postor breaking all ties you ought to keep, and pretending to those you have no right to. The governor never had such a fellow in the whole catalogue of his acquaintance the governor disowns you the governor disclaims you the governor abhors you; and to your utter confusion, here stands the governor to tell you so. Here stands old Curry, who never talked to a rogue without telling him what he thought of him. Inkle. Sir Christopher!-Lost and undone! Med. [Without.] Holo! Young Multiplication! Zounds! I have been peeping in every cranny of the house. Why, young Rule of Three! [Enters from the inn.] Oh, here you are at last-Ah, Sir Christopher! what, are you there! too impatient to wait at home. But here's one that will make you easy, I fancy. [Tapping INKLE on the shoulder. Sir C. How came you to know him? Sir C. No, no; I have found him out with a Enter CAMPLEY, NARCISSA, and PATTY. Med. Campley! Sir C. Who? Campley;-it's no such thing. Cam. That's my name, indeed, Sir Christopher. Nar. I have this moment heard a story of a transaction in the forest, which, I own, would have rendered compliance with your former commands very disagreeable. Patty. Yes, Sir, I told my mistress he had brought over a hotty-pot gentlewoman. Sir C. Yes, but he would have left her for you; [To NARCISSA.] and you for his interest; and sold you, perhaps, as he has this poor girl, to me, as a requital for preserving his life. Nar. How! Enter TRUDGE and WoWSKI. Trudge. Come along, Wows! take a long, last leave of your poor mistress: throw your pretty ebony arms about her neck. Wours. No, no;-she not go; you not leave poor Wowski. [Throwing her arms about YARICO. Sir C. Poor girl! a companion, I take it! Trudge. A thing of my own, Sir. I couldn't help following my master's example in the woods Like master, like man, Sir. Sir C. But you would not sell her, and be hanged to you, you dog, would you? Trudge. Hang me like a dog, if I would, Sir. Sir C. So say I, to every fellow that breaks an obligation due to the feelings of a man. But, old Medium, what have you to say for your hopeful nephew? Med. I never speak ill of my friends, Sir Chris topher. Sir C. Pshaw! Inkle. Then let me speak: hear me defend a conduct Sir C. Defend! Zounds! plead guilty at once -it's the only hope left of obtaining mercy. Inkle. Suppose, old gentleman, you had a son? Sir C. 'Sblood! then I'd make him an honest fellow; and teach him that the feeling heart never Sir C. The devil it is! and how came you, Sir, knows greater pride than when it's employed in to impose upon me, and assume the name of In-giving succour to the unfortunate. I'd teach him kle! A name which every man of honesty ought to be his father's own son to a hair. to be ashamed of. Inkle. Even so my father tutored me: from inCam. I never did, Sir-Since I sailed from fancy, bending my tender mind, like a young sapEngland with your daughter, my affection has ling, to his will-Interest was the grand prop daily increased: and when I came to explain my-round which he twined my pliant green affections. self to you, by a number of concurring circum- taught me in childhood to repeat old sayingsstances, which I am now partly acquainted with, all tending to his own fixed principles, and the you mistook me for that gentleman. Yet had I first sentence that I ever lisped, was charity be even then been aware of your mistake, I must gins at home. confess, the regard for my own happiness, would have tempted me to let you remain undeceived. Sir C. And did you, Narcissa, join in- Cam. I am a soldier, Sir Christopher. Love and War is the soldier's motto; though my income is trifling to your intended son-in-law's, still the chance of war has enabled me to support the object of my love above indigence. Her fortune, Sir Christopher, I do not consider myself by any means entitled to. Sir C. Sblood! but you must though. Give me your hand, my young Mars, and bless you both together! Thank you, thank you for cheating an old fellow into giving his daughter to a lad of spirit, when he was going to throw her away apon one, in whose breast the mean assion of Sir C. I shall never like a proverb again, as long as I live. Inkle. As I grew up, he'd prove-and by example- -were I in want, I might even starve. for what the world cared for their neighbours: why then should I care for the world! men now lived for themselves. These were his doctrines: then, Sir, what would you say, should I, in spite of habit, precept, education, fly into my father's face, and spurn his counsels ? Sir C. Say! why, that you were a damned honest, undutiful fellow. O curse such principles! principles, which destroy all confidence between man and man-Principles, which none but a rogue could instil, and none but a rogue could imbibe-Principles Inkie. Which I renounce. Inkle. Renounce entirely. Ill-founded precep too long has steeled my breast-but still 'tis vul- | Nar. nerable this trial was too much--Nature, against habit combating within me, has penetrated to my heart; a heart, I own, long callous to the feelings of sensibility; but now it bleeds—and bleeds for my poor Yarico. Oh, let me clasp her to it, while 'tis glowing, and mingle tears of love and penitence. [Embracing her. Trudge. [Capering about.] Wows, give me a kiss! [Wowski goes to TRUDGE. Yar. Yar. And shall we shall we be happy? Inkle. Ay; ever, ever, Yarico. Yar. I knew we should-and yet I feared -but shall I still watch over you? Oh! love, you surely gave your Yarico such pain, only to make her feel this happiness the greater. Wows. [Going to YARICO.] Oh Wowski so happy! and yet I think I not glad neither. Trudge. Eh, Wows! How!-why not? Wows. 'Cause I can't help cry Sir C. Then, if that's the case -curse me, if I think I'm very glad either. What the plague's the matter with my eyes?--Young man, your hand-I am now proud and happy to shake it. Med. Well, Sir Christopher, what do you say to my hopeful nephew now? Sir C. Say! why, confound the fellow, I say, that is ungenerous enough to remember the bad action of a man who has virtue left in his heart to repent it.-As for you, my good fellow, [To TRUDGE.] I must, with your master's permission, employ you myself. Trudge. O rare! -Bless your honour! Wows! you'll be lady, you jade, to a governor's factotum. Wows. Iss-I Lady Jactotum. Wows. Since thus each anxious care To join the jocund dance? The rosy hours advance. When first the swelling sea Since her love will constant prove, Whilst all around rejoice, Whilst Trudge 's, to be dumb. Strike fiddle and beat drum. Trudge. 'Sbobs! now I'm fixed for life, My fortune's fair, though black's my wife, Who fears domestic strife Who cares now a sous! Merry cheer my dingy dear Shall find with her Factotum here, Night and day, I'll frisk and play About the house with Wows. Love's convert here behold. Hence all care, all doubt and fear, Shall make our bosoms glow. Let Patty say a word A chambermaid may sure be heardSure men are grown absurd, Thus taking black for white; To hug and kiss a dingy miss, Will hardly suit an age like this, Unless, here, some friends appear, Who like this wedding night. MAHOME T, THE IMPOSTOR: A TRAGEDY, IN FIVE ACTS. BY THE REV. MR. MILLER. REMARKS. VOLTAIRE'S celebrated tragedy of this name is the prototype of the present production, which was first acted at Drury Lane Theatre in 1744. Dr. John Hoadly is said to have assisted the author; who was in so declining a state while completing his work, that he died during the first run of success it experienced; and his widow was complimented by a benefit-night, in addition to the usual remuneration of the author: when (not withstanding some disputes between the theatre and the town, in the style of modern O. P. disturbances; she cleared upwards of one hundred pounds; at that time considered a handsome sum on such an occasion. In 1753 this play, through some passages which were applied to party purposes, caused a disturbance; which ended in Mr. Sheridan's abdication of his managerial throne, and the shutting up of his theatre, in Smock Alley, Dublin. It was revived in London, at Drury Lane, in 1765. He power through France his charming fumbers bore; But France was deaf-for all her priests were sore. On English ground she makes a firmer stand, And hopes to suffer by no hostile hand; No clergy here usurp the free-born mind, Ordain'd to teach, and not enslave mankind; Religion here bids persecution cease; Without, all order-and within, all peace; Truth guards her happy pale with watchful care, And frauds, though pious, find no entrance there. Religion, to be sacred, must be free; Men will suspect-where bigots keep the key; Hooded and train'd like hawks th' enthusiasts fly, And the priests' victims in their pounces die; Like whelps born blind, by mother-church they're bred, Nor wake to sight, to know themselves misled; Murder's the game-and to the sport unpress'd, Proud of the sin, and in the duty bless'd, vance, To priest-rid Spain repair, or slavish France; Britons! these numbers to yourselves you owe; Voltaire hath strength to shoot in Shakspeare's bow; Fame led him at his Hypocrene to drink, Cherish the noble bard yourselves have made, ACT I. Who, singled out by a community Pha. Each honest citizen, I grant is thine, And, grateful for thy boundless blessings on them, Would serve thee with their lives; but the approach Of this usurper to their very walls, Alc. Oh, people lost to wisdom, as to glory! I carried carnage to his very tent; now My family. Pha. Then let not that be lost. Pha. My noble lord, I cannot, Must not desist, will not, since you're possess'd SCENE I-An Apartment in the Temple of To any terms you'll claim. Mecca. Enter ALCANOR and PHARON. Alc. Pharon, no more-shall I This zeal of thine, paternal as it is, Alc. What means? Pha. Palmira, That blooming fair, the flower of all his camp, Has, by his heralds, thrice possessed her ransom, Alc. I know it, Pharon: And wouldst thou then restore this noble treasure And render beauty the reward of rapine? Pha. My noble chief, each masterpiece of Clains right o'er me of parent, prince, and pro nature Commands involuntary homage from us. Alc. I own, a tenderness unfelt before, To make her happy, fill'd my widow'd bosom: SCENE II-A Room of State. PALMIRA discovered. Pal. What means this boding terror that usurps, dominion o'er my heart? In spite of me, Alc. Palmira, whence those tears? trust me, Thou art not fall'n into barbarians' hands: Pal. No, my generous victor! My suit's for nothing Mecca can afford; phet. Alc. Of parent, prince, and prophet! Heavens that robber Who, a scaped felon, emulates a throne, On one, whom millions, with myself, adore, Of favours past, and nought succeeds but horror! Banish humanity the gentlest breast! Pal. Do you then reject My just petition? can Alcanor's goodness And Mahomet will treble what you ask. Ale. Mirvan, that vile apostate! He holds a scymitar, the other bears An olive branch, which to our chiefs he waves Prisoner these two long months beneath your An emblem of his suit-a martial youth, roof, My whole of future happiness depends: Pity, Alcanor, one who 's torn from all Alc. Is slavery dear then? is fraud venerable? Pal. My country, Sir, is not a single spot Robb'd of my children, would Palmira deign To make her destiny propitious to her, Claim and share my gratitude; but Mahomet Zaphna by name, attends him for our hostage. [Aside This way, my lord, to render you his charge. |