Were little for my fondness to bestow; To join with us, and sacrifice to justice. [Exit. By cares on earth, and by my pray'rs to heav'n, ACT V. A poor, imperfect copy of my father; But of that joy, as of a gem long lost, sorrow. Sci. Ha! answer me! Say, hast thou cooll Cal. 'Tis well! these solemn sounds, this How thy account may stand, and what pomp of horror, answer? Cal. I've turn'd my eyes inward upon myse Where foul offence and shame have laid waste; Sci. 'Tis justly thought, and worthy of th spirit That dwelt in ancient Latian breasts, when Ron Are fit to feed the frenzy in my soul. Ascend, ye ghosts, fantastic forms of night, Enter SCIOLTO. Sci. This dead of night, this silent hour of Nature for rest ordain'd, and soft repose; Cal. It is Sciolto! Be thyself, my soul, I thought the day too short to gaze upon thee, Cal. Then spare the telling, if it be a pa And write the meaning with your poniard he Sci. Oh! truly guess'd-seest thou this trem ling hand? [Holding up a Dagg Thrice justice urg'd-and thrice the slack'ni sinews Forgot their office, and confess'd the father It is but thus, and both are satisfied. [She offers to kill herself: Scio Cal. Ha! is it possible? and is there yet in thee, What joys thou gav'st me in thy prattling infan By my strong grief, my heart ev'n melts wi in me; That all the blessings I could gather for thee, I could curse nature, and that tyrant, hono For making me thy father and thy judge; Cal. For that kind word, Thus let me fall, thus humbly to the earth, Oh! 'tis too much for this offending wretch, Cal. That I must die, it is my only comfort; Thou meagre shade; here let me breathe my last, Sci. I'm summon'd hence; ere this my friends There is I know not what of sad presage, The desolation, horror, blood, and ruin, A Hail to you, horrors! hail, thou house of death! And thou, the lovely mistress of these shades, Whose beauty gilds the more than midnight darkness, That, were I not abandon'd to destruction, Enter HORATIO. Hor. Now mourn indeed, ye miserable pair! For now the measure of your woes is full. The great, the good Sciolto dies this moment. Cal. My father! Alt. That's a deadly stroke indeed. Hor. Not long ago, he privately went forth, But found him compass'd by Lothario's faction, Ere that, his frantic valour had provok'd tient earth? Dost thou not labour with thy murd'rous weight? Enter SCIOLTO, pale and bloody, supported Cal. Oh, my heart! wounds? But sure thou hast borne thy part in all the And smarted with the pain. Then rest in peace: And makes it grateful as the dawn of day, Thou com'st to urge me with the wrongs I've But know I stand upon the brink of life, Dost thou accuse me! O, forbid me not To wish some better fate had rul'd our loves, my soul, And ev'ry pain grows less -Oh, gentle Altamont! Sci. Oh, turn thee from that fatal object, Come near, and let me bless thee ere I die. Thou that hast endless blessings still in store |And bends him, like a drooping flow'r, to earth. Let grief, disgrace, and want be far away; But multiply thy mercies on his head. Let honour, greatness, goodness, still be with him, The injur'd bridegroom from his guilty bride. And peace in all his ways[Dies. If you would have the nuptial union last, Hor. The storm of grief bears hard upon Let virtue be the bond that ties it fast. his youth, [Exeunt. HUGHES. Tuts amiable man, and elegant author, was the son of a citizen of London, and was born at Marlborough, in Wiltshire, on the 29th of Jan. 1677, but received the rudiments of his education in private schools at London. Even in the very earliest parts of life his genius seemed to show itself equally inclined to each of the three sister arts, music, poetry, and design, in all which he made a very considerable progress. To his excellence in these qualifications, his contemporary and friend, Sir Richard Steele, bears the following extraordinary testimonial: "He may (says that author) be the emulation of more persons of different talents than any one I have ever known. His head, hands, or heart, were always employed in something worthy imitation. His pencil, his bow, or his pen, each of which he used in a masterly manner, were always directed to raise and entertain his own mind, or that of others, to a more cheerful prosecution of what is noble and virtuous." Such is the evidence borne to his talents by a writer of the first rank; yet he seems, for the most part, to have pursued these and other polite studies little further than by the way of agreeable amusements, under frequent confinement, occasioned by indisposition and a valetudinarian state of health. Mr. Hughes had, for some time, an employment in the office of ordnance, and was secretary to two or three commissions under the great seal for the purchase of lands, in order to the better securing the docks and harbours at Portsmouth, Chatham, and Harwich. In the year 1717, the Lord Chancellor Cowper, to whom our auther had not long been known, thought proper, without any previous solicitation, to nominate him his secretary for the commissions of the peace, and to distinguish him with singular marks of his favour and affection; and, upon his Lordship's laying down the great seal, he was, at the particular recommendation of this his patron, and with the ready concurrence of his successor the Earl of Macclesfield, continued in the same employment, which he held till the time of his decease, the 17th, of Feb. 1719, being the very night on which his celebrated tragedy of The Siege of Damascus made its first appearance on the stage; when, after a life mostly spent in pain and sickness, he was carried off by a consumption having but barely completed his 42d year, and at a period in which he had just arrived at an agreeable competence, and was advancing, with rapid steps, towards the pinnacle of fame and fortune. He was privately buried in the vault under the chance of St Andrew's church, in Holborn. THE SIEGE OF DAMASCUS. ACTED at Drury Lane 1719. It is generally allowed, that the characters in this tragedy are finely varied and da tinguished; that the sentiments are just and well adapted to the characters; that it abounds with beautiful descriptions, apt allusions to the manners and opinions of the times wherein the scene is laid, and with noble morals; that the dic tion is pure, unaffected and sublime, without any meteors of style or ambitious ornaments; and that the plot is conducted in a simple and clear manner. When it was offered to the managers of Drury Lane House, in the year 1718, they refused to act it, unless the author made an alteration in the character of Phocyas, who, in the original, had been prevailed upon to profess himself a Mahometan: pretending that he could not be a hero, if he changed his religion, and that the audience would not bear the sight of him after it, in how lively a manner soever his remorse and repentance might be described. The author (being then in a very languishing condition) finding, if he did not comply, his rela tions would probably loose the benefit of the play, consented, though with reluctance, to new-model the character Phocyas The story on which this play is founded, is amply detailed in Mr. Gibbon's History, vol. V. p. 510, where we find the real name of Phocyas to have been Jonas. That author says, "Instead of a base renegado, Phocyas serves the Arabs as an honourable ally; instead of prompting their pursuit, he flies to the succour of his countrymen, and, after killing Caled and Daran, is himself mortally wounded, and expires in the presence of Eudocia, who profcases her resolution to take the veil at Constantinople. SCENE.-The City of DAMASCUS, in SYRIA, and the Saracen Camp before it; and, in the last Act, a Valley adjacent. ACT 1. SCENE I-The City. As brave men should.-Pity your wives and children! Yes, I do pity them, heav'n knows I do, Enter EUMENES, followed by a Crowd of E'en more than you; nor will Leield them up People. Or stop your clam'rous mouths, that still are open Though at your own request, a prey to ruffians. Enter HERBIS. If you will follow me, send home your women, Her. News!-we're betray'd, deserted; And follow to the walls; there earn your safety, The works are but half mann'd; the Saracens Perceive it, and pour on such crowds, they blunt | To leave us desperate. Aids may soon arrive; Our weapons, and have drain'd our stores of Mean time, in spite of their late bold attack, death. What will next? you Eum. I've sent a fresh recruit. The valiant Phocyas leads them on - whose deeds, In early youth, assert his noble race; A more than common ardour seems to warm And though I brav'd it to the trembling crowd, The city still is ours; their force repell'd, Eum. No-let us first Believe th' occasion fair, by this advantage, And in our absence form what force thou canst; [Aside. Then if these hungry bloodhounds of the war [Exeunt. Should still be deaf to peace, at our return Our widen'd gates shall pour a sudden flood Of vengeance on them, and chastise their scorn. [Exeunt. Re-enter HERBIS. A great Shout. Her. So-the tide turns; Phocyas has driv'n it back. The gate once more is ours. Flourish. Re-enter EUMENES, with PHOCYAS, Eum. Brave Phocyas, thanks! mine and the Yet, that we may not lose this breathing space, peace Pho. What means Eumenes? robbers? SCENE II-A Plain before the City. A Pros- That only come to traffic with those Syrians, Of mussulmans, not Christians, I would treat. I hate these Christian dogs; and 'tis our task, As thou observ'st, to fight; our law enjoins it: | Heaven, too, is promis'd only to the valiant. of Oft has our prophet said, the happy plains Above lie stretch'd beneath the blaze of swords. Abu. Yet Daran's loath to trust that heaven for pay; What terms from slaves but slavery? -You know That eyes, This earth, it seems, has gifts that please him more. Caled. Check not his zeal, Abudah. Our fruitful vales, and all the verdant wealth Yet I could wish that zeal had better motives. crowns fair Lebanon's aspiring brows. Has victory no fruits but blood and plunder? Here have the locusts pitch'd, nor will they leave That we were sent to fight, 'tis true; but These tasted sweets, these blooming fields of plenty, For barren sands and native poverty, Eum. What can we do? Our people in despair; our soldiers harrass'd conquest. Her. Besides, you know what frenzy fires Of their new faith, and drives them on to Paradise wherefore ? For conquest, not destruction. That obtain'd, Enter EUMENES, HERBIS, and ARTAMON. At your request, has still'd his angry voice, Eum. We come to know, of Why on your heads you call our pointed Stand ever open to receive the souls When first we march'd against you, to surrender. quest. You see we are return'd; our hearts, our cause, Her. But why those swords were drawn, Eum. Speak your wrongs, Caled. Blasphemer, know, your fields and Our prophet has bestow'd them on the faithful, Eum. Oh! now indeed you boast a noble title! If wrongs you have receiv'd, and by what means T affront our faith, and to traduce our prophet? They may be now repair'd. Abu. Then, Christians, hear, Immutable. By us great Mahomet, Eum. Now, in the name of heaven, what That stalks gigantic forth thus arm'd with terrors, Her. Bold, frontless men! that impudently dare Have you e'er sent t' instruct us in its precepts, And well might claim our thanks. Well might we answer you with quick revenge And tribute is the slavish badge of conquest. Two, Caled, shall be thine; two thine, Abudal. Will soon be ours. Behold our march And, last, view Aiznadin, that vale of blood! Her. Presumptuous men! Eum. Have you forgot! Not twice seven years are past, since e'en your prophet, Your clashing sects, your mutual rage and strife, That we're unworthy of our holy faith, Why have you ravag'd all our peaceful borders? We well remember how Medina screen'd Daran. Why, my chiefs, Caled. Daran, thou say'st true. more Plunder'd our towns? and by what claim, e'en The sword of heaven is drawn! nor shall be You tread this ground? [now, sheath'd, Her. What claim, but that of hunger? But in the bowels of Damascus. The claim of ravenous wolves, that leave their] Eum. That, dens 1 Or speedy vengeance and destruction, due To prowl at midnight round some sleeping village, To the proud menacers, as heaven sees fit! Or watch the shepherd's folded flock for prey?| [Exeuni |