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Pal. What would the tyrant ?

- Ruffle thy wonted calm. [Aside. J-Spite of Mah. Raise thy thoughts to glory :

thy hate And sweep this Zaphna from thy memory, Thou'rt lovely still, and charming even in With all that's past-Let that mean flame ex


[A shout and noise of fighting. Before the blaze of empire's radiaut sun. My fair, retire--nor let thy gentle soul Thy grateful heart must answer to my boun- Sbake with alarms; thou’rt iny peculiar care : ties,

(quests. I go to quell this traitorous insurrection, Follow, my laws, and share in all iny con- And will attend thee straight. Pal. What laws, what bounties, and what Pal. No, tyrant, no! conquests, tyrant ?

I'll join my brother, help to head oor friends, Frand is thy law, the tomb thy only bounty; And urge them on.

[A shout. 'Thy conquests, fatal as infected air,

Roll, roll your thunders, Heaven, and aid the Dispeopling half the globe !-See here, good

storm! * Heaven!

Now, hurl your lightning on the guilty head, The venerable prophet I revered,

And plead the cause of injured innocence ! The king 1 served, the god that I adored !

(Exit. Mah. (Approaches her.] Whence this unwonted language, this wild frenzy?

Enter Ali.
Pal. Where is the spirit of myinartyr'd fatber?
Where Zaphna's ? where Palmira's innocence ?

Mah. Whence, Ali, that surprise ?
Blasted by thee-by tbee, infernal monster!
Thou found'st us angels and bast made us

Ali. My royal chief,

The foe prevails—Thy troops, led on by Mir

(virtue ! Give, give us back our lives, our fame, our

van, Thou canst not, tyrant !-yet thou seek'st my

Are all cut off, and valiant Mirvan's self,

By Zaphna slain, lies weltering in his blood : love

love! Seek'st with Alcanor's blood, his daughter's

The guard, that to our arms should ope tho Mah. Horror and death! the fatal secret's


Struck with the cornmon frenzy, vow thy ruin; knowo!


And death and vengeance is the general cry.

Mah. Can Ali fear? Then, Mahomet, be thyRe-enter MIRVAN.

self! Mir. Oh, Mahomet! all's lost, thy glory tar

Ali. See, thy few friends, whom wild despair nishid,

hath arm'd, And the insatiate tomb ripe to devour us!

But arm'a in vain, are come to die beside thee.

Mah. Ye heartless traitors ! Mahomet alono Hercides' parting breath divulged the secret. The prison's forced, the city all'in arms:

Shall be his own defender, and your guard See, where they bear aloft their murder'd

w Against the crowds of Mecca-Follow me! chief, Fell Zaphna in their front, death in his looks, Re-enter PALMIRA, with ZAPINA, PHARON, Rage ail his strength. Spite of the deadly Citizens, and the Body of ALCANOR on a draught,

He bolds in life but to make sure of vengeance.
Mah. What dost thou here then ? instant with Ha!
our guards,

Zaph. See, my friends, where the impostor
Attempt to stem their progress, till the arrival
Of Omar with the troops.

With head erect, as if he knew not guilt; Mir. I haste, my lord.

(Exit. As if no tongue spake from Alcanor's wound, Pal. Now, now, my hour's at hand!

Nor call'd for vengeance on him! Hear'st thou those shouts, that rend the am- Mah. Impious man! bient air?

(horrors Is't not enough to have spilt thy parent blood, See'st thou those glancing fires, that add new But, with atrocious and blaspheming lips, To the night's gloom?_ Fresh from thy mur. Dar'st thou arraign the substitute of Heaven? dering poniard,

Zaph. The substitute of Heaven! so is the My father's spirit leads the vengeful shades

sword, Of all the wretches wbom thy sword bas but-Tbe pestilence, the famine--such art thon! cher'd!

Such are the blessings Heaven bas sent to , Mah. What terror's this, that hangs apon

her accents ?

By thee, its delegate!
I feel her virtue, though I know her weakness. How couldst thou damn us thus?

[Aside. Mah. Babbler, avaunt! Pal. Tbou ask'st my love; go, seek it in the Zaph. Well thou upbraid'st me, for to pargrave

ley with thee Of good Alcanor-Talk'st of grateful minds; Half brands me coward. Oh, revenge me, Bid Zaphna plead for thee, and I may hear

friends! thee:

Revenge Alcanor's massacre ! revenge Till then thou art my scorn—May'st thou, Palmira's wrongs, and crush the rancorous like me,

monster! Behold tby dearest blood spilt at thy feet. Mah. Hear me, ye slaves ! born to obey my Mecca, Medina, all our Asian world,

will Join, join to drive the impostor from the earth, Pal. Ah! hear him not-fraud dwells upon Blush at his chains, and shake thein off' in ven

his tongue ! geance !

Zaph. Have at thee, fiend !-Ha! Heaven! Mah. Be still, my soul, nor let a woman's (Adrunces, recls, and reclines on his swoonde rage

What cloud is this


lon" thoughts ;


That thwaits upon my sight? My head grows Mah. Think, exquisite Palmira, for thy dizzy,

sakeMy joints uploose--sure, 'tis the stroke of Pal. Thou'st been the murderer of all my fate !

race. Mah. The poison works—then triumph, Ma- See where Alcapor, see where Zapboa lies! homet!

[Aside. Do they not call for me too, at thy hands! Zaph. Off, off, base lethargy!

Oh that they did !-But I can read tby Pul. Brother, dismay’d! Hast thou no power but in a guilty cause, Palmira's saved for something worse than And only strength to be a parricide ?

death ; Zuph. Spare that reproach-Come on—It This to prevent-Zaphpa, I follow thee! will not be.

Stabs herself with ZAPHNA's Sword. (Hangs down his sword, and reclines on Mah. What hast thou done? PHARON.

Pal. A deed of glory, tyrant ! Some cruel power upnerves my willing arm, Thou'st left no object worth Palmira's eye, Blasts my resolves, and weighs me down to And when I shut out light, I shut out thee.

earth. Mah. Such be the fate of all who brave our Mah. Farewell, dear victim of my boundlaw

(now l ess passion! Nature and death have heard my voice, and Oh, justice, justice! Let Heaven be judge 'twixt Zaphna and my. In vain are glory, worship, and dominion ! self,

All conqueror as I am, I am a slave, And instant blast the guilty of the two !! And, by the world adored, dwell with the Pal. Brother! Oh, Zaphoa!

damn'd! Zaph. Zaphna, now no more.

My crimes have planted scorpions in my Sinks down by ALCANOR'S Body, and leans

breaston the Bier; PHARON leneels down with Here, here I feel them! 'Tis in vain to brare him, and supports him.

The host of terrors that invade my soulDown, down, good Pharon-Thou, poor in | I might deceive the world, myself I cannot. jured corse,

Ali. Be calm awhile, my lord; think what May I' embrace thee?- Wont thy pallid

you are. wound

Mah. Ha! what am I? Purple anew at the unnatural touch,

Turns to the Bodies. And ooze fresh calls for vengeance?

Ye breathless family! Pal. Oh, my brother!

Let your loud-crying wounds say what I am! Zaph. In vain's the guiltless meaning of my Oh, snatch me from that sight! quick, quick heart;

transport me High Heaven detests th'involuntary crime, To nature's loneliest mansion, where the sun And dooms for parricide-Then tremble, ty. Ne'er enter'd! where the sound of human rant!

tread If the Supreme can punish error thus, was never heard-But wherefore? still, I What new-invented tortures must await

there, Thy soul, grown leprous with such foul of. There still shall find myself—Ay, that's the fences !

hell! But soft-now fate and nature are at strife- I'll none on't

[Draws his Sword. Sister, farewell! with transport should I Ali. Heaven's ! help-hold him ! quit

[ALI, &c. disarm hin. This toilsome, perilous, delusive stage,

Mah. I But that I leave thee on't-leave thee, Pal. You fled the foe, but can disarm your master. mira,

Angel of death, whose power I've long proExposed to what is worse than fear can image-

claim'd, That tyrant's mercy-Look on her, Heaven! Now aid me, if thou canst!-now, if thos Guide ber, and Oh!


capst, Pal. Think not, ye men of Mecca,

Draw the kind curtain of eternal pight, This death inflicted by the hand of Heaven; And shroud me from the horrors that beset 'Tis he-that viper !


[E.reunt MAHOMET, & Mah. Know, ye faithless wretches !

Phar. Oh! what a curse is life, when self'Tis mine to deal the bolts of angry Heaven!

conviction Behold them there, and let the wretch who | Flings our offences hourly in our face, doubts,

[homet And turns existence torturer to itself ! Tremble at Zaphna's fate, and know that Ma- Here let the mad enthusiast turn his eyes, Can read his thoughts, and doom him with a And see, from bigotry, what horrors rise ! look.

Here, in the blackest colours, let him read, Go then, and thank your pontiff, and your That zeal, by craft misled, may act a deed, prince,

By which both innocence and virtue bleed. For each day's sun he grants you to behold.

[Ereat Hence, to your temples, and appease my rage!

[The People go of. Pal. Ah, stay! my brother's murder'd by

this tyrant! By poison, not by piety, he kills. Muh. 'Tis done–Thus ever be our law received!


EPILOGUE. Now, fair Palmira

Pal, Monster! is it thus Thou mak'st thyself a god, by added crimes, Long has the shameful license of the age And murders, justified by sacrilege?

With senseless ribaldry disgraced the stage:

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So much indecencies bave been in vogue, Shame on those arts that prostitute the bays ! They pleaded custom in an epilogue;

Shame on the bard who this way hopes for As if the force of reason was a yoke ;

praise ! So beavy--they must ease it with a joke; The bold but honest author of to-night Disarm the moral of its virtuous sway,

Disdains to please you if he please not right; Or else the audience go displeased away. If in bis well-meant scene you chance to find How have I blush'd to see a tragic queen Aught to ennoble or enlarge the mind, With ill-timed mirth disgrace the well-wrote If he has found the means, with honest art, scene,

To fix the noblest wishes in the beart, From all the sad solemnity of wo

In softer accents to inform the fair Trip nimbly forth--to ridicule a beau; How bright they look when virtue drops the Then, as the loosest airs she had been glean

tear, ing,

Enjoy with friendly welcome the repast, Coquet the fan, and leer a double meaning! And keep the heartfelt relish to the last.

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| Each wit may praise it for bis own dear sake,

And hint be writ it, if the thing should take. In this grave age, when comedies are sew, But, if you're rough, and use him like a dog, We crave your patronage for one that's new; Depend upon it- he'll remain incog. Though 'twere poor stuff, yet bid the Author if you should hiss, he swears he'll hiss as fair,

high, And let the scarceness recommend the ware. And, like a culprit, join the hue and cry. Long have your ears been fill'd with tragic If cruel men are still averse to spare parts,

[hearts : These scenes, they fly for refuge to the fair. Blood and blank-verse have harden'd all your Though with a ghost our Comedy be heigbtIf e'er you smile, 'tis at some party strokes ;

e n'd,

[eu'd. Round-heads and wooden-shoes are standing Ladies, upon my word, you sha'n't be frightjokes ;

| Oh, 'tis a ghost that seems to be uncivil, The same conceit gives claps and bisses birth, A well spread, lasty, jointure-hunting devil ; You're grown such politicians in your mirth! An amorous ghost, that's faithful, fond, and For once we try (though 'tis, I own, upsafe)

• true, To please you all, and make both parties Made up of flesh and blood-as much as you. laugh.

Then every evening come in flocks, undaunted ;
Our Author, anxious for his fame to-night, We never think this house is too much haunted.
And bashful in his first attempt to write,
Lies cautiously obscure und unreveal’d,
Like ancient actors in a mask conceal’d.
Censure, when no man knows who , writes the

Were much good malice merely thrown away.
The mighty critics will not blast, for shame,
A raw young thing, who dares not tell his

SCENE 1.- A great Hal.
Good-natured judges will th’unknown defend, Enter the BUTLER, COACHMAN, and GARDENER.
And fear to blame, lest they should hurt a

But. There came another coach to town last night, that brought a gentleman to inquire might hear of somebody that can make a about this strange noise we hear in the house, spell. This spirit will bring a power of custom to the Coach. Why may not the parson of our parish George- If so be he continues his pranks, I lay him? design to sell a pot of ale, and set up the sign. But. No, no, no; our parson cannot lay of the Drum.

him, Coach. I'll give Madam warning, that's flat Coach. Why not he as well as another man?

I've always lived in sober families. I'll not But. Why, ye fool, he is not qualified-He disparage myself to be a servant in a house has not taken the oaths. that's haunted.

Gard. Why, d’ye think, John, that the spirit Gard. I'll e'en marry Nell, and rent a bit of would take the law of him ? Faith, I could ground of my own, if both of you leave Ma- tell you one way to drive him off. dam; pot but that Madam's a very good wool Couch. How's that? manif Mrs. Abigail did not spoil her Gard. I'll tell yon immediately. [Drinks.) Come, here's her health.

I fancy Mrs. Abigail might scold him out of But. 'Tis a very hard thing to be a Butler in the house. a house that is disturbed. He made such a Coach. Ay, she has a tongue that would racket in the cellar last night, that I'm afraid drown his drum, if any thing could. he'll sour all the beer in my barrels.

But. Pugh, this is all froth; you underCoach, Why then, John, we ought to take it stand nothing of the matter The next off as fast as we can. Here's to you- He time it makes a noise, I tell you what ought rattled so loud under the tiles last night, that to be done-I would have the steward speak I verily thought the house would have fallen Latin to it. over our heads. I durst not go up into the Coach. Ay, that would do, if the steward cock-loft this morning, if I had not got one of had but courage. the maids to go along with me.

Gard. There you have it— He's a fearful Gard. I thought I heard him in one of my man. If I had as much learning as he, and I bed-posts- 1 marvel, John, how he gets met the ghost, I'd tell him his own : but alack, into the house, when all the gates are shut. what can us poor men do with a spirit, that

But. Why look ye, Peter, your spirit will can neither write nor read? creep you into an auger-hole- he'll whisk | But. Thou art always cracking and boast. ye through a key-bole, without so much as ing, Peter; thou dost not know what mischief jostling against one of the wards.

| it might do thee, if such a silly dog as thee Coach. Poor Madam is mainly frighted, should offer to speak to it: for aught I know, that's certain; and verily believes it is my he might flea thee alive, and make parchment master that was killed in the last campaign. of thy skin to cover his drum with.

But. Out of all manner of question, Robin, | Gard. A fiddlestick! tell pot me-1 fear 'tis Sir George ; Mrs. Abigail is of opinion it nothing, not I! I never did harm in my life ; can be none but his honour: he always loved I never committed murder. the wars; and you know was mightily pleased But. I verily believe thee: keep thy temper, from a child with the music of a drum.

Peter ; after supper we'll drink each of us a Gard. I wonder his body was never found | double mug, and then let come what will. after the battle.

Gard. Why that's well said, John: An honBut. Found! Why, ye fool, is not his body est man that is not quite sober, has nothing to here about the house? dost thou think he can fear.-Here's to ye-Why, how if he should beat his dram without hands and arms ? come this minute, here would I stand. Ha !

Coach. "Tis master as sure as I stand here wbat noise is that? alive; and I verily believe I saw him last | But. and Coach. Ha! wbere? night in the town close.

Gard. The devil! the devil! Oh no; 'tis Gard. Ay! how did he appear.

Mrs. Abigail. Coach. Like a white horse.

But. Ay, faith! 'tis she; 'tis Mrs. Abigail ! But. Pho, Robin, I tell thee he has never A good mistake! 'tis Mrs. Abigail. appeared yet but in the shape of the sound of a drum.

Enter ABIGAIL. Coach. This makes one almost afraid of one's own shadow. As I was walking from Ali. Here are your drunken sots for you! Is the stable t'other night, without my lanthorn, this a time to be guzzling, when gentry are I fell across a beam that lay in my way, and come to the house? Why don't you lay your faith my heart was in my mouth- I thought cloth ? How come you out of the stables? Why I had stumbled over a spirit.

are you not at work in your garden? But. Thou might'st as well have stumbled Gard. Why, yonder's the fine Londoner and over a straw. Why, a spirit is such a little Madam fetching a walk together; and mething, that I have heard a man, who was a thought they looked as if they should say great scholar, say, that he'll dance ye a Lan- they had rather have my room than my comcashire hornpipe upon the point of a needle pany. - As I sat in the pantry last night, count. But. And so forsooth, being all three met ing my spoons, the candle, methought, burnt together, we are doing our endeavours to blue, and the spayed bitch looked as if she saw drink this same drummer out of our heads. something.

Gard. For you must know, Mrs. Abigail, Coach. Ay, poor cur, she's almost frightened we are all of opinion that one can't be a match out of her wits.

for him, unless one be as drunk as a drum. Gard. Ay, I warrant ye, she hears him many Coach. I am resolved to give Madam warna time, and often, when we don't.

ing to hire herself another coachman ; for I But. My lady must have him laid, that's came to serve my master, d'ye see, while he certain, whatever it cost her.

was alive; but do suppose that he has no furGard. I fancy when one goes to market, one ther occasion for a coach, now he walks.

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