Eud. O, say not so! You have lost nothing; no-you have preserv'd Eum. Heroic maid! Eum. Forgiven thee!-Why, for thee it is, I think, heaven yet may look with pity on us; Eud. O, why is he not here? Why do I see Enter an Officer. Offi. Where is Eumenes? [Aside. Eum. What means thy breathless haste? For, as I kept my watch, I spy'd afar Her. I saw them too, Where the roads meet on t'other side these hills, Eum. If they are Christian Arabs, I'll to the guard myself. Enter another Officer. 20ffi. Arm! arm! we're ruin'd! The foe is in the camp. Eum. So soon? 2 Offi. They've quitted Their horses, and with sword in hand have forc'd Sure Caled knows not of this treachery! know What 'tis to urge the wretched to despair. Pho. Villain, thou liest! take that, [Pushing at Daran with his Spear, who falls. Eud. Phocyas! O, astonishment! Then is it thus that heaven has heard my prayers? tremble still-and scarce have power to ask thee How thou art here, or whence this sudden outrage? I Pho. Sure-every angel watches o'er thy safety! Pho. Some stores remov'd, and not allow'd Have drawn the Saracens to make a search. Eud. No-I have a father, (And shall I leave him?) whom we both have wrong'd: And yet, alas! For this last act how would I thank thee, Phocyas! I've nothing now but prayers and tears to give, 'Tis then resolv'd-It was thy cruel sentence, Pho. Never-No, here I'll lay my burden down; Eud. Forbear. O cruel man! Why wilt thou rack me thus ? The pangs, the strugglings of my suff'ring soul; Pho. [Rises] Have a care! I'll not be tortur'd more with thy false pity! Pho. Not know thee?--Yes, too well I know No, I renounce it. See, I am prepar'd. thee now, [Shows a Dagger. O murd'rous fiend! Why all this waste of blood? Thy cruelty is mercy now.-Farewell! When thou hast trod that dark, that unknown tians, Enter CALEd. Caled. So, slaughter, do thy work! These hands look well. "Tis well, 'tis well; for now I know thee too. Pho. That's well-go on-I swear I thank thee. Caled. Hear'st thou this, Mahomet?-Blas- For this thou soon shalt chew the bitter fruit [Pushes at him, with his Lance, which heart! You've cause.-O Mussulmans,look here! Behold Eum. Ha! Caled? Abu. Dumb and breathless. Then thus has heaven chastis'd us in thy fall, Eum. This thirst of blood My father and his friends!-I dare not stay-Back to Damascus. Cast a mantle first [Looks on his Hands. Phocyas! Thou'rt met-But whether thou art here [Comes forward, A friend or foe, I know not; if a friend, Which is Eumenes' tent? Pho. Hold, pass no further. Caled. Say'st thou, not pass? Pho. No-on thy life no further. Caled. What, dost thou frown too?-Sure, thou know'st me not! A purer faith! Thou, better than thy sect, Abu. O Power Supreme! That mad'st my heart, and know'st its inmost frame, If yet I err, O lead me into truth, Or pardon unknown error!-Now, Eumenes, Friends, as we may be, let us part in peace. [Exeunt severally. Re-enter ARTAMON and EUDOCIA. I left him just preparing to engage: Eud. My flight! but whither? Art. I hope not so. The noise is ceas'd. Perhaps they're beaten off. We soon shall know;-here's one that can inform us. Re-enter first Officer. Soldier, thy looks speak well;-what says thy tongue? 1 Offi. The foe's withdrawn. Abudah has been here, And has renew'd the terms. Pho. No,'twas a kind one.-Spare thy tears, Eudocia! For mine are tears of joy. Eud. Is't possible? Pho. 'Tis done-the powers supreme have heard my prayer, And prosper'd me with some fair deed this day: I've fought once more, and for my friends, my country. By me the treach'rous chiefs are slain: awhile I stopp'd the foe, till, warn'd by me before, Of this their sudden march, Abudah came. But first this random shaft had reach'd my breast. Life's mingled scene is o'er-'tis thus that heaven At once chastises, and, I hope, accepts me. Eud. What shall I say to thee, to give thee comfort? Pho. Say only thou forgiv'st me-O Eudocia! No longer now my dazzled eyes behold thee Through passion's mists; my soul now gazes on thee, And sees thee lovelier in unfading charms! Bright as the shining angel host that stoodWhilst I-but there it smarts. Eud. Look down, look down, Ye pitying powers! and help his pious sorrow! Eum. Tis not too late, we hope, to give thee help. See! yonder is my tent: we'll lead thee thither; Come, enter there, and let thy wound be dress'd; Perhaps it is not mortal. Pho. No! not mortal? No flatt'ry now. By all my hopes hereafter, For the world's empire I'd not lose this death. Caled is kill'd-Alas! I but keep in my fleeting breath Art. Hold-first thank heaven for that! 1 Offi. I left him well: by his command I came To search you out: and let you know this news. I've more; but that Art. Is bad, perhaps, so says A few short moments, till I have conjur'd you, This sudden pause. Well, be it so; let's know it; O, touch not yet the broken springs of life! 'Tis but life's checker'd lot. 1 Offi. Eumenes mourns A friend's unhappy fall-Herbis is slainA settled gloom seem'd to hang heavy on him; 'Th' effect of grief, 'tis thought, for his lost son. When on the first attack, like one that sought The welcome means of death, with desp'rate valour He press'd the foe, and met the fate he wish'd. Art. See where Eumenes comes! What's this? He seems To lead some wounded friend--Alas! 'tis[They withdraw to one side of the Stage. Re-enter EUMENES, leading in PHOCIAS, with an Arrow in his Breast. Eum. Give me thy wound! O, I could bear it for thee! This goodness melts my heart. What, in a mo ment Forgetting all thy wrongs, in kind embraces T'exchange forgiveness thus! Pho. Moments are few, And must not now be wasted. O Eumenes, A thousand tender thoughts rise in my soul: Pho. No more-death is now painful! But say, my friends, whilst I have breath to ask (For still methinks all your concerns are mine), Whither have you design'd to bend your journey? Eum. Constantinople is my last retreat, If heaven indulge my wish; there I've resolv'd To wear out the dark winter of my life, An old man's stock of days-I hope not many. Eud. There will I dedicate myself to heaven. O, Phocyas, for thy sake, no rival else Shall e'er possess my heart. My father too Consents to this my vow. My vital flame There, like a taper on the holy altar, Shall waste away; till heav'n, relenting, hears Incessant prayers for thee and for myself, And wing my soul to meet with thine in bliss. For in that thought I find a sudden hope, As if inspir'd, springs in my breast, and tells me That thy repenting frailty is forgiv'n, And we shall meet again to part no more. Pho. [Plucks out the Arrow] Then all is done -'twas the last pang-at lengthI've given up thee, and the world now is-nothing. Eum. O Phocyas! Phocyns! [Dies. Alas! he hears not now, nor sees my sorrows! A fruitless zeal, yet all I now can show; [Exeunt. A NATIVE of Ireland, and for some time one of the most successful writers for the stage. He was probably born about the year 1755, having been appointed one of the pages of Lord Chesterfield, when he was Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, in 1746. He was once an officer of marines, but left the service with circumstances which do not reflect credit on him as a man. These circumstances not attacking the reputation of his writings, our readers will assist us in covering them with the charitable veil of oblivion; and we shall stand excused in the eyes of the feeling world for declinng to concinde his Biography. THE HYPOCRITE, COMEDY by Isaac Bickerstaff, Acted at Drury Lane 1768. The general plot of this comedy is borrowed from the Tartuffe of Molière, and the principal character in it, viz. that of Doctor Cantwell, is a close copy from that great al. The conduct of the piece, however, is so greatly altered as to render it perfectly English, and the coquet Charlotte: is truly original and most elegantly spirited. The author has strongly pointed out the mischiefs and ruin which were frequently brought into the most noble and valuable families by the self-interested machinations of those skulking and pernicious vipers, those wolves in sheep's clothing, who at the troublesome and unsettled period in which this puce was first written, (by Cibber 1718) covering their private views beneath the mask of public zeal and sanctity, the part of the great serpent of old, first tempting to sin, and then betraying to punishment, It is an alteration of Get's Nonjurer. Scarcely any thing more than the character of Mawworm was written by the present author, who troduced it for the sake of Weston's comic talents. Few plays have had the advantage of better acting, and, in conBeqare, few bad a greater share of success, It is one of the most valuable characteristics of this play, that while it verely satirizes hypocrisy, fanatism (as in Mawworm), and outrageous pretensions to sanctity, it carefully distinguishes between these and rational piety. The play met with great success in the representation, taking a run of eighteen ats; the subject itself being its protection, and its enemies not daring to show any more at that time than a few mules of silent contempt. The consequence, however, was what the author foresaw; that is to say, the stirring up a party against him, who would scarcely suffer any thing he wrote afterwards to meet with fair play, and making him the constant butt of Mist's Journal, and all the Jacobite faction, Nor do we think it by any means an improbable surthat the enmity and inveteracy of his antagonist Mr. Pope, and the set of wits who were connected with him, might have their original foundation traced from the appearance of this play. DRAMATIS PERSONAE. OLD LADY LAMBERT. CHARLOTTE. MAWWORM. YOUNG LADY LAMBERT. BETTY. SIE JOHN LAMBERT. COLONEL LAMBERT. SEYWARD. DARNLEY. ACT I. SCENE. London. SCENE 1.- A Hall in SIR JOHN LAMBERT'S House. Sir J. So I do, sir, that I am her father, and will dispose of her as I please. Col. L. I do not dispute your authority, sir: but as I am your son too, I think it my duty Enter SIR JOHN LAMBERT and COLONEL to be concerned for your honour. Have not LAMBERT. Col. L. PRAY consider, sir. you countenanced his addresses to my sister? has not she received them? Mr. Darnley's birth and fortune are well known to you; and but since you think it your duty, as a son, to I dare swear, he may defy the world to lay be concerned for my errors, I think it as much a blemish on his character. mine, as a father, to be concerned for yours. Sir J. Why then, sir, since I am to be ca- If you think fit to amend them, so; if not, techised, I must tell you I do not like his take the consequence. character; he is a world-server, a libertine, and Col. L. Well, sir, may I ask you, without has no more religion than you have. offence, if the reasons you have given me are Col. L. Sir, we neither of us think it pro- your only reasons for discountenancing Mr. per to make a boast of our religion; but, if Darnley's addresses to my sister? you please to inquire, you will find that we Sir J. Are they not flagrant? would you go to church as orderly as the rest of our have me marry my daughter to a Pagan?1) neighbours. Col. L. He intends this morning paying his Sir J. Oh, you go to church! you go to respects to you, in hopes to obtain your final church!-Wonderful! wonderful! to bow, and consent; and desired me to be present as a grin, and cough, and sleep: a fine act of de- mediator of articles between you. votion indeed. Col. L. Well but, dear sir Sir J. Colonel, you are an Atheist. Col. L. Pardon me, sir, I am none: it is a character I abhor; and next to that, I abhor the character of an enthusiast. 1) Sir J. I am glad to hear it. Sir J. May be not, sir; for I will not be at home when he comes: and because I will not tell a lie for the matter, I'll go out this moment. Col. L. Nay, dear sir Sir J. Oh, you do so; an enthusiast!-this Sir J. And, do you hear-because I will is the fashionable phrase, the bye-word, the not deceive him either, tell him I would not nick-name, that our pleasure-loving generation have him lose his time in fooling after your give to those few who have a sense of true sister-In short, I have another man in my sanctity. head for her. Col. L. Say, canting, sir. Sir J. I tell you what, son, as I have told you more than once, you will draw some heavy judgment on your head one day or other. Col. L. So says the charitable doctor Cantwell; you have taken him into your house, and in return he gives over half your family to the devil. Sir J. Do not abuse the doctor, colonel; it is not the way to my favour. I know you cannot bear him, because he is not one of your mincing preachers. He holds up the glass to your enormities, shows you to yourselves in your genuine colours. [Exit. Col. L. Another man! It would be worth one's while to know him: pray heaven this canting hypocrite has not got some beggarly rascal in his eye for her. I must rid the house of him at any rate, or all the settlement I can hope for from my father is a castle in the air. My sister may be ruined too-here she comes. If there be another man in the case, she, doubt, can let me into the secret. Enter CHARLotte. no Sister, good morrow; I want to speak with you. Char. Pr'ythee then, dear brother, don't put on that wise, politic face, as if your regiment Col. L. I always respect piety and virtue, was going to be disbanded, or sent to the sir; but there are pretenders to religion, as West Indies, and you obliged to follow it. well as to courage; and as we never find the Col. L. Come, come, a truce with your truly brave to be such as make much noise raillery: what I have to ask of you is serious, about their valour; so, I apprehend, the truly and I beg you would be so in your answer. good seldom or never deal much in grimace. Char. Well, then, provided it is not upon Sir J. Very well, sir; this is very well, the subject of love, I will be so-but make Col. L. Besides, sir, I would be glad to haste too-for I have not had my tea yet. know, by what authority the doctor pretends Col. L. Why it is, and it is not, upon that to exercise the clerical function. 2) It does not subject. appear clearly to me that he ever was in orders. Sir J. That is no business of yours, sir. But, I am better informed. However, he has the call of zeal. Col. L. Zeal! Char. Oh, I love a riddle dearly—Come— let's hear it. say so. Col. L. Nay, pshaw! if you will be serious, Char. O lard, sir! I beg your pardon—there Sir J. Why, colonel, you are in a passion.—there's my whole form and features, totally Col. L. I own I cannot see with temper, disengaged and lifeless, at your service; now, sir, so many religious mountebanks impose on put them in what posture of attention you the unwary multitude; wretches, who make a think fit. [Leans on him awkwardly. trade of religion, and show an uncommon Col. L. Was there ever such a giddy devil! concern for the next world, only to raise their-Pr'ythee, stand up. I have been talking with fortunes with greater security in this. my father, and he declares positively you shall Sir J. Colonel, let me hear no more; I see not receive any further addresses from Mr. you are too hardened to be converted now: 1) A religious sect, possessing much less of the charity Darnley. Char. Are you serious? 1) The intoleration of the Methodists, is carried to such a way |