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Revenge ! On whom?
-No matter-Earth and | The remnant of the royal Christian blood :
Old Lusignan, expiring in my arms,
[Drops the dagger. To his now murdered daughter ! I must not, cannot strike! the starting steel, Would I had seen the bleeding innocent! Unwilling, flies my hand, and shuns to wound I would have lived to speak to her in death; her.
Would have awakened, in her languid heart, Zar. This is the private path--come nearer, A livelier sense of her abandoned God: lead me
That God, who, left by her, forsook her too, Are we not noticed, think'st thou?
the poor lost sufferer to thy rage. Sel. Fear not, madam ;
Osm. Thy sister !-Lusignan her fatherSeIt cannot now be long, ere we shall meet him.
lima! Osm. That word has given me back my ebbing Can this be true ?-and have I wronged thee, rage[Recovers the dagger.
Zara? Zar. I walk in terror, and my heart forebodes. Sel. Thy love was all the cloud 'twixt her and Who's there?-Nerestan! Is it you ?-0 wel- Heaven!
Osm. Be dumb- -for thou art base, to add Osm. [Stabbing her.] This to thy heart
distraction 'Tis not the traitor meets thee,
To my already more than bleeding heart. 'Tis the betrayed—who writes it in thy blood. And was thy love sincere ?-What then remains? Zar. Oh, gracious Heaven! receive my part- Ner. Why should a tyrant hesitate on murder? ing soul,
There now remains but mine, of all the blood, And take thy trembling servant to thy mercy, Which, through thy father's cruel reign and
thine, Osm. Soul!—then revenge has reached thee- Ilas never ceased to stream on Syria's sands. I will now
Restore a wretch to his unhappy race; Haste from this fatal place-I cannot leave her ! Nor hope that torments, after such a scene, Whom did I strike? Was this the act of love? Can force one feeble groan to feast thy anger. Swallow me, earth !-She's silent-- Zara's dead! I waste my fruitless words in empty air; And should I live to see returning day,
The tyrant, o'er the bleeding wound he made, 'Twill shew me but her blood !-shew me left Hangs his unmoving eye, and heeds not me. joyless,
Osm. Oh Zara ! In a wide, empty world, with nothing round me, Oras. Alas! my lord, return--whither would But penitence and pain--And yet 'twas just :
grief Hark! Destiny has sent her lover to me, Transport your generous heart-This Chris To fill my vengeance, and restore my joy.
Osm. Take off his fetters, and observe my Enter Orasmin with Nerestan.
will: Approach, thou wretch! thou more than cursed! To him, and all his friends, give instant liberty:
Pour a profusion of the richest gifts Thou, who, in gratitude for freedom gained, On these unhappy Christians; and, when heaped Iiast given me miseries beyond thy own! With varied benefits, and charged with riches, Thou heart of hero with a traitor's soul! Give them safe conduct to the nearest port. Go-reap thy due reward ! prepare to suffer, Oras. But, sir Whate'er inventive malice can inflict,
Osm. Reply not, but obey:To make thee feel thy death, and perish slow. Fly-nor dispute thy master's last command, Are my commands obeyed ?
Thy prioce, who orders and thy friend, who Oras. All is prepared.
loves thee ! Osm. Thy wanton eyes look round, in search Go-lose no time-farewell-begone—and thou! of her,
Unhappy warrior---yet less lost than 1 Whose love, descending to a slave like thee, Haste from our bloody land--and to thy own From my dishonoured hand received her doom. Convey this poor, pale object of my rage. See, where she lies!
Thy king, and all his Christians, when they hear Ner. Oh fatal, rash mistake!
Thy miseries, shall mourn them with their tears; Osm. Dost thou bebold her, slave?
But, if thou tell'st them mine, and tell'st them Ner. Unhappy sister!
truly, Osm. Sister! -Didst thou say sister? If They, who shall hate my crime, shall pity me. thou didst,
Take, too, this poniard with thee, which my. Bless me with deafness, Heaven!
hand Ner. Tyrant! I did
Has stained with blood far dearer than my own; She was my sister-All that now is left thee, Tell them with this I murdered her I loved ; Dispatch--From my distracted heart drain next The noblest and most virtuous among women!
The soul of innocence, and pride of truth : Ner. Direct me, great inspirer of the soul!
[Stabs himself. And mourn his death, who lived to give me woe. Reverence this hero—and conduct him safe. [Dies.
WOMEN. OLD WILMOT.
AGNES, wife to Old Wilmot. Young Wilmot, his son.
CHARLOTTE, beloved of Young Wilmot. EUSTACE, Young Wilmot's friend.
Maria, her attendant. Randal, the faithful attendant of Old Wilmot.
Scene,- Penryn, in Cornwall.
SCENE I.-Wilmot's House.
Rand. Not out of Penryn, sir; but to the
strand, Old Wilmot alone.
To hear wbat news from Falmouth, since the The day is far advanced. The chearful sun
storm Pursues with vigour his repeated course: Of wind last night. No labour lessens, nor no time decays
0. Wilm. It was a dreadful one. His strength, or splendour: evermore the same, Rand. Some found it so. A noble ship from From age to age his influence sustains
India, Dependent worlds, bestows both life and motion Entering the harbour, run upon a rock, On the dull mass, that forms their dusky orbs, And there was lost. Chears them with heat, and gilds them with his 0. Wilm. What became of those on board her? brightness.
Rand. Some few are saved, but much the Yet man, of jarring elements composed,
greater part, Who posts from change to change, from the first 'Tis thought, are perished. hour
0. Wilm. They are past the fear Of his frail being to his dissolution,
Of future tempests, or a wreck on shore : Enjoys the sad prerogative above him,
Those, who escaped, are still exposed to both. To think and to be wretched !-What is life Where is your mistress? To him, that's born to die!
Rand. I saw her pass the High-street, towards Or, what the wisdom, whose perfection ends
the Minster. In knowing, we know nothing!
0. Wilm. She is gone to visit Charlotte. She Mere contradiction all ! A tragic farce,
doth well. Tedious, though short, elaborate without art, In the soft bosom of that gentle maid Ridiculously sad
There dwells more goodness than the rigid race
Of moral pedants e'er believed, or taught.
With what amazing constancy and truth,
Doth she sustain the absence of our son,
Whom more than life she loves! How shun for Rand. Rather than leave you thus, him,
I'll beg my bread, and live on others bounty, Whom we shall ne'er see more, the rich and While I serve you. great;
0. Wilm. Down, down my swelling heart, Who own her charms, and sigh to make her Or burst in silence ! 'Tis thị cruel fate happy!
Insults thee by his kindness-He is innocent Since our misfortunes we have found no friend, Of all the pain it gives thee Go thy ways: None who regarded our distress, but her; will no more suppress thy youthful hopes And she, by what I have observed of late, Of rising in the world. Is wearied, or exhausted. Curst condition ! Rand. 'Tis true, I'm young, To live a burden to one only friend,
And never tried my fortune, or my genius, And blast her youth with our contagious woe ! Which may perhaps find out some happy means, Who, that had reason, soul, or sense, would As yet unthought of, to supply your wants. bear it
O. Wilm. Thou torturest me: I hate all obliA moment longer? Then this bonest wretch !
gations I must dismiss him—Why should I detain Which I can ne'er return-And who art thou, A grateful, generous youth to perish with me? That I should stoop to take them from thy hand! His service may procure him bread elsewhere, Care for thyself, but take no thought for me; Though I have none to give him.-Prithee, Ran- I will not want thee-trouble me no more. dal !
Rand. Be not offended, sir, and I will go. How long hast thou been with me?
I ne'er repined at your commands before ; Rand. Fifteen years.
But, Heaven's my witness, I obey you now I was a very child, when first you took me, With strong reluctance, and a heavy heart ! To wait upon your son, my dear young master. Farewell, my worthy master!
[Going I oft have wished I'd gone to India with him, 0. Wilm, Farewell!-Stay! Though you, desponding, give him o'er for lost.-- As thou art yet a stranger to the world,
[Old Wilmot wipes his eyes. Of which, alas ! P've had too much experience, I am to blame: this talk revives your sorrow I should, methinks, before we part, bestow For his long absence.
A little counsel on thee.-Dry thy eyes : 0. Wilm. That cannot be revived,
If thou weepest thus, I shall proceed no farther. Which never died.
Dost thou aspire to greatness, or to wealth? Rand. The whole of my intent
Quit books, and the unprofitable search Was to confess your bounty, that supplied Of wisdom there, and study human kind: The loss of both my parents: I was long No science will avail thee without that; The object of your charitable care.
But that obtained, thou needest not any other. 0. Wilm. No more of that : Thou hast served This will instruct thee to conceal thy views, me longer since
And wear the face of probity and honour, Without reward ; so that account is balanced, Till thou hast gained thy end : which must be Or rather I'm thy debtor. I remember, When poverty began to show her face
Thy own advantage, at that man's expence, Within these walls, and all my other servants, Who shall be weak enough to think thee honest. Like pampered vermin from a falling house, Rand. You mock me, sure ! Retreated with the plunder they had gained, 0. Wilm. I never was more serious. And left me, too indulgent and remiss
Rand. Why should you counsel what you For such ungrateful wretches, to be crushed
scorned to practise ? Beneath the ruin they had helped to make, 0. Wilm. Because that foolish scorn has been That you, more good than wise, refused to leave
I've been an idiot, but would have thee wiser, Rand. Nay, I beseech you, sir
And treat mankind, as they would treat thee, 0. Wilm. With my distress,
Randal, In perfect contradiction to the world,
As they deserve, and I've been treated by them : Thy love, respect, and diligence, increased. Thou'st seen by me, and those who now despise Now, all the recompence within my power,
me, Is to discharge thee, Randal, from my hard, How men of fortune fall, and beggars rise. Unprofitable service.
Shun my example; treasure up my precepts; Rand. Heaven forbid !
The world's before thee: be a knave, and prosShall I forsake you in your worst necessityBelieve me, sir! my honest soul abhors
What, art thou dumb? [After a long pause. The barbarous thought.
Rand. Amazement ties my tongue !
Suppose I have renounced them: I have passions,
And love thee still; therefore would have thee Hadst thou died there unseen, think,
My wounded eyes had been The world is all a scene of deep deceit,
Saved from the direst scene
Maid e'er deplored.
[Charlotte finds a letter. Rand, Amazement?
Char. What's this?- A letter superscribed to me! Is this the man I thought so wise and just? None could convey it here but you, Maria What! teach and counsel me to be a villain ! Ungenerous, cruel maid ! to use me thus ! Sure grief has made him frantic, or some fiend To join with flattering men to break my peace, Assumed his shape ! I shall suspect my senses. And persecute me to the last retreat ! High-minded he was ever, and improvident; Mar. Why should it break your peace, to hear But pitiful and generous to a fault.
the sighs Pleasure he loved, but honour was his idol. Of honourable love? This letter is O fatal change! O horrid transformation!
Char. No matter whence; return it back unSo a majestic temple, sunk to ruin,
opened : Becomes the loathsome shelter and abode I have no love, no charms, but for my Wilmot, Of lurking serpents, toads, and beasts of prey;
Nor would have any. And scaly dragons hiss, and lions roar,
Mar. Alas! Wilmot's dead ! Where wisdom taught, and music charmed, be Or, living, dead to you. fore!
[Erit. Clear. I'll not despair : Patience shall cherish
hope; SCENE II.-Charlotte's House.
Nor wrong his honour by unjust suspicion.
I know his truth, and will preserve my own. Enter CHARLOTTE and MARIA.
But, to prevent all future importunity,
Know, thou incessant foe to my repose, Char. What terror and amazement must they Whether he sleeps secure from mortal cares, feel,
In the deep busom of the boisterous main, Who die by ship-wreck!
Or, tost with tempest, still endures its rage; Mar. 'Tis a dreadful thought !
Nó second choice shall violate my vows; Char. Aye! is it not, Maria ?-To descend, High Heaven, which heard them, and abhors the Living and conscious, to the watery tomb !
perjured, Alas! had we no sorrows of our own,
Can witness, they were made without reserve; The frequent instances of others woe
Never to be retracted, ne'er dissolved Must give a generous mind a world of pain. By accident or absence, time or death. But you forget you promised me to sing. Mar. And did your vows oblige you to support Though cheerfulness and I have long been stran- His haughty parents, to your utter ruin gers,
Well may you weep to think on what you've done! Harmonious sounds are still delightful to me. Char. I weep to think, that I can do no more There's sure no passion in the human soul, For their support. What will become of them! But finds its food in music. I would hear The hoary, helpless, miserable pair ! The song, composed by that unhappy maid, Mar. What I can't praise, you force me to adWhose faithful lover 'scaped a thousand perils,
mire, From rocks, and sands, and the devouring deep; And mourn for you, as you lament for them. And, after all, being arrived at home,
Your patience, constancy, and resignation,
Char. So pride would tell me,
And vain self-love; but I believe them not:
And if, by wanting pleasure, I have gained
Humility, I'm richer for iny loss. Mar. Cease, cease, heart-easing tears! Mur. You have the heavenly art still to improve Adieu, you flattering fears,
Your mind by all events.—But here comes one, Which seven long tedious years
Whose pride seems to increase with her misfor. Taught me to bear.
tunes. Tears are for lighter woes;
ller faded dress, unfashionably fine,
As ill conceals her poverty, as that
Strained complaisance her haughty, swelling heart.
Though perishing with want, so far from asking,
She ne'er receives a favour uncompelled,
And, while she ruins, scorns to be obliged :
Let me depart; I know she loves me not.