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BRITISH DRAMA ,
BY A FRIEND,
OFT has the buskin'd muse, with action mean, Pity and rage, their mingled force employ:
Here the soft virgin sees, with secret shame,
The generous hero who rejects her love. To her belongs to mourn the hero's fate, Behold him there, with gloomy passions stain'd, To trace the errors of the wise and great ; A wife suspected, and an injur’d friend; To mark the excess of passions too refin'd, Yet such the toil, where innocence is caught, And paint the tumults of a godlike mind; That rash suspicion seems without a fault. Where, mov'd with rage, exalted thoughts com. We dread a while lest beauty should succeed, bine,
And almost wish even virtue's self may bleed. And darkest deeds with beauteous colours shine. Mark well the black revenge, the cruel guile, So lights and shades, in a well-mingled draught, The traitor-tiend trampling the lovely spoil By curious touch of artful pencils wrought, Of beauty, truth, and innocence opprest ; With soft deceit amuse the doubtful eye, Then let the rage of furies fire your breast. Pleas'd with the conflict of the various dye. Yet may his mighty wrongs, his just disdaing Thus through the following scenes, with sweet His bleeding country, his lov'd father slain, surprise,
martial pride, your admiration raise, Virtue and guilt in dread confusion rise, : And crown him with involuntary praise. And love and hate, at once, and grief and joy,
ZANGA, a captive Moor.
LEONORA, ALVAREZ's daughter.
ISABELLA, the Moor's mistress Don MANUEL, attendant of Don CARLOS.
SCENE, -Spain, VOL. II,
SCENE I.-Battlements, with a Sea Prospect. I then was young; he placed me near his person,
And thought me not dishonoured by his service.
One day, (may that returning day be night, Zan. Whether first nature, or long want of the stain, the curse, of each succeeding year!) peace,
For something, or for nothing, in his pride
He struck me-While I tell it, do I live?
[Thunder. For that were poor revenge-E’er since, his I like this rocking of the battlements.
folly Rage on, ye winds ! burst, clouds, and waters
Has strove to bury it beneath a heap
Of kindnesses, and thinks it is forgot.
Insolent thought! and like a second blow !
Affronts are innocent, where men are worthless; Enter ISABELLA.
And such alone can wisely drop revenge.
Isa. But with more temper, Zanga, tell your Who's there? My love?
To see your strong emotions startles me.
Zan. Yes, woman, with the temper that befits it.
When trod upon. Proud Spaniard, thou shalt
I from that day have cursed the rising sun,
The blow returned for ever in my dream.
Yet on I toiled, and groaned for an occasion
Of ample vengeance ; none is yet arrived.
Howe'er, at present I conceive warm hopes be plunged
Of what may wound him sore in his ambition, In hell's abyss, if ever it escape
Life of his life, and dearer than his soul. To strike thee with astonishment at once, By nightly march he purposed to surprise I hate Alonzo. First recover that,
The Moorish camp; but I have taken care And then thou shalt hear farther.
They shall be ready to receive his favour. Isa. Hate Alonzo!
Failing in this, a cast of utmost moment, I own, I thought Alonzo most your friend,
Would darken all the conquests he has won. And that he lost the master in that name.
Isa. Just as I entered, an express arrived. Zan. Hear then. "Tis twice three years since
2an. To whom?
Isa. His friend, Don Carlos.
Oh, Mahomet, on this important hour,
leave you ;