnefe in 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'fl get it, for my mouth is very parched. BERTRAM. Yes, Sir, that you fhall not want, tho' I mould pay gold for it. — Move on, comrades : the night is far advanced, and we muft guard the dead body of our matter and the prifoner back to the city before the morning break. (Exeunt. J END OF THE SECOND ACT. E3 54 R A Y N E R : ACT IIL Afpaaom court with -a magnificent building in front i a great concourfe of people are difcovered as if waiting in expeclation of fome fight. FIRST CROWD. jTh£ 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 ftay'd fo long for it. SECOND CROWD. I fear it will go hard with the young man, THIRD CROWD. I fear it will, poor gentleman ! WOMAN CROWD. Ah ! poor young man ! it is an awful end. SECOND CROWD. Ay, I remember well the lad criminal that was condemned here ; a ftrong-built man he was, tho* fomewhat up in years. O, how pale be look'd as they led him out from court ! I think I flood upon this very fpot as he paged by me \ and the fixed A TRAGEDY. *$ flrong 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 laft look of the day-light, and all the living creatures about him. SECOND CROWD. Ay, man, that a human creature mould be thus thruft out of the world by human creatures like himfelf; it is a piteous thing ! (Enter a man from the court.) omnes (eagerly J. What news ? what news of the prifoner ? MAN. - He has juft finifhed his defence, in which he has acquitted himfelffo 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 mould not have expected this now $ fpoke fo nobly fay 'ft thou ? first crowd. Yes, yes, noble blood makes noble fpeaking, E4 $6 RAYNER: Woman crowd. Well, and is it not beft fo ? poor young man ! I'm 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 fhan't fee him pafs by with the chains upon his legs. FIRST CROWD. No, no ! nor nothing at all. , Come let me pafs, I have been too long here. (Pr 'effing 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 ouc of people's way then ! WOMAN CROWD. Plague take it ! what had we all to do to come here like fo many fools ! (Enter afecond Man from the court.) SECOND CROWD. Here comes another man from the court (calling to the man)* Ho, friend ! is he acquitted yet ? A TRAGEDY. 57 SECOND MAN. No, nor like to be; the judge is juft about to pronounce fentence upon him, but fomething came fo cold over my heart I could not flay to hear it. (Several of the mob climb eagerly up upon the walls of the buildings and look in at the win* dows.J crowd ("below)* What do you fee there, firs ! crowd (above). The judge is juft rifen from his feat, and the black fignal is lifted up. OMNES, JIufh ! hum ! and let us liften ! ( A deep paufe.) crowd (above). Sentence is pad now. crowd (below), Qod have mercy on him ! third crowd, I would not wear my head upon his fhoulders for all the prince's coffers, / FIRST CROWD, Alas ! poor man 1 he is but a youth, 5* RAYNER: ' SECOND CROWD. Tet he mull be cut off in the flower of his days, FIRST CROWD. It is an awful thing ! WOMAN 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 Wangled amidft the preff- mg 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 making way for her, ELIZABETH. I'm much obliged to you. RICHARD. We thank you, good Sirs! My miftrefs and I are both ftrangers in this town, and the nearefl way to your bed 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. What is the meaning of this eager multitude, So gather'd round the entry to this palace ? THIRD CROWD- It is no palace, madam, but a public court: there is a gentleman of noble birth who is juft now con- demned to death for murder, and we are waiting to fee him led forth from his trial ; you had better (lop a little while and fee the fight too. ELIZABETH. O, no ! I'm come here in an evil hour ! — A gentleman of noble birth — Alas ! but that the crime is murder 'twere molt piteous. omnes (eagerly J. There he comes ! fee, fee ! there he comes ! Enter Rayner, fettered and guarded from the court 9 followed by Bertram and others, and advances Jlowly towards the front of the ftage, the crowd opening and making a lane for him on every fide. FIRST CROWD. What a noble gait he has even in his fhackles ! SECOND CR?OWD. Oh ! oh 1 that fuch a man fhould come to this ! Elizabeth (after gazing eagerly at the diftant pri- J oner J. Merciful-fceaven! the form has ftrongrefemblance. 6p RAYNER: — > RICHARD. Sweet miftrefs, be not terrified with forms ; *Tis but a diftant form, ELIZABETH. Ha ! then it flrikes thee too I— Merciful God ! RICHARD. Patience, dear madam ! now as he advances, We (hall be certified of the deception. Rayner is not fo tall as this young man, Nor of a make fo {lender ; no, nor yet » ELIZABETH. Peace, peace ! for he advances. (Watching the prifoner as he advances with a countenance of diflracled eagernefs, till he comes near her ; then, uttering a loud Jhriek, falls down, and is fupported by Richard and fever al of the crowd.) officer (conducing Rayner). What fainting maid is this obftructs the way ? Let not the crowd fo clofely prefs around her. Open the way, and let the pris'ner pafs. rayner (upon the crowd opening and dij covering Elizabeth). O, fight of mifery I my Elizabeth ! The lafl and felled flroke of angry heaven Falls on this curfed head. A TRAGEDY. «i OFFICER. What may this mean ? let us pafs on: we flop not Whate'er 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. (Bending over Elizabeth.) Thou loveliefl, and thou deared ! O thou part Of my mod inmoft felf ! art thou thus ftricken? Falls this ftroke on thee ? (Kneeling down and en- deavouring tofupport her } but finding him/elf prevented by his chain.) Is there not ftrength in the foul's agony - To burfl: e'en bands of iron. (Trying furioufly to burji his fetter s y but cannot j then with afub* 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 (hangers' hands Whiiit I am thus— O, do not let it be ! OFFICER. No, no i move on : it cannot be permitted. Gz RAYNER: rayner (fiercely roufect) . What, fay'fl thou fo ? . (Turning -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 vou ! VOICES FROM THE CROWD. Fie, on't ! unbind his hands, unbind his hands, And we will Hand his fureties. Bertram (Jiepping forward in a fupplicating pofttire to the officer) . Do but unbind his hands a little fpace, And fhoot me thro' the head if he efc'ape. My arm fecured him ; be my recompenfe 1'his one requeft. officer (to Bertram). Go to ; thou art a brave man but a weak one. (To the guard) Move on ; we halt no longer. CROWD. By all good faints we Hand by the brave Bertram, And he {hall be unftuckled. (Menacingly.) officer. Soldiers, prefent your muikets to thefe madmen, And let them fpeak ; the pris'rier halts no longer ; Move on. (A tumult between the crowd and the guards and Rayner is forced off the Jiage by • thefoldiers.) A TRAGEDY, €% FIRST CROWD. Shame light on fuch hard-hearted cruelty ! SECOND CROWD. If there had been but fix of us with arms in our hands he durft not have put this affront upon us. THIRD CROWD. But who looks to the lady ? She is amongd Grangers it feems, and has only this poor old man to take care of her. OMNES. We will take care of her then; we will take care of her : ay, and (he mall be waited upon like an emprefc. SECOND CROWD. Ay, fo fhe mall, let the coft be what it will. I am only a poor cobler, God knows, yet I will pawn the laft awl in my flail but me (hall be waited upon like an emprefs, See ! fee I fhe begins to revive again. Elizabeth (opening her eyes with a heavy figh). Is it all vanifh'd ? 'twas a dreadful vifion ! (Looking on the crowd around her.) O, no ! the crowd is here (lill — it is real ; And he is led away — horrible ! horrible ! (faints again , and is carried off the Jlage by Richard and the crowd.) «4 RAVNER: SCENE II. A fqiiare court L fur rounded on all fides by the gloomy walls of a prifon, the windozvs of which are narrow and grated y and the heads of one or two of the pr if oners fee n looking ruefully through the grates. ITwfcr Hardibr and, and looks round him for fome time without f peaking* HARDIfcRAND. Gloomy enough, gloomy enough in faith ! Ah ! 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 muiky 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^ erod- ing the ft age.) Holla, my friend ! I pray thee not fo fafl ; Inform me, if thou'eanft, where I may find The keeper of the prifon. OHIO. Know you what prince you fpeak to ? faucy knave ! I'll have thee fcorch'd, and flead, and piece-meal torn, If thou doll call me friend/ HARDIBRAND. - Good words at lead ; I meant thee no ofFenee* I fee thou haft a tankard in thy hand, A TRAGEDY. 65 And will not queftion thy high dignity. Softly , 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 mud knock to find out the chief jailor. Thou look'ft like fome fetch-carry to the prifoners 9 Doft underftand me ? OHIO. Ay, there's the place, go knock at yonder door# HA R d ib r. an d (after knocking) . This door is clofe nail'd up, and cannot open. Ohio (grinning malicioujly, 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,) Knock a little louder. hardibrand ( 'after knocking fome time)* A plague upon't ! there is no one within. F 66 &AYNER: ohio (JIM grinning maUciouJly). No, thou art wrong again, it is not there j It is that door upon the other fide* (Pointing to the oppofzte wall) ( HARDIBRAND. What, doft thou jeft with me, malicious varlet ? I'll beat thee if thou telPft me falfe again* otiio. Negfoes be very ftupid, matter friend* Enter 4he Keeper of the Prifon. KEEPER (to Ohio). Thou canker-worm! thou black-en venom'd toad ! Art thou a playing thy malicious tricks ? Get from my fight, thou pitchy viper, go ! (Exit Ohio.) HARDfBRAttD. What black thing is it ? it appears, methinks, Not worth thine anger. KEEPER. That man, may't pleafe you, Sir, was born a prince* HARlMBRAND. I do not catch, thy jeft. A TRAGEDY. 67 KEEPER. I do not jeft, I fpeak in fober earneft ; tie is an Afric prince of royal line. HARDIBRAND. What fay'ft thou ! that poor wretch who fneaketh yonder Upon thofe two black fhanks ? (Pointing of the Jiage.J KEEPER. ■ Yes, even he : When but a youth, (torn from his noble parents, He for a flave was fold, and many hardfliips By fea and land hath pafs'd. HARDIBRAND; And now to be the bafe thing that he is I Well, well, proceed. KEEPER. At laft a furly mafter brought him here, "Who, thinking htm unfit for further fervice, As then a feft'ring wound wore hard upon him, With but a fcanty fum to bury him, Left him with me. He, ne'erthelefs, recover'd ; And tho' full proud and fullen at the firft, Tam'd by the love of wine which flrongly tempts* him, He by degrees forgot his princely pride, Fa 68 RAYNERt And has been long eftablifhed in thefc 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 fufferings and dangers paft, which makes The meaneft man ennobled : yet behold him ; (Pointing offthejiage.j 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 way. KEEPER. You are a noble ft ranger, as I guefs, And wifh to be conducted thro' the prifon. It is an ancient building of great ftrength. And many ftrangers 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 ! refpe&able, Though not what it has been in better days. A TRAGEDY. 69 HARDIBRAND. In better days ! — Well, do thou lead the way. (As they are about to go off thejiage, they are flopped by a voice finging from one of the high eft windows.) SONG. Sweetly dawns the early day 9 Rife, my love, and come away : Leave thy grim and grated tower , Bounding walls, and fiep-dame* s lower ; 'Don thy weeds and come with me. Light and happy are the free. No fair manfton hails me lord 9 Dainties f moke not on my board ; Tet full carelefs by my fide, Shalt thou range the for eft wide \ Tho' fiier far the rich may be 9 Light and happy are the free. HARDIBRAND. Alas, poor foul ! I would that thotf wert free ! What weary thrall is this that fings fo fweetly ? KEEPER. A reftlefs, daring outlaw ; A fellow who hath aw'd the country round, And levied contributions like a king, F3 7© RAYNER: To feaft his jolly mates in wood and wild ; Yea, been the very arbiter of fortune, And as his freakifli humors bit, hath lifted At one broad fweep the churl's fav'd gear ta leave it In the poor lab'rer's cot, whofe hard-worn palm Had never chuck'd a ducat 'gainft its fellow. HARDIBRAND. 'Tis a brave heart ! has he been long confined I But lift ! he fings again. SONG. Light on the hanging bough wellfwing^ Or range the thicket cool y Or Jit upon the bank andflng, Or bathe us in the pool, HARDIBRAND. Poor pent up wretch ! thy foul roves far from home. SONG. Well* good-man time, or blunt or keen y Move thee flow or take thy leifure y Longeji day will bring its e'en. Weary lives but run a meafure. HARD'BRAND. *Tis even fo, brave heart, or blunt or keen., Thy meafure has its flint. A TRAGEDY. 7* Enter Bertram from one of the doors oftheprifon. I think thou haft the air of an old foldier : (To Bertram as he is hurrying pafi him.) Such, without greeting, never pafs me by. Ha, Bertram I 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 ; 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 condemn'd to die. HARDIBRAND, A noble youth ! *4 ll RAYNEtt: BERTRAM. Yea, and a foldier too. HARDIBRAND. A foldier ! BERTRAM. Ay, your honour, and the Son Of a moft gallant foldier. HARDIBRAND. But he is innocent ? BERTRAM. He is condemn'd. HARDIBRAND, Shame on it ! were he twenty times condemn'd, He's innocent as are thefe filver'd locks. (Laying his hand vehemently on his head.) What is his name ? BERTRAM. Rayner. HARDIBRAND. Ha ! fon to my old comrade, Rayner ! Out on the fools"! I would as foon believe That this right hand of mine had pilfer'd gold ATRAGEDY. 73 As Rayner's fori have done a deed of fhame. Come, lead me back with thee, for I muft fee him. 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 moft dear to him. But an hour hence I will conduct you to his cell. 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- fed up in cloaks and their faces conceal' d.) m r r a (flopping Alice). Nay, glide not paft me thus with muffled face : *Tis I, a vifitor 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 tranfa&ion, for the which he's bound ? 74 RAYNER: ALICE. He is but half perfuaded ; go thyfelf And ufe thy arts — hum, here's a flranger near us. Enter a Man who gives a Utter myjlerioujly t§ Mira, and upon her making aftgn to him, re- tires to the bottom of the ft age whilft Jhe reads it. What read 'ft thou there, I pray thee, that thy brows Knit thus ungracioufly at ev'ry line ? MIRA. Know'ft thou that I muft doff my filken robes, Delpoil my hair of its fair ornaments. And clofhe me in a govfn of palmer's grey, With clouted (hoon and pilgrim's ftaff 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 requeft : •1 pray thee read it. alice ( reading the letter), " A deadly wound rankles in my fide, and I have no fkilful 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 haft 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 fhould difcover where ATRAGEDY. 75 I am. A friend in difguife will give into thy hands this letter, and conduct thee to thy miferable Zaterloo." (returning the letter.) And what fay 'ft thou to this ? MIRA. I have in truth, upon my hands already Troubles enough ; this is, thou know'ft, no time To take upon me ruin'd men's diftrefles. -.* ALICE. But 'tis thyfelf haft brought this ruin on him : 'Twas thy extravagance. MIRA. Thou art a fool ! His life's a forfeit to the law : 'tis time, , Good time, in faith ! I mould have done with him. Why doft thou bend the and gazing upon Rayner, who 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 be feem'd. A clown or child Had fworn him fuch clad in a woollen rug. (Advancing to Rayner.) Young foldier, I did know your gallant father j Regard me not as an intruding ftranger. RAYNER. I thank you, courteous fir : in other days Such greeting to my heart had been raoft welcome, 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 you as one who had no fon. A TRAGEDY, 83 HARDIBRAND; No, boy ; that fentiment befpeaks thy blood. Heed not thofe fetter'd hands : look in my face, Look in my face with the fall confidence Of a brave man 5 for fuch I'll fvvear thou art; Think'ft 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 fhould have curs'd thee. Thou by mis'ry prefs'd, Haft ftrongly tempted been, I know thy (lory : Bertram has told it me : and fpite of courts, And black-rob'd judges, laws, and learn'd decifions^ I do believe it as I do my creed. Shame on them ! is all favour and refpect 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 aftes' ears were nail'd ! Think they that men* Brave men, for thou thyfelf — What corps I pray thee Didft thou belong to in thy Prince's fervice ? RAYNER; The nrft divifion of his fourth brigade i Was that in which I ferv'd. G2 H RAYNERi HARDIBRAND. Thou haft companion been to no mean men. Thofe fix brave officers of that divifion, Who on the fam'd redoubt, in his lafl fiege, Did in the teeth o' th* en'my's fierceft fire Their daring lodgement make, muft needs of courfe Be known to thee. RAYNER. I knew them well j five of them were my friends. I HARDIBRAND. And not the fixth ? RAYNER. He was, alas ! my greateft enemy ; To him I owe thefe bonds. HARDIBRAND. A curfe light on his head, brave tho* he be ! RAYNER. O curfe him not, for woes enough already Reft on his wretched head. (Bowing low and putting his hand on his head.) - HARDIBRAND. Ha ! thou thyfelf,— thou wert thyfelf the fixth ! Thank heav'n for this ! Then let them if they will Upon a thoufand fcaffolds take thy life, ATRAGEDY. 85 And fpike thy head a thoufand feet aloft ; Still will I fay thy father had a fon. (Riifhing into his arms.) Come to my foldier's heart, thou noble bird Of a brave neft !— Mud thou indeed be pluck'd And caft to kites \ By heav'n thou fhalt not die ! Shall fuch a man as thou art from his poll Be (ham'd and pufh'd for one rafli defp'rate aft ? It (hall not be, my child ! it mall not be ! rayner (fmiling). In faith, good Gen'ral, could your zeal prevent it,, I am not yet fo tir'd of this bad world, But I could well fubmit me to the change. HARDIBRAND. I'll 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, with fuch poor cant. (Elizabeth, who has been behind backs, liftening eagerly to their converfation, and ftealing nearer to them by degrees in her eagernefs to hear it, now rujhes forward^ and throws her- f elf at Hardibrand'jjfo/. j ELIZABETH. We aflc not liberty ; we afk but life. O grant us this, and keep us where they will, Or as they will. We fhall do no difquiet. O let them grant us life, and we will blefs them ! g 3 86 t RAYNER: 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 notl cheer thee ? Wculd'ft thou be lonely then ? would'ft thou be fad? I'd clear away the dark unwholefome air, And make a little parlour of thy cell. With cheerful labour eke our little means, And go abroad at times to fetch thee in The news and pafling (lories of the day. I'd read thee books : Pd fit and fing 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 lowed plight Few years to fpend upon a weary couch With fcarce a friend their fickly draughts to mingle ! And doit thou grudge to fpend thy life with me ? RAYNER. | could live with thee in a pitchy mine ; A TRAGEDY. 87 In the cleft crevice of a favage den, Where coils the make, and bats and owlets rood, And cheerful light of day no entrance finds. But would'ft thou have me live degraded alfo j Humbled and low ? No, liberty or nought Muft be our boon. HARDIBRAND. And thou (halt 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 (loop to halving it ! (Taking her 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 fomenew misfortune on thy head. (Endeavouring 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. HARDIBRAND. Yes, come, and Bertram here will guide our way: His heart is in the caufe. G 4 &8 RAYNER: Bertram. Yes heart and foul, my Gen'ral. Would my zeal Could now make fome amends for what thofe hands Againfl: him have unwittingly committed. O that the felleft pains had flirunk their nerves Ere I had feiz'd upon him ! RAYNER. Ceafe, good Bertram ! Ceafe to upbraid thyfelf. Thou did ft 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 fullen (late, firft fhew me kindnefs. (Bertram kijjes his hand,} Go go ! they wait for thee. BERTRAM. They mall not wait. Would that we were return'd, Bearing good tidings ! i HARDI3RAND. O fear it not, my heart fays that we fhall. (Exeunt Elizabeth, Hardibrand and Bertram. Manent Rayner and Mardonio.) MARDONIO. ( Hope off, my fon, unbraces the girt mind, A TRAGEDY, 89 And to the conflict turns it loofely forth, Weak and divided. I'm difturb'd for thee. , RAYNER. I thank thee, Father, but the crime of blood Your governor hath ne'er yet pardon'd ; therefore Be not difturb'd for me ; my hopes are fmall. mardonio. So much the better. Now to pious thoughts We will direct — Who comes to interrupt us ? Enter the Turnkey. RAYNER. It is the turnkey ; a poor man who, tho" His ftate in life favours not the kind growth Of foft affections, has (hewn kindnefs to me. He wears upon his face the aukwardnefs And hefitating look of one who comes To aik fome favour ; fend him not away. (To Turnkey) What doft thou want, good friend ? out with it, man ! We are not very flern. TURNKEY. Pleafe you, it has to me long been a priv'lege To (hew the curious peafantry and boors, Who from the country flock o' holy days, Thro' his ftrait prifon bars, the famous robber, That over-head is cell'd ; and now a company Waits here without to fee him, but he's fullen, And will not fhew himfelf . If it might pleafe you CjO RAYNERr 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 dern eye, That would be better dill. rayner (laughing). Ha ! ha ! ha ! what fay ye to it, Father ? {Laughing again more violently than at Jirjl.) mardonio (turning out the Turnkey in a pajfion, and returning Jlernly to Rayner). What means this wild and mod unnatural mirth ? This lightnefs of the foul, drange and unfuked To thy unhappy date? 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 lighted foul Is call'd on to look inward on itfelf In awful ferioufnefs, * RAYNER. Thou dod me wrong \ indeed thou dod me wrong. I laugh'd, but, faith ! I am not light of foul : And he who mod misfortune's fcourge hath felt "Will tell thee laughter is the child of mis'ry. Ere fin brought wretchednefs into the world, The fobernefs of undidurbed blif§ A TRAGEDY. 9 l Held even empire o'er the minds of men, Like fteady funfhine of a cloudlefs fky. But when (he came, then came the roaring ftorm, Lowering and dark; wild, changeful, and perturb'd; Whilft thro' the rent clouds oft times (hot the gleam More bright and powerful for the gloom around it. E'en midft the favage ftrife of waring paflions, Diftorted and fantaltic, 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 I am not light of foul. Death is to me an awful thing ; nay, Father, I fear to die. And were it in my power, By fuffering of the keened racking pains, To keep upon me ftill thefe weeds of nature, I could fuch things endure, that thou would'fl marvel, And crofs thyfelf to fee fuch coward- bravery. For oh ! it goes againft 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 breaft, my fon ! thou haft fubdued me. (Embracing him.) And now we will lift up our thoughts to him "V^ho hath in mercy faved thy hands from blood. 9* R A Y N £ Ri RAYNER. Yes, in great mercy, for the which I'd bow In truer thankfulnefs, my good Mardonio, Ev'n with thefe fears of nature on my mind, Than for the bleffing of my fpared life, Were it now prorTer'd me. (The j retire info the obfcurity of the dungeon, at the bottom of the Jlage, and the Scene clofes. on them.) SCENE II. A f mall apartment in afolitary cottage in the country : Enter Count Zaterloo, fupported by an attendant and followed by the Countefs in the difguife of a Pilgrim ; both of them wearing mafis* She places a pillow for his head on a couch or Jick chair, and he is placed upon it, apparently with pain. countess 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 affiftance : Thou wilt retire, but be upon the watch. (Exit Attendant. count zaterloo (unmafking). Now, charming Mira, lay difguife afide ; ATRAGEDY. 93 Speak thine own natural voice, and be thyfelf : There is no eye to look upon us now ; No more excufe for this myfterioufnefs. Let me now look upon thy face and blefs it ! Thou haft done well by me : thou'rt wond'rous gentle. I knew thee fair and charming, but I knew not Thou wert of fuch a foft and kindly nature. (The Countefs unma/ks and looks at himforrowfully.) Ha, mother ! is it you ? COUNTESS ZATERLOO. Who mould it be ? where fhoukTft thou look for kindnefs ? When we are fick where can we turn for fuccour j When we are wretched where can we complain ; And when the world looks cold and furly on us, Where can we go to meet a warmer eye With fuch fure confidence as to a mother ? The world may fcowl, acquaintance may forfake, Friends may neglecl, and lovers know a change, But when a mother doth forfake her child, Men lift their hands and cry, " a prodigy !" count ZATERLOO (faking bold of both her hands and kijfing them), O mother ! I have been a thanklefs child ! I've given thee hoary hairs before thy time ; And added weight to thy declining years. Who (hould have been their ftay. 94 R A Y N E k : 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 tic 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 mod: devoted* O I have vilely done ! I feel it now ; But if I live to be a man again, I'll prove a better fon to thee, dear mother. COUNTESS ZATERLOO. I know thou wilt, my deareft Zaterloo ; And do not thus upbraid thyfelf too fharply j I've been a foolifh 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 {till. COUNTESS ZATERL06. 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. A TRAGEDY. 95 dotJNT zaterloo (rifing half from his feat in great pajfion.) O faithlefs, faithlefs woman ! (lie it was, Who made of me the curfed thing I am i 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 (late : What ails thee now ? COUNT ZATERLOO. The pain, the pain ! it has return'd again With encreafed violence, COUNTESS ZATERLOO. God fend thee eafe ! why doft thou look fo wildly, And grafp my hand fo hard ? What is't difturbs thee ? COUNT ZATERLOO. My time on earth is fhort. COUNTESS ZATERLOO, Nay, fay not fo: thou may'ft recover Hilt.' O why this feeming agony of mind ? ■' *Tis not the pain that racks thee. 96 R A Y N E R: COUNT ZATERLOO. There's blood upon my head : I am accurfed. COUNTESS ZATERLOO. Good heaven forfend ! thou wand'reft in thy fpeech. Thy life I know is forfeit to the law By fome unlawful a£t, but oh no blood ! COUNT ZATERLOO. O for a fhort 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 ZATERLOO. Twas I that did it— I that murder'd him : He who muft fuller for it did it not. COUNTESS ZATERLOO. s What words are thefe ? my blood runs cold to hear them. count zaterloo ( alarm' d). Be dill, be Mill ! there's fome one at the door AH round me is expofed and infecure. A TRAGEDY. 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 ? he has heard it all ! (In violent alarm and agitation*) COUNTESS ZATERLOO. Be ftill, be (till ! it is impoflible. Thou'ft wak'd the pain again ; I fee thee tremble. count zaterloo ( 'writhing as if in great pain)* Ay, this will matter me: 'twill have me now : What can be done ? O for a fhort reprieve ! COUNTESS ZATERLOO. Alas, my child ! what would'il thou have me do ? COUNT ZATERLOO. I would have time turn'd Dackward in his courfe> And what is paft ne'er to have been : myfelf A thing that no exiftence ever had. Cantt thou do this for me? COUNTESS ZATERLOO. Alas ! I cannot. COUNT ZATERLOO. Then curfed be thy early mother's cares ! H 98 RAYNER: Would thou bad'ft lifted up my infant form And dafn'd it on the (tones ! I had not liv'd — I had not lived to curfe thee for thy pains. COUNTESS ZATERLOO. And doft thou curfe me then ? COUNT ZATERLOO (fofterfd). O no ! I do not ! I did not curfe thee, mother : was it fo? COUNTESS ZATERLOO, No, no, thou didft not : yet I have deferv'd — I was a mother feififh in my fondnefs ; And with indulgence, fenfelefs and extreme, Blafted the goodly promife of thy youth. count zaterloo (rijing half up alarm 'dfrom his couch). Hark! there's a noife again! haft: thou more fervants Coming with errands to thee ?-— We're difcover'd ! COUNTESS ZATERLOO. Be not fo foon alarm 'd : it is impoflible. COUNT ZATERLOO. Is there an inner chamber ? lead me there ; (Pointing to a door,) I cannot reft in this. ( 'Stopping Jhort eagerly as: Jhe is leading him out ivith great difficulty,) — — Thine abfence haply From thine own houfe, fufpicion may create : A TRAGEDY* $9 Return to it again, and thro' the day Live there as thou art wont ; by fall of eve Thou'lt come to me again* — Pm very weak I mud lean hard upon thee, ( Exit, looking fufpicioujly behind him as if he beard a noife, andfupported with great diffi- culty by his mother.} SCENE III. The Countefs Waterloo's houfe : enter Countess and a Female Attendant. ATTENDANT;. Ah ! wherefore, madam, are you thus difturb'd, Pacing from room to room with reftlefs change, And turning ftill a keen and anxious ear To every noife ? What can I do for you ? COUNTESS ZATERLOO. Ceafe, ceafe! thou canft do nothing, my good girl : I have a caufe, but do not feek to know it. Enter a Servant* servant. There is a ftranger » countess zaterLoo (Jlarting with alarm)* Ha ! what doft thou fay ? A ftranger ! what appearance does he wear ? Is there but one ? Looks he fufpicioufly ? SERVANT. J5e not alarmed, madam ; 'tis a woman. H 2 ejoo RAYNER; countess zaterloo (feigning compofure). Thou art a fool to think I am alarm'd : Or mail or woman, whofoe'er it be, I am unwell, and mud not be difturb'd. ■ SERVANT. It is a lady of diftinguinVd mein, Tho' much in grief, and me fo earneftly Pleads for admittance that I am compelPd — Pardon me, madam j 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'ft thou who this may be ? ATTENDANT. Indeed I do not. COUNTESS ZATERLOO. Retire then to a diftance : here (he comes : But do not leave the chamber. (Attendant retires to the bottom of the ft age, and enter Elizabeth with her hair and drefs dif- ordered^ like one diftracled with grief) ELIZABETH. Madam, I come a ftranger to your prefence* A TRAGEDY. iot By mifery embolden'd, and urg'd on By defperation. In your pity only Lives all the hope of my moft wretched ftate : O kill it not! pufh 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 fhut againft a wretched woman. COUNTESS ZATERLOO. What would'/* thou afk? thou doft with too much grief Conceal the point and object of thy fuit. ELIZABETH. There is in prifon bound, condemn'd 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 fternly ! Your fon, as fecret rumour hath informed me, Mortally wounded and with little hope Of life, can ample teflimony give, Being himfelf of thofe who did the deed, That Rayner did it not :— O let him then, ■'■** n In whate'er fecret place he lies conceal'd, In pity let him true confeflion make ; And we will blefs him — Heav'n will pardon him ! COUNTESS ZATERLOO. Defpair hath made thee mad \ art thou aware What thou doft afk of me? Go to our governors ; H 3 ie>* RAYNERj They may have pity on thee \ but from me It were an adt agajnft the fenfe of nature. ELIZABETH, Nay, fay not fo ! I have for mercy fued At the proud feet of power, and been rejected : What injury can reach a dying man ? Can his few hours of breathing poife the fcales 'Gainft the whole term of a man's reckon'd life In youth's beft ftrength ? COUNTESS ZATERLOQ. Go, thou haft been deceived with a falfe tale \ And, were it true, hope ends not but with life 5 Heaven only knows who is a dying man, ELIZABETH. For bleffed charity clofe not your pity Againft all other feelings but your own ! (Clqfping the Countefs* knees and kifftng her hand.) Sweet lady ! gentle lady ! deareft lady I O be not ruthtefs to a foul bow'd down. In extreme wretchednefs ! COUNTESS WATERLOO, Ceafe, ceafe! unlock thy Jiold: embrace me not! Has he for whom thou plead'ft from out o' thyfejf Receiv -d his being ? prefs'd with infant lips Thy yearning bofom ? fmiled upon thy knees^ A TRAGEDY. |Cg And blefs'd thine ear with his firft voice of words ? Away, away v ! defpair has made thee mad, That thus thou hang'ft 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'it, defpair has made me mad. COUNTESS ZATERLOO. Let go, let go ! thou- with a tigrefs ftriv'ft, Defending her bay'd whelp : I have no pity. Ileav'n will have pity on theei let me go ; Unlock thy defp'rate hold. ( Breaks from her and rum out, and Elizabeth, quite overcome, finks upon the ground, the At- tendant ruffing forward from the bottom of theflage tofupport her,) Enter father mardonio. mar don io (raiftng her). My daughter, heav'n will fend in its good time The aid that is appointed for thy date. Contend no more, but to its righteous will Submit thyfelf. Let me conduct thee hence. (Exeunt Mardonio and Attendant fupporting her. Re-enter the Countefs, looking fearfidly round her as foe enters.) COUNTESS ZATERLOO. She is gone now : thank _God that (he is gone ! H 4 ic 4 RAYNER: There is a horrid conflict in my mind. What (hall I do ? I ftrongly am befet. I will go quickly to fome holy man, And ghoftly counfel alk. (Exit, croffing the Jlage with a quick irrefolutc Jtep) fometimes flopping to conjider^ and then hurrying on again,) END OF THE FOURTH AC^ A TRAGEDY. ioj ACT V. Afpacious outer Roo?n in the Frifon* Enter mi Under-Jailor and a Clown 1 , clown. I pray thee now, my good friend, here is a piece of money for thee — very good money too ; thou may'ft look o' both fides of it an* thou wilt : it has been wrapped up in the foot of my old holiday {lockings fince laft Michaelmas twelvemonth, and neither fun nor wind has blown upon it. Take it, man, thou art heartily welcome to it if thou eanft put me into a good place near the fcaffold, or a place where 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 feen in all my born days fo much as a thief fet i' the flocks. JAILOR, Poor man ! thou hafl lived in mofl deplorable ignorance indeed. But fland 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 ail the ho- nours of the office, but little experience in the duties of it. io6 R A Y N E R ; CLOWN. -O dickens, I'll creep into a corner then, and Lave a good look of him. A man that has cut off men's heads, fave us all ! he muft have a ftrange bloody look about him forvertain. Enter two Executioners, /peaking 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 I have known a fmaller town than this keep ye up a fir ft executioner for the capital bufmefs, with a fecond man under him for your petty cart-tail and pillory work; ay, and keep them handfomely employe4 too. No execution in fuch a town as this for thefe ten years paft ! one might as well live amongft the favages, SECOND EXECUTIONER. It is a pitiful thing to be fure, but don't defpife us altogether, Mr. Mafter : we fhall 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 two 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. 107 for generations to come. It will be the grand date from which every thing will be reckoned ; ay, your very grand children will boaft that their fathers were prefent at the fight, SECOND EXECUTIONER. I make no doubt on't, my matter, but you arc a very capital man in your way : Lord forbid that I mould envy the greatnefs 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 Koflam's head upon this very fcaffold that we now hear them hammering at, FIRST EXECUTIONER. Some wandering hocus-pocus Baron, I fuppofe, that fold noftrums for the tooth-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 muft call it you* head-work 5 ha ! ha ! ha ! (holding out his axe 'in a vain-glorious manner,) Seeft 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 itroke, let me tell thee, is equal to a patent of nobility. SECOND EXECUTIONER. Well, be it fo : I envy no man, God be praifed! tho' thou art fet over my head upon this occafion. I have whipp'd, branded, and pilloried in great io» RAYNER: meeknefs and humility for thefe feven years patt ; but the humble (hall be exalted at laft, and I (hail have better work to do, by and by, God willing. ♦Let us have no more contention 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 forae brandy. (Jailor coming forward, with the Clown creeping after him, half afraid.) JAILOR. The black prince is no where to be found $ he has not been feen fince the cells were locked. SECOND EXECUTIONER, Go fetch us fome liquor tjiyfelf then. FIRST EXECUTIONER, - But who is this fneaking behind thee, and afraid toihowhisface? - JAILOR. Only a poor countryman, a friend of mine, who wanted to look at you as you paft, FIRST EXECUTIONER, Yes, yes, every body has a curiofity to look at extraordinary perfons. (to Clown.) Come forward man, and don't be afraid. Did 'ft thou ever be* A TRAGEDY. 109 fore fee any thing better than a poor parifh prieft, or a fcrubby lord of the village? did'il thou, eh ? clown (abajhed). I don't know, pleafe you : my brother did once ftand within a team's length of the Prince of Carara, when he patted through our village on his way 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 {halt even (hake hands with me an' thou wilt. (Holding out his hand to Clown, toba Jhrinks from him, and puts his hands behind his back. J CLOWN. No, I thank you; I ben't much of a hand- maker : I have got a little fore on my thumb, may it pleafe you j I thank you all the fame as tho* 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 abafh'd : thou fee'ft I am very condefcending to thee. Come, then, thou fhalt drink a cup of liquor with me. Follow us into the next ward, my good friend. \ no RAVNEi: clown (Jhrinking from him again)* O na, fave your prefence I I'll go with the jailor" here. first executioner (to Second Executioner). Ay, he is but a poor baihful clown, and don't know how to behave himfelf in good company. (Exeunt Executioners* CLOWN. Shake hands with him, Mary prefer ve us ! it fets the very ends of my fingers a dingling. Drink out of the fame mug with him too ! (/puttering with his lips) poh ! poh! poh ! the tafte of raw heads and carrion is on my lips at the thoughts of it. (To Jailor.) Come let us go out of this place ; I be long enough here. (Jiepping Jhort as he goes off.) What noife and hammering is this we hear ? JAILOR. It is the workmen putting up the fcaffold. clown (parting). What, are we fo near to it ? mercy oa 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'ft better take thy money again, and 1*11 give thy place^ 3 A TRAGE D Y. in for the fight to fomebody that has got a ftouter 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 I'll ftay for the fight tho' I mould 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 (hall 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 II. A dungeon ; Rayner difcovered fitting at a table by the light of a lamp , with a book in his handy the clock from a neighbouring fteeple ftrikes three, and he, roufedwith the found, lays down the book, RAYNER. This bell fpeaks with a deep and fullen voice : The time comes on apace with fiient fpeed. Is it indeed fo late ? (Looking at his watch.) It is even fo. (Paufing, and looking ft ill at the watch.) How foon time flies away ! yet, as I watch it, ii* kAYNER: Methinks, by the flow progrefs of this hand* I fhould have liv'd an age fince yefterday, And have an age to live. Still on it creeps, Each little 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 bewildered, wond'ring how it is. Thou travelled like a (hip in the wide ocean, Which hath no bounding fhore to mark its progrefs \ Time ! ere long I fliall have done with thee. When next thou leaded on thy nightly fhades, Tho* many a weary heart thy fleps may count* Thy midnight 'larum fhall not waken me. Then fhall 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 fhrink from this? It goes hard with thee, Social connected man ; it goes hard with thee To be turned out into a ftate unknown, From all thy kind, an individual being. But wherefore fhrink? came we not thus to earth ? And he who fent, prepar'd 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 fill*ft thy nightly term, Where fhall I be ? Fye ! fye upon thee (til! ! E'en where weak infancy, and tim'rous age, A TRAGEDY, 113 And maiden fearfulnefs have gone before thee j And where, as well as him of firmeft foul, The meanly- minded and the coward are. Then truft thy nature, at th'approaching pufh, The mind doth fhape itfelf to its own wants, And can bear all things* {Rifingfrom his feat, and walking fever al times backward and forward,) 1 know not how it is, Fm wond'rous heavy ; Fain would I reft a while. This weary frame Has but a little more to do for me, And yet it afks for reft. I'll lay me down : It may be poflible that I (hall fleep, After thefe weary toflings of the mind ; I feel as tho' I fhould. ( Gses to fleep, covering him- felfwith a cloak.) Enter Ohio, creeping out from a hiding-place at the bottom of the flage, and going f oft ly up to Rayner, looks for fome time upon him with a malicious grin* OHIO. Thou haft lov'd negroes' blood, I warrant thee. Doft fleep ? ay, they will waken thee ere long, And cut thy head oflF. They'll put thee to reft ; They'll clofe thine eyes for thee without thy leave j They'll bloat thy white fkin 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 Ray net's cloak, who Jlarts from his Jleep^ and looks at him in amazement. J I ti4 RAYNER: RAYNER. Ha ! what hole of the earth hath cad thee up i What thing art thou ? and what would'ft thou with me? OHIO. '.. My fides arc cold ; a dead man needs no cloak* RAYNER. 'Tis true indeed, but do not (trip the living. Where doft thou run to now ? where wert thou hid ? OHIO (after running to his hiding-place, and fetching out a {lick, which he prefents to Rayner). Beat me thyfelf, but do not tell of me. RAYNER. I would not harm thee for a greater fault. I'm 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 ; I have obferv'd thee : I'm forry for thee ; thou art bare enough, And winter is at hand. . OHIO. Ha ! art thou forry that the negro's cold ? Where wert thou born who artfo 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, And, when the cell is open'd, fave thyfelf. . A TRAGEDY. iij a t OHIO, They (han't cut off thy. head. RAYNER. Now, pray thee go. - OHIO. I'll kifs thy feet ; I'll fpend my blood for thee* RAYNER. I do befeech thee go ! there's fome one coming r I hear them at the door. (Pujhes him haftily off.) Enter Hardibrand, advancing /lowly to Rayner, his eyes caft upon the ground, RAYNER 7 . Good morrow, general : where's thy friendly hand ? Why doft 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 I've ftruggl'd hard, I've felt the fears of nature ; But yet I have the fpirit of a man That will uphold me : therefore, my brave friend, Do me the grace to look upon me boldly j I'll not difgrace thee* HARDIBRAND. No, my valiant boy f I know thou'lc not difgrace me, nor will I la x\€ R A Y N E H: - . , Put fhame on thee by wearing on this morn A weeping face : I will be valiant too. We will not, Rayner, tho' thou'rt thus — Oh ! oh ! (Burfting into tears.) RAYNER. My gen'rous friend, my fecond father, why 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 diflrefs, encompafs'd as thou art, My heart fo ftrongly has enlink'd itfelf, That to part from thee, boy, is ■ (Falling on his neck, and burfting again into tears.) Enter Mardonio. mardonio (after looking at them forfome time, and in a folemn impojing tone of voice). The ftrength of man finks 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 ftricken ! (Holding up his right hand to heaven, whilfi Rayner, approaching with reverence, bows himfelf beneath it very low.) RAYNER* Thanks to thee, father ! thefe are words of power, And I do feel their ftrength. Beneath that hand A TRAGEDY. 117 Which hath in mercy ftricken me, I bow ; Yea bow, the nobler and the bolder grown. Tor fuch humility. — (Familiarly) How gooj? the time ? Does day begin to dawn I MARDONIO. Grey light peeps faintly o'er the eaftern towers, RAYNER. The time is then advanc'd ; we'll hufband it. Come clofe to me, my friends. (T^/VzgHardibrand and Mardonio each by the bandy and freffing them clofe to his breafi.) Of worldly cares, upon my mind there refts But only thofe which I have mention'd to you. Yet, in this folemn hour, let me remind you :— 1 My poor Elizabeth— i Hardibrand (eagerly). Thou'ft faid enough : She is my child and heirefs of my lands To the lafl rood.— Ah ! what avails it now ! RAYNER. How mall a dying man find thanks for this, Whofe day is clofed ? I will attempt no thanks. The other wifh that clofely preflfes on me : — Mardonio, upon thee muft hang this boon:-— That miferable man of whom I've told you ; Now living in the hell of his remorfe, Cut off from human intercourfe j whofe horrors 13 Ill RAYNE R: And midnight vifions fav'd this hand from bloody I fain '■■ " hard i brand ( ogam eagerly interrupting him ) , Fear not ! fear not ! he fhall be fav'd ; And (hall with human Tjeings yet confort In bleffed charity, if ghoftly care From holieft men procur'd, or ofPrings made To ev*ry facred fhrine on chriftian ground Can give him peace. rayner (fmiling and prejjtng Hardibrand to his bofomj. 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 : Sly worldly cares are clos'd. Enter Elizabeth, followed by Richard and Ber- tram, who remain on the back ground whilfl Jhe comes 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 mifl and darknefs with me now j I know not how it fares with me. / A TRAGEDY. gx£ RAYNER. Alas ! Thou gentle foul ! a dark cloud o'er thee hangs, But the fun will again break thro' the gloom, And, in the fobernefs of calm remembrance, Thou wilt look back upon misfortunes pad Like tempefts that are laid. Thou doft not heed me: Thou doft not fpeak to me. Alas ! Alas 1 What fhall 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 fhall be thy kindred, (Putting her hand in Hardibrand\f.) And ev'ry forrowful and gentle heart ghall knit itfelf to thee, and call thee fifter.' (Elizabeth makes a motion with her hand as if Jhe would Jpeak, and he paufes, but Jhe is ftlent J "\Vhat 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 Meed'ft thou to tell me how thou'ft dearly lov'd me, And dearly do I prize it ; 'tis my pride, w I2« R.AYNER: i E'en humbl'd as I am, it is my pride. Heaven's deareft bleffings reft upon thy -head !— And now, fince we muft part, do in thy love, - • Do for me this lafl grace ; bid me farewel, And let my earthly forrows now be clos'd. Heaven's bleffing reft upon thee ! (He kijfes her, andjhe turns to go away, Rayner looking after her as Jhe'goes y but prefently r& turns again. J RAYNER, Thou art return'd, my foul, what would'ft thou have ? Elizabeth (in a broken voice). A thought — a wifh did prefs upon my heart, But it is gone. RAYNER. I thank thee for thy 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 fiill returns.) Ah, wherefore {till ! wilt thou be cruel to me ? ELIZABETH. O, no ! O, no 1 I know not what I do ; It is all mift and darknefs with me now ; I look upon thee, but \ fee thee not. A TRAGEDY. 121 Let me once more but feel thy hand in mine And fend me where ye will : my being then Is at an end. (They embrace again , and Jhe ftiU continues to hang upon him.) rayner (to Bertram and Richard). O, lead her hence, and have fome mercy on me I My father died i' the field a valiant death, And {hall his fon upon the fcaffbld die O'ercomeand weak,. reft of that decent firmnefs Which ev'n the bafe and vulgar there afiume? O lead her hence ! in mercy lead her hence ! (Bertram 'and Richard tear her from him, and lead her away, whilft he turns his back, and hides his face with his hands,) ELIZABETH ( flopping jhort, and tojjing up her arms diftracledly as they are leading her out),. Reprieve ! reprieve ! I hear a voice i' the air 1 J hear it yet again ! rayner (uncovering his face, and looking about eagerly, whilft Hardibrand rufhes forward impe- tuoujly from the bottom of the ft age, where he has been pacing backward and forward with hafty ftrides), Is't any thing ? MARDONIO. Alas no ! all is filent : 'tis the fancy Of fond diftraclion lift'ung to itfelk nx JAYNERr HARDIBRAND. Nay ? it was fomething : Bertram, thou cKdTft ■ hear it I BERTRAM. $?o, I heard nothing. HARDIBRAND,. "What, nor thou, good Richard. RICHARD. No„ nothing. ixizabeth (holding up her arm dijiraftedly a$ Richard and Bertram lead her off). And is it nothing ! no redemption near ! . (Exeunt Elizabeth, Richard, and Bertram, whiljl Rayner, uttering a deep groan, hides, his face, and Hardibrand returns with hajly- - J} rides to the bottom of thefiage, hayner (uncovering his face}. Is me gone now ? MARDONIO. She rs. RAYNER* Thank God for it ! Now to our tafk : (Stepping forward with ajfumedfrmnefs.} What of it now remains we ihail o'er-mader. Pray thee how goes the time ? But pardon me 1 I have too oft enquired how goes the time; It is my weakneis. * A TRAGEDY. laj MARDONIQ. The morning now advances, RAYNER. So I reckon'd. We too (hall put ourfelves in forwardnefs : And fo, good father, to your ghoftly 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 will $ But 'tis fo much the better. (To Mardonio q/tde.J 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. r {Taking hold of Hardibrand and Mardonio as he goes out.) Your arm, I pray : — I know not how it is $ **4 R A Y N E £ i My head feels dizzy, but my limbs are firm. Good Hardibrand, think'ft thou I fhall difgrace thee ? HARDIBRAND. No, by the mafs ! I'll give them this old carcafe To hack fof crow's meat if thou fhrink'ft one hair's breadth From the comportment of a gallant foldier, And of a brave man's fon, rayner (failing with a gratified look)* I thank thee. Methinks I now tread, as I onward move, With more elaftic and dilating ftep, As if a fpirit of pride within me ftirr'd, Buoying me up on the fwoln billows ridge. '' , (Exeunt. SCENE III. An outer garden- room or portico in the houfe where Zaterloo is concealed ; enter Counteffc and a Confeflbr, with two Attendants bearing Za- terloo on a /mall couch > which they fet down on the middle ofthejlage; the Attendants retire. COUNTESS ZATERLOO. The air revives him : look, I pray thee, father, How the frefh air revives him : fay not then All hope is banifh'd quite. — Thou ikak'ft thy head ; But whilft I fee upon his moving breaft One heave of breath, betok'nirig life withiu, A TRAGEDY. ti% Til grafp at hope, and will not let it go. ( Bending over the CQUch.) My fon ! my fon ! hear'ft thou my voice, my fon I COUNT ZATERLOO. Yes, mother: I have had a fearful ftruggle, *Tis a ftrong enemy that grapples with me, And I mud yield to him. — O pious father! Pray thou for mercy on me. COUNTESS ZATERLOO. Yes, my fon, This holy man mail 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 *midft thine agony, Haft fpoken precious words of heav'nly grace ; Therefore be comforted. count zaterloo (Jhaking his head). 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 ! CONFE5S0R. Lady, forbear ! this is no time to foothe With flatt'ring hopes : his term is near its clofe j Therefore, I do again entreat it of you, Send off the meflenger with his confeflion, 1*5 R A Y N E fc : Left it mould 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'fl me tremble*— Ho ! there, you without ! Send here the meflenger. (Calling off the ft age.) His fteed is ready : He mall forthwith depart. Enter Messenger* confessor (to MeiTenger)* Take thou this packet, and with full-bent fpeed Go to the city to the governor, And fee thou give it into his own hand, With charges that he read it inftantly. It is of precious moment to his life Who on the fcafFold mould 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 matter I CONFESSOR. Five leagues ! thou'rt mad. MESSENGER. No, marry ! know ye not The flooded river hath lafl night broke down ] The nearer bridge ? A TRAaEDt lit CONFESSOR* What, art thou, lure of this ? MESSENGER-. I am now come from gazing on the fight* From bank to bank the red fwoln river roars % And on the deep and flowly-rolling mafs Of its (Irong centre- tide, grurnly and dark, The wrecks of cottages, whole ricks of grain, Trunks of huge trees torn by the roots, — ay, fa$& us! And floating carcafes of perifh'd things, Bloated and black, are borne along; whilfl currents Crofs-fet and furious, meeting adverfe dreams On rude uneven furface, far beyond The water's natural bed, do loudly war And terrible conteft 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. Crowds now are Handing upon either more 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 darts, Already tolling for the execution. CONFE3SOR. What's to be done ? fate feems to war againft us. No, no 1 we'll not defpair ! Mount thy fleet horfe, 123 R A Y N E Ri 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 deaths 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 ? y . v> CONFESSOR. Yes he is gone : God grant he be in time, For unto human reckoning 'tis impoiliblei (To Countefs with an upbraiding look.) Half an hour fooner — — - - COUNTESS ZATERLOO. Oh, torment me not 1 Who could forefee this hind ranee? — O, good fa« ther ! Look to thy penitent. Upon his count'nance There's fomething new and terrible. Speak to hiqj: Go clofe to him, good father. — O my font COUNT ZATERLOO. I feel within me now — this is the feeling : f am upon the brink, the dreadful brink : » It is a fearful gulf I have to (hoot. yet fupport me ! in this racking pain 1 ftili may hold a fpace the grafp of life, *3 A TRAGEDY. 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, wringing her hands in agony of grief is hurried off the ft ag8 by the ConfetTor and Attendants , who rujh in and take hold of her,) SCENE IV. An openfquare before the great gate of the prifon : a Crowd of fpeclators, with guards* &c, are dij covered, waiting for the coining forth of Rayner to his execution, and afolemn bell is heard at intervals. The gate opens , and enter Rayner walking between Mardonio and Hardibrand, and followed by Richard and Bertram, preceded and followed by guards, officers^ &V. The proceffiort moves flowly over the flage, and exeunt, followed by the greater part of the Crowd, though a good many of them ftill remain upon the flage. Then re-enter Hardibrand and Richard, followed by one or two of the Crowd : Hardibrand walking up and down in a perturbed manner, and Richard leaning his back againft the fidefcene, where he continue* motionlefs with his eyes fixed on the ground. The murmur of the multitude is heard for fome time without ', and then ceafes, followed by a deadftlence. FIRST CROWD. The found of the multitude is dill now, second crowd (looking out). I fancy, by the crowd who (land all gather'd K figg RAYNE&: round yonder In dead filence, he is now preparing for ihe block. THIRD CROWD. It mud 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 (Jlarting and flopping fuddenly y to Firft Crowd). , Didft thou hear aught ? FIRST CROWD. No, they are ftili filent. HARDIBRAND. Look out, I pray thee, and tell me what thou fee'fh (Fir ft Crowd looks out. J What dofl 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'& 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. (Hardi brand turns hajiily away, and rufljcs to the other end of the Jiage, whilft Richard gives a heavy groan, and (till remains motion- lefs. AJhout is heard without.) hardibrand (returning furioujly from the bottom of the Jiage)* More of that horrible din ! — May they bring down the welkin on their heads 1 second crowd (to Firft 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, running acrofs the fi age. OHIO. I've done it ! I've done it ! I've done it I (Exit. Enter a Messenger in great hq/ie, followed by a Civil Officer. FIRST CROWD. Where are you running to fo faft ? K2 *3* RAYNER: MESSENGER, Is the execution over ? FIRST CROWD. Yes, it is over. MESSENGER. Ah ! then I am too late. FIRST CROWD, What mean ye by that ? MESSENGER. I brought a pardon for him. hardibrand (rujhing upon the mejfenger and col- laring him)* A pardon ! O confound your tardy fpeed ! Had you upon fome paltry wager ftrove, You had run fafter. — O, thou curfed fool ! had'ft thou fped, I'd made a rich man of thee! messenger ( dif entangling him/elf). My deed and I acrofs the high-fwoln flood, Thofe on the more fhrieking to fee our boldnefs, Have fearlefs fwam fome miles fhortof the pafs Which we muft elfe have gain'd, or, by my faith, 1 had been later. A TRAGEDY, 133 HARDIBRAND. Thou Heft, thou curfed fool! thou (hould'ft have fped Swift as a bullet from the cannon'.s mouth. (Collaring him again J Enter Rayner, Mardonio, Bertram, and Crowd. mardonio (to Hardibrand, pulling him back from the Meflenger). Hold, general ! what hath the poor man done ? HARDIBRAND. What has he done! he's brought a pardon, fiend! ( The Crowd give a great jhout crying out " par- don, pardon " and Hardibrand, turning round at the noife, and feeing Rayner, /prints for- ward, 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 bleft with ? O welcome, welcome ! this is wonderful ! My boy ! my noble boy! my gallant boy ! Thou art a man again., and I —I'm mad : My head wheels round, but 'tis a blefled madnefs. What fay'ft thou ? art thou filent ? Hah: no voice ? RAYNER. To be upon the verge of death is awful ; And awful from that verge to be recall'd. God blefs ye ! O God blefs ye ! I am fpent 5 But let me draw my breath a little while, K 3 Jg| R A Y 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 andfym- pathizing looks, ) Surely 'tis a kind world I have return'd to ; There's fympathy and love in ev'ry heart. • mar don io (to 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 refl low to h in f elf. J What ! call ye this a pardon which acquits The prifoner as guiltlefs of the crime ? May pod be praifed! how has all this been ? i MESSENGER. Count Zaterloo, who on his death-bed lies, In deep remorfe, a paper of confeflion, Attefted by a pried and his. own mother, Caus'd to be drawn, which to the governor J've brought, I wot, as quickly as I might, Tho Y/^/^g" ^ Hardibrand) this good gentleman-*- hardibrand (embracing the Meflenger), O no ! O no ! thou'rt a brave fellow now, And as I've faid 111 make a rich man of thee* But Fin bewilder'd (till : how hath it been fhat fie is fav'd, feeing no pardon reach'd him ? A TRAGEDY. 135 MARDONIO. Yes, thou may' ft wonder ! for fome unknown friend Had fawn acrofs the main prop of the fcaffold, So that the head (man mounting firft, the platform Fell with a crafli ; and he, all maim'd and bruis'd^ Unfit to do his office, was perforce—- HARDIBRAND. Ay j ay/tis plain, thou need'ft not tell me more.— But he the unknown friend ■ 1 - Enter Ohio, running exultingly. OHIO. 'Twas I that did it ! Beat me and fcourge me as ye lift : I did it ! He ofTer'd me his cloak : he pitied me j 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. I'll 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 oppreflion and unmanly icorn* K 4 ■•- t$6 RAYNER. rayner (taking Ohio and Hardibrand both by the hand). What fhall I fay to you ? my heart would fpeak What my voice cannot. O ! and here comes one Who mocks all power of words. (Enter Elizabeth running, andrufhes into Ray- ner i arms ; the Crowd then eagerly gathers round them, and clofes upon them.) mardonio (Jiepping out from >t he crowd \ 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 roll'd In awful power, but fpar'd the thunderbolt.—* When urg'd by ftrong temptation to the brink Of guilt and ruin, (lands the virtuous mind With fcarce a fleep between ; all pitying heaven. Severe in mercy, chaft/ning in its love, Oltimes, in dark and awful vifitation, Dorh interpofe, and leads the wand'rer back To the ftraight path, to be forever after A firm, undaunted, onward- bearing traveller, Strong in humility, w{io fwervesno more. (liHeunh ; THE COUNTRY INN: A COMEDY. PERSONS OF THE DRAMA. MEN: Sir John Hazel wood. Worshipton, nephew to Sir John. Amaryllis, a poet. David, fervant, &c. of the inn. Will, poftboy of the inn. Jen kins, fervant to Worfhipton. Piper, Fiddler, Iff c. WOMEN: Lady Goodbody. Miss Martin, "> nieces to Lady Good- Miss Hannah Clodpate,} body. Dolly, maid of the inn. Landlady. Hopkins, Lady Goodbody's maid. Sally, Scene, — A Country Inn, on one of the crofs- roads leading from the North of England to London, THE COUNTRY INN: ACT I, SCENE I. The kitchen of a Country Inn : David and Jenkins dij covered fitting by the fire fide* DAVID. John Thomson, fays I, why do you put yourfelf into a paflion ? an angry man, fays I, John, may be compared to three thmgs. JENKINS. Yaw ! yaw ! (yawning very wide J how thick that fnow falls ! (looking to the window* J ■ DAVID. Well, well ! let it fall as thick as it pleafes ! — To three things, John. In the firft place, in refpect that he is very hot and very reltlefs and all that, he may be compared to the boiling of a pot no, no 1 that was the third thing. Jenkins* Never mind, man, put it firft this time for a variety. 14P THE COUNTRY INNs DAVID. No, no ! let us have every thing as it mould be, In the firft place then, fays I, in refpecl: that he is fo (harp, and fo fuffy, and fo bouncing, he may be compared to your poor bottled fmali-beer : and in the fecond place, in refpecl: 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 ! Dont think becaufe I yawn, David, that I don't hear what you fay. — But go on with your (lory : in the fecond place — *-'■ DAVID. In the fecond place, fays 1, in refpecl that he is fo violent and fo loud, and fo hafty, he may be eon> pared to the letting off of a JENKINS. Of a train of gun-powder. V DAVID. No, fir ; it was not to that, fir. 3 A COMEDY. 141 JENKINS. To the letting off of what, then ? DAVID. No matter what : I had a companion of my own, but Fil keep it to myfelf. 1 JENKINS. Very well, David ; juft as you pleafe ; for I can fee now what an angry man is like, without your giving yourfelf any further trouble. DAVID. Ay, ay 1 jeer away fir ! you are juft like your poor filly affecled mafter up flairs, 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 fets up for a wife man neither, mafter David j but he's young and well made, and - - DAVID. He well made, hang him ! his 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. 14* THE COUNTRY INN t 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 moulders, to make as good a profer as many that we lift en 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 with 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 matter is a very good mailer to me, and he fpends his money like a gentleman. DAVID. , I don't care a rum how he fpends his money : they ieem to be the greateft gentlemen now-a-days, who have leail 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 ilopp'd fo long at a poor Country Inn, to attend you hirnfelf A COM ED V. , 4J like a Tick 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 atid lickly, indeed, I had as lief have Sir John for my mailer, 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. I wonder much how he has come to this time o' th» day (for he mud 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 eftate ? JENKINS. Why half ploughman ; for he often enough holds his own plough of a morning, and can call ye up as straight 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 parifh; half lawyer, for there is never a poor filly idiot that allow* himfelf to be cheated 144 THE COUNTRY tNN* • hi the neighbourhood who does not run to hint about it dire&ly, 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. DAVD, Well, but there is nothing amifs in all this* JENKINS. Then his other odd ways. Dinner muft be upon the table every day at the very moment he has fixed, and he will not give ten minutes law to the flrfl: lord of the land, DeviJifhly inconvenient that for young fellows like me and my mailer, , DAVIE?. So much the better ; I commend him for it. JENKINS. Then he pretends to be hofpitable, and entertains the fir £1 people of the country, and yet he is not afhamed to boafl that there has not been a drunk man in his houfe fince he was mailer of it. DAVID. Nay, odds life ! that is being too particular, indeed. JENKINS. Ay, to be fure ; and yet he puts always fuch an eafy good humoured face upon it, that people will A COMEDY. I4J hot call him a hunks for all 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, who has kept herfdf young and frefh all 'the while in fome cave under ground along with the feven fleepers, to ftart up to his hand and fay, "pnuo\ DOLLY. You'll never write fuch good ones tho', for all your great wifdom, Mr. David. . r* aw juci david. -rusq-iuo II Ay, you're a good judge to be fure ! I'm fure yoti could not read them though they were printed in big letters before your nofe, huffy. You can tell us, I make no doubt of it. how his julep taftes, and how his breath fmells 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 betteT be quiet abo\it them. DOLLY. I fay his verfes are 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 Ivhat they don't underftand I Let me fee now if you 6 A COMEDY. 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* ^/72g in Lady Goodbody, Miss Martin, and Hannah, followed by a Maid, carrying boxes > &c. LANDLADY. O la, ladies ! I am forry the fires an't lit : but I havejuft ordered one to be lit in the blue chamber, and it will be ready immediately. I am fure your ladyfhips mull be fo cold ; for it is to be fure the fevereft weather I ever fee'd. LADY GOODBODY. We fhall warm ourfelves here in the meantimeT" MISS MARTIN. What place can be fo comfortable in a frofly morning as a itool by the kitchen fire ? (Sits down on a Jlool by the fire.) LANDLADY. O dear, ladies ! here are chairs. (Sets chairs for them.) LADY GOODBODY (tO Maid J. Here is a feat for you too, Hopkins, fit down by the fire. ; THE COUNTRY INN: HOPKINS. I thank you, my lady, I muft look after the things in the coach. (Sets down the box, &c» and exit. J lady 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 Poftaway, and a power of fine folks with her. It was a mighty cold day when (he came, madam, and (he was a mighty good humour'd lady to be fure : ilie fat by the fire here jufl 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 fail 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-pie for dinner, and 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 I'll aifure you. I don't fay, to be fure, that quality A COMEDY. 153 are all fond of the fame kinds of victuals ; 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 ftrong tafted 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. Yes, my good ma'am ; the eggs and bacon that may be eaten to-day will anfwer our purpofe rathe* better than the turkey that was eaten yefterday. LADY GOODBODY. Have you any company in the houfe ? LANDLADY. O yes, my lady, we have a good pleafant gentle- man, who has been here thefe three days, becaufa his fervant was taken ill upon the road, Sir John Hazelwood, and his nephew with him ; and we have a ftrange kind of a gentleman who has been here thefe three weeks, juft to be quiet, as he fays himfelf, and to (ludy the mufics, tho' I can't fay we ever hear him play upon any thing neither. How- fomever, he diverts himfelf all day long after his *5f THE COUNTRY INN; own fafhion, poor man, writing bits of metre upon the windows and fuch like, and does harm to no- body. hannah (after gazing for a long time at the things . ranged over the chimney). There is a pair of candlefticks the very fame with thofewe had in our bed-room at the laft inn: look if they an't, the very fellows to them coufin, all but the little bead round the fockets. (To Mifs M.) lady goodbody (to Hannah), My good child, you are always obferving things that nobody elfe notices. (To Mifs M.) Sir John Hazel wood 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 Ihall go to it then. Let me have a candle^ pray j I fhall have fome letters to feal by arid by. ■ DOLLY. Yes, ma'am; and miftrefs got fome wax ones when the great lady was here, I'll bring you one of them. A COMEDY. icj LADY GOODBODY. JTo, no, child ! a tallow one will do well enough. (Exeunt Lady Goodbody, Mifs Martin, and Hannah, Landlady conducling them* Enter Wiljl. 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 (linking 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! \ wifh they fmelt like carrion for her fake. DOLLY. What makes you fo bitter againft the poor lady 2 I'm fure (he 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 oii'd. I drove like the devil to get here before the I 5 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. Paltry half-a-crown, an' be hang'd to her! DOLLY. But why did you take fo much pains to pleafe her? I never knew you do fo before, but when you were promifed a bribe for your trouble. will. Becaufe I tell you (he's a hypocrite, and would deceive Old Nick, if he were not as cunning as her* felf. When we pafifed thro' Middleton fhe bought as many coarfe flockings as would have flocked a hofier's (hop; and her maid told me they were all to be fent to her own eftate to be given to the poor of the neighbourhood ; fo, thinks I to myfelf, this muft be fome rich liberal lady that gives away money with both hands, I won't ftand upon trifles with her, and off I fet like the deuce. But 'tis all a curfed lie : fhe'll 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 ; 111 give thee a new top-knot if thou'It help rap in any way to be revenged upon her. A COMEDY. *# DOLLY. : Nay, nay, you promifed me one laft 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 : I'll have nothing to do with you. (Exit* WILL. What ails the wench now, I wonder ; ever fince that there poet, as they call him, has been in the houfe, fhe has fpoken to me as if I were a pair of old boots. (Exit, I SCENE II. A Parlour. Enter Sir John Hazelwood and Worshipton- . SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. Well, Ned, here is a rich heirefs unexpectedly fallen in our way j you or I for her ? WORSHIPTON. If women favour'd men for their merit, Sir John, I fhould not prefume to enter the lifts 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 fafhion to a great deal of philofophy ; which makes us good-for-nothing fellows come far- ther into their good graces than wifer men think we are entitled to. * 5 f THE COUNTJtY IN If* SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. You are very humble and very diffident truly t the meaning of what you fay being fimply this, that you are a mighty handfome fellow. Well, be it fo; make as much of y our perfonal qualifica- tions as you can : it were hard indeed if they did not ftand you in fome good account, fince you and your fafhionable brotherhood take no pains to ac- quire any other. i - WORSH1PTON. And they will ftand 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- rics one of us fees what fhe gets, but he who pre- tends to a woman on the fcore of his mental ac- complifhments, holds out to her a moll deceitful lure. A man's temper and Opinions may change, but he always wears the fame pair of legs. SIR JOHN 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, moil commonly ends his career by marrying juft fuch a woman as he deferves. * ACOMEDft , ijrS 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 fafhonable beauty to pleafe his vanity. , SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD* Or break his heart, ■ WORSHIPTON. Poh, poh 1 there are more people who die of broken heads now o* days. A map may fometimes marry a woman of rank to be look'd up to by his old friends. SIR JOHN HAZEL WOOD. Or down upon by his new ones. WORSHIPTON. You are crufty now. — But a rich wife is the only one who can really excufe a young fellow for taking upon himfelf the fober name of hufband. SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. If this is your opinion, you had better dill retain the more fprightly one of bachelor. WORSHIPTON. And leave the heirefs to you, Sir John.' i tfo THE COUNTRY INK* SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. No, Worfhipton; there is not a woman now txifting, as the world goes, that would fuit me; and I verily think that here as I (land, with all my opinions and habits about me, I would fuit no wo- man : I mud e'en remain as I am. WORSHIPTON. I wiih to God I could do fo too : I fhould afk no better. SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. What mould hinder you, young man? WORSHIPTON. I am under the neceffity of marrying : my cir* cumftances oblige me to it. SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. I am at a Iofs to comprehend the neceffity you talk of. WORSHIPTON. Will three hundred a year and a commiffion 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 neceflaries, you are perfectly in the right j and if A COMEDY. 161 you choofe to impofe a difagreeable reftraint upon yourfelf for fuch neceffaries, nobody has any right to find fault with you. WORSHIPTON. Impofe upon myfelf a reftraint ! Ha! ha! ha! pardon me ! this is rather an amufmg idea of yours. SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. Why, you would not be bafe enough to marry a woman and neglect her. WORSHIPTON. No, Sir John ; I mould pay her as much atten- tion as women of the world now expect, and fhe who is not fatisfied with that rauft 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 addrefles to Sir Rowland's heirefs, you mud inform her of the real ftate of your affairs. I'll have no advantage taken of a young woman under my eye, tho' it fhould be for the intereil of my family. WORSHIPTON. I fliall pretend to nothing but what fhe may be afcertained of if fhe 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 lick'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 itill remain fuch after marriage. WORSHIPTON, What ! mufl I be repeating the fame thing to her all my life long ? Tell a woman once in plain Englifh that (he is charming, and there is no danger of her forgetting it. SIR J HN HAZELWOOD. Well, deal honourably, and I fhall rejoice in your fuccefs. But I muft go to the (table and give directions to my groom: I (hall return pre- sently. (Exit. worshipton (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 (han't find 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 hope of a legacy from it, and it has, at the fame lime, all the cold, cautious, advice-giving fpirit of 3 A COMEDY. 163 three fcore and ten. This Sir Rowland's daughter is a good fcheme upon rny foul. He muft be fickly, I 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 hum ! 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 miftake; I thought Sir John Hazelwood ■ WORSHIPTON. There is no miftake, madam ; Sir John will be here immediately. Permit me to place chairs. LADY G30DB0DY. 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. 164. THE COUNTRY INN: WORSHIPTONi I am fure he is well repaid in the honour he re- ceives. (To Mifs Martin.) I hope, ma'am, you feel no bad effects from the cold journey you have had? MISS MARTIN, None at all, I thank you ; we have juft 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 claim'd without much diffidence. LADY GOODBODY. Pray, fir, did you ever fee fuch a heavy fall of fnow come on fo fuddenly ? ■ WORSHIPTON* ReallyV madam, I don't recollect. (Turning again ■to Mifs Martin.) But it is the character of true merit A COMEDY, *i«$ LADY GOODBODY. Pardon me, fir, you have fomething of the family face y are you not related to Sir John ? WORSHIPTON. I have the honour to be his nephew, madam. (Turning 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 with much devotion.) lady goodbody (to Hannah). Well, my dear, you and I muft 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 hilt j one f M 3 166 THE COUNTRY INN HANNAH. La, I did not look out of the coach windows all the way, except when we flopp'd at the turnpike ; and I'm fure it is a little tiled houfe with a gate by the fide of it, juft like the one near our own entry ; only that our's has got a pear-tree on the wall, 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 obfervation by and by, I hope. Enter Sir John Hazelwood. SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. I am happy in the honour of feeing your lady- fhip and thefe fair ladies. LADY GOODBODY. And we reckon ourfelves particularly fortunate in meeting with you, Sir John j 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 prefenting her nieces.) It is a long time fince we met, Sir John, you were then a mere lad, and I was not myfelf a very old woman. * SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. I remember perfectly the lafl: time I had the A CO MED Y\ . 167 '.eafure of feeing yoitr ladyfhip, tho' being a bachelor (till, 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 going 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. (Worfhipton, who is about toprefent with much devotion a glove to Mifs Martin, which Jhe had dropped^ lets it fall out of his hand, and re* tiring fome paces back, flares with afionijh- ment at Hannah.) sir john hazel wood (to Hannah). I am happy to have this opportunity of paying my refpecl to the daughter of my old friend. I hope, madam, you will admit of this plea for being better acquainted. lady goodbody ( ' afide to Hannah). Anfvver him child. hannah (curtfying awkwardly). My father is very well, I thank you, fir. M 4 l<& THE COUNTRY INN: Miss martin ( looking Jlyly at Worfhipton). I fancy, after all, I muft pick up this glove myfelf. I am afraid fome fudden indifpofition — — worshipton (confiifedly). I beg pardon ! I — I have a flight pain in my jaw-bone j 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 fhial). worshipton ( 'retreating from her J. You are infinitely obliging, madam, but I never take any thing for it. ' i lady goodbody (following h'wi with the phial). Do take it, and hold it in your mouth for fome jime before you fwallow it. It is very naufeous, but it will cure you. worshipton (Jlill retreating). Pray, madam, be fo obliging as to excufe me : I cannot poflibly fwallow it. • i A COMEDY. 169 jlady good body (prejjing it Jilll more earneftly). Indeed, indeed, it will cure you, and I muft poli- tively infill upon your taking it. woushipton (defending him/elf vehemently J. Pofitively then, madam, you oblige me to fay— (breaking fuddenly away,) Peft take all the drugs in the world ! (Afide.) SIR JOHNT HAZELWOOD. You mull not, Lady Goodbody, infift on curing a man againft his will : he likes the pain perhaps ; let him enjoy it. worshipton (returning). Indeed I am very much obliged to your lady- fhip ; I am much better now. Forgive my impa- tience , I don't know what I faid. LADY GOODBODY. I am very glad you are better, and I forgive you with all my heart, tho* it is a remedy that I have long had the greateft faith in, diftill'd by myfelf from the very bed ingredients, and has cured a great many people, I aflure 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 filler and Colonel Martin ? She loft both her parents early, and fhe has ever fince been my child. i 7 o THE COUNTRY INN: SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. You are happy in having fuch a daughter. LADY OOODBODY. I am fo : fhe is a very good girl, and has many excellent qualities, which young women now -a-days do but rarely potTefs. SIR JOHN HAZELWCOD. I dare fay fhe is a mod amiable companion, whom you would be very unwilling to part with. LADY GOODBODY. Nay, Sir John, I am not fo felfifh neither, but that I fhould willingly give her up to a good huf- band. miss martin (qfide to 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 truft Lady Goodbody's account of me ; for if (he thought fize neceflary 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 trufled to Lady Goodbody's opinions, and have never felt more in- clination to do fo than at this moment. A COMEDY. 171 LADY GOODBODY. » She always behaves like a fool when fhe is praifed, and, excepting this, I don't know a fault that me has. (Enter a Servant, announcing dinner,) (To Mils 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 ajkance at Hannah, and then going up to her with an unwilling Jhrug J. . Permit me to have the honour (Exit, handing her out. END OF THE FIRST ACT. 17* THE COUNTRY INN: • ACT ii. SCENE I. Lady Goodbody, Mifs Martin, and Hannah, Sir John Hazelwood, Worfhipton, and Amaryllis, dif covered Jit ting by a table, with wine andglafles, &c. before them. LADY GOODBODY. But indeed, my dear Sir John, you ought to marry. SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. Indeed, my dear Lady Goodbody, I can't fee 4hat 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 feen children of yours growing up to preferve the ho- nours of the family. SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. It is too late now to think of pleafmg my grand- mother after (he has been twenty years in her grave : your ladyfhip mult offer feme other argu- ment to convince me. A COMEDY, 173 LADY GOOD BODY. You owe it to your country then : all families who have good fortunes and good blood in their veins, mould be kept up for the fake of their coun- try. Is not every body forry when a houfe of this kind becomes extinct ? SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. If I thought my eftates would ceafe to bear corn and hay upon them in pofleflion of a different fa- mily, I (hould marry to-morrow for the good of the country mod certainly. I (hould be very forry to be fure to make every body forry for my want of heirs : but I remember when my neighbour Squire Wheelbarrow loft his only fon, there was as much merry-making, and as much ale drank at the very- next fair, upon his own eftate too, as if nobody had cared a ru(h about the matter. I believe you muft produce fome (Ironger reafon Hill, my lady. WORSH1PTON. Yes, do keep it up, madam ! don't let him off fo eafily* t x LADY GOODBODY (gaylyj. For the fake of the ladies then, Sir John, you ought to be a bachelor no longer. WORSHIPTON. Now your ladyfhip attacks him from a flrong pod. 174 THE COUNTRY INN: AMARYLLIS. f Now, madam, you touch the fined chord of the foul's harmony. SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. She does ; I allow it. But I contend that I am of more fervice to the ladies in my prefent (late than I could poflibly be in any other. Have I not danced at our country balls with all the neglected damfels who could find no partners to lead them out forthefe ten years part ? and do I not ftill ferve as a forlorn hope to half the defponding maidens and unfettled widows of the weft-riding of Yorkfhire ? worshipton (to Lady Goodbody). Upon my honour, madam, he tells you ferious truth as to the neglected 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 him if he had not too good an eftate to be rejected. LADY GOODBODY. Your fervices to the ladies are too general, Sir John •, to make one deferving woman happy is the beft way of (hewing your refpect for them. SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD, And what lady, my good madam, will expect happinefs from an elderly ruflicated bachelor I A CO MEDY. 175 LADY GOODBODY. No fenfible woman diflikes an agreeable man be- caufe he may be pad the heyday of his life. 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 where 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 ladyfhip pleafes we (hall drop this fub- jecTt. 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# WORSHIPTON. That is the very cafe with him, madam ; he mud have, forfooth, fuch a woman as the fun never be- held : a woman of wit who holds her tongue ; a good houfewife who teizes nobody with her eco- 17* THE COUNTRY INN: nomy ; and a woman who knows the world, and yet prefers rerirement 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 drefs'd and look pretty as lopg as I live* lady goodbody (to Sir John). Do you tolerate oaths in your prefence ? SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. I don't at lead encourage them by my example. WORSHIPTON. How mould you, my good fir ? you bury your- felf fo much in the country you fcarcely know what, oaths are in ufe. SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. That is not my reafon for abftaining from them, however : if ever I fhould betake myfelf to fwear- ing, I fhall give myfelf very little 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 Goobody's advice, to have one. But Mr. Ama- ryllis are you filent ail 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, wit, fafhion, and economy are prized, hj • A COMEDY* i 77 mod men, Sir John, but let the maid whofe tender fenfibility, whole foft delicacy, whofe fympathy of foul gently animates her countenance, be my por- tion, and every other thing I can difpenfe with. MTSS MARTIN. You three gentlemen, at lead, are fo far lucky in your taftes, that you are in no danger of ever becoming rivals. LADY GOODBODY. I mud own, however, Sir John's choice appears to me to be the mod retfonable, 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' fhe is naturally of a gay difpofition ; why mould we not believe then that there are many young women in the world of the fame chara&er ? miss martin (afide to Lady Goodbody). For heaven's fake, ma'am, give this up ! you'll put me befide myfelf. lady goodbody (afide 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 faid in your praife, madam, that will not be readily credited ; but to prefer country retirement, and a bachelor pad the N i 7 P THE COUNTRY INN: noon of his days, is a fingular tafte for a young ani gay woman. MISS MARTIN. Perhaps it is fo : but unluckily it is one to which I make not the fmalleft pretentions. I love the amufements of town to a folly ; retirement is irk- fome to me ; and I hate a capricious old (ftop~ pingjhort as if Jhocked at h erf elf with great embarraffment.) lady goodbody (very angrily). Mifs Martin : how can you be fo perverfe ! SIR JOHN HAZELWOOO. Pray, my dear madam, let us not fall out about this foolifh jeft which we have kept up too long. Here comes a orange original old fellow who is in the cuftom of amufing us a little after dinner, but he forgets that there are ladies with us at prefent. ■ LADY GOODBODY. Pray let him come, we fhali be glad to hear him talk a little. Enter David. david (to Sir John). A good afternoon to your honour. < 3 SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. How do. you do, my honeft friend David ? A COMEDY. *7^ 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 modeftly of themfelves, tho' they don't infill upon every body believing them. Here is fomething for thy dry niouth ; you mud drink a bumper to the ladies* healths. DAVID. Such ladies as thefe defer ve bumpers a-piece to their healths. SIR jOHtt HAZELWOOD. So they do; and here's the firfl: for you. (Filling him a glafs.) david (drinking J. )ur Lad (To Lady Goodbody.) My humble refpe&s to your Ladyfhip. LADY GOODBODY. I'm proud of the refpect of fo wife a man, Mr. David. i DAVID. O Lord, madam, why mould I be held in any account? What tho' a body may have a better underftanding of things, and abetter way of fetting N2 rS<> 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, like you, with the rare gift of modefty alfo. ■ DAVID, Faith, young lady, you're in the rights of it there. Here's to your very good health : here's to your feeret inclinations. MISS MARTIN. I thank you j but you are waggifh as welfas wife* DAVID. ,G yes, madam! nothing comes amifs to me. After I have been talking, rnehap of the Pope, or the Emperor, or the land-tax, or the folemn league and covenant, I can juft go and break my jefts among the women as if I were no better than one of themfelves. \ MISS MARTIN. How 'wonderfully condefcending to the poor filly women ! DAVID. O yes, madam, I have no pride about me : I can juft talk like one of themfelves. (Drinking t* A COMEDY. IBi Hannah.) My fervice to you, young lady. (Raifing his voice.) Yes, yes, com mend me to the women: they don't envy any little wit that one may have. But conference, I care for the face of no man ! (hook- 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 comparison, I'll defy the bed of them all. Ods dickens ! I could find ye out a fimilitude for the fun, moon, and flars, 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 HAZELWOOD. What's that ? DAVID. By my troth, I've forgot my errand ! I have brought the poor girl who lings fo well to divert your honours, and me is waiting at the door with fome ill-manner'd companions along with her, LADY GOODBODY. Pray bring her in, we (hall be glad to have a fong from her. (David goes to the door, and leading in Sally, Jhuts it in Will's face with great indignation. J david (to Sally). Come in 5 huffey, and let thofe fneering varlets N 3 3 Sfey THE COUNTRY INN: amufe themfelves. Sing the ladies one of your new fongs. SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. I believe they woujd rather have one of your old ones. SALLY. ' Will you pleafe to have the Sailor's Courtfhip to the Tinker's Daughter 5 or, " My tatter *d . Hofe and clouted Shoon" ?■ SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. I rather think the clouted fhpon will do beft. SONG. Tho richer /wains thy love purfue, In Sunday geer, and bonnets new ; And ev'ry fair before thee lay Their Jilken gifts with colours gay ; They love thee not, alas ! fo well As one whofighs and dares not tell ; x. Who haunts thy dwelling, night and noon In tatter d hofe and clouted /boon. I grieve not for my wayward lot, My empty folds, my rooflefs cot ; Nor hateful pity, proudly jhown, Nor a Iter 9 d looks, nor friend/hip flown \ Nor yet my dog with lanken fides, Who by his mafter flill abides ; But how will Nan prefer my boon, In tatter d hofe and clouted Jhoon / A COMEDY. |9j MISS MARTIN. She has a charming voice, and fmgs with fome Jkill. SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. Who taught you thefe fongs, Sally ? SALLY. My father, fir -> he's a fid— david (pinching her arm afide). Fiddler an't genteel ; fay he's a muficianer, SALLV. He's a muficianer, fir. (Worfhipton laughs impertinently, and flares at Sally, who keeps retiring in confaflon as he Jlill continues to flare, and at lafl runs out,) DAVID. Is the (heep-faced fool gone ? (Exit after her in great indignation. • • worshipton (to Amaryllis). Let us go and coax her to return. ( Exit Worfhipton and Amaryllis. SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. She is very young, and we mult excufe her. N 4 !?* THE COUNTRY INN: LADY GOODBODY. There are more people here than her who ought to plead the fame excufe. Mils Martin, you have behaved very ftrangely, 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.. I 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 (hall meet again at the tea-table. (Exit. LADY GOODBODY. Very well, very well, Mifs Martin ! finc'e 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 fhould look pretty fharply about her if file would not flill remain a lonely maiden ail her life. A COMEDY. 185 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 refpectable too. LADY GOODBODY. No, child ; a married woman is always more refpe&able than a iingle one, let her be married to whom (he will. MISS MARTIN. Indeed ! Can one give to another what he is not potTefs'd of himfelf? Can a woman receive any additional refpectability becaufe fome drivelling, in- fignificant man, whom all the world defpifes, has put a wedding-ring upon her finger!— ha ! ha ! ha ! But I fuppofe a good fettlement is the honour your Lady (hip means. LADY GOODBODY. No, indeed : I fay, every married woman is more refpectable than a Iingle one, independently of all fettlements. What elfe do you think would have induced me, with the fortune I had, to marry Sir Benjamin Good body ? for his perfon was difagree- able, and his beft friends admitted he was no conjurer. Don't miftake me', however, I mean no difrepec*t to his memory. He was a very good man, and I have lamented him fmcerely. And what elfe 1 86 THE COUNTRY INN: do you think would have induced my coufin Frances to give her handto that poor puny creature, Mr. Periwinkle, but to place herfelf in this refpecl:- able ftate. MISS MARTIN. Ha! ha! ha! I did not expect to hear fuch flrong examples quoted from my own family. LADY GOODBODY. Don't make a jeft of it : 1 fpeak ferioufly, and you ought to think ferioufly. MISS MARTIN. I think very ferioufly that, if you would not pefter me 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 ftill with you, and take care of your declining years, in return for the tendernefs and attention you have beftowed on my youth. Why would you put me away from you ? are you tired of my company ? LADY GOODBQDY. Oh, Mary ! talk not of taking care of my de- clining years : I fhould be contented to be crippled or bed-ridden all my life, could I but fee you hap- pily and honourably married. miss martin (kifftngla&y Goodbody'j hand ten- derly J. r My dear aunt ! pardon my petulance and eager- A COMEDY. i8. 7 fiefs. I will drive to pleafe you more : but do give up the prefent purfuir, I befeech you. LADY GOODBODY. No, no, my dear ! I love you too well for that. But I am unfit to fay any thing to you at prefent. (Exit. miss martin (looking after her J. My dear r kind, perverfe aunt ! you will be the death of me. (To Hannah.) Come, my dear, well retire to our rooms too. What have you been thinking of all this time ? HANNAH. I have juft been wondering whether my grand- mother was chriftened Hannah or Hanabella. MISS MARTIN". What puts that into your head I HANNAH. Becaufe Mr. Worfhipton faid at dinner, when my aunt call'd me Hannah, that fhe mould have pall'd me Hanabella, which is a prettier name. MISS MARTIN. Mr. Worfhipton has been amufing himfelf. — Oh heigh ho ! I wifh we were at home again, in our $14 manfion in the north. *3 iSS THE COUNTRY INN: Enter Hopkins. hopkins C gently putting her hand on Mifs Martin*/ Jhoulderj. My dear child ! pardon the liberty : I flill feel for you the afFe&ion of a dry nurfe : what is the matter with you ? MISS MARTIN. Still the old grievance, my dear Hopkins ; my aunt trying to make up a match for me. HOPKINS. Ay, poor good lady : me can't leave that alone for the foul of her. She would make up matches at home for every country girl in the neighbour- hood if (he could. I even believe, if I had not been once married already, which (he thinks fuffi- cient for the credit of any woman, fhe would ftill be for trying to make up a match for my old crazy bones, God help me 1— 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 that, Hopkins ? HOPKINS. A letter from my little boy whom my lady puts to fchool, written with his own hand, dear little A COMEDY. s$9 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 mall indeed have a pleafure in reading it. Go with me to my room, and (hew it me there : it does my ill-humour good to fee thee fo happy 5 I will drive to think lefs of my own concerns. (Exeunt* SCENE II. Afmall room leading to other rooms in the houfe : Jenkins dij covered [/landing at one /«g- upon tiptoe* WORSHIPTON. Thou haft fome intelligence for me? (In a low 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 (he is fearching for. I heard this juft now as I liften'd at her door ; fo conceal yourieif here amongft thefe great coats for a few minutes, and you may way-lay her as (he pafles. (Speaking in a half whifper.) I9<> THE COUNTRY INN: WORSHIPTON. Is my uncle (till reading in the next chamber/ JENKINS; I believe fo. (Going to a door at the bottom of the 1 fiage, andlijiening ) He is juft now rifing rogo away. (Worfhipton /brinks back, and is going hqftily out,) No, no ! don't be. afraid ; he is gone out the other way to vifit old Rycroft, I fuppofe. worshipton (/peaking in a loud voice)* Good then : we mail have the coaft fclear t let us hide ourfelves. Thou muft remain with me, for I may have occafion for thee. , (Hide them/elves among ft the great coats.) Enter Lady Goodbody and Hopkins, talking as they enter. lady goodbody (in rather a low voice J. \ Very true, Hopkins, and if my god-daughter turns out an induftrious girl, I'll add fomething to what (he faves myfelf, to get her a hufband ; for you know fhe is not very fjghtly. Hopkins (in a loud voice, having lingered feme paces behind to pick up femcihing Jhe has droptj. Ay,' there is plenty of hufbands to be had, my Lady, tho* a girl be ever fo homely, if (he have but money enough. (Exeunt Lady Goodbody and Hopkins.) , A COMEDY. t 9 i worshipton (behind the door J. Ay, they are talking of their heirefs now. They are devilifhly fufpicious of defigns upon her, but we'll jockey them lor all that. Ha ! here comes the game. Enter Hannah (and Worfhipton comes from bis 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, Ihope, that a great coat mould 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 (peeping from his hiding-place). Droll enough, by my faith ! WORSHIPTON. I have been waiting here concealed a long time for this happinefs \ for your aunt is (o jealous I can igs THE COUNTRY INN: find no opportunity of fpeaking to you. She knows well enough it is impoffible to behold fuch beauty and attraction without— — pardon me: you know very well what I would fay to you if I durfl. HANNAH. La, no! how mould I know. Do you mean that I am beautiful, and what d'ye call it ? W0R8HIPT0N. Indeed I do : your beauty rauft be admired, tho' your prudent aunt does all fhe can to conceal it. HANNAH. La, now 1 you 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 : I fhall have it cut when we go to town. (Putting her hair behind her ears awkwardly with her fingers j and beginning to look rather brijk.) worshipton (looking at them with affecled admira- tion). O, beautiful indeed ! jenkins (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 ! A COMEDY. 1 9? HANNAH. La, now i did you think they were as pretty as ithey are ? W0RSH1PT0N. I muft confefs I Ihould have expelled to find jthem 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 1 know. \ - WORSHIPTON. No, nobody .j I jufl found it out myfelf* HANNAH. La, now ! that is fo wonderful ! : ftunt herfelf O i 5 4 . THE COUNTRY INN: faid that my coufin Martin could not have done it fo well. WORSHIPTON. Your coufin Martin ! would any one compare you together ? Don't you know how much every body is delighted with you ? HANNAH. o La, no ! nobody tells me any thing about it. ' WORSH1PTON. 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 t# take care of me when we go out. WORSHIPTON-. 1 thought fo. — Ah ! "my charming Hanabellal (Sighs two or three times, but jhe continues Jlaring vacantly, without taking any notice of it. J jenkins (qfide to Worfhipton as he walks near his hiding place, rather at a lofs what to do). Give a good heavy grunt, fir, and fhe'Il afk what's the matter with you : mere fighing is no. more to her than the blowing of your nofe. A COMEDY. 195 worshipton (ogling Hannah, and giving a groan J. Oh! oh! HANNAH. La f 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 mud implore. (Kneeling 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 Languifh's lover made fongs upon her. WORSHIPTON. I'll do fo too, or any thing : but don't let your aunt know that I have fpoken to you, (he would be fo angry. ttANNAH. O no ! me is very fond of people being married, O a i 9 6 THE COUNTRY INN: WORSHFPTON. Yes, but flie 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.) O don't pull away from me this fair hand ! i HANNAH, La! Fm fure I an't pulling it away. wqrshipton (Jlarting up fuddenly frotn his knees). There's fomebody coming. (Runs out and leaves Hannah Jirangely bewildered, and not know* ing where to run.) Hannah. O dear, dear! what mall I do? Enter Hopkins. HOPKINS. . What is the matter, Mifs Clodpatc ? My Lady fent me to fee what is become of you : are you frightened for any thing, that you keep (landing here in fuch a (trange manner ? HANNAH, O la, no ! but I juft thought fomehow, that you would think there was fomebody with me. (Hop,, kins looks 'about the room fufpicioufly,) O no; you A COMEDY. i 97 need not look for any body : thofe are only great coats by the wall, you fee ; and Mr. Wprfhipton's an't there, you fee ; for his has got five capes to it, and the cloth is of a much lighter colbur, and it has got more button-holes to it too than any body's elfe in the houfe. hopkins (Jlill flaring ftrangely about), Mr, Worfhipton's ! was he here? HANNAH. La, no ! an't I juft telling you that he an't here. hopkins (qfide). 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 directly. (Exeunt Hannah and Hopkins. jenkins (coining forward from his hiding-place, and Jhrugging up his jhoulders as he looks after Hannah). This is the price my matter 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. o 3 i 9 8 THE COUNTRY INN? JENKINS. Yes to be fure, fir ; but — but— WORSHIPTON. But what, Jenkins ? JENKINS. Pardon my freedom, fir : — but don't you think fhe is rather too great a fool for WORSHIPTON. Poh ! poh ! poh ! (he 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 1 gave you to fay no. thing, in the way of afking queftions at the fer- vants, to lead them to fufpect 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 ftaunch old-faihion'd notions, has A COMEDY, ,99 taken fuch a diflrke 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 (hall foon jockey them all. (ExeunU SCENE III. A chamber all littered over with looks, papers, old coats, Jhoes, &c,&c. Amaryllis dif covered fitting by a table with a pen in his hand 9 and paper before him. After mujingfome time, he writes, and then blots out what he has written. AMARYLLIS ( to himfelf). This won't do : it does not found well. What a teafing thing it is, when one has got a beautiful line, to be ftopp'd thus for want of a good rhyme to couple with it ! (repeating with gr eat emphajis and gefliculation) " On thy ideal pinions let me fly, " High-foaring Fancy, far above the Iky : " Beyond the ftarry 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. (Mufing and rubbing his fore- head.) looting tenderly at her* dolly (alone). What can he have to fay to me now? Ods dickens ! I'll 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 mould like mightily to keep a maid of my own, and be call'd Mrs. Amarals. — I'll bring It to this if I can. (Going out with the coat.) He mall brufh his own coat then* howfomever. (Lxit* END OF THE THIRD ACT, I ■- qj «* THE fcOUNTRY INK: ACT IV. SCENE I. Moon-light: a field or /mall court behind the inn, and every thing covered with /now. Enter Fiddler, Piper, ^^Hurdy-Gurdy-Man, each with his inflrument* FIDDLER. xl ow deyilifh cold 'tis ! *tis well we are fortified with road 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 conduion waiting till we cramm'd our- felves, Maifter John. HURDY-GURDY-MAN. Dat would be impolite in verite. FIDDLER. Damn me ! if I would play with an empty fto* 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 mug myfelf, and I never likes to put any one to hardfhip. A COMEDY. jg| PIPER. Why thou art a good-humour'd, kindly-hearted fellow, John ; I muft 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 his fnuff-box, and rapping on the lid with an air of importance)^ di na ye think, gentlemen, it will be expedient 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-pod, or fick like; but this is a lady of family, man, and fhe mull have fomething 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. 9.3 * n * THE COUNTRY INN: PIPER. Day's work, man! you talk about playing on your fiddle as a cobler would do about mending of fhoes. No, no ! we'll do the thing decently and creditably. HURDY GURDY-MAN. Suppofe we do give her de little chanfon d'amour ? PIPER. Song a moor ! what's that ? i 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 fick like, that don't know any better j but any body that has been in Lo- chaber, good troth ! would count it no better than, jargon, man ? HURDY-GURDY-MAN. But I do fay when de peoples of my country hear your pipe, dey do fo. (Stopping his ears, and mimicking one who runs away.) And I do fay dat I play more better mufic dan you, one, two, ten, twenty times over. A COMEDY. 23*' PIPER. Lord help ye, man! it's lang fin pride began: will ye compare yourfelf to the Laird of M c 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 chriftian-like victuals 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 tailor, or fick like (??iimicking him)) few of you tafle any thing that has ever had life in it. piper. Sir, an* it were not for refpect to the lady yonder (pointing to the window when Hannah appears), I 0.4 t *$z THE COUNTRY INN: would run this dirk into that nafty bulk of yours, and let out fome o' the plumb-pudding you pre- tend to be (luffed with, you fwine that you are I FIDDLER. O never mind the lady, Mafter M e Rory ; I'll box you for two-pence. ( Putting himfelfin a boxing fojiure.) PIPER, Done, fir, for half the money. (Putting himfelf in the fame pofiure.) HURDY-GURDY MAN. Defe men very foolifh : my hurdy-gurdy and I be but ftrangers in dis country : we will keep out of de way. (Retiring to a corner of tkefiage J Enter Worshipton and Jenkins. WORSHfPTONU Hold, hold ! what is all this for ? I hired you to give us harmony and not difcord, and be damn'd to you ! FIDDLER. Tou mall have that too, an' pleafe your honour, WORSHIPTON. But I want no more than I bargained for, fa keep this for fome other occafion, if you pleafe. j A COMEDY. *3$ fiddler (giving Up J. Well, it don't fig iify, I can pick a quarrel with him another time. piper (to Fiddler). Since the gentleman defires it, fir, I (hall let you alone for this time ; but damn you, fir, if you fay a word againft my country again, I'll make you a man of no country at all. (They take up their in- firuments, and go to different fides of the ft age 9 fhll making fgns of defiance to one another*) worshipton (going to the window). Are you there, my charming love I HANNAH. Yes, I have been here fome time. WORSHIPTON". I could not come fooner. — Remember your pro- nvife ; and in the mean time what mufic fhall they play? HANNAH. Juft let them play a concert. WORSHIPTON. A concert. — .Well, gentlemen, you are defired to play a concert. *34 THE COUNTRY INN; FIDDLER. * That is to fay we are all to play together. What fhall we play ? (To Piper.) Shall we play the Lady's Fancy ? 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 (to Fiddler), he be wafhpifli : you and I will play Ma chere Amie. 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 (flopping his ears). Give, over! give over! blefs my foul! the fqueaking of a hundred pigs and the fow-driver at A COMEDY. 2 3 j cfieir heels is nothing to this. (Going to the window,) Well, my love, how did you like the concert ? hannah (above J. Very well, I thank you. worshipton (q/ide). A lady of precious tatte ! (qfide.) But would it not be better to hear them one at a time ? Which of them (hall I defire to play firft ? (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 fiddler, and the meaneft man of all the M c Rorys would fcorn to be a fiddler. My father before me was 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, let me tell you that, madam. worshipton. My good Mr. M c Rory, (he meant you no offence, I afiure you me refpe&s your grandfather very- much. Do oblige us with a tune on your bagpipes. (Piper makes a profound bow, a?id ftanding by the fide fcene^ half concealed, flays a Highland fee-bro.) 23 6 THE COUNTRY INN: worshipton (to Piper). I thank you, fir ; your mufic is excellent : it is both martial and plaintive. — But where is our little warbler \ Ha ! here fhe comes. Enter Sally. Come, my good girl, can you fing the fong I gave you ! SALLY. Yes, fir. WORSHIPTON, Let us have it then. SONG. Ah, Celia, beauteous, heavenly maid ! In pity to thy Jhepherd 's heart, Thus by thy fatal charms betray d, The gentle balm of hope impart. Ah ! give me hope in accents fweet. Sweet as thy lute's melodious Jlrain ; Til lay my laurels at thy feet, And blefs the hour that gave me pain* WORSHIPTON. Very well fung, indeed. {To Hannah.) Don't you think, my charming Hannah, we have had Biufic enough ? A COMEDY. * 37 HANNAH. Juft as you pleafe : I don't care. WORSHIPTON. I'll fend them off then. (To Jenkins, who comes forward.) Take them all to the other fide of the houfe, and make them play under Mifs Martin's window. You underftand. (Aftde.) JENKINS. Yes, fir. (Exeunt Jenkins and mu/tc 9 and entep Will, who retires to a corner ofthejlage. worshipton (to Hannah). How did you like my fong, Hanabella ? HANNAH. Very well : but la ! it an't the fong you prp- mifed to make upon me : it don't fay one word about either you or I. < WORSHIPTON. Ay, but it does tho' ; for you are Celia, and I ani the fhepherd, and that is the fafhion of love- fongs., HANNAH, Well, that is fo droll ! WORSHIPTON. So it is.— And now, my dearefl creature, fulfil *3$ THE COUNTRY INN: your promife, and come over the window to rti€$ the poftchaife is waiting for us, HANNAH. La I is it the yellow chaife that (lands 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 ! I 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 fs juff the fame thing. Do come now I there is no time to be loft. You have only to fet your foot upon that (tone which juts out from the wall, and you are in my arms in an inftant. HANNAH* No, tid ! old aunt Gertrude went over the ftrafe dow to be married, and me fell and broke her leg,, and never was married at all. WORSHIPTON. But you can't break your leg here, the wall is fo low* — Come, come, there is no time tolofe. A COMEDY. 3 39 HANNAH. O no, no ! I know I (hall come to harm. WORSHIPTON. Do, my cleared Hanabella, there is not the lead danger. (In a coaxing tone of voice.) HANNAH. O no, no ! aunt Gertrude broke her leg, and I'm fure I (hall break mine too. worshipton (lofing all patience ). Damn your aunt Gertrude, and all the fools of the family ! I'll give you leave to cut my head off if you fail. ■ HANNAH. I'll go away, I won't flay 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 (hall 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 (hall explain to you afterwards. *4o THE -COUNTRY INN.' WORSHIPTON. But her chamber enters thro* the old lady's; fa how can you get her out ? WILL. By unkenneling the old lady, to be fure ; 111 do that faft enough. worshipton (to Hannah). Then wait in your chamber, my deareft creature, till we come for you. (Afide as he goes off with Will.) What a devil of a fool it is ! who could have thought fhe would have been fo obftinate. (Exeunt- i SCENE II. A/mall Hall, with the doors of fever al rooms ope?ii?ig into it. Enter Worshipton and Will, with a candle and burnt paper in his hand, will (thrufiing ihe burnt paper under one of the doors). 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, like 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 flaircafe, and I'll fend the young lady to you immediately. You told her our plan ? WORSHIPTON. Yes, I returned to the window, and told her. WILL. I have procured a trufty lad to drive in my place, and you'll find every thing as you ordered it. WORSHIPTON. I thank you, my good fellow : I'll make your fortune for this. yiLL. I know your honour is a noble-minded gentle- man. ■ (Exit Worfhipton. will ( alone y liftcning at the door). Yes, yes, fhe fmells it now : I hear her flirring. (Bawling very loud.) Fire ! fire ! fire ! The houfe is on fire ! Fire ! fire ! fire ! Enter Lady Goodbody in her night-clothes, fol- lowed by Hannah. LADY GOODBODY. Mercy on us ! how ftrong I fmell it here I Where are all the fervants ? Call every body up. (Exit Hannah by the Jlaircafe door.) Is that the way out ? Stay, Hannah, and take me with you. R *4* THE COUNTRY INN: WILL, Your Ladyfhip had better take hold of my arms, and I'll take you fafe out. LADY GOODBOBY. Do take me out ! do take me out ! Fire ! fire ! fire ! is there nobody coming to us ? (Takes hold of Will\r arm, who flaggers along with her Jirft to one fide of the f age, and then to the other.) Why, what are you about, fellow ? I'll get better along by myfelf. WILL. Never fear! never fear! I'll warrant I'll take care of your Ladyfhip, LADY GOOBBODY. Why don't you go fafter then? Let go my arm, I fay. Is the fellow mad or drunk ? WILL. I'll take care of your Ladyfhip. Old ladies are • often a (tumbling : take good care of your feet, madam. LADY GOOBBODY. Look to your own feet, fool ! and let me alone. The man's diftra&ed ! let go my arm, I fay. ( She Jlruggles to get free : he keeps fafi hold of her, and hobbles zig-zag over thejlage,jhe all the while calling A COMEDY. 243- out fire > till they get to the ft air cafe door, where he falls down with his body right acrofs the door to pre- vent its opening, as if he were in aft.) 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 ! how ftrong it fmells here. O lud! lud I I'm a ruin'd woman! Where can it have broke out? O lud ! lud ! DOLLY. Lack-a-daify ! I fmell it over head. I'll pawn my life it is in the north garret, where my new- gown lies. O dear 1 O dear ! landlady (running diflracledly about). Fire ! fire ! Water ! water ! will nobody aflift a poor ruined woman ? Oh, all my good furniture ! Oh, my new dimity bed ! Enter Sir John Hazelwood in his night-gown. SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. Confound your new dimity bed ! Where is Mifs Martin ? LADY GOODBODY. O my child ! my child ! where is my child ? R2 *44 THE COUNTRY INN: SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. I'll go for her. — Bat here fhe comes : all's well now j let it burn as it will. (Enter Mifs Martin, and Sir John runs eagerly up to her^ but flops Jhort fuddenly.) My old Tick fellow is in bed, and can't ftir a limb to fave himfelf ; I mult carry Mm out in my arms. (Going hqftily out> but is flopped by Amaryllis, who enters grotefquely drejfed in his nightcap,) AMARYLLIS. Where are you going ? where has it broke out ? 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 flairs, I aflure you, but I fmell it here. LANDLADY. Then it is down flairs, and we fhall all be burnt before we can get out. (They all crowd about the Jiaircafe door.) Raife that great fellow there. LADY GOODBODY. He's in a flrong hyfterick fit. A COMEDY. 245 POLLY. , ' Give him a kick o' the guts, and that will cure his extericks. .-. SIR TOHN HAZELWOOD. J A hafty remedy, gentle maiden. (Sir John and Amaryllis lift Will neck and heels from the door.) Enter David from the ft air cafe. ■ DAVID. Who flopped the door there? what's all this buttle for ? LANDLADY. O, David, David ! isn't there fire below flairs, David ? DAVID. Yes, as much as will roafl an egg, 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. C Exeunt Landlady and Dolly. sir john hazelwood (to Amaryllis). We had better fearch too. (Exeunt Sir John and Amaryllis. R3 2\6 'THE COUNTRY INN: DAVID* What's the matter with Will ? LADY GOODBODY. He's in a ftrong fit. DAVID. I never knew him in one before : I'm afraid he's dead, poor fellow! What will become of old Grizel 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 affiftance for him. But, happen what will, old Grizel (han't go to the workhoufe, for I'll take care of her myfelf. Hafte, good David ! run for the apothecary direclly. (Exit David.) Go, Mary, fetch me fome drops from my room. (Exit Mifs Martin.) Poor young man ! will (getting up, and falling on his knees to Lady Goodbody). O, my good bleffed lady ! I'm 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 beaft I might have known that you were a main good, charitable lady.— But I'll fetch her back again : I'll run to the world's end to ferve you. A C O M E D Y. 247 LADY GOODBODY. You are raving, I fear: who will you fetch back ? WILL. The great heirefs, 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 ia my ikin mould be broken. LADY GOODBODY. This is orange, indeed ! (Confiderlng a while. J No, no, young man, don't go after her ; fhe is of age, and may do as fhe pleafes. WILL. Ods my life, you are the befl: good lady alive ! I'll run and tell my old mother what a lady you are. LADY GOODBODY. Nay, I'll go and fee her myfelf ; I may be able to make her Situation more comfortable, perhaps. R 4 2 4 8 THE COUNTRY INN: will (burfting into tears). Thank you, madam ! Heaven knows I thank you ! but as long as I have health and thefe two hands, I'll take care of her who took care of me before I could take care of myfelf, LADY G00P30DY. You are a good young man, I fee, and I have a great mind to take care of you both. She has brought you foberly up, I hope, and taught you to read your Bible, WILL, O Lord, madam ! old Grizel can't read a word herfelf, but many a time (he 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 altp- 'gether ! s ■ LADY GOoDBODy. Come into the parlour with me : you muft tell me more of this ftory of Mr, Wprfhipton and my niece. Re-enter Miss Martin with the drops* MISS MARTIN. I fought them every where, and thought I mould, never ,. A COMEDY. 249 LADY GOODBODY. We don't want them now; carry them back again. (Exeunt Lady Goodbody and Will by one fide, and Mifs Martin by the other* SCENE III. The Inn Tard, with the ft able - door in fron*at which Will appears, as if ready to f addle a horfe. Enter Amaryllis. AMARYLLIS, I hear, Will, you are going by Lady Goodbody's orders to defire the young couple to return to her from church : I mould be much obliged to you if you would take Dorothea behind you, for fhe has got fome 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 ? . AMARYLLJS, Yes, Will. WILL- Hang her! let her walk: Blackberry won't carry double. AMARYLLIS. I am fure he will, if you try him. *5* THE COUNTRY INN: WILL. Why mould 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 fo to you if fhe could ferve you. WILL. No, to be fure : as far as a kick o* the guts goes to cure one of the extericks, kindly chriftian ! fhe will be ready enough with her fervice. AMARYLLIS. Come, come ! don't be fo crufty now. Hefc is money for you : Blackberry muft carry double. (Giving 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. * 5 t minutes, if fhe means to come, for I won't wait aa inftant for the fir ft madam in England. A foft pil- lion for her truly ! (Grumbling as be goes into the ftable.) Amaryllis (alone)* He has been my rival, I fee, by his fpite. But no wonder ! my charming girl muft have many admirers, (ExiU END Of THE FOURTH ACT. 252 THE COUNTRY INN: ACT V. SCENE I. The Kitchen. Landlady difcovered i going up and down> bufy with her family affai s, and David with two countrymen, drinking a pot of beer together. first man (drinking). My fai vice to you, David. david (drinking). And here's to your very good health, Matter 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 fpendihrifts 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 To be that he were in the humour to think fo. DAVID. Ay, to be fure it would, Matter 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, 8f A COMEDY. 253 is, at the beft, 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 mailer of this inn, and all by neglecting of your own concerns are come to be the fervant at laft. david (with great contempt J. 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, Matter 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 1 I might have been a clerk to the king, or mayhap an arch- bifhop by this time. (A knocking at the door, Landlady opens it, and enter two Farmers.) FIRST FARMER. Is Dolly within ? LANDLADY. No, fhe is gone a little way a-field this morning about fome errands of her own. *$+ THE COUNTRY INN; SECOND FARMER. That is a pity now, for we bring her fuch rare news. LANDLADY. Lack-a-daify ! what can that be ? SECOND FARMER. Her uncle, the grazier, is dead at laft ; 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 flock, and all is difpofed of, as any body would wifh to have the handling of. LANDLADY. Ten thoufand pounds ! how fome people are born to be lucky 1 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 ihe was going this morning ? sally. No, but I can guefs well enough j for {he is all A COMEDY. ifg drefs'd in white, and I know it is to Middleton 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, and Til come to you prefently. (ExeuntYumets and Sally different ways.) 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 fluff for that purpofe when fhe could light upon nothing better than Doll. They lack'd of fifh to make a diih that filled their pan with tadpoles. LANDLADY, Don't be fo fpiteful, now, David ; fome folks mull be low in this world, and others mufl be high* DAVID. Yes, truly, fhe'll be high enough. Give fome folks an inch and they'll take an ell ; let fortune make her a lady, and fhe'll reckon herfelf a coun- tefs, I warrant ye. — Lord help us ! I think I fee her now, in all her (tuff filks and her great bobbing 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 fick, t* 25 6 THE COUNTRY INN* LANDLADY. Fy, David ! you are as fpiteful now as if fame- body were taking fomething out of your pocket ; I'll afiure you (he has a more genteeler behaviour than moft young women in the parifh: 1 have given her fome leflbns myfelf. DAVID. Ay, by my faith! and her gentility fmacks devil- ifhly of the place that fhe got it from. Re-enter Sally in great hqfte. SALLY. Laek-a-daify! I went to the (table 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 life fome of the gentlefolks are miffing too ; let us go and fee. (Exeunt. SCENE II. Enter Lady Goodbody, Miss Martin, and Sir John Hazelwood. sir john hazelwood (/peaking as he enters). I am heartily forry for it : my nephew alone is to blame, and he will be feverely puniffied for his A COMEDY. 257 fault. — You expe£t them to return when the cere- inony is over : we fhall fee them foon then. LADY GOODBODY. I dare fay we fhall : and in the meantime let us drop this difagreeable fubjecl:. SIR JOHN HA^ELWOOD. 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 wifhed to have re- ceived that honour from another party. Your nephew, however, fets you a good example in mar- tying, tho* I'm afraid it will be loft upon you. miss martin (fretfully)* Your Ladyfhip has teafed Sir John fo often upon this fubjeft, that, if he has any fpirit at all* he will certainly remain a bachelor from mere contradic- tion. SIR JOHN HA2ELW00D. 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 oppofuion, When they S 2 5 S THE COUNTRY INN; fiown Upon as it is a fmile of invitation ; what they avoid us it is a fignal to (land upon the watch for a tete-a-tete; (approaching her with an arch fmile as jhe draws her/elf up with an ^affecled indif- ference.) but when they tofs" back their heads at our approach, in all the ftudied careleflhefs 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 moft for your own advantage. I hope, however, yovi will allow thofe unlucky men upon whom we beftow our fmiles, to find out another for themfelves. la&y goodBody (to Mifs Martin, difpleafed). You have got a fharp difagreeable way of talking of late, which is not at all 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 fhall always be civil enough to fpare Sir John Hazelwood that naortificatioa. ('Making him an affected and ironical curtefy.) A COMEDY. 259 lady goodbody (peevlfhly). Let us have no more of this ! — Sir John, I fhali now give up tearing you about matrimony. I fee you are incorrigible. SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. Then you fee further than I do, madam, for I rather think it pomble I may be perfuaded to enter into it at laft. LADY GOODBODY. Fm fure I mod 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 room. ) At it again ! I can bear this no longer. sir john hazelwood (to Lady Goodbody). You fee, madam, this converfation is interefting only to you and me : had I not then better make love to your ladyfhip ? LADY GOODBODY. Why there was a time, Sir John, when I was not without admirers, S3 2 6o THE COUNTRY INN: SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. How much I fhould have liked — but it would have been a dangerous gratification — to have feen thefe attractions 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 : whiHl 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 5 our family is remarkable for pretty hands* (Exit. SIR john hazelwood (going up to Mifs Martin). May I prefume, madam, thus authorized, to beg you will have the condefcenfion to gratify me. MISS MARTIN. I can't poflibly : it is not on my arm at prefent. SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. Nay, but I fee the mark of it through your glove : may I prefume to arTift you in pulling it off? (Offer- ing to take hold of her glove , whilji Jhe puts away his hand with great difpleafure.) MISS MARTIN. You prefume indeed: I can't fuffer it to be pulled off. A C M E D Y. 261 SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. Then I mu ft indeed be prefumptuous, for pofi- tively I will fee ic. (Taking hold of her hand, whilfi fhe,flruggling to pull it away from him ^without effecl, at laft, in her diflrefs, gives him with the other hand a good box on the ear, and then, bur/ling into teaxs, throws herf elf into the next chair, and covers her face with both her hands, J My dear Mifs Martin for- give me ! I fear I have behaved ungeneroufly to you : but believe me, carelefs as I may have ap- peared, I have beheld you with the moll pailiorr ate admiration. (Kneeling at her feet.) miss martin (turning from him difdainfully). * Get up, Sir John, and find out fome amufement more becoming your underftanding and your years. , (Walks to the bottom of the ft age with affumed dignity, whilfl Sir John fits down much agi- tated on a chair on the front : Jhe, turning x round, perceives his agitation, and forgetting her difp leaf ure, runs up to him eagerly. J MISS MARTIN. Good heaven ! is it poflible that you are thus affefted. What is it that difturbs you fo much ? - SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. A very foolilh diftrefs, madam, but it will not long difturb me. S3 :6z THE COUNTRY INN MISS MARTIN. I hope it will not. SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. Nay, it lhall not, madam. — Firfi when I beheld you, I was weak enough to think that I difcovered in an aflemblage of features by no means (pardon me) particularly handfpme, as many worthy and agreeable qualities as would have been unpardon- able in the mod ardent phyfiognomift. I faw thro* the weak defigns of your aunt, and applauded your delicacy and fpirit. I will confefs, that pafling by the door of your apartment the other night, as it Hood open, I heard you mention me to your coufin in a way that completely enfnared me. I was fool- ifh enough to believe I had at laft found a woman in whofe keeping I might entruft my happinefs. But it was a weaknefs in me : I fee my folly now ; and this is the laft time I fhall be the fport of vain capricious woman, MISS MARTIN. Is it poflible ! — Oh, we have both been deceived! I have been deceived by fomething very far dif- ferent from vanity — my wounded pride ftill whif- pering to me that I was the object 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 fex.«— A COMEDY. 263 We have both been deceived ; but let us part good friends : and when I ant at any time inclined to be out of humour with myfelf, the recollection that I have been, even for a few deceitful moments, the object of your partiality, will be foothing to me. SIR John hazel wood (catching -hold of her as Jhe goes away). No, madam, we mud not part. (Looking Jled~ fqftly and ferioufly in her face,) Can you, Mifs Martin, for once lay aficfe the filly forms of woman- fhip, and anfwer me a plain queftion 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 my way thro' life, tho* I promife not that it fhall be a flowery path, for my temper and habjts- are par- ticular, MISS MARTIN. Indeed, Sir John, you addrefs me in fo ftrange a way, that I don't know what I ought to fay. SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. Fye upon it ! I expected a fimpJe, I had almofl faid a manly anfwer, from you now. (Paufes, ex- pecl'mg an anfwer from her, whi/ft Jhe remains Jilent and embarrafed.) No, I fee it is impoffible: the woman works within you (till, and will not fuifer you to be honed. Well, I'll try another method S 4 264 THE COUNTRY INN: with you. (Taking her hand and graf ping itjirmly.) If you do not withdraw ©from me this precious, hand, I fhall fuppofe you return me the anfwer I defire, and retain it asmy own for ever. MISS MARTIN. Why, you have hurt it fo much in that foolifh druggie, that you have not left it power to with- draw itfelf. SIR JOHN HAZELWOQD. Now, fye upon thee again ! this is a filly an4 affected anfwer. — But let it pafs : I find notwith- ftanding all my particular notions upon thefe mat- ters, I mull e'en take thee as thou art with all thy faults. (Kiffing her hand devoutly. J MISS MARTIN. I think J hear Worfhipton's voice, SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. Ah, my poor miferable bridegroom of a nephew ! I mull be angry with him now, and I know not at, prefent how to be angry. Enter Worshipton and Hannah, WORSHIPTON. My dear uncle, I crave your blefiing. SIR JOHN HAZELWOQD. § I think, fi| ? it would become you better, in the firft place, to crave my pardon. A COMEDY. 26| WORSHIPTON-. The world makes great allowance, my good fir, for young men of fafhion in my fituation ; know- ing us to be of a free, carelefs, and liberal difpo- fkion, it calls us not ftriflly to account in matters $ elopement, SIR JOHN KAZELWOOD. A liberal difpofition ! No, fir ; more feififl) 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 conduct. / WORSHIPTON. I (han't argue with you about conducl:, Sir John: \t is a deviiifh awkward word in a young fellow's mouth : but if you will do me the honour of vifit- Jng me in town next winter, I fhall introduce you 3to 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 mod liberal fir.^- And fo this is all the apology you mean to offer for .deceiving a young girl, and making her the victim pf your frivolous and fantaftical wants , ? 1(56 THE COUNTRY INN: WORSHIPTON. No, no ! I do mean to make an apology to the old lady. — Ha! ha! haPtho' I can't help laugh- ing when I think how I have cheated that won- derful piece of goodnefs and circumfpection. - I mud coax her a little to bring round the old fellow, my father-in-law, for I muft 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 leans thoughtfully aga'mft the fide fecne^ and Worfliipton ^rw/i" conceitedly up and down, whilft Mifs Martin and Hannah come forward from the bottom of the ft age i engaged in converfation. ) hannah (in a bufy half-whifper). So you fee, my dear Mary, you muft jufl 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 cafibek, 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 worth 4f1xpen.ee, But A COMEDY. 567 Vm 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 flie comes: (land before me a little bit. (Shrinking behind Mifs Martin's back,) Enter Lady Goodbody. LADY GOODBODY. Well, Mr. Worfhipton, what have you done with my niece ? WORSHIPTON. There (lie is, madam. (Hannah comes from be- hind backs, and makes Lady Goodbody an awkward frightened curtefy.) We are both come to beg your a<5$ THE COUNTRY INN: ' forgivenefs, and I hope (he will not fuffer in your ladyfhip's good opinion for the honour ihe has con* ferred upon your humble fervant. LADY GOODBODY. He mud be a very humble fervant indeed who jderives any honour from her, WORSHIPTON. We hoped from the meflage you were fo obliging as to fend us, that we mould 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 interefting to my family, without being con* fidered as very fevere. worshipton (afide to Sir John). I only wonder fhe is not more angry with me, (Aloud to Lady Goodbody.) I was afraid, ma- dam, of finding you unfavourable to my wifhes, and durlt not rifk my happinefs. But I hope yow have no doubt of the honour of my intentions. LADY GOODBODY. Certainly ; I cannot doubt of their being very honourable, and very difmterefted alfo, — I have known men mean enough and felfifh enough to pofTefs themfelves by fecret elopements of the for- A COMEDY. ify tunes of unwary girls, whilfr, they have had nothing to give in return but indifference or contempt. Nay, I have heard of men fo bafe as to take ad* vantage of the weaknefs of a poor girl's intellects to accomplifh the ungenerous purpofe. But it is im- poilible to afcribe any but difinterefted motives to you, Mr. Worfhipton, as Mifs Clodpate has but a very fmali fortune. worshjpton (Jlarting). What do you mean, madam ? the only child of your brother, Sir Rowland : you call'd 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 againfl one's feelings to repeat , and there was no neceflity 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 ftands like one petrified for fome time, but -perceiving a f mile upon Mifs Martini face, takes courage. J worshipton. Come, come ! this joke won't pafs upon me : I'm not fo eafily played upon. 2 7 o TIIE COUNTRY INKTi SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. It is a joke I'm afraid that will not make you merry* Worfhipton* WORSHIPTON. I'll believe nobody but Hannah herfelf, for fhe can't be in the plot, and fhe is too fimple to deceive me. (To Hannah.) Pray, my good girl, how many brothers have you got ? HANNAH. | La ! only two ; and one of them is called Row- land after my father, you know, and one of them little Johnny. WORSHIPTON. O, hang little Johnny, and the whole fools of the race ! I am ruined beyond redemption. (Facing up and down, and tojftng about his arms in defpair.) hannah (going up to him). La ! Mr. Worfhipton, what is the matter ? miss martin (pulling her back)* Don't fpeak to him now. lady good body (going up to him foothingly)* Don't be fo much overcome, Mr. Worfhipton ; things are not fo very defperate, Hannah will have A COMEDY. 271 five thou fand pounds at her father's death : he al- lows her the intereft 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. WORSHIPTON. Damn your fnug comfortable ways of living ! my foul abhors the idea of it. I'll pack up all I have in a napfack firft, 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 patjence, Worfhipton, and hear my plan for you. I'll pay your debts; you mail have the fame income you had before, with more pru- dence perhaps to manage it well ; and your wife (hall 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. (Taking hold of Worfhipton, whilji he Jhakes her off in difguft.) LADY GOODBODY. How can you ufe your wife ib", Mr. Worihipton! 2i± THE COUNTRY INN: hannah (whimpering) . Oh ! he don't k love me ! Oh dear me ! he don'* love me a bit ! WORSHIPTON. What is the creature whimpering for? I (hall run diftra&ed ! SIR JOHN HAZilLWOOD. For God fake be more calm ! If you'll promife to live prudently in town, we mail manage your kdy in the country for you. But remember, Edward, the firft time I hear of your old habits returning upon you, me mail 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. Confider of it, Worfhipton , and confider of it well. WORSHIPTON. 1 am diftra&ed, and can confider of nothing. Enter Amaryllis, followed by Dolly and Land- lady. amaryllis. 1 am come to pay my compliments to you, Wor* A COMEDY. 273 ftiipton, with all poflible good will ; I wifh you and your fair bride joy, moft cordially. WORSHIPTON. Nay, I wifh 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 ftill. Married ! what a dog you have made of yourfelf! — But no; your refined, your angelic Delia has favoured your wifhes at laft, and with fuch a woman, you may indeed be a married man without being miferable. landlady {to Worfhipton). 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 2 74 THE COUNTRY INN-. be afhamed of her neither : fhe is as clever a girl as ever whirled a mop, and as honeft a girl too ; and that is more than can be faid for many a one that carries her head higher. worshipton (burfling into a laugh). Heaven and earth, Amaryllis ! are your married to Mrs. Dolly ? AMARYLLIS. Dorothea is a very good girl, Mr. "vVorfhipton. WORSHIPTON. Yes, yes ! I fee 'tis even fo. Ha ! ha ! ha ! ( laugh- ing violently for a long time, trll he is obliged to hold both his fides.) This is excellent ! this is admirable ! I thank thee Amaryllis ! thou haft been playing the fool as well as myfelf. Give me thy hand, man. — Ha! ha! ha! sir john hazelwood (flepping forward, after having whifpered fame time behind backs with the - Landlady). No, good nephew, moderate your laughter a little : Amaryllis has been playing the fool in a very different way from you; for he has married his bride without expecting 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 COMEDY. 27* is juft dead, who has left her a very handfome for tune. (Worfhipton, whofe mirth Jlops in a moment* endeavours to refume the laugh again, but finding it wont do 9 retires in confufionto the bottom ofthejiage.) sir John hazelwood (to Amaryllis and Dolly). Much happinefs may you both have in your good fortune ! With the woman of your choice and a competency, Amaryllis, you will be in the mod favourable Hate of all others for courting the mufes. AMARYLLIS. Yes, Sir John ; with my own flender patrimony, and the fortune my wife brings tome, 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 ruffet gown, as the — DOLLY. But I won't wear a ruffet gown tho' : I have money of my own, and I'll buy me filk ones. SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. Well faid, Mrs. Amaryllis!— Gentle poet, your village maid is a woman of fpirit. AMARYLLIS. She is untaught, to be fure, and will fometimes fpeak unwittingly, t?6 THE COUNTRY INN* SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. Never mind that, my good fir ; we (hall have het taught. You (hall 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 fo before, I might have fpared all my ar- guments upon this fubjed. 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 MartinV hand) made every other argument unnecefTary. I hope you will give me your bleiTing with her. I want but this, and will not enquire of you how many bro- thers fhe has. LADY GOODBODY. So my Mary has caught you after all. Thank Cod for it ! She is good enough for any man, and I would rather give her to you than to any other man in the world. As for her brothers, fhe has but one, and he has increafed inftead of diminifhing her fortune. SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. Talk no more of thefe things, I hate the very name of fortune at prefent... A C O M E D Y. 277 LADY GOODBODY. Pardon me ; but I mud tell yo-u what my ne- phew Robert did : It may be good for another new-made nephew of mine to liften to it. (Glancing a look to Worfhipton.) He and his fitter 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 refpe&ably without debt, and was elleemed 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 diftin&ion 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 belt part of which (three thoufand pounds) he fent home to his filter immediately, that (he might no longer be dependent even upon me ; and it (hall be paid down to you, Sir John, upon her wedding-day* SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. No ; God forbid that a country gentleman mould add to his ample income the well-earu'd pittance of a foldier ! I will have nothing from the young hero T3 * 7 8 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 fair an example to fuch members of it as may not have walked altogether in his footfteps. WORSHIPTON. Well, well, I underftand you ; but tell me no more of your good-boy ftories at prefent : this crofs-fated day has taught me a powerful leflbn which makes every other fuperfluous, (E%M0. ' 1 . ; i • ■ ' f • ■ fri CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS; OR THE LAST OF THE C£SARS: A TRAGEDY, IN FIVE ACTS. T 4 PERSONS OF THE DRAMA. MEN: Constantine Paleologus, Emperor oftheGrceks. Mahomet the Turkifh Sultan. Othus, a learned Greek, Rodrigo, a Genoefe naval com- mander, Justiniani, a noble Genoefe, and ajbldier, Friends of Con- , ft antine, and be- longing to his brave band of volunteers. Petrjonius., > Greeks, and fecret agents of Ma* Marthon, j hornet. Osmir, vizir to Mahomet. Heugho, an old dome/tie officer of Conftantme's, Othorjc, a rude but generous adventurer. Fortune-teller, Citizens, Attendants, &c. WOMEN: Valeria, wife of Conftantine. Ella, daughter of Petronius. Lucia, a lady attendant on Valeria. Ladies and Attendants* The Scene in Conftantinople, and in the Camp of Mahomet, near the City, CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS. ACT I. SCENE I. A large platform on the roof of the pa. lace gf Petronius, from which are feen fpires and towers, and the broken roofs of houfes, &c. with the general appear ayice of a ruined city, the diftant parts involved in fmoke, Ella is difco-vered with an attendant, fianding on a balcony belonging to a J mall tower, rifing from 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 profpeft 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 jagged bones of fame huge animal, "Whofe other pares the mould'ring hand of time Has into duft redue'd* 2%z CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS ; MARTHON (coldly J. ' It does indeed fome faint refemblance hold To what thou haft compar'd it to, — How is't ? Art thou not from the walls ? \ OTHUS. No, not immediately. MARTHON. Wert thou not there when Mahomet's huge cannon Open'd its brazen mouth and fpoke to us ? How brook'd thinq 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 lad imperial feat of Roman greatnefs : This head of the world, this fuperb fucceuor Of the earth's miftrefs, where fo many Casfars In proud fucceflive lines have held their fway, What anfwer fent fhe back ? OTHUS. Fye, hold thy tongue ! Methinks thou haft a pleafure in the thought. This head o' the world—this fuperb fucceuor 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 ATRAGEDY. ?8$ That in fome grand and awful miniftration Of mighty nature has ingulphed been, Doth lift aloft its dark and rocky cliffs O'er the wild wafte around, and fadly frowns In lonely majefty. But fhame upon it ! Her feeble, worthlefs, and degen'rate fons ■ ■ MARTHON. YeSj what fay 'ft thou of them ? they alfo are The fragments of a brave and mighty race, Left on this lonely rock. OTHUS. No, blaftthem! on its frowning fides they clufter Like filly fea-fowl from their burrow'd holes, Who, (taring fenfelefs on th' invaders toil, Stretch out their worthlefs necks, and cry cc caw I caw!" O, Paleologus ! how art thou left, Thou and thy little band of valiant friends, To fet your manly bofoms 'gainft the tide ! Ye are the laft 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 lovlier do ye feem For its wan barrennefs ; but to its root The axe is brought, and with it ye mult fall.— Ye are O God ! it grafps my fwelling throat To think of what ye are* 1*4 ' CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS r MARTHON. A brave band, truly : — — But Hill our gallant emp'ror and his friends, Oppos'd to Mah'met and his num'rous hoft With all his warlike engines, are in truth As if one tofs'd againft the whirPd-up fands Of their Arabian plains, one grafp of duft* OTHUS. Yes, they are few in number, but they are The eflfence and true fpirit of their kind ; The foul of thoufands. A brave band they are, Not levied by the power and wealth of ftates j And the beft 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 fternly- flaming eye, ever beholds The high o'erbearing crefl. of proud opprefiion j And gen'rous Admiration, above all, Of noble deeds, whofe heav'n-enlighten'd frnile, And imitative motion, ever wake With eager heart-throbs at the glorious fight Of manly daring, have unto their numbers Some fcore of dauntlefs ipirits lately added ; Such as would ride upon the whirlwind's back, If it might be, and with Heaven's fpearmen cope. A TRAGEDY. a9$ With fuch a band, methinks, all things are pof- fible. marthon ( yhiiling ). Why, thou foft man of peace, Who in gay banquets fpend'ft thy giddy nights, And o'er fome fculptur'd done, or ancient lore, Each idle morning waft'ft in the cool fhade, Thou fpeakefl with a bold and warlike voice ! othus (throwing 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 ! thou fhrinkeft back, And looked ftrangely on me : give thy lips No friendly bleffing to my new eftate ? MARTHON. Heaven blefs the brave 1 OTHUS. Amen! but thou art cold. ( 'Sound of artillery is heard again. J O hear that found ! Doth it not ftir thee as it thund'ring growls Along the diftant fhore? (Shaking his head.) It doth not ftir thee ! Is that the found of female voices near us ? MARTHON. Yes \ fee'ft thou not on yon high balcony 2*6 CONST ANTINE PALfcOLOGUS: That pale and fearful maid ? her watchful eat* Is ever turn'd to ev'ry did ant found. OTHUS. My gentle kinfwoman upon the watch ! ! know for whom fhe fears j nor do I marvel ; For fhe was prefent on that crowded more, When Genoa's captain brought his generous fue- cour, And faw the brave contention of thofe men* In their proud veffels bearing boldly on, With wavy pennants floating on the wind, Whofe armed fides, like to a goodly bank, Breafted the onward tide of oppofition. (Speaking with a great deal of appropriate gejlure.) No wonder that her fancy has been mov'd ! Oh, it did ftir 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 ! Enter Ella baftily from the balcony, and puts her hand eagerly upon the Jhoulder of Oth us, whd turns round fur pr if ed.) ELLA. / What fayed thou of him ? where ^fights he now ? Or on the land, or on fome floating fence ? A TRAGEDY. is- OTHUS. Of whom fpeak'fl thou, fair Ella t ELLA* Nay, nay ! thou know'ft right well. Did I not fee thee, High as I flood, e'en now, toiling thine arms, And motioning thy tale with fuch fit gefture As image mips and fails, and daring deeds ? Of whom fpeak even the beggars in our ftreets When they fuch action ufe ? Thou know'ft right well, Of Genoa's captain, and of none but he. Did'ft fee him from the walls ? othus (fmiling). My little kinfwoman, Thou looked with a keen and martial eye As thou doft queftion me : I faw him not j I come not from the walls. ELLA. .Didft thou not talk of him as I defcended ? OTHUS. Yes, of that noble fight.— But doft thou fee (Pointing to his drefs,J There are more warriors in the world, Ella, Tho' men do talk of us, it mud be granted, With action more compos'd, Behold me now ^88T CONST ANTINE PALEOLOGUS : The brave Rodrigo's comrade, and the friend Of royal Conftantine ; who is in truth The nobleft: bead o' the herd, and on the foe Turns a bold front, whilft with him boldly turn A few 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 I OTHUS. And earth's too> gentle Ella. (Artillery heard again.) ella (to Othus, flarting fearfully J. doft thou fmile and fuch light words affecl: Whilft ruin growls fo near us ! hath fad ufe Made mtfery and fport, and death and merriment, Familiar neighbours ? — I'll into my chamber* Enter Petronius and a difguifed Turk. pet ron i us (Jlernly to Ella). Yes, to thy chamber go : thou liv'ft, methinks, On the houfe-top, or watching in the towers. 1 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 TRAGEDY. 2 8 9 MARTHON. Yes, he is now a valiant foldier gfown t His Grecian lute, and pen, and books of grace Are thrown afide, and the foft letter'd fage Grafps a rude lance. ELLA* Nay, mock him not, for it is nobly done. petronius (Jlernly to Ella). Art thou flill here? (Exit Ella abajhed and chidden. And now, my Lord, — (Turning to Othus). othus (angrily J, And now, my Lord, good evening : I too, belike, (hall 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 ! MARTHOtt. He thought, as well I guefs, to move me alfo His brave devoted brotherhood to join : This was his errand here. u 190 CONSTANTINE PALEOtOGTJSj PETRONIUS. I do believe it well : for Conftaijtine, With many fair and princely qualities That in his clear morn no attention drew, Mow, 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 tff admiration To our good means ? Good Turk, where is thy gold? TURK (giving hlmajbag). There, Chriftian, whom I may not well call good* PETR0NIU3. That as thou wilt : but Mahomet thy matter Shall find me ftill his faithful agent here. This very night, as I have promis'd to him, The people fhali in infurre&ion rife, Clam'ring to have the city yielded up ; And if your narrow caution Hint me not In that which rules the ftorm, it fhall be rais'd To the full pitch. Turk. And what is that, Petronius ? PET RON i us. More gold. Ay, by thy turban and thy beard! There is a way to make our timid fluggards A TRAGEDY. The Sultan's work within thefe walls perform Better than armed men. TURK, And what is that, I pray ? PETRONIUS. Why, more gold flill. 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 touch'd. — There are within our walls Of idle, flothfui citizens, enow, If with their active mafter they mould join, Still to defend them : therefore, be arTur'd, He who (hall keep this fickle, wav'ring herd From fuch wife union, (hall to Mah'met give This Miftrefs of the Eaft. TURK. Fear not 3 thou fhalt 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. (To Marthon.) Do thou into the eaftern quarter go, U2 tgt CONSTANTlNE PALEOLOGUS v And ftir them up. Where is our trufty Gorbus ? The weftern is his province. >Send him hither : We mud fome counfel hold : meantime within I wait his coming. Be thou fpeedy, Marthon. (Exit Marthon. Remember, friend. ( To the Turk.) TURK. Thou (halt be fatisfied. ■ PETRONIUS. Good fortune fmile upon us ! (Exeunt, SCENE II. A State Apartment in the Imperial Palace, with fplendid fideboards Jet forth, on which arefeen cups and goblets, &c. as if prepared for a grand repaft, and fever al domefiics cr offing the ft age, carrying different things in their hands. Enter Heugho, followed by a Stranger and two in- ferior domeftic Officers. j 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 TRAGEDY. 293 Which foon fhall in a Turkifh haram fhine i The Emp'ror heeds it not. heugho (flamping 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, I thereon, Until the laft wave wanYd 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 llill to have one view Of his molt noble countenance. HEUGHO. Thou'rt welcome. And, gentle ftranger, thou wilt fee a prince, Who ably might have reign'd, had not his heait To the foft (hades of friendly intercourfe Still turn'd, as to its true and native place. A prince with loving friends, but lacking troops : u 3 294 CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS j 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 domeflic habits, And kindlieft feelings, have within him grown Like a young foreft-tree, befet and 'tangled, And almoft hid with fweet incumb'ring flirubs ; That, till the rude blaft rends this cluft'ring robe, Its goodly hardy (tern to the fair light Difcovers not. — Hark ! now they come * ( Flour ijh of trumpets,) Starul thou fecure, and fee whate'er thou wilt. (Calling tofome people off the II age.) Ho ! you without ! move there with more difpatch. (Several domeftics cgain crofs the ft age as before.) STRANGER. See, yonder come the brave imperial friends, If right I guefs. They bear a noble mien. And who is he who foremofl walks with fteps Of gravely-meafur'd length, and heavy eyes Fix'd on the ground ? (Pointing offthejiage.) HEUQHO. That is Juftiniani ; a brave foldier, Who doth o' tiptoe walk, with jealous care, Upon the very point and higheft ridge Of honours path, demure and circumfpecT:, Like niceft maid, proud of her fpotlefs fame ; A fteady, cheerlefs friend. A TRAGEDY. 295 STRANGER. And who is he with open, llb'ral front, Who follows next ? HEUGHO. He is the brave Rodrigo ; That Genoefe, who, with four gallant (hips, 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 drive, yet to the humbled foe Give quarter pleafantly ? STRANGER. And who comes after with more polifh'd afpecl, But yet, methinks, keen and intelligent ? HEUGHO. Oh, that is Othus ; a foft letter'd fage, Who wears his foldier's garb with its ftrft 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 wifdomfuit 4 u 4 296 CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS ; Being a dame of keen and lofty paflions Tho' with fair virtues grae'd, he ever pays His dear devotions : he will join them fhortly. 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 Juftiniani). Thou'rt fternly grave ; has aught in this day's fight Befall'n, thy eager temper to difturb ? justiniani. Your flrft directed fire mould, in good right, Have been againft that Turkifh ftandard fent a Rear'd in their front. RODRIGO. And mall we ferioufly expend our flrength In paying worfhip to each Turkim rag That waves before our walls ? But frown not on me, friend : perhaps I'm wrong. We who are bred upon a bark's rough fide, And midft the rude contention of the waves, Mull force our fteady purpofe, as we may, Right in the teeth of all oppofing things, Wreftling with breakers on the fcourged rock Or tilting it with a feal's cub, good faith ! As it may chance, naught do we know of forms* A TRAGEDY. 297 OTHUS. r Another time, valiant Juftiniani, With more refpeft 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. Hum, hum, I pray thee, now ! the emp'ror comesi 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 Const an tine. constantine (faluting them)* A pleafant meeting to us all, brave friends, After our day of toil ! There be amongfl us Tir'd limbs that well have earn'd their hour of reft ; This kindly-focial hour, this fleeting 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 an attendant*) This galls me ftrangely ; Mine armourer, methinks, has better fkill 198 CONST ANTINE PALEOLOGUS: To mar men's heads than fave them. Nay all of you, I pray. (They all begin to take off their helmets ^ and part of their armour,) And gentle Othus too, unbrace thyfelf : How liked thou the gripe of foldiers' geer ? OTHUS. Worn in the caufe for which I wear it now, It feels like the clofe hug of a rough friend, Awkward but kindly. CONSTANTINE. Thanks, gen'rous Othus ! it had pleas'd me better To've had the gentle fervice of thy pen. Thou could'ft have told, if fo it might have been, How brave men afted, and how brave men fell,-~ Well, let it be. (Turning qftde to check his emotion, and then ajfuming a cheerful face.) You gallant feamen, in th' applauding view Of the throng'd beach, amidft the tempeft's rage, Ev'n on the lad plank of your fever'd bark, Ride it careeringly, my brave Rodrigo 1 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 bravq Eubedes— » A. TRAGEDY. *W And noble Carlos too — and all of you— C Taking all their hands, one after another.) I am indeed fo mated. JBring me a cooling cup, I pray, good Heugho, My tongue is parch'd. (Heugho prefents a cup U him kneeling. What, wilt thou (till upon thine aged limbs Thefe cumb'rous forms impofe ? Thefe furly times Suit not fuch ceremony, worthy Heugho. HEUGHO. Be health and fweet refrefhment in the draught, My royal mafter ! CON STAN TINE (tafting it)* And fo there is : few cups prefented thus Come with fuch kindnefs. Bat I have, in truth, Shrunk, as a potentate, to fuch fmall grafp, That now I fairly may put in my claim To the affections of a man — Brave friends, Health to ye all ! (Drinks, then turning with a /mile to Juftiniani.) Juftiniani, I with thee alone |iave caufe of quarrel in this day's long toil. JU3TINIANI. How fo, an' pleafe your highnefs ? The holy hermit, counting o'er his beads, Is not more fcrupulous than I have been Naught of his facred duty to omit. 300 CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGTJS : ' 4 CONSTANTINE. Thou put'ft a grofs affront upon the worth Of all thy warlike deeds ; for thou from them Claim'ft not the privilege to fave thyfelf From needlefs dangers. On the walls this day Thou haft expofed thyfelf like a raw (tripling, "Who is amam'd to turn one ftep afide When the firft darts are whizzing pad his ear. -Rodrigo there, beneath an afs's pannier Would fave his head from the o'er-paffing blow. Then, like a lion ilfuing from his den, Burft from his fhelter with redoubled ardour. Pray thee put greater honour on thyfelf, And I will thank thee for it. JUSTINIANI. I fland reproved. CONSTANTINE. I'm glad thou dolt. — -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 feafonM Than we do ours. — Spare not, I pray thee, Heugho, Thy gen'rous Tufcan cup: I have good friends Who prize its flavour much. (As he turns to go with his friends to the bottom of the Jlage y where a curtain between the pilars being A TRAGEDY. joi i drawn up, difc&vers their repaft fet out, a Citizen enters in hqfte.) 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-run, comes on my fteps To bring a fuller tale. constantine (to Citizen). Jhou'rt fure of this ? CITIZEN. It is moft certain. CONSTANTINE (to Othus). What think'ft thou, good Othus ? OTHUS. m I doubt it not : 'tis a degraded herd That fills your walls. This proud imperial city Has been in ages pad: the great high-way Of nations driving their blind millions on To death and carnage. Thro' her gates have pad $02 CONSTANTINE PALEGLOGUS; 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 flaves become, would he but promifc? 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 fKr. CONSTANTINE. It may be fo : I fhall wait further tidings. Meantime, my friends, go ye, and as ye can, Snatch a fhort foldier's meal. (They hefitate.) Nay, go I pray you ! I muft not to my friends fay " I command/* (They all go immediately ', and without any order, Jianding round the table > begin to eat.) (To the Citizen, remaining ftill on the front of the ft age.) And fo thou fay'ft But lo ! another mefifenger. Enter another Citizen in great hajle. 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 Diftinctly. From what quarter corned thou ? SECOND CITIZEN, Pm from the eaft. 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 floth, 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. I'm from the weftern quarter. CONSTANTINE. Ha ! fpreads it then fo wide ? (Calling to his friends at the bottom of the Jl age.) 3©4 CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS: Friends, by your leave, I forriewhat mufl upon your goodnefs bear. Give me my helmet and my fword again : This is no partial fray. (Beginning to arm, whilji all the reft follow his example.) RODRIGO. Well, let us joftle with thefe ragged craft, And fee who grapples beft. (Buckling on his ar* mour gayly.J JUSTINIANI. A foldier fcorns to draw his honour'd blade On fuch mean foes : we'll beat them off with flicks. OTHUS. Words will, perhaps, our better weapons prove, When us'd as brave men's arms fhould ever be, With {kill and boldnefs. Swords fmite fingle foes, But thoufands by a word are ftruck at once. (As they all gather round Conftantine, and are ready to follow him, enter Valeria in great ^ alarm 9 followed by Lucia, and fever al ladies* ) Valeria (to Conftantine). O, haft thou heard it?, CONSTAWTINE. Yes, my love, they've told me. j 3 5 A TRAGEDY. . %o$ VALERIA. From the high tower my ladies have defcryM The dark fpires redd'ning in their torches' light, Whilft, like the hoarfe waves of a diftant fea, Their mingled voices fwell as they approach* CONSTANTINE. It is a ftorrn that foon will be o'efblown : ■ I will oppofe to them a fixed rock, Which they may beat againft but Cannot (hake* VALERIA. That is thyfelf. — O, no ! thou (halt not go ! Yea, I am bold ! misfortune mocks at date* And ftrong affection fcorns all reverence ; Therefore, before thefe lords, ev'n upon thee, Thou eaftern Csefar, do I boldly lay My woman's hand, and fay, " thou (halt not go." CONSTANTINE* Thy woman's hand is (Ironger, fweet Valeria, Than warrior's iron grafp, But yet it may not hold me. Strong affection Makes thee mod: fearful where no danger is. Shall eaftern Casfar, like a timid hind Scar'd from his watch, conceal his cowering head ? And does an empire's dame require it of him ? X 3 c6 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 th' applauding fhouts Of bending crowds : but I have alfo fhar'd The hour of thy heart's forrow, ftill and lllent, The hour of thy heart's joy. I have fupported Thjne aching head, like the poor wand'rer's wife, Who,^on his feat of turf, beneath heaven's roof, Refts on his way. — The dorm 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 fhalt not go ! (Twining her arms round him.) By that which binds the peafant and the prince, The warrior and the flave, all that do bear The form and nature of a man, I (lay thee ! Thou malt not go. CONSTANTINE. "Would'ft thou degrade me thus ? VALERIA. Would'ft thou unto my bofom give death's pang? Thou lov'ft me not. constantine (with emotion, Jiretching out his hands to his friends, whojiand atfome di/iance)* My friends, ye fee how I am fetter'd here. A TRAGEDY. 30? Ye who have to my falling fortunes clung With gen'rous love* lefs to redeem their fall Than on my waning fate by noble deeds To fhed a ray of graceful 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 breafts alone* (Waving them off with his hand, and then turning to her.) Now, wife, where wouidft 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* (Brufhing away her tears ha/lily, and t/jen af- fuming an air of dignity, fhe takes Conflan- tine by the hand, and leading him acrofs the Jlage, prefents him to his friends,) Mod valiant, honoured men, receive your chief, Worthy the graceful honours of your love, And heaven's protecting angel go with you ! (Exeunt Conflantine and his friends, paying obeifance to her as they retire, which fhe re- turns with the profoundejl refpecl, continuing to look after them till they are out of fight ; then returning to the front of thejlage 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 refpeft. 30S 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 mob ? LUCIA. She told a wonderful furcharged tale, 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 progreilion — And the dark end of all, what will it be ? LUCIA, Let not fuch gloomy thoughts your mind o'er- caft: Our noble emperor has on his fide The dark and potent powers. VALERIA, What is thy meaning ? LUCIA. A rarely-gifted man, come from afar, Who fees ftrange vifions rife before his light] Of things to come, hath folemnly pronounc'd it, A TRAGEDY. 309 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 nat'ral knowledge far exceed. VALERIA. Thou doft imprefs me with a ftrange defire, 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 1 what noife is that ? (Lijlening with great alarm,) 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 (eagerly), I'll go myfelf. ( Exit in great alarm, followed by Lucia and ladies, XND OF THE FIRST ACT. yq CONSTANTINO PALEOLQGUS : ACT IL SCENE I. An open Street before the imperial pa- lace, A crowd of men, women, and children dif covered, bearing in ther hands torches, with clubs, flicks, &e. and the ft age entirely lighted by the red glare of their torches cafl up againft the walls of the building. The confufed noife and clamour of a great crowd is heard as the curtain draws up. FIRST CROWD. JTioLLA ! let them come forth who trouble us, And love they blood and beating they (hall have it. SECOND CROWD. Surrender ! bread and wine, and peaceful days I Surrender, devils, or ye fhail pay the coft. (All the Crowd call out clamouroujly, and bran* difh their torches, &c. in a threatening manner againjl the palace. J THIRD CROWD. Muft we, men well intruded, rear'd, and che- rifh'd, The chiefeft of all townfmen of the earth ; We, whom all nations know and look upon A TRAGEDY. £n* With envious worfhip — mud we from our meals And quiet couches, like your rude barbarians, Be fcar'd and roused dill with horrid bellowing Of curii artillery ? it is a (hame ! FIRST CROWD, It is a crying, an infulting (hame, Ev'n Mahomet regards our poliftTd race And rare acquirements ; but for Conflantine * SECOND CROWD. Ay, ay ! let him come forth with his bafe crew Of favage (hangers ; and mould they refufe us, Ev'n with good teeth and nails, fail other means, We will do vultures' work upon them all. (All of them calling out together, and brandifhing their torches, &c. as before. J Holla ! holla ! we fay to you again ; JJmperor ! Conflantine ! come forth to us ! (A grand door of the palace opens, from which two flights of flairs defend into the Jlreet, and Conitantine with his friends appear coming out upon the landing place. The Crowd raife fl great noife upon feeing him, and he fir etches out his hand as if he wifhed tofpeak, but they flill continue loud and clamorous.) CONSTANTINE. Audience, if that your fov 'reign may command iu x 4 jia CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS t FOURTH CROWD. Yes, let us hear what he will fay to us. (Several together. J There is no harm in that : peace all of you ! CONSTANTINE, Behold me at your wifh, afTembled citizens : Was it the voice of children or of foes That callM me forth ? THIRD CROWD. Go to with mocking words 1 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 prefles on him ; ever gather round him When dark misfortune lowers; and, ftrong in them, He lifts his honour'd head amidft the ftorm, Bleffing and blefsU But I have ftood in the dark pafs alone, Facing its fierceft onfet. In your homes, Ye've ftretch'd your eafy limbs and fann'd your brows, Whilft I in parching toil have fpent the day, Aided by ftrangers. Ye too truly fay K Are we thy children ?"— — When my (ky wa.8 A TRAGEDY. 313 Ye follow'd me with fond applauding love, And bade God blefs your fire , but when it lower'd, Back to your homes ye fhrunk, and gen-rous Grangers Are by my fide where children mould have ftood. (A confufed murmur rifts amongft them, and fome call out,) He fpeaks good reason, 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 in his hands J, Peace, friends, I fay ! I am a ftrong Hungarian, And I will hear him out. (The clamour fubfides.) CONSTANT/IN E. Yes, when the temped lower'd ye (hrunk away. But if fome gen'rous (hame has mov'd you now— If, thus aflembled, with repentant zeal Ye would return, behold thefe open'd arms! O there be (till amongit ye men fufficient To fave your city, your domeltic roofs, Your wivc6, 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 (lands expoicd to; To bear but hair the toils which I bear daily, And (hall bear lovingly. jr4 CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS : FIRST CROWD. Go to ! furrender and have done with it. Who thanks— who calls upon thee for thy toils? 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, first crowd. A&s he like one ? will he come down to us ? (Several /peaking together,) He does! he comes in truth ! (Conftantine, after /peaking in dumb /how to his friends, de/cends the flairs.) SECOND CROWD. Ay, in good faith, he comes unarmed too J CONSTANTINE. No, citizens, unarm'd I am not come ; For ev'ry good man here fome weapon wears For my defence. A TRAGEDY. 315 FOURTH CROWD. Yes, he fays well ; and we'll defend him too. (Several others.) And fo we will; huzza ! huzza! huzza ! Long live brave Conftantine, our noble Emperor ! ( Many /peaking at once.) No, no ! peace and fur- render is our call ! (Raifing loud cries , and brandijhing their torches with violent threat* ening gejlures.) FOURTH CROWD. Hear him out, fools, and he'll perhaps confent To hon'rable furrender. Constantine (to Fourth Crowd, and thofe wh» range them/ elves on his fide). No, friends ; if ye (land by me in this hope, Turn to your place again ; for whilft I breathe. With men enough in thefe encompafs'd walls To fire one gun, never (hall Turkifh banner Upon our turrets wave. In this firm mind, Upon thofe walls I am content to die, By foe men flain, or, if heav'n wills it fo, flere on this fpot, by thofe I will not name. othoric. No ! we will die nrft, be it as it may, JEre one hair of thy noble head fhali fall ! Ji6' CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS: crowd (on Conftantine^ykfc). Long live brave Conftantine ! brave Paleologus ! Huzza ! huzza ! crowd C on the oppofite fide J. No ; bread, and peace, and Mahomet, fay we ! (Both parties call oat tumultuoujly, and threaten one another •, and Rodrigo, Jufliniani, and Othus rujh down amongfl them, leaving their other friends to guard the door ofthepqlace.) SECOND CROWD. Ay, thou fea-lion ! thou too needs muft come To growl upon us. (To Rodrigo.) RODRIGO. No, faith ! I know you well : ye are at large A fet of foft, luxurious, timid flaves, On whom a cat with muffled paws might mew, And ye would turn from it. — But ftill amongft you, I would* upon it pledge my main and claws, There are fome honed fouls who have ere now Quaff 'd their full bumpers to a brave man's health, And I, in footh, am come, with their good leave, To (hake hands with them all. (Holding out his hand invitingly to the oppofite crowd.) Come ; who loves valiant worth and Paleologus, Give me his hand. A TRAGEDY. 317 (Many of the crowd giving him their hands,) There is one for thee. (Second*) Ay, and there. (Third.) And there. rodrigo (to one who hejitates). And thou too, for thou wear'fl upon thy brow A foldier's look : I muft perforce have thee. (Cafting up his hat in the air y and joined by all the crowd on his fide.) Long live brave Conftantine ! huzza! , (This they continue to do till the oppofiie party are difpirited and beat off 'the flage. Rodrigo then prefents his newly-acquired friends to Conftantine.) CONSTANTINE. I thank you all, my brave and zealous friends. Within the palace walls I'll now conduct you, And martial there my new-gain'd ftrength, for which I give heaven thanks. (Exeunt Conftantine, followed by his friends , &c. Rodrigo walking loft, andjufi about to go off 'the ft age ^ when Othoric re-enters by the oppofite fide », and calls after him.) OTHORIC. Hark ye ! a word with ye, my noble captain. rodrigo (returning). What would'fi thou fay ? 3>* CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS: OTHORIC. Look on my face ; my name is Othoric ; Pm ftrong, thou fee'ft, and have a daring foul : Look on my face ; my name is Othoric : Think'ft thou thou (halt remember me, tho' thou Should'ft ne'er again behold me ? RODRIGO. I fhall, my friend : thou haft a daring counte- nance. OTHORIC. « My deeds fhall not belie it. With this crowd I came, a ft ranger of moft defp'rate fortune, And hir'd by treach'rous men to do fell work. But now, unhir'd, I'll do for your brave mafter A deed that (hall make Turkifh ears to tingle, And Chrftian too, or fail it or fucceed. RODRIGO. What wilt thou do ? OTHORIC. What one arm does, one breaft alone needs know.. c RODRIGO. Heaven aid and profper then thy fecret thought* I£it be good and honed \ Fare thee well ! (Exeunt fever ally- A TRAGEDY. t l 9 SCENE II. A fmall narrow Street, before a pri- vate /ombre- looking houfe. Enter Othus and Rodrigcx. OTHUS. Move flowly here, for now we pafs the fane In which the my (lie vifion-feeing fage To ears of faith fpeaks his wild oracles. RODRIGO. What, he of whom, we've heard fuch marvelous things ? OTHUS. Yes 5 fuch perturbed times his harvefl: prove, When anxious minds, in dread of coming ill, Would draw afide, impatiently, the veil Of dark futurity.— Softly, I pray : A female form now iffues from the door : It moves, methinks, like Ella. Enter Ell a from the houfewith a female Attendants rodrigo (eagerly). It is herfelf, and I will fpeak to her. Fair maid, as well I guefs by that light trip, Thy lover's fate hangs on a lucky thread y Tough, and well whiten' d in a kindly fun. 3JO CONST ANTINE PALEOLOGUS: ELLA. Well haft thou guefs'd : fortune is pafling kindj She leads thee, fights for thee, and guards thy head From ev'ry foe-man's ftroke. RODRIGO. Ay, but thy lover, Ella ; 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 myftic fages gives. RODRIGO. Believe him not, fweet maid. We feamen, truly, Small dealings have with iearn'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 ftretch'd throats, Speak ft range myfterious things to wave-tofs'd men, With many perils compafs'd. Nay, oftimes The mermaid, feated on her coral ftool, Spreading her yellow hair to the funn'd breeze, Will fing a fong of future fortunes fair To him who has the luck to meet with her : And ev'n the nightly winds will thro* our fhrouds 3 A TRAGEDY*.. Ui toiftin&ive voices utter unto thofe, Who in their ftorm-rock'd cradles lie and think Of their far-diilant homer. — I do believe That all good fortune mall 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 mockeft me again ! I love a brave man R0DR.IG0. And not palling fair, Nor very courtly ? OTHUS. . No, nor wearing now His youth's bed bloom ; but fomewhat weather- beaten, And TunnM on fultry mores ? ELLA. Fie on you both, you hold me in derifion \\ I'm young, and all unlearn'd, and well I know Not pafling fage *, but do I merit this ? (Turns to. go away from them in tear/,) RODRIGO. By heavens thou (halt not go ! (Catching hold of her hand to prevent her,) iiz CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS: Thou fweeteft thing That e'er did fix its lightly-fibred fprays To the rude rock, ah ! would'ft thou cling to me f Rough and ftorm-worn I am : but if thou lov'ffe me, — Thou truly doft, I will love thee again With true and honeft heart, tho' all unmeet To be the mate of fuch fweet gentlenefs. OTHUS. I hear a ncife of footfteps : we'll retire ; Let us purfue our way. (Looking behind as they goof. 'Tis ond belonging to Valeria's train, Who hither comes with quick and eager gait. (Exeunt* SCENE III. A large f ombre room, with myjlieal Jigures and Jlrange characlers painted upon the walls, and lighted only by one lamp, burning upon a table near the front ofthejlage. Enter ar Conjuror in a long looferobe, and Petrol nius, ?neeting him, by oppofitejides. PETRONIUS. Well, my good fage, how thrives thy my flic trade ? Go all things profperoufly I CONJUROR. As thou couldft wifh : to many a citi;zei* A TRAGEDY, g*| 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 Moil powerfully. PETRONIUS. So far 'tis well ; but be thou on thy guard \ I am exprefsly come to caution thee* Should any vifit thee, whom thou fufpe&eft 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 follow'd* Petronius. Thou haft done wifely : flill keep on thy guard* And be not ev*n furpris'd if thou, ere long, ShoukTfl 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 concerned* Hufh ! we are interrupted. Enter- a Servant. servant (to Conjuror). A noble matron craves to fpeak with thee, y 2 5*4 CONSTANTINE PALEQLOGUSr CONJUROR, Doft thou not know her ? SERVANT, No y in a black (role She's clofely veiFd ; yet noble is her gait \ And her attendant underneath his cloak, But ill conceal'd, wears an imperial creft. petronius and conjuror (both together). Can it indeed be flie ? (Paufing to confider.) conjuror. I'll venture it. ( to Servant.) Go and conduct her hither. (Exit Servant, It muft be fhe : I'll boldly venture it, FETR0N1US. Thou may 'ft with little rifk : meantime, remember The caution I have given thee, conjuror. Trufl to my fkill, and be a while withdrawn, My noble patron, (Exit Petronius, Enter Valeria, concealed under a long black Jlole, followed by Lucia and two female Attendants , who remain at the bottom of the Jlage whilji (he comes forward. A TRAGEDY. 325 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 myfterious powers with whom thou deal'ft, 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 1 conjuror. Say thou doft command ; For thro' that fable dole, were it as thick As midnight's curtain, (till I could behold Thy keenly-glancing eye, and the dark arch Of royal brows accuftom'd to command. VALERIA. Ha! doft thou fee me ? CONJUROR. Yea ; and who is he, Whofe Ihadowy unreal form behind thee towers, As link'd with thine tho' abfent ? O'er his head Th' imperial eagle foars, and in his hand fje grafps the emblem of fupreme command. y 3 526 CONSTANTINO PALEOkOCTCJSa Valeria ( 'throwing back the fide with ajlonifomenf mixed with fear), O, moft myfterious and wonderful ! Nothing is hid from thee : thou fee'ft afar The diftant death's day of the fwathed babe, Falling in hoary age, and the life's morn Of thofe who are not.-r— Here then all confefs'd^ A wretched emprefs and a trembling wife, 1 (land before thee. O let thy keen eye Thro* the dark mill that limits nature's fight, Follow that phantom o'er whofe head doth foaf Th' imperial bird ! for, be it good or ill, His fate is mine, and in his fate alone I feek to know it, conjuror. And haft thou ftrength to bear it ? art thou firm ? •for that which ftnites mine eye mull finite thine ear. Valeria (alarmed). Thou reck'neft then to look on dreadful things \ conjuror. I may or may not ; but with mind not brac'd In its full ftrength, feek not thy fate to know. Valeria (after a he/it aiingpavfe of great agitation). I can bear ail things but the dread uncertainty Of what I am to bear. " .. 'A TRAGEDY.- 327 CONJUROR. Then (hall it be unto thee as thou wilt. [After fome myfterious motions and muttering to himfelf he turns his face towards the bottom of the ft age > as if he had his eye fteadfaflly fixed upon fome diftant point ; and continues fo for fome time without moving, whilfi Jhe Jiands watching his countenance eagerly, with her face turned to the front oftheftage.) Valeria (impatiently, after a paufe). ! what dolt 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 (lands : the dreadful battle Roars round him. Thro* dark fmoke, and fheeted flames, And fhowers of hurling darts, and hi/Ting balls, He (hides ..: beneath his fword falls many a foe : His dauntlefs bread to the full tide of battle He nobly gives. — Still on thro' the dark (torm Mine eye purfues him to his fate's high cope — VALERIA. His fate's high cope ! merciful, awful heaven ! (After a paufe.J Q 9 wherefore doit thou paufe ? thine eyes roll terribly : Y 4 328 CONST&NTtNS PALEOLOGUS r What doft thou fee ? thou look'ft on things moft 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. — Haft thou no utterance for what thou fee'ft ? O God ! O God ! thou look'ft upon his death ! (Clafping her hands violently.} Doft thou not fpeak ? wilt thou not anfvver 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 ftiil may rife before thee, For thou haft made me frantic ! conjuror (after a paufe, and fixing his eyes a$ before J. The forms again return. — A TRAGEDY. 329 The champions meet : the fight is fierce and ter- rible : The fateful flroke is given ; and Conftantine— - VALERIA. Merciful heaven ! CONJUROR. And Conftantine lays the proud crefcent low. Valeria (paufing for a moment as if to be affured that Jhe has heard right, and then holding up her hands in extafy). It is ! it is ! O words of blifs ! — Thou fee'fl: it ! 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 Qi 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 lawlefs or unhallow'd deem'd, Here will I kneel in humble gratitude. conjuror (preventing her from kneeling J, No, no, this mufl not be : attend again : There's more behind. 530 CONST^NTXNE PALEOLOGTJS ; VALERIA. Ha ! fay'ft thou more behind ? — Or good or evil ? CONJUROR. JVIixed I ween : 'tis ftill in darknefs lapp'd. VALERIA. In darknefs let it reft : I've heard enough. I would not look upon thine eyes again, And in my fancy fhape thy unfeen fights, -For all that e'er Is that which lies behind A far extended vifion ? (Faufing anxioii/Iy.) Thou wilt not anfwer me — well, reft it fo. J3ut yet, O forward look for one fhort year, And fay who then fhall 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 hall my thanks, My very grateful thanks. There is thy recompenfe, And this too added. (Giving him a purfe) and then a ring from her hand. J We fhall meet again In happier days, when the proud crefcent's low, And thou (halt have a princely recompenfe. (Tuning to her Attendants as jhe goes away ) Come, Lucia ; come, my friends \ the fiorm will pafs, A TRAGEDY. ni And we fhall fmile m the fair light of heaven In happier days. (Exit, followed by her Attendants. conjuror (looking at his reward) !. Good footh, this almoft fmites againft my heart y Put goes flie not far happier than fhe came ? Have I not earn'd it well ? Re-enter Petronius. PETRON'IUS, Thou haft well earn'd it. What ! harbour fuch poor fcruples in a bread 80 exercifed in a trade like this ? Fye on ? t ! But if thy confcience is fo nice, Know that thou haft in all good likelihood Predicted truly ; and her lord and hufband Shall be ftill, as thou fay'ft, this city's lord, conjuror, How fo ? PETRONIUS. Kaft 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 mod diftinguiuYd rank, Already places her. Thou wilt ere long, J can foretel by certain fleeting ihapes Which at this moment dance before mine eyes, $. favour'd, famous, courtly prophet be. £$» CONST ANTJNE PALEOLOGUS ; My little Ella too, taught by my art, May play, perhaps her part ; and fb together We 11 amicably work. — May it not be ? JPut up thy gold and fay it is well earn'd. CONJUROR. It muft be had, and therefore mud be earn'd, Falfely or honeftly. — Does Conftantine, As fpeaks this morning's rumour, fend again Another embalfy to Mahomet With terms of peace ? PETRONIUS. He does, my friend : already in the palace He, and his band of felf devoted fools, Deliberate on it. Thou, at no great rifk, May 'ft prophefy the iffue of their counfels, CONJUROR. I have adventured upon bolder gueffing, PETRONIUS, Excepting that flight aid from Genoa, Which by the mafter of a coafting vefTel, Kept fecretly on watch, I am inform'd Is now almoft within fight of the coaft, No hope remains to Conftantine. And this Shall not deceive him long ; for I've difpatch'd, In a fwift- failing fkiff, a tru fly agent, Who (hall with coftly bribes and falfe reports Deter their boldnefs from all defp'rate efforts A TRAGEDY. 33J To force a paffage to the block'd-up port : A thing, Rodrigo's bold fuccefs alone Hath taught us to believe e'en poflible* conjuror. Thanks for your information, my good lord : I'll profit by it. PETRON1US. But ufe it prudently. And fo good day. Well thrive thy trade, and all good luck attend us. (Exeunt federally. SCENE IV, An apartment in the imperial palace, with a view through a grand arched door of an- other apartment^ in which are difcovered Conftan- tine, Othus, Juftiniani, Rodrigo, and others, arifing from a council table, They enter and come forward. CONSTANTINE. "Well, my brave friends, I to your care intruft This lad attempt by honourable treaty To gain peace from the foe. Heav'n blefs your efforts. JUSTINIANI. All that ftric~t honour will permit to us Shall be mod truly done, imperial lord, >And one ftep farther on we cannot go. $34 CONSTANTINE PAlEoLOGUS* CONSTANTINE. Had I wifh'd more than this, Juftiniani, I had fent other minifters. Heav'n blefs your efforts, brave ambaffadors* And make you wife as brave ! If we fucceed not, As much I fear, it is my earned wim, Ere the grand pufh that mail our fate decide, To meet you all in bleffed charity, And join with you, perhaps, in the lad rites Of chiiflian worfhip that within our walls Shall e'er be celebrated. OTHUS* Your wifh fhall be fulfill'd : we all defire it. > CONSTANTINE. I thank you. In an hour hence be prepar'd To fet out for the futtan's camp. So, brothers, Good day, and all good favour. (Exeunt all but Conflantine and Othus* constantine (to Othus as he is about to go after the others J. Wilt thou go alfo, Othus ? OTHUS. Not if your highnefs does command my ft ay* A TRAGEDY. 33^ CONSTANTINE. Ah, gentle friend ! I do no more command ! But this diftrefles thee* Well, gen'rous man, Thou art commanded. (Pointing to a feat, and they both fit. J Here, by thy friendly fide, I'll give my heart a little breathing fpace j For oh ! the gen'rous love of thefe brave men 3 Holding thus nobly to my finking faje, PrefTes it forely. From thee nor from myfelf can I conceal The hopelefs ftate in which 1 am befet. No foreign prince a brother's hand extends In this mine hour of need 5 no chriftian ftate 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 town 'gainft fuch vafl: odds. I needs muft fmiie and wear a brow of hope ? But with thee, gentle Othus, I put off All form and feeming ; I am what I am, A weak and heart-rent man,— > Wilt thou forgive- me ? . For I in truth mufi weep. OTHUS* Yes, unreftrained weep, thou valiant foul With many a wave o'er-ridden 1 Thou ftriv'ft nobly 8 336 CONST ANTINE PALEOLOGUS: "Where hearts of flerner fluff perhaps had funk i And o'er thy fall, if it be fo decreed, Good men will mourn, and brave men will filed tears, Kindred to thofe which now thou fhed'ft. 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 aclions to futurity appear But as fh' events to which they are conjoin'd To give them confequence. A fallen ftate, In age and weaknefs fall'n, no hero hath ; For none remain behind unto whofe pride The cherifh'd mem'ry of his ads pertains, no, good Othus, fame I look not for. But to fuftain in heaven's all-feeing eye, Before my fellow men, in mine own fight, With graceful virtue and becoming pride, The dignity and honour of a man, Thus ftation'd as I am, I will do ail That man may do, and I will fuffer all — My heart within me cries, that man can fuffer. (Starting up with vehemence, and holding up both hands firmly clenched.) Shall low-born men on icaffolds firmly tread, For that their humble townfmen fhould not blufh, And mail I fhrink ? No, by the living God ! 1 will not fhrijik, albeit I fhed thefe tears. A TRAGEDY. I o OTHUS. To be in toils and perils, nay in fufferings, With th' applauding fympathy of men Upon his fide, is to the noble mind A (late 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 Casfar's name ! constantine (/mi ling forrawfully). 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 t 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 wrefiied with — which I have itrove— Z 33* CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS: With that which comes between me and myfelf— - The felf that as a chriftian and a man I ftrongly frrove to be ■ » G y OTHUS. You have before fome fecret caufe of trouble Hinted in broken words: will not your highnefs Unto a faithful friend CONSTANTINE (turning away from him J, No, no, good Othus ! Sometimes I dream like a diftra&ed man And nurfe dark fancies. Power and lawlefs will — Defencelefs beauty — Mahomet — Valeria — Shape out of thefe wild words whate'er thou wilt, For I can fay no more. OTHUS. Alas, I know it all ! CONSTANTINE. And yet why mould it thus difturb my mind ? A thought, perhaps, that in no other bread Hath any (helter found. — It is my weaknefs : I amafhamed of it.— I can look On my fhort-fated fpan and its dark bound : I can, God ftrength'ning me, my earthly tafk Clofe as becomes a king ; and, being clos'd, To that which in this world's tumultuous ftage Shall happen after it, I am as nothing. A TRAGEDY. 339 OTHUS. Alas ! my royal matter, do not thus To racking thoughts give way ! 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. . .. • COKSTANTINE. 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 ? ■ C0NSTANT1NE. O no! fhe does not ! from that hateful fubjeft, As from a hideous ferpent, flill with her I've kept aloof. — Alas! what can I do ? I could as well into her noble heart Thruft the barb'd dart as tell her what I fear. OTHUS. Perhaps fhe Mill, as from the common horrors Of a fack'd town, may be conjur'd to flee. And here fhe comes : be it at leaft attempted. Z 2 34° CONSTA'NTINE PALEOLOGUS Enter Valeria, Lucia, and attendant Ladies. Valeria (to Conftantine). Ie plan.) Conceiv'd, indeed, with deep and wond'rous (kill! 7 346 CONST ANTINE PALEOLOGUS: But mighty lord, if that a worm may fpeak, Your van, methinks, is of a motley clafs, The vile refuge and garbage of the camp ; Are mufTulmen led on in glory's path By fuch as thefe ? mahomet (fmiling fiercely). No ; but brave mufTulmen o'er fuch as thefe May ftep to glory's path. Garbage, I truft, Is good enough for filling ditches up. Some thoufand carcafes, living and dead, Of thofe who firft fhall glut the en'my'srage, PufiYd 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 contracted thoughts. And here your highnefs ftations Georgian troops : Are they fure men in fuch important fervice ? mahomet (fmiling again). Ay, fure as death ; here is my furety for them. See'ft thou what warriors in the rear are plac'd, With each a cord and hatchet in his hand ? Thofe grizly hangmen, in their canvafs fleeves, Fight for me better than an armed band Of chriftian knights full cap-apee. — Look o'er it ; Something, perchance, may have efcap'd my thoughts. A TRAGEDY. 347 osmir (after again examining 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 fo, Ofmir ? OSMIR. It is fufpected 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 midft blocks and bowftrings has fo long His bafe head tott'ring worn, he thinks, no doubt, It needs muft be his own. Send for him quickly, And fee that which is needful done upon him. (Drawing the pen Jlernhj 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. J Thefe are the ufual orders for the night ; Affemble thou the fev'ral officers, And give to each his own partic'Iar charge. 34* CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS : CSMIR. Your flave obeys. (Exit. mahomet (alone, after mufingfor a little while J. Have I done well to give this hoary vet'ran, Who has for thirty years fought in our wars, To the death-cord unheard ? (Sternly, after paufing afhortfpace*) I have done well. I In my difguifed rounds, but two nights fmce, 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- ver al 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 truft ; 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 thefcroll.) Ay, it mud needs be fo : this conftellation In clofe conjunction with the warrior's ftar, 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 TR A GED Y. 345 With mine own fcience, num'ral, learn'd, and fure. Ha ! ha 1 your foolifh chriftians now believe Men's future fortunes are by wizards feen, In airy forms pourtray'd, like mimick mows, And truft thereto with fond fimplicity. (Othoric, who. about the middle of this fpeech 7 J 7 - ' has made his appearance from behind the cur- tain of the tent, difguifed like a Turk, but without a turban, now, flealing clofe up t$ Mahomet, lifts up his dagger tojirike.) What do I hear? m w OTHORIC. It is thy fate, blind Turk, uncalculated. (Striking.) mahomet (parrying the blow with his fheathedfcu mitar^ winch he afterwards draws.) Ho! help without! treafon and parricide ! Ho ! guards without, I fay ? (Guards rufh in, and Othoric isfeized, after defending himfelfdef- pemtely.) MAHOMET. (To Othoric.) Who art thou ? What dark tyrant fetthee on To da this murderous and horrid deed ? OTHORIC. And think'ft thou fuch deeds horrid?— -But I came To acT: and not to fpeak. 35<> CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS : MAHOMET. Say rather, villain, to be atted on. Do racks and burning iron pleafe thee well That thou fhould'ft earn them with fuch defp'rate pains. (To the Guards. J Stretch out his arms, and let me look on them. (Looking at his arms, and furveying him all over, he Jhrinks back as from a danger efcaped, and then fmiles r \ > grimly.) *f here will be tough work on thofe ilnewy 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.) 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.) '' oil PETRONIUS. What prifoner is this they lead along ? MAHOMET. A dark affamn in my tent conceal'd, Whole daring hand evn 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 ftunn'd, and tremble at the thought* A TRAGEDY, 351 MAHOMET. Yes, all may tremble who in the dark purpofe Have part or knowledge had. petronius and marthon (both alarmed). What means my lord ? (Mahomet walks federal timet acrofs thejlage with angry Jirides^whil/i they look fearfully upon one another, and then going Jiernly tip t* * them.) — _ H MAHOMET. I know the bafe tranfadtions of laft night : Ye ftufPd my gold into the dirty palms Of thofe who (hook their torches in the air, And cried long live brave Paieologus. I know it all : think ye with upcaft looks, And mumm'ry fuch as this, to blind mine eyes? petronius (falling on his knees). As there's a God in heav'n, to you, great fultanl "We nave De ^n true ! f Marthon kneels alfo.) MAHOMET* Up, crouching flaves ! when men fo bred as you are Thus lowly kneel, my very foul abhors them. 35* CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS: PETRON1US. Your death, great monarch, were toPaleologus Triumph and fafety, but to, us fwift ruin. MARTHON. And mail fusions fo improbable Fall upon us, who in your fecret fervice Have dangers brav'd, and from your hands alone Look fpr the recompenfe ? o PETRONIUS. ' If we lafl night have fail'd ■ « mahoMet (Jlamping with his foot). I will not hear you ! Enter Osmir. Ofmir, know'ft:thou this horrible atteittpt ? : OSMIR* I do great prince, and blefs the Prophet's arm That has preferv'd you. What bafe enemy- Has arrrr'd the defp'rate villain r MAHOMET. Petronius here and his fmooth Grecian friend Throw accufation on the emperor. OSMIR. "' This moment in your camp there is arriv'd A TRAGEDY. ^i An embalTage of his mod honour'd friends, Sent by the emperor to treat of peace. MAHOMET. At this unlikely hour I OSMIR. Yes, time now prefles, and, as I mould guefs, The hopes of fuccour from thofe friendly veflfels That vainly have attempted through your fleets To force a paflage, raifing fhort-liv'd joy Full foon extinguiuYd, has to this late hour Delay'd their coming. Hope gone, they now are humbled fuitors. Here, Within your power, you have the chiefeft men Of the brave friends on whom he mofl depends ; This does not look like preconcerted plots Of fecret murder, at this very hour To be attempted. MAHOMET. No, Ofmir, there is reafon in thy words. OSMIR. But if your highnefs thinks it is expedient, I will ftraightway arreft them. mahomet (after hefitating). No, no ; they are brave men ; I will receive them A, a 354 CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS r Asa brave enemy mould do. Go fay, That by the morning'* dawn they fhall have au- dience ; And th* open camp, with wide-mouthM 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 exit, followed by Ofmir. Remain Petronius and Marthon guarded. J FIRST GUARD. Come on, my matters, we'll conduct you fafely* marthon (to Petronius^. Is it to plunge me in this dreadful gulf That your curs'd leflfons have feduc'd my youth I PETRONIUS. Upbraid me not. I have not for myfelf A better fate referv'd. But we are noble And of high lineage ; fear not, for the fultar* Will ftili refpe<5t us. SECOND GUARD, Ay, fo belike he will ; your noble heads May with the royal fcimitar be chopt, If he is much inclin'd to honour you. Some men ere how, in other fultans* days, Have been fo honour'd. (Exeunt.) A TRAGEDY, 355 SCENE ll. An open /pace in the camp, with the ^Janizaries and Turki/h troops drawn up in order. Cannon and warlike engines feen mixed with the tents. A flourijh of trumpets ; enter Mahomet, with Osmir and his train, and places him/elf in a chair of Jiate near the front oftheftage. Another flourijh of trumpets, and enter ©thus, Justi- niani, and Rodrioo, with a J mall train of At- tendants, walkingjlowly up the Jiage. mahomet (to Ofmir, as they come forward). Thefe men approach us with a hardy ftep, Nor wear the fuppliant's humbled brow. Come they To fue or to command us ? {To Othus and the other deputies, who make obeifance to him.) 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 refiftlefs, foot) fhall 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 fulnlPd ; and for earth's power* The cannon flanked cohorts, and wide front Of far extended numbers, fhew it not To him, who in the fmall and fecret fortrefs, Aa 2 356 CONST ANTINE PALEOLOGUS: E'en of one brave man's bread, more help dif- covers, Oft in th' adounding hour of the dorm's pitch, Than in an armed hod. Imperial Condantine Will live or xiie within his city s walls As may become their mafler. — Ncverthelefs, He will fo far to hard neceflity MAHOMET. I hear no more : your words are ineffectual, And fall as powerlefs as the ruffian's fword, Whom now, within my tent, your royal matter, Compell'd no doubt by hard neceflity, Has hired to murder me. justiniani (ftepping boldly forward). Sultan, thou fitted where thou fafely may'ft Say what thou wilt, therefore of all mankind Thou mod art bound to fay but what is meet. Put thofe accufing words that thou had utter'd Into the mouth of any other Turk, Wore he a giant's form, for in your camp I know that fuch there be, and I will prove it, With this good foldier's arm, a curfed falfehood. othus (to Juft'mhm, pulling bim back). Thou art not wife.— Great fuitan hear me fpeak. If any bafe attack upon your life Has been attempted, let the murd'rous villain, If dill he breathes, be here before us brought. In prefence of your highnefs we will qudlion him : A TRAGEDY. 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). Your fuit is granted. Thefe men fpeak boldly, vizir. (Afide to Ofmir.) osmir (afide to Mahomet). They fhrink not from the proof. Enter Othoric fettered and guarded. MAHOMET (tO OthoriCJ. As thou may'fl hope a mitigated doom, I here command thee that thou truly anfwer Whate'er thofe Roman deputies demand. OTHORIC. I do not hope a mitigated doom, And therefore, fultan, cannot be commanded : But if this brave man here will queftion me, (Pointing to Rodrigo.) For in his prefence I do feel my fpirit To manhood's height brac'd up, I'll truly anfwer, Tho' every word did in my finews fix The burning pincer's tooth. RODRIGO. Ha ! Othoric art thou not ? the flrong Hun- garian? Aa3 3s$ CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS : othortc (failing). Ay, thou remembered my name— I thank thee— i It pleafes me to think thou'lt ne'er forget it. Afk what thou wilt, and I will anfwer thee ; Bid me do what thou wilt, and I will do it, Barring the hindrance of thefe chains. RODRIGO. Thanks to thee ! Then, whatfoe'er the fultan afks of thee, Anfwer him truly. He will point his queftions Where his fufpicion points. PTHORIC. I will obey. mahomet (Jiernly). Who hired thee, thou bold and hard-brow'd villain, Such horrid deed to do ? OTHORIC. I have been twice hired, mighty Mahomet, To do fell deeds, in which I've lack'd performance, MAHOMET. And who firft hired thee ? OTHORIC. Thyfelf, A TRAGEDY. 35 9 MAHOMET. Bafe traitor ! Dar'ft 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 fcymitar and crefcent were imprefs'd. OTHUS. Petronius ! OTHORIC. Yes, that fmooth, fubtle Greek. MAHOMET. He hir'd thee not to take the life of Conftantine ? OTHORIC. True ; I was hir'd for wafteful infurrediion, Not for delib'rate murder. Tho' molt wretched, A ftranger, grip'd by hard neceffity, The price he gave me ne'er had bought this arm To fuch an ad. MAHOMET. And who did hire thee for this fecond deed, Which thou mud needs delib'rate murder call ? A a 4 360 C0NSTANT1NE PALEOLOGUS : OTHORIO. 'Twas Conftantine. JUSTINIANI. Thou lieft, foul, artful villain ! Y MAHOMET. Peace I command ! ye fhall not interrupt him. 'Twas Conftantine that hir'd thee ? OTHORIC. Yes, great fultan ! ,.But not with gold, and he himfelf, I ween, TJnconicious of the acl. MAHOMET. What did he bribe thee with ? OTHORIC. With that which does but feldom prove the means Of like corruption — gen'rous admiration Of noule manly virtue, I beheld him, Like a brave flag encompais'd by bafe curs, And it did tempt me. — Other bribe than this Have I had none ; and to no mortal ear Did I reveal my purpofe. (Mahomet puts his hand on his forehead and feems difturbed^ whilji the deputies hold up, their hands cxultingly.) a Tragedy. 3 6i rodrigo (to Othoric). O for a galley mann'd with fuch as thou art, Therewith to face a hundred armed mips, Creatur'd with meaner life ! Yet thou muft die, brave heart ! yet thou mud die. Thou haft done that which in no circumftance Man's hand may do, and therefore thou mufl: perifh. But I'll remember thee : thy name is Othoric i 1 will remember thee. osmir (to Mahomet, who covers his face andfeems di/lurbed, after a paufe). Your highnefs gives no orders to your ilave Touching the prifoner. mahomet (uncovering his face angrily). His crime is plain : death be his inftant doom* OSMIR. And in what mode ? or fimple or with pains ? MAHOMET, Diftrad me not. OTHORIC. Vizir, be not fo hafty. I bear with me what will redeem my life, And gain the fultan's pardon. 36z CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS : OSMIR. Ah ! thinkeft thou to gain him with that bribe Which Conftantine gave thee ? (Shaking his head,) OTHORIC. No, not with that. I wear upon this arm A potent band, with fubtile magic wrought, That, wherefoe'er 'tis on my body rubb'd "With mutter'd words which I alone do know, Maketh the part firm and invulnerable To fword, or bullet, or the arrow's point- To all orTeniive 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. OThoric (to the guard who ftands next him, after he has been unfettered^ and at the fame time un- covering his left arm. J Young Turk, thou wear 'ft a dagger by thy fide ;' To fhew that I am made as other men, Of flefh and blood as foft and lenfitive, When with no charm fecur'd, thruft it, I pray thee, Into this nerved flefh. Nay, do not flirink, For I fhiink not. t-4 A TRAGEDY. $6$ MAHOMET. Do it, thou timid Have ! ( The guard Jlightly wounds Othoric'j arm with the point of the dagger. J OTHORIC. v You fee it is. an arm of flefh and blood ; ^Vnd fo you'll find my body in all parts, Thruft where you will. — But mark me; where* foe'er J rub this band, your weapons have no power. C Opening his breaji and rubbing it with a brace- let which he takes from his arm, at the fame time muttering fome myjiical words to him* M) Now try if e'er the flouted arm amongff, you, With pike, or fpear, or keenly- temper'd blade, Can pierce this charmed breaft. mahomet (to an Attendant). Attempt it, brawny Have ; thine arm is ftrong. (To Ofmir.) Give him a ftronger weapon.*-— Now the proof ! (The JIave receiving a J word from Ofmir, runs with full force upon Otho- ric, who falls down, pierced through the breaft, and utters a convulfive laugh as he ex. pires J rodrigo (exultingly)* P, bravely done, thou fpirit of true proof! 3^ CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS: JUSTINIANI. Yes, nobly has he fhunn'd the degradation * Of flavifh punifhment. OTHUS. It was a lofty mind in a rude ftate Of wild diftorted virtue > crofs the fancy It (talks, a gloomy, dark, gigantic (hade, Angel or fiend we know not. mahomet (qfide to hlmfelf turning gloomily away), And Conftantine is ferv'd by men like thefe ! othus (to Mahomet). Seeing that of this crime our royal mafter Doth clearly (land acquitted, by your word, Mod mighty Mahomet, we are permitted To ftate his wifhes. MAHOMET. No, ambafladors ; 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 ft and, and the dire crafh is near. . OTHUS. And with our chief in that tremendous ruin, If it muft be, we will fink lovingly. A TRAGEDY. $6$ PJUSTINIANl. We will fink honourably. RODRIGO. We will fink glorioufly. Ay, by heaven's light, And cheerly too, great fultan ! ( ' Pajfing the body of Othoric as they turn to go away.) Thou noble wreck, thou wert rigg'd gallantly ! (Exeunt Othus, Jufliniani, Rodrigo, and their attendants.) mahomet (coming forward to the front oftheflage, and ftanding for fome time in a thoughtful pofiure much difiurbed). And Conftantine is ferv'd by men like thefe ! osmir (toJJaves, pointing to the body gf Othoric). Take up the carcafe of that favage ruffian, And flick it on a flake for vulture's food. mahomet (turning round angrily). No, reptiles ! let it have a foldier's grave. osmir. This is exceeding mercy ; neverthelefs, Your orders, mighty prince, fhall be obey'd By thofe who are as dufl beneath your feet. MAHOMET. Yes, I do know that I fhall be obey'd 36(5 C6NSTANTINE PALE6L0GUS: By thofe who are I am begirt with flaves. (Turning away, andjiamping on the ground as he walks.) Mine enemy is ferv'd by men like thefe ! I will give orders with all prefling fpeed That now my grand attack forthwith be made : What next may be attempted by fuch foes Who will prefume to guefs. OSMIR. , That is the fafeft counfel. (Exeunt Mahomet, tojjing his arms andmuU tering as he goes out.) END OF THE THIRD ACT, A TRAGEDY. 367 ACT IV. An out-pofl belonging to the Turkijh camp, with a view of the city of Confiantinople on the back ground, feen in the dimnefs of cloudy moonlight* Enter feveral Turkijh Soldiers by different ways % meeting one another. FIRST TURK. Jrlo ! who are ye ? our friends ? SECOND TURK. 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 ftir Of warlike preparation is begun ; And ere the morning dawn, each armed Turk Muft be in readinefs for the grand day Of havockj blood, and fpoil. Come, let us on ! THIRD TURK. Yes ; but, good comrades, do once more look back, 36a CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS : And fee, thro' the wan night, thofe building* gleam With the lad chriftian fires that e'er mail burn "Within thofe circling walls. SECOND TURK. Ay, there the Prophet has prepar'dour 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 red-flem'd fcimitars afide, And lay us down in foft and lordly floth. Comrades, it is an animating fight. But quickly let us gain our tents.— Hum ! hum ! What Turk comes prowling^ this way, and alone ? It looks like Mahomet. ** . v FIRST TURK. It is the fultan on his nightly rounds, ? Difguis'd ; let us avoid him. THIRD TURK. Fd 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 bed We fhall be deem'd but lawkfs ftragglers here : Let us all feparate and gain our tents. (Exeunt haftily % all different ways. > A TRAGEDY. 369 Enter Mahomet difguifed, followed at a diflance by the Vizir. Mahomet ( alone ^ after walking thought fully from the bottom oftheflage, whilft Ofmir remains on the hack ground). What boots this f^ftlefs wim? 'tis all blank filence On that for which my greedy ears (till watch. There's ne'er a Turk, who, o'er his ev'ning pipe, Will not far rather talk of daring feats By petty robbers done, than all the fame And grand achievements of his fov'reign lord. 'Tis cheerlefs filence all ! Dull, ftupid race ! They arm them for to-morrow's fight, 'tis true, With much alacrity, and talk of conqueft , 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 harm pronounc'd, but as to liften I nearer drew, my fteps the fpeaker fcar'd, And all was into fearful filence hufh'd. Their fultan's name ! — Pelt feize the ftupid Haves ! O, Conftantine ! it is not thus thy foldiers Do arm themfelves for thee. Ho, Ofmir ! art thou near me ? osMir (advancing). Yes, my lord. MAHOMET. Haft thou been iift'ning too ? Bb 370 CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGX/S i OSMIR. Yes, fultan ; and I find your Muffulmen Their arms preparing for to-morrow's battle, Beneath your royal ftandard mod determin'd To conquer or to die. They under your approving eye will fight, As in the funlhine of propitious heaven. MAHOMET. Yes, I am in their minds full truly grown A thing of gen'ral attributes compos'd — A heaven of funfhine or of lowering florms : But as a man and leader, in whom live The mental and corporeal qualities Of Mahomet — — Peft feize the ftupid Haves 1 Enter Petronius and Marthon, muffled up in cloaks. But who comes here ? twice on my rounds already Thofe men have crofs'd me : am I known to them ? By the great Prophet they (hall bear their fecret Where fecrets are fecure ! — Ho ! flop Haves there ! Stop, in the fultan's name! (Running upon themfu- rioujly, and lifting his fcimitar over the head of Petronius, who immediately dij covers him- M-) petronius (dif covering himfelf). Crufli not a worm, my lord. MAHOMET. A worm indeed ! What treafon brings ye here, A TRAGEDY. 371 Sculking, thus mufled up in dark difguife ? Have I not warn'd ye both that ye do live Beneath mine iron power in ftricteft fauhleflhefs ? For that when ye are found but to tranfgrefs The galling limits of impofed duty Even a hair's breadth, there abideth you Arecompenfe more dreadful than torn flaves* Writhing in horrid ecftafy, e'er knew. Beware : ye have no power to ferve me now$ And unfucceisful traitors are molt hateful. petronixjs. It is, great Mahomet, to make amends For unfuccefsful fervices, that here Thou find'fl: 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'ft true, return to me again* Leading thy beauteous daughter in thy hand^ Ere two hours pafs, who (hall within my tent A pledge remain for thy fufpicious faith Until the city s ta'en. — Begone, I charge you P And anfwer not again. (Exeunt Petronius and Marthon. Are all mine orders iffued for the morrow ? To each refpective officer affign'd His talk and ftation? and my rearward troops, Mine axe and cord-men, they are not torgotteni Bb 2 37* CONST ANTINE PALEOLOGUS : OSMIR. No, pleafe your highnefs, nothing is Forgotten; And by the early dawn (A mixture of confufed diji ant founds heard from the city,) MAHOMET. What founds are thefe ? OSMIR. Maft 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 J. And let me Men too ! I love the found ! Like the laft whifpers of a dying enemy It comes to my pleas'd ear- (Liftening.) 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 like it well ! the lion hears afar Th'approaching prey, and fhakes his bridling mane, *And lafhes 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 favour'd warrior gives. A TRAGEDY. MAHOMET. 37J Yes, Ofmir ; I {hall wear a conqu'ror's name, And other ages (hall of Mah'met fpeak, When thefe dumb flaves are crumbling in the duft. But now the night wears on, and with the dawn Mult the grand work begin. Yet one thing ftill 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, (hall to the watchful foe Our near approach betray : filent and foft, As the pard's velvet foot on Libya's fands, Slow flealing with crouch'd moulders on her prey. osmir. ' I have already given the ft rifle ft orders. MAHOMET. Then all is well : go where thy duty calls. In the mean while I will match an hour of reft, And dream, perhaps, that lovely Grecian dames, Even with a crowned beauty in their band, Are lowly bent to kifs my purple feet. (A diftant bell heard from the city. J What deep and diftant bell is this which founds So foiemnly on the ftill air of night ? OSMIR. It comes from St. Sophia's lofty dome, Where Conftantine, with his fmall band of friends, Bb 3 374 CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS : As I have learnt, fhould at this hour afiemble. To join together in religious rites Of Jolemn preparation for to-morrow, Which they regard as their laft day of life, And this as their laft act of focial brotherhood, MAHOMET. Brave men ! do they fo meet ? (Paufing.) But it mud be. Why fhould it move me? Heaven decrees their doom ; I act. by high commiffion, tho' for instruments I have but thefe dumb flaves. (Exeunt* SCENE II. A pillared aifle or open /pace in the church of St Sophia, with other parts of the church feen in perjpeclive. The great bell heard. Enter Heugho, met by an inferior Priejl* PRIEST. Thoucom'ft before thy mafter and his friends \ How far are they behind \ HEUGHO. Not many paces, (Bell founds again./ PRIEST, - Werefore didft thou flan ? A TRAGEDY. 37c HEUGHO. It fmote mine ear moft flrange and dolefully. Is there foul in its found which fadly fays, It is the laft bell that (hall 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 mud: we fay, if that our term 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 afTault will be So foon ? HEUGHO. s Tis fo believ'd : and fee where now they come, In gen'rous love and brotherhood united, Who mall, perhaps, no more fee evening's clofe, Or under focial roof of living men E'er meet again. Bb 4 376 CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS: PRIEST, Nay, do not weep, good Heugho ; For they fhall in that blefled place be join'd Where great and good men meet.-'-But I rauft hafte To give, my brethren notice. (Exit* Enter Constantine, with Othus, Rodriqo, Justin i ani, and others of his friends, who walk with folemn Jieps and bareheaded towards the front of the ft age > the great bell founding for the lafl time as they advance. Conftantine then ft of s % and fir etching out his arm as if he wifhed toffeak % they all gather refpeclfully round him. constantine. My friends, there greatly prefles on my heart Somewhat I've much denVd to fay to you, If a full heart will grant mefo much voice. OTHUS. Then fpeak it, royal fire, we all attend With ears of love and moft profound refpech constantine. Thus ftation'd on a dark and awful verge, In company with you, my noble friends, I have defired, in this folemn act, To make my peace with God. But, on my foul^ A TRAGEDY. 3 77 If any unforgiven wrong to man Yet reds, how (hall 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 mighti ft 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 a&s 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 , Tintfur'd with jealoufy. If towards you, My noble friends, I have contracted guilt, I truft — I know — I beg — what fhall I fay ? Your gen'rous hearts to all your deeds of love Will add a laft forgivenefs, ' OTHUS. O no, moft royal Conftantine ! to us And to all men thou'ft ever worthy been, Noble and gracious ; pardon at our hands Thou needeft none, OMNES, O no, thou needeft none! As we to thee have faithful followers been* Thou'ft ever been to us a gen'rous lord. 37* CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS: CONSTANTINE. Your love would make it fo: would that, in- deed, A voice within me fcal'd its fair report ! Alas! it doth not; therefore now indulge me. If there be one am' jgft you, unto whom, With dark forbidding brow, in a (tern moment, I've given ungen'rous pain; one whofe kind fervice I have with foolifh and capricious humours More irkfome made ; one whofe frank opennefs Of manly love, ofFer'd to me as man, In gen'rous confidence, with heartlefs pride I coldly have repell'd ; yea, if there be One of you all that ever from my prefence I have with fadden'd heart unkindly fent, I here, in meek repentance, of him crave A brother's hand, in token of forgivenefs. And be it in true charity ftretch'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 honour 'd. What ! is there none that will to me hold out The palm of charity ? Then Til embrace ye all, and, with eas'd heart, Believe myfelf forgiven. (Embracing them all as they crowd affeclionately to him 3 and coming loft to Rodrigo.) And thou, my bold Rodrigo, who canft brave A TRAGEDY. 375 The tempefb when they rage, and onward bear, With the opnofed ftrength of towering navies JJlack'ning before thee, com'ft thou to my bread In foft forgiving love ? I know thou doft. 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 fmew'd ftrength, In all the burning zeal of righteous boldnefs, Impoffible is. (Clenching his hands vehemently.) othus (to Rodrigo), Ceafe !' doft thou not refpedt thefe holy walls ? RODRIGO. * I do refpecl: 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 obferving Heugho* who has ftood behind, not prefuming to approach him with the reft.) But there is one who (lands from me aloof 380 CONST ANT1NE PALEOLOGUS : With modfft backwardnefs, unto whofe charity I mult be debtor alfo. Worthy Heugho, 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 ftate 5 yet, ne'erthelefs, I once, in a mod vile and fretful mood, Vex'd with crofs'd things, thine honour'd age for- got. HEUGHO. Oh, fay not fo, my dear and royal matter. It breaks my heart that you fhouid ftili remember. CONSTANTINE. Well, well, be not thus m'ov'd, my worthy Heugho, I know I am forgiv'n ; but lay thy hand, Thine aged hand, upon thy matter's head, And give him a laft bleffing. Thou art now Like to an ancient father with us grown, And my heart fays that it will do me good. (Bowing his head, whilfi Heugho, lifting up his aged hands over him, is unable to /peak, but bur/Is into tears, and falls upon his maf- ter' s neck. The band of friends clofe round and conceal them : afterwards they open to make way, and Conttantine comes forward with a firm enlightened countenance.) And now, my noble friends, it pleafes me To thjnk we all are knit in holy bands A TRAGEDY. 3*1 Of fellowfhip ; prepar'd, in virtue's ftrength, 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, whate'er betide. What fay ye, valiant friends ? OMNES. All, all of us ! CONSTANTINE. I know you will, full well, I know you will. Oh, that in earth it had been granted me Your gen'rous love to've recompens'd ! alas I Ye can but lhare with me * OMNES. No other recompenfe, But fharing fates with thee, our noble chief, Do we defire, and on thy royal hand Here will we feal it. constantine (eagerly preventing them as they are about to kneel and kifs his hands J* Forbear ! forbear ! within thefe facred walls Bend before worthlefs man the humble knee ! Fye, let not fuch fhame be 1 Am I your chief? then be it fhewn in this, That to the mighty Majefty of heaven f«s CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS ; I humbly bow, more lowly than ye all, And do, on your behalf, devoutly beg The blefling of our Mailer and our Sire. (Kneeling and bowing his head very low to the ground, then rifing afterwards with dignified folemnity*) Now to thofe facred rites of our blefl faith, In which the humble foul ennobled bows, In mem'ry of the deareft brotherfhip That ever honour'd man, I lead you on, My noble brothers. (Exeunt Conftantine, 8JV. by another aifle, which may be fuppofed to lead to the altar of the church, whilft fever al priefls are feen at a diflance in their robes s as if waiting to receive them*) SCENE III. A Hall, or Anti-room in the Imperial Palace* Enter Petronius ^ and walks acrofs thejiage.) petronius (in a half 'voice, feeding foftly up to her.) Ella ! 3?4 CONSTANTINO PAL^OLOGUSi ella (ftarting). What voice is that which names me ? PETRONIUS. Ella! ELLA. Oh ! 'tis the found that I molt dread to hear f PETRONIUS, Say'ft thou fo, Ella, of thy father's voice ? Have my misfortunes, with the world's fair favour, Depriv'd me alfp of my only child ? i ELLA. No, no ! they have not : had misfortune only Caft its dark fhade upon thee, I had lov'd thee And cherifh'd thee in a lone defer t, father. But — but thou art - PETRONIUS. Ha ! wherefore doft thou paufe ? What would'ft 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. — Oh, fly from hence ! Ruin, and fhame, and death abide thee here : Oh, fly, my wretched father. 4 A TRAGEDY. 38$ PETRONIUS. Yes, I will fly, but thou (halt go with me \ If not, I will remain and meet my fate. ELLA* Good heaven forbid ! thou'lt drive me to dis- traction. O mifery ! (Wringing her hands in great diftrefs, whiljl Marthon advances to Petronius with fupp Heating look.) PETRONIUS. v Away ! thou art a fool : we muft 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 favour 'd miftrefs of the mighty fultan. (To Ella.) J (Ella gives a loud Jhriek^ and ffruggles to get from him. J Enter Rodrigo. rodrigo. Audacious villain ! quit thy curfed hold, Or take death for thy pains. Ha ! thou fhrink'ft back, and muffleft up thy face. Say who thou art, or thro' thy villain's fcteart I'll thruft this rapier. Cc 3*6 C0NSTANT1NE FALEOLOGUS : ella (pulling Rodrigo back'). Hold, I do befeech thee ! For pity, hold I 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 laft wiles, Who fhelter feeks within the very kennel O* the rous'd pack : Oh, have fome pity on him f He is my father, RODRIGO. Sweet Ella, hang not thus upon mine arm : It hath no power to ftrike whom thou calPft father, Shame as he is unto, that honour'd name. But there are ties upon me, gentle maid : The fafety and the interefts of Conftantine I am bound to defend ; and mall a traitor « ELLA. Oh! ohl , RODRIGO. Fear sot : our royal mailer is return'd From bleffed rites of holieft charity With meekly chaften'4 foul : whate'er his crimes; A TRAGEDY. 387 He is in fafety — fafety as afifured As thine own harmlefs felf. Enter Constantine. CONSTANTINE (to Rodrigo). Thou fpeak'fl: with an unwonted earneftnefs ; I've mark'd thy geftures 5 fomething moves thee much. Who are thefe ftrangers ? (Turning to Petronius and Marthon, who, uncovering their faces, Jiand confeffed before him. J Ha ! Marthon and Petronius ! What new treafon Is now on foot, that here —but judge I harfhly ? Ye are, perhaps, (truck with the circumftances Of thefe mod folemn times, repentant grown, And if ye be* in a good hour ye come : I am myfelf a wean'd and pardon'd man. Marthon, thou once wert wont to fpeak the truth 5 What brought ye hither ? MARTHON. Moft 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 j none to thee, moft royal Conflan- tine* Cca X 38S CONSTANTINE 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 flare. But, Oh protect 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 daugter told me true ? Was this thine errand ? petronius (approaching Conitantine). Yes, mod gracious prince. CONSTANTINE. Off then, difgrace to nature and to manhood ! Would*!! thou to fhameful and degrading flavery Betray thy virtuous child ? Say thou cam'fr. hither To thruft V the dark thy dagger thro* my heart, And I will call thee fmlefs. PETRONIUS. Wherefore this ftern and bitter execration ? I came to place her but a few hours fooner, Sav'd from th' approaching ftorm, where your high dames, Yea, \wt'h their royal miftrefs at their head, Full fhortly fhall be placed. CONSTANTINE. Detefted wretch! what fiend has whifper'd to thee Such hideous thoughts ? man dur'ft not utter them. A TRAGEDY. 389 PETRONirS. 'Man might, at lead, furveying the pofition And afpecl: of thefe times, in his own mind This plain and fhrewd conje&ure 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 mod favour'd wives — - — CONSTANTINE. Hold thy detefted tongue i 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 acl:. PETRONIUS. I but repeat that which the fultan hath . In public faid. CONSTANTINE. Forbear ! forbear ! I tell thee. (Wrenching his /word, fcabbard and all, from . his fide, and t offing it from him ) There ! there ! Rodrigo : cafl it from my reach : Let not a weapon be within my grafp, Or I fhall be accurfed. (After a violent ft ruggle of pajfion.) I dare fpeak to him now. — Ho I guards without ! ELLA. Oh, mercy ! mercy ! Cc 3 5$o CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS Enter Guards. constantine (to Guards). Take thefe two men, Petronius and his friend* And thro' the city to our outmoft poft Conduct them fafely : there, in perfect liberty, Permit them to depart where'er they lift. (To Petronius.) Now, Fm, revenged upon thee : get thee hence, And utter not a word. — Go thou, Rodrigo, And with the gentle Ella in thy hand, Conduct them to the palace gate. Hence cjuickly \ jyCARTHON. Nay, let Petronius go : I will remain, And with the meaneft foldier on your walls Spend my laft blood, if a true penitent ■,■ constantine (waving him off impatiently ). "Well, be it as thou wilt : but hence and leave me I rodrigo (to Ella, as he leads her out J, Pid I not tell thee he was fafe, my Ella ? (Exeunt all but Conftantine, who, after walk- ing up and down for fome time in a perturbed manner, ft arts at the found of Valeria V voice without*) constantine. JIa ! here (he comes ! alas ! how mall I now A TRAGEDY. 39' Look on her face, and hear her voice of love ! it is diffraction ! Enter Valeria. VALERIA. My Conftantine, art thou fo long return'd, And yet to me no kindly fummons 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 ; here I cannot fpeak to thee. Valeria (afide, looking eagerly at him as they go out). What may this be ! (Exeunt. i SCENE IV. ValeriaV Apartment. Enter Constantine, followed by Valeria, who remain filent for fome time, floe looking anxioufly with wiflful expectation. VALERIA. Now we are here, my Lord, in the ftill privacy Of this my inmoft bower, but thou art filent. {Paufes, and he is ft ill filent. J Cc4 3>a C0NSTANT1NE PALEOLOGUS; There is a look of fadnefs on thy face Of difturb'd wretchednefs, that never yet, Ev'n in thy darkeft hours, I've feen thee wear : Why art thou thus ? CONSTANTINE. And doft thou afk ? I've been, in deep humility, Making a Tinner's peace with God and man, And now j and now — (His voice fault ering.) VALERIA. What would you fay, my lord ? CONSTANTINE. And now I am with thee, VALCRIA. And artjhou fad for this ? haft thou not ftill, Loofe from all (hackles of impofed ftate, Been with me in thine hours of joy or grief, Like a way faring man, who fitting down On the green bank, his cumb'rous veflment opens To the foft breeze ? ) CONSTANTINE. Yes, my Valeria ; I have been with thee As with a true yoke heart, fo ftrong in love That ev'n the thought which fcudded o'er my mind With culprit's fpeed from fhameful confcioufnefs, Was not from thee conceai'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 tafk — a tafk 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 mod they (hould have baniuYd it : and all, In quitting earthly ties, do anxioufly Defire, in the true blefling of forgivenefs, To part with thofe whom they have held molt dear. Now doft thou underftand me ? (Holding out both his hands to her, J VALERIA. I do ! I do ! thou haft my deareft bleffing, The deareft thoughts and worihip 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 aft, Which, before God and man, in honeft pride, I'm call'd on to perform. IgA CONST ANTINE P ALEOLOGUS i VALERTA. But from thofe walls vi&orious thou'lt return. (Conftantinefmilesforrowfully.J Nay, but thou (halt return : high heav'n decrees, it; Virtue, and every good and bleffed thing Have made it fure. Ev'n, in faith as ftrong As at this moment I do hold to this, Methinks, upon thechaf'd and tofling waves Of the wild deep I could thus firmly tread, Nor wet my fandal's thong. {Walking acrofs the Jiage with firm ft eps of Jlately confidence^ and then going up to him with an encouraging fmile*) Be thou aflur'd ! I know it fhall be fo. A my flic fage, Whom I, unknown to thee, have vifited — Pardon this weaknefs of thine anxious wife — Parting his eye on forms of woven air, Saw thee in combat with a Turkifh champion, And faw the crefcent fall. CONSTANT1NE. And may'fl: thou not believe, that ere they clof$ Their mortal warfare, many a boaftfui Turk jpeneath thefe arms fhall fall \ VALERIA, Ay, but on furer words I reft my faith ! For I did bid him onward caft his eye Into time's reach, and fay, who of this city, A TRAGEDY. &$ After the courfe of twelve revolving moons, Should be the fov'reign lord ; and he replied, In plain and fimple words, thy lord and hulband. CONSTANTINE. And nam'd he Conftantine ? VALERIA. What other name but that of Conftantine Could to thefe appellations be conjoined ? Thou turned from me with perturbed looks : Thou (halt not turn away : tell me ! O, tell me ! What fudden thought is this that troubles thee? (Catching hold of him eagerly as he turns front her.) CONSTANTINE. Afk not ; Oh, do not afk ! 'tis pafs'd already, As fhoots a glaring meteor 'thwart the night, frightful but hafty. VALERIA. Thou mud tell it me. CONSTANTINE. Biftraft me not. VALERIA. Nay, nay, but thou muft tell me. What other name but that of Conftantine Could to my lord and hufband joined be ? 39$ CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS: const an tine ( 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 Jieps tack from him, holding up her hands in amazement $ then he, after a paufe, looking up to her with a f elf 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. I have offended. VALERIA. Yes, thou haft offended. All the offences thou haft ever done me Are in this fell and cruel ftroke compris'd ; And any other ftroke, compar'd to this, Had fali'n upon me lightly. CONSTANTINE. It was a thought that hafted faft away, „ And came unbidden, (Going up to her penitently.) Valeria (turning away in anger). There is no thought doth ever crofs the mind Till fome preceding kindred fentiment Hatb made a path-way for it. CONSTANTINE. Yes, my Valeria, thou indeed fay 'ft true; A TRAGEDY. 397 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 by every hated form Of outward grace ! it is our curfe, our (hame ! (Tearing her hair violently.) CONSTANTINE. O be not thus !— forgive a hafty thought ! Think how a doating hufband is diftra&ed, Who knows too well a lawlefs victor's power. VALERIA. What is his power ? it naught regardeth me. CONSTANTINE. Alas ! the frowns of a detefting bride Deter him not ! Valeria (fmiling contemptuoufly). But will he wed the dead ? 398 CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS : cons tan tine (Jlarting). What fay 'ft thou? Oh, what meaning is there here ! Yes, yes ! I know it all ! but it is dreadful : It makes the cold chill o'er my limbs to cfeep : 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 flop there I Heav'n will protect 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 protect me r And he who thinks me helplefs thinks me mean* CONSTANTINE. I think thee all that e'er was tenanted Of nobleft worth in lovelieft female form : By nature excellent, defective 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 anguifh has not priz'd them As did become their worth. Valeria (rujhing into his arms). No, thou haft priz'd them, Jn thy blind love, far, far beyond their worth* A TRAGEDY. 399 My uncurb'd paflions have, alas ! too oft Vexation added to that burden'd heart I Ihould have cheer'd and lighten' d : on my head Reds all the blame that e'er between us pafs'd, And I alone have need to be forgiven. , (They weep on one another* 5 necks without /peak- ing, when an alarm bell is heard at a dijlance^ and Conftantine breaks fuddenly from her.) CONSTANTINE. It is the 'larum of my farther watch. VALERIA. I fcarcely heard it : art thou fure of it ? (Afecond alarm bell heard nearer,) CONSTANTINE. And hark ! a nearer tower repeats the found* The enemy's in motion.— I mud: arm/ And inftantly. VALERIA. Then let me be with thee till the lafl 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 malt receive it. constantine (fmilingforrowfully). Thanks, fweet Valeria ! from thy hand of love 4CO CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS : I will with love receive whate'er thou wilt. (A third alarm bell is heard Jlill louder ■, and enter Attendants in hafte.) Yes, yes, I heard it ; go, prepare mine arms. * (To Attendant s y and exeunt. SCENE V. Afpacious Halt in the Palace. Enter Rodrigo, with Ella hanging fondly upon him, and continue their way as if intending to pafs through it, when a trumpet founds without , and they flopjhort. rodrigo. # It is the found that fummons us to meet : There is no farther grace : therefore, fweet Ella, My pretty Ella, my good loving Ella, My gentle little one that hang'fl upon me With fuch fond hold, in good footh we mud part- Here bid heav'n blefs me, and no farther go. ELLA. Mud it be fo ? I will bid heaven blefs thee, And all good faints watch o'er thy precious lifef, And they will blefs and guard thee in the hour Of fearful death. Jn this I have true faith ; Yet, on the very brink, to hold thee thus Clafp'd in my grafp, and think how foon — Alas ! From many points will fly the whizzing balls, And fhowering darts, and jav'lins fent afar, Aim'd by fell ftrength j wilt thou efcape all this I A TRAGEDY. 4 or RODRIGO. Fear not, fweet Ella ! whizzing balls there be That, in midway, are from their courfe 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 mafts> in the full roar of battle, And we'll believe it. ELLA. It is a bleiTed one : I would believe it, RODRIGO. Yes, we'll believe it. Whilft our battle roars, Thou'lt think of me in thy lone diftant tower, And be to me a gallant armed mare, With prayers and willies driving powerfully. Give me thy hand : we will not weep and wail : We will part cheerfully.' — God blefs thee, Ella ! Jtfay, hang not on me thus ! Thou lov'ft 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 40* CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS- RODRIGO. Heav'n blefs thee, little flower ! I prize thee more Than all the pride of female ftatelinefs. ELLA* Daft thou ? then I am happy : I am proud : I will not wifh me other than I am. RODRIGO. Ah, if we part not inftantly, 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 muft be fo — Sweet one> farewel ! — Wilt thou (till cling to me ? ELLA. O no, I go : they fhall not fee thee weep, Tho* I do blefs thee for it. rodrigo (leading her hqflily back to the door by which they entered). Well then, brave lafs, upon thy lovely head Heaven's favour reft !— Nay, do not fpeak to me. (Preventing her asjhe is endeavouring to fpeak.) Farewel! farewel! {Exit Ella, and he returns to. the front of thejiage, where he ftands mufing< forrowfully ; when enters to him Juftiniani, and 9 going up to him, touches his fhoulder •. ) What doft thou want I {Turning angrily.) A TRAGEDY. 403 JUSTINIANI. iThou'rt thoughtful. « RODRIGO. No, I think as others do With fuch day's work before them, in good truth, Not patting merrily. JUSTINIANI. From the high tower I've feen th* approaching foe : - It feems a dark and ftrangely^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 warrior's fight, But fuch a ftrange affemblage of new modes Of mingled war as we this day mud face* I never yet encounter *d. rodrigo. Well, we fhall know the fcent and flavour of it When we have tafted it* justinianu We (hall be fmother'd up with the mean prefs Of worthlefs matter, as a noble fleed, Beneath the falling rafters of h : s fhed Ignobly perifhes. RODRIGO. ,*Fear not, proud foul ; we fhall have men to fight, Dd2 4 04 CONST ANTINE PALEOLOGUS : And room enough in fome nook of the breach To grapple with them too. justiniani. Good fortune ever fhone on thee, Rodrigo^ Thou ftill haft been a bold careering bark, Outriding ev'ry ftorm. If thou (houldft e'er Again return to our dear native land, Tell to my countrymen whate'er thou know'ft 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' (till I bear myfelf As one affur'd of good. — Thou'rt dark and gloomy- Does aught reft on thy mind ? justiniani (ftriding away from him gloomily J • No, nothing, nothing ! (A trumpet founds without.) RODRIGO. Ay, hark, another of our gallant band Ha^join'd us with his followers. (Another trumpet founds.) And now another : are they all affembled ? Enter Othus, and f ever al of the imperial Friends . OTHUS. • On their Jiigh wooden turrets, and huge beaiflj ATRAGEDY. 405 Of warlike engines, rais'd aloft in air, Gleams the firit light of this high-fated day ; And, wide expanded, thro' the farther mifts Moves the dark Turkifh hod. . Thou'rt a tried foul, Rodrigo, I but new To fuch tremendous, ftrange expectancy : Now is the hour when the foul knows itfelf. (Rifing on tiptoe with a confciousfmile.) RODRIGO. Ay, Othus, thou doft wear the countenance Of a true man : give me thine honed hand. Are all our friends alTembled ? (Trumpet founds, J OTHUS. This fays they are : and here comes, lafl: of all, Our northern friends. Lnter more of the Friends. Now we are all alTembled. Conftantine, 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 conven'd ? Dd 3 406 CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS ; OTHUS. Yes, our great chief and brother : of your friends There lacks not one. CONSTANTItfE. Then to their love, fo'help me, Mighty Power, Who hold'ft within thy grafp the fouls of men! Neither (hall we be lacking, Now, Valeria. (Drawing himfelf up with a proud but tender fmile y as if to encourage her to behave nobly.) YALERIA. I underftand that fmile. Here with thy gen'rous friends, whofe love to thee Moft dearly celled in my heart I wear, And unto whom I have defired much, Before we part, thefe grateful thanks to pay— (Making grateful 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'rai 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; kijftng his forehead.) For that thy gen'rous bread has been the hold Of all my treafur'd wifhes and dear thoughts, This fond embrace. (Embracing him*) Yea, and for that thou art A TRAGEDY. 407 My fire, and fov'reign, and mod honour'd lord, This humble homage of my heart receive* ( Kneeling and kiffing his hand,) cons tan tine (raifing and embracing her with great 1 emotion J. No more, my dearefl arid mod noble love ! Spare me, O fpare me ! Heaven be thy proteclion ! Farewel 1 VALERIA, Farewel ! (Valeria is led off by her Attendants, whilfi Conftantine continues looking fadly after her for fome time, then turning to his friends ; who gather about him, without faying a word, they go all off the ft age together in pro* found filence.) END OF THE FOURTH ACT. Dd 4 4c8 CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS : ACT V. SCENE L An open /pace near the walls of the city, with half- ruin d houfes on each fide, and a row of arched pillars throzvn acrofs the middle of the flage, as if it were the remains offome ruined public building ; thro which is feen, in the back-ground, a breach in the walls, and the confufed fighting of the befieged, envelopped in clouds offmoke and duft, The noife of artillery, the battering of engines, and the cries of the combatants heard as the curtain draws up, and many people difcevered on the front cf the flage > running about in great hurry and con- fufion, andfome mounted upon the roofs of the houfes overlooking the battle. voice (calling from the wall). cee ! Ue\ how, clufter'd on each other's backs. They mount like fwarming bees, or locufts link'd In bolt'ring heaps ! Pour fire upon their heads ! SECOND VOICE. Caft down huge beams upon them ! THIRD VOICE. Hurl down the loofen'd fragments of our wall ! A TRAGEDY. 409 FOURTH VOICE. Ho ! more help here ! more ftones ! more beams J more fire ! \Veapons are ufelefs now. FIRST VOICE. See how that giant Turk, like 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 the be/ieged.) SECOND VOICE. , Send to the emperor or to Rodrigo 1 They on their different ftations hold ; t bravely; This is the weakeft point. Ho ! fend for aid ! (Exeunt feveral foldiers from the walls as if run- ning for fuccour. The wife of artillery^ efr, is heard as before, and afterwards a loud crajh as offome building falling. Enter many -people in great terror from the walls, running off by the front of the ft age different ways, and enter at the fame time, Cons tan tine and fame of his friends^ who flop them.) CONSTANTINE. Turn, turn ! O turn, my friends ! another pufh ! !^et us (till flop the breach, or fall like men. (Enter Justin j an 1 from the walls with ahafty and diforderedftep, pale and writhing with pain*) 4«> CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS : Mej^iful beav'n ! do mine eyes ferve me truly ? Juftiniani, with pale haggard face, Retiring from his poft ! Where are you going, chief ? (Stopping himfternly.) justiniani. Where nature, urg'd beyond the pith of nature, Compels me. Midfl yon dreams of liquid fires, And hurling ruins and o'erwhelming 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 flefli ; I mud on for a fpace and breathe frelh air, CONSTANTINE. Go to ! this moment is the quiv'ring ridge That (lands between our fuccefs or our ruin : — The fight of thy turn'd back from their fcrew'd pitch Will turn more hearts than all the preiUng foe : Thou mult not go. JUSTINIANI. I am a mortal man : The fangs of fiends are in my new torn flefh : Nature compels me, and I muft havefuccour. (Exithajiily, and writhing with pain.) CONSTANTINE. Alas ! God pity him ! one lucklefs moment A TRAGEDY. 4 xi Of weaknefs and of anguifti brings to him A wound that cannot be up-bound. Poor nature! (Enter many fugitives from the walls. J Turn, turn, O foldiers ! let not this fhame be. (To the fugitives.) (As he is endeavouring with his friends to rally them and pufh forward, a terrible fhout is heard, and enter a great crowd of fugitives from the walls.) What fhout was that ? FUGITIVE. The Turks have gain'd the breach, and thro' it pour Like an o'erboiling flood. CONSTANTINE. Then is the city loft — the dark hour come— And as an emperor my tafk is clos'd. God's will be done ! ( "Throwing away the imperial purple. J Now is there left for me thefe finew'd arms, And this good fword, the wherewithal to earn A noble foldier's death. Come on with me who will, and fhare the fate Of a brave comrade. a fugitive (joined by feveral others J i Yes, we'll fhare thy fate, Comrade or fov'reign, noble Conftantine ! We will die by thy fide, (Exit Conftantine, y&/- 412 CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGTJS: lowed by his friends and fever al of the fugi- tives* and paffing through the pillars to the back-ground^ rujhes amidjl the confu/ion of the fight. A terrible noife of '.arms* &c. and pre* fently one of the pillars in the middle of the ft age falling down, a wider view of the battle is opened, and the Turks are fee n rufhing through the breach* and bearing every, thing before them,) x Re-enter Constantine wounded, but fill fighting bravely, though opp- effect with numbers* and falls down near the front of the ft age, the enemy pajfmg m and leaving hinu CONSTANTINE* Am I then left I Oh, is there ne'er a ChrifUan foldier near me That will cut off my head ? Ho ! thou Turk there \ (To a Turk who isgoing to pafs him.). TURK. Art thou not dead ? CONSTANTINE, No, one half of me, Turk, is living ftill, (Raifing himf elf half up from the ground.) And ftill a match for thee. TURK. tla ! fay'ft thou fo ? we'll put it to the proof, , A TRACED Y. 4 f 3 Yet tbou'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 tur?iing againfl him as he is half raifed from the grdund, thrufts him through the body.) 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! A good death to thee ! for thou art no Greek. (Exit* CONSTANTINE. Ay, this will do : this hath the true ftern gripe Of potent fpeedy death. My talk is clofed, I now put off thefe weeds of flefh and blood, And, thanks be unto him who cloth'd me in them \ UntarnifiYd with difgrace. What cometh after Full furely cometh well. 'Tis a dark pafs (Catching at a drop garment that has been left by fome cf the fugitives on the ground near him. J Here is a ready fhrowd to wrap my head : This death deals fhrewdly with me. (Covers his face and dies, after a ccnfiderable jlruggle J 4i4 CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS : Enter Rodr:go, Othus> and Marthon, with two or three of their followers ^fighting bravely with a party of * Turks , whom they beat off the fiage. OTHUS. Now for a fpace thofe ruffians ftand aloof: This is a paufe that calls upon the mind : What mall we do? RODRIGO. What do men do, when they together ftand On the laft perch of the fwift-finking wreck ? Do they not bravely give their parting cheer, And make their lad voice loud and boldly found Amidft the hollow roarings of the ftorm ? Ev'n fo will we : we'll bear our manhood up To the laft pufh. OTHUS. Thou fpeakeft well, brave feaman : thou doft 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 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 TRAGEDY. 41$ OTHUS. Then it is he ! {Tearing of the covering 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 (hall be: Here will we fight, nor (hall thy honoured body Suffer, whilft one of us has ftrength to fight, The flighted infult. RODRIGO. Ay, they fhall hack us into raven's meat, Ere on his gallant corpfe there be imprefsM One touch of impious hands ! (A loud noife ef Jhrkk'mg and terror heard tuithout.J OTHUS. Hear thofe wild cries of terror and defpair, Mix'd with the din of carnage ! Now thofe cowards, Who let this brave man fink for lack of aid, Are fufPring that which, in his felleft pinch,. The valiant never fuffers* \ But fee, the enemy again returns With doubled fury ! RODRIGO., Come they ? then we are ready for them. Yonder Stands a fmall walled dome, within vvhofe portal We for a time may face ten thoufand foes : 4 i6 CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS : There will we take our ftand, and there will w£ Do our laft deeds of men. Come on, brave mates ! Take up our honour'd treafure ; and, fo burdened, He that doth grapple with us had as lief Pull from the lion's hug his bofom'd whelp. (The followers take up the body, and Othus and Rodrigo retire, defending it bravely from a party of Turks, who enter and fall upon 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 by Lucia and Attendants. VALERIA. Louder and louder ftill the dreadful found Of battle fwells. Is it not nearer us ? This lofty tower the widen: view commands ; Open that lattice quickly. (Pointing to a window which Lucia opens, and then, rufhing on ea- gerly to look, /brinks back again. J I pray thee look thyfelf, mine eyes are dark, And I fee nothing. Oh, what fee'fl thou ? Tell me whate'er it be. lucia (looking out J. Nothing but clouds of fmoke and eddying duft t A dun and grumly darknefs fpreads o'er all, From which arife thofe horrid founds, but naught DiftinQive of the fight can I difeern. 7 A TRAGEDY. 4 t 7 Valeria (after pacing backward and forward with an unequal, reftlefs, agitated Jlep). Oh, will this date of toffing agony No termination have ! Send out, I pray thee, Another meffenger. • 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 asirack'd fiends do reckon Upon their toffing beds of furgy flames, Told by the lames of each burning tide That o'er them breaks. — Hark! the quick ftep of one With tidings fraught ! Doft 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. — I'll fit me down, And think no more but let the black hour pafs In dill and fixed ftupor o'er my head. ( Sits down upon a low feat, and fupports her bended head upon both her hands.) Ee 4 i8 CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS : lucia (liftening). Now I do hear the found of real feet In hafte approaching. Valeria (Jlarting up). Some one brings us tidings. What may they be ? Quick fteps fhould bring us good. Enter Messenger. Say all thou haft to fay, and fay it quickly. If it be good hold up thy bleffed hand, And I will blefs the token. — No, thou doft not ! 'Tis evil then. — How is it with my lord ? What dangers flill encompafs him ? MESSENGER. No dangers. VALERIA. And doft thou fay fo with that terrible look ? Is he alive ? Have all deferted him ? MESSENGER. No, round his body ftill fome brave men fight, And will not quit him till they be as he is. (Valeria, uttering a loud Jhriek, falls back info the arms of her attendants, and is carried of 9 followed by Lucia and the Meflenger.) A TRAGEDY. 419 SCENE III. A hall in the palace. Enter a Cro%vd of frightened Women, and feem hurry- ing on to fome place of greater fecurity. FIRST WOMAN (flopping J. No, we are wrong ; we'll to the eaflern tower, That is the mod retir'd ; 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 fhall fend us means ? OMNES. Ay, thou art right ; that is the beft of all : We'll to the vaults. ( As they are all turning and hurrying back again, enter a dome/lie 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 fhort vifitof a fummer's ftorm, 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 little while we fain would fave us From fearful things. Ees 42o C0NSTANT1NE 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 had thou feen it ? OFFICER. Yes, I have feen it. Like a fudden gleam Of fierce returning light at the dorm'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 1 be there fuch fights within our walls ? OFFICER. Yes, maid, fuch fights of blood ! fuch fights of nature ! In expe&ation of their horrid fate, Widows, and childlefs parents, and 'lorn dames, Sat by their unwept dead with fixed gaze, In horrible flillnefs. But when the voice of grace was heard aloud, So ftrongly ftirr'd within their roufed fouls The love of life, that,,even arnidfl thofe horrors, A TRAGEDY. 4* 1 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 life With animation wild and horrible. I faw a mother with her murder'd infant Still in her arms fad lock'd, fpring from "the ground — No, no ! I faw it not ! I faw it not ! v It was a hideous fancy of my mind : I have not feen it. But I forget my chiefefl errand here, r J K) 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 flrength 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 bleffed ground, with military 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 42a C0NSTANT1NE 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 pray : Inform the emprefs fpeedily of this. FIRST WOMAN. Alas ! fhe is not in a date to hear it : The phrenzy of her grief repels all comfort. — But foftly ! — hu(h ! — 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 difjeveUed, and in all the wild diforder of violent forrow, followed by Ella and Lucia, who feem endeavouring to foothe her, VALERIA. Forbear all words, and follow me no more. I 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 dorm has been with me, and I am left Torn and uprooted, and laid in the dull With thofe whom after-blafts rend not again* I am in the dark gulf where no light is. I am on the deep bed of funken floods, A TRAGEDY. 4*3 Whofe fwoln and welt'ring billows rife no more To bear the tofled wreck back to the (trand. LUCIA. Oh, fay not fo ! heav'n doth in its good time Send confolation to the (harped woe. It (till in kindnefs fends to the tried foul Its keeneft fufFrings. So fay holy men - f And therein good men truft. 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 deep, 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 ftill'd (leepers Lift up their heads at the tremendous cram Of breaking worlds. — I know all this. — But here, Upon this living earth, what 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 truft, it will fuftain thee. VALERIA. Ah ! I did think when virtue bravely flood, Ee 4 / 424 CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS : Fronting its valiant breaft 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 thruft my hand, and grafp'd the molten flames. Yet it fell on his head : 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 approach'd him trembling, With cheer'd and vaunting fteps retir'd agkin. It was a crowned head, yet was it left Expos'd and fencelefs in the hour of danger : What mould have been his fafety was his bane. Away, poor mock'ry of a wretched ftate ! (Tearing the regal ornaments from her neck, and fcattering them about.) Be ye flrew'd to the winds ! But for this let We had been bleft ; for he as truly loved, In fimpleft tendernefs, as the poor hind, Who takes his humble houfe-mate by the hand, And fays, " this is my all." — OfF, cur fed band ! Which round our happintfs hath been entwin'd Like to a flrangling cord : upon the earth Be thou defac'd and trampled ! (Tearing the tiara from her head and Jiamping upon it, then pacing up and down dijiracled!y>) A TRAGEDY. 425 LUCIA. Alas ! my royal miftrefs, be intreated ! This furious grief will but enhance its pain: Oh bear yourfelf as more becomes your Hate! VALERIA. Yes, I will bear me as becomes my (late. I am a thing of wretchednefs and ruin. Thac upon which my pride and being grew Lies in the dud:, and be the duft my bed. (Throwing h erf elf upon the ground, and pufhing away Lucia and her other Attendants, who endeavour to raife her up again,) 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 blefling. Oh, ev'ry heart did blefs him tho' he fell, And ne'er a faving hand was found — Oh ! oh ! (Burfiing 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! I'll fit and watch her. I will not fpeak, but fit and weep by her ; And me (hall feel, ev'n thro' her heavy woe, That fympathy and kindnefs are befide her. 426 CONST ANTINE PALEOLOGUS: Valeria (raffing her head) . There fpoke a gentle voice : is Ella near me i ELLA. > Yes, I am near, and fhall be ever near you. VALERIA. Wilt thou ? I do believe, fvveet maid, thou wilt* Lay thy foft hand on mine. — Yes, it feels kindly. Had he, thy valiant love, been near his lord — Ay, they did love each other with that love Which brave men know — Oh, ev'ry noble (hanger, In admiration of his noble worth, Did call him lord ; whilft they, his native fubje&s, They who had feen him grow within their walls,—- Alas ! where lightly tripp'd his infant fleps 5 Where in gay fports his flripiing's ftrength was tried ; Where tower'd in graceful pride his manly bloom 5 Even there a lifelefs, ghaftly form he lies. Enter another Domejiic Officer, and feeing Va- leria on the ground Jieps back. lucia (to the Officer). What would'il thou here ? OFFICER. I muft, perforce, fpeak my unwelcome tidings. The fultan is already in the palace, And follows hard my fteps with a fix'd purpofe To fee the emprefs. A TRAGEDY. 427 Valeria (raiftng herf elf half from the ground). What fearful words are thefe ? in my foul's an- guifh Comes this fo quickly on me ? Be it fo ! I cleave to th' earth ! what have I now to do ? I am a ftilled thing, abas'd and crufh'd ; What boots it now who gazes on my woe ? Enter Mahomet with Osmir and his Train. mahomet (to Ofmir, after looking at Valeria Jlead- faflly). She flirs not, Ofmir, ev'n at my approach. She fits upon the ground, unmov'd and (till. Thou forrow-clouded beauty, not lefs lovely (Going up to her.) For this thy mournful (late ! — She heeds me not. Emprefs and fov'reign dame, unto thofe titles Which thou (halt ever wear, vouchfafe regard. Still fhe regards me not. (To Ofmir.) Widow of Conftantine ; (After a faufe.) Valeria (roufing herf elf quickly J. Ay, now thou called on me by a name Which I do hear. There is ftrength in the found To do all poffible things ! Rifing quickly from the ground, and accofling Mahomet with an air of high affumedflate.) What would'il thou fay to her who proudly wears That honour'd title ? 42S CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS : MAHOMET. Widow of Conftantine; I come not here In the ftern fpirit of a conqu'ror. The ftaughter of your people, by my order, Is ftopp'd ; and to your bravely fallen lord I have decreed fuch fun'ral obfequies As fuits a valiant warrior and a king. Othus, and brave Rodrigo, and thofe men Who to the laft their matter's corpfe defended, I have with honour grac'd. — Lacks there aught ftill That, from the dark cloud which fo deeply fhades That awful beauty, one approving ray Might foftly draw ? Speak, and it fhall be done.. VALERIA. Afk aught from thee ! MAHOMET. Yes, whatfoe'er thou wilt For now too well I feel I have no power That can oppofe thy will. VALERIA. I give you thanks : I have a thing to a(k. MAHOMETv Name it, and it is granted. A TRAGEDY. 429 VALERIA, A place in the quiet tomb with my fall'n lord, Therein to reft my head. This is my boon. MAHOMET. Well, and it (hall be granted, fair Valeria, When that fair form is fitted for fuch red. But whilft — (Approaching her with an air of freer admiration,) Valeria (putting him at a diftance 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. (Exit, attended by Lucia, Ella, &c.) mahomet (to Ofmir, looking after her as floe goes out). See, with what awful lovelinefs fhe 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 lovelinefs with manly Mate ; And yet, methinks, I feel as tho' it were 7 f3° CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS: Strange, and perplexing, and unfuitable. 'Tis not in nature. MAHOMET. Think'ft thou fo, good vizir ? Thou'rt right, belike, but it is wond'rous graceful. (A loud Jhr.iek of women heard without.) What fbrieks are thefe ? Run thou and learn the caufe. (Ofmir going, is prevented by Valeria, who re- enters with her robe wrapped acrofs her breajl, and fupported by Lucia, andElh, and her other Attendants, whofeem in great affiidion round her.) Valeria (f peaking as Jhe enters) . Mourn not ; the thing is pad that was to be. Conduct me to the fultan : I have ftill Strength to fulfil my talk. MAHOMET. Great Prophet I what is this ? What haft 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 honour'd reft which you have granted me, Being the fix'd condition of your promife, Here is the witnefs. (Opening her robe, andjhew- ing the wound in her breajl.) A TRAGEDY. 431 MAHOMET. Oh fad and cruel fight ! Is there no aid ? Oh live, thou wond'rous creature, and be aught Thy foul defires to be i Valeria (after finking back into a feat \ f upper ied 'by her Attendants J. I now am what my foul defires to be, And what one happy moment of wound ftrength Beyond the pitch of fhrinking nature makes me; Widow of Conftantine, without reproach, And worthy to partake the honour'd reft Of the brave lord whofe living love I fhar'd, 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 ftp ~ porting himfelf feebly upon his fheathed fword, VALERIA. And here come, in good time, my living friends : I (hall once more thofe gen'rous men behold, The fad remains of thofe who lov'd their lord. C Holding out a hand to each of them. 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. 432 CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS: OTHUS. Yes, we have heard : they told us as we enter'd. Moft noble woman, worthy of thy lord ! C Endeavouring feebly to kneel and kifs her hand, whilft Rodrigo ( doesfo on the other fide of her.) VALERIA. This day's rough tempeft's o'er, my good Rod- ri g°> And thou dill liv'ft to drive in other ftorms : Heaven's high bleiling and my dying thanks Reft on thy gen'rous worth ! — I would fay more, But now I feel I may not. Where art thou, Ella ? {Tutting Ella\f hand in his.) 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 victor. 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, lookingfixedly at him.) And are no more remember'd : but thy lord — • Ke whom thou lovedft— he whom all hearts lov'd— A TRAGEDY. 433 He who fo noble and fo gentle was — Well fkill'd art thou to paint the deeds of men— Thou wilt not fuffer him 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 ftrange and ghaflly look : How is it with thee ? OTHUS. As one who (landeth 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 travelers Unto a world unknown. OTHUS. Nay, fay not fad, tho' to a world unknown. The fofter'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'fl cheer me, and I will be cheer'd. There reigns above who cafts his dark made o'er us, Mantling us on our way to glorious light. I have offended, and I mould 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 me firmly grafp Something that I have lov'd. (Catching hold of them with a convulfive grafp.) It will foon ceafe : Farewel unto ye all ! (Dies. J (A folemn paufe, all flanding round and gazing upon the body.) OTHUS. And this is the laft form that we do wear, Unto the fad and folemn gaze of thofe Who have beheld us in our days of joy. Honour and deepeft rev'rence be to thee, Thou honour'd dead ! (Bowing refpeftfully to the body.) 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 number'd with the gallant dead. Not in the trophied field, nor fculptur'd domej No, nor beneath the dark and billowy deep Is there one laid, o'er whom the valiant living "With truer zeal would their high banners wave* Or bid the deep-mouth'd cannon nobly tell How brave men mourn the brave, ; A TRAGEDY. 43 £. How is it, Othus ? fomething in thine eye Of joyous fadnefs looks upon me wiftfully. ( To Othus, who takes him tenderly by the hand,) OTHUS. Doft thou not guefs ?— But I would fpeak to thee Of a brave foldier, who, in one (hort moment Of nature's weaknefs, has a wound receiv'd That will unto his life as fatal prove As felled foeman's thruft : who in his reft Will not be mourn'd as brave men mourn the brave. Juftiniani in his cave of (hame ■ R0D1UG0. And therein let him perifh ! 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, mould bafely turn. - Name not his curfed name ! . OTHUS. Art thou fo (tern? 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 Ff2 426 CONST ANTINE PALEOLDGUS : I needs muft go where a more powerful call Doth fummon me. rodrigo (foftened). Ah! mull thou then fo foon, my gen'rous Othus i Muft thou fo foon? Well, afk whate'er thou wilt : I give my chafed paflion to the winds. Ah ! goeft thou ? Do I the laft remain Of thofe who lov'd the noble Conftantine ? The laft of a brave band ? Alas ! alas ! (Embracing Othus tenderly.) os mir (to Mahomet, who Jlrides up and down in gloomy agitation J. Moil 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 ? Would think his greatnefs honour'd, *3 ♦ A TRAGEDY. 437 OTHUS. Great fultan, thou haft 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. R0DR1G0. No, mighty prince ; they who have ferv'd for love, Cannot like flying pennants be transferr'd From bark to bark. Mahomet (impatiently J. I underftand 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 oftimes 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 Haves, in gloomy prifon'd pomp Shall fhed each others blood, and make thefe towers A place of groans and anguifh, not of blifs. And think not when the good and valiant perifh By worldly power o'erwhelm'd, that heaven's high favour /Shines not on them.— Oh, no I then fhines it molt. 438 CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS. For then in them it fhews th* approving world The worth or its bed work. And from their fate a glorious letTon fprings ; A lelTon of fuch high ennobling power ; Connecting 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 ofRodrigo.J FINIS. - - PR HObL 3!\/ M283718 q^ 8>IS"7 I THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY