Baj. Ye tedious villains! then the work is

mine!

[As BAJAZET runs at SELIMA, with his sword, enter TAMERLANE, Axalla, &c. AXALLA gets between BAJAZET and SELIMA, whilst TAMERLANE and the rest drive BAJAZET and the Mutes off the Stage.

Ar. And am I come to save thee? Oh, my joy!

Be this the whitest hour of all my life!
This one success is more than all my wars,
The noblest, dearest glory of my sword.

Sel. Alas, Axalla! Death has been around me;
My coward soul still trembles at the fright,
And seems but half secure, even in thy arms.
Ax. Retire, my fair, and let me guard thee
forth:

Blood and tumultuous slaughter are about us,
And danger, in her ugliest forms, is here;
Nor will the pleasure of my heart be full,
Till all my fears are ended in thy safety.

[Exeunt AXALLA and SELIMA.

Enter TAMERLANE, the Prince of TANAIS, ZAMA, MIRVAN, and Soldiers; with BAJAZET, OMAR, and the Dervise, prisoners.

Tam. Mercy at length gives up her peaceful

sceptre,

And justice sternly takes her turn to govern; 'Tis a rank world, and asks her keenest sword, To cut up villany of monstrous growth. Zama, take care, that with the earliest dawn, Those traitors meet the fate their treason merits. [Pointing to OMAR and the Dervise. For thee, thou tyrant! [To BAJ.] whose oppressive violence

Has ruined those thou shouldst protect at home;

Whose wars, whose slaughters, whose assassinations,

(That basest thirst of blood! that sin of cowards!) Whose faith, so often given, and always violated, Have been the offence of Heaven, and plague of earth-

What punishment is equal to thy crimes?
The doom, thy rage designed for me, be thine:
Closed in a cage, like some destructive beast,
I'll have thee borne about, in public view,
A great example of that righteous vengeance,
That waits on cruelty, and pride, like thine.

Baj. It is beneath me to decline my fate;
I stand prepar❜d to meet thy utmost hate.
Yet think not I will long thy triumph see:
None want the means, when the soul dares be
free.

I'll curse thee with my last, my parting breath, And keep the courage of my life, in death; Then boldly venture on that world unknown: It cannot use me worse than this has done. [Exit BAJAZET, guarded Tam. Behold the vain effects of earth-born pride,

That scorn'd Heaven's laws, and all its power defied!

That could the hand, which formed it first, forget,

And fondly say, I made myself be great!
But justly those above assert their sway,
And teach even kings what homage they should
pay,

Who then rule best, when mindful to obey.
[Exeunt omnes

Too well we saw what must have been our fate,
When harmony with beauty join'd, of late,
Threaten'd the ruins of our sinking state;
Till from whom our being we receive,
you,
In pity bid your own creation live;

With moving sounds you kindly drew the fair,
And fix'd, once more, that shining circle here:
The lyre you bring is half Apollo's praise;
Be ours the task to win and wear his bays.
Thin houses were before so frequent to us,
We wanted not a project to undo us;
We seldom saw your honours, but by chance,
As some folks meet their friends of Spain or
France:

'Twas verse decay'd, or politics improv❜d,

| When cheerful theatres with crowds were grac'd; But those good days of poetry are past; Now sour reformers in an empty pit, With table-books, as at a lecture, sit, To take notes, and give evidence 'gainst wit. Those who were once our friends, employ'd elsewhere,

Are busy now in settling peace and war:
With careful brows at Tom's and Will's they
meet,

And ask who did elections lose or get-
Our friend has lost-Faith I am sorry for❜t,
He's a good man, and ne'er was for the court;
He to no government will sue for grace,
By want of merit safe against a place,

lov'd.

Time was when busy faces were a jest,

When wit and pleasure were in most request;

All who are uppermost, as England's foes:
Let Whig or Tory, any side prevail,
Still 'tis his constant privilege to rail.

Another, that the tax and war may cease, Talks of the duke of Anjou's right and peace, And, from Spain's wise example, is for taking A viceroy of the mighty monarch's making; Who should all rights and liberties maintain, And English laws by learn'd dragoons explain Come, leave these politics, and follow wit;

There, uncontroll'd, you may in judgment sit;
We'll never differ with a crowded pit:
We'll take you all, ev'n on your own conditions,
Think you great men, and wondrous politicians;
And if you slight the offers which we make you,
No Brentford princes will for statesmen take
you.

VOL. I.

2 N

As hardly as ambition does the great;
See how succeeding passions rage by turns,
How fierce the youth with joy and rapture burns,
And how to death, for beauty lost, he mourns.

Let no nice taste the poet's art arraign,
If some frail vicious characters he feign:
Who writes, should still let nature be his care,
Mix shades with lights, and not paint all things
fair;

But shew you men and women as they are.
With def'rence to the fair, he bade me say,
Few to perfection ever found the way:
Many in many parts are known t'excel,
But 'twere too hard for one to act all well;
Whom justly life would through each scene
commend,

The maid, the wife, the mistress, and the friend:
This age, 'tis true, has one great instance seen,
And Heav'n in justice made that one a queen.

SCENE I-A Garden.

Enter ALTAMONT and HORATIO.

Alt. LET this auspicious day be eyer sacred, No mourning, no misfortunes happen on it: Let it be marked for triumphs and rejoicings; Let happy lovers ever make it holy,

Choose it to bless their hopes, and crown their wishes,

This happy day, that gives me my Calista!

Hor. Yes, Altamont; to-day thy better stars Are join'd to shed their kindest influence onthee;

Sciolto's noble hand, that raised thee first,
Half dead and drooping o'er thy father's grave,
Completes its bounty, and restores thy name
To that high rank and lustre which it boasted,
Before ungrateful Genoa had forgot
The merit of thy god-like father's arms;
Before that country, which he long had serv'd,
In watchful councils, and in winter camps,
Had cast off his white age to want and wretch-
edness,

And made their court to faction by his ruin.

Alt. Oh, great Sciolto! Oh, my more than
father!

Let me not live, but at thy very name,
My eager heart springs up, and leaps with joy.
When I forget the vast, vast debt I owe thee-
Forget! (but 'tis impossible) then let me
Forget the use and privilege of reason,
Be driven from the commerce of mankind,
To wander in the desert among brutes,
To bear the various fury of the seasons,
The night's unwholesome dew, and noon-day's
heat,

To be the scorn of earth, and curse of heaven! Hor. So open, so unbounded was his goodness,

It reached even me, because I was thy friend.
When that great man I loved, thy noble father,
Bequeathed thy gentle sister to my arms,
His last dear pledge and legacy of friendship,
That happy tie made me Sciolto's son;
He called us his, and, with a parent's fondness,
Indulg'd us in his wealth, blessed us with plenty,
Healed all our cares, and sweetened love itself.
Alt. By Heaven, he found my fortunes so
abandoned,

That nothing but a miracle could raise them:
My father's bounty, and the state's ingratitude,
Had stripp'd him bare, nor left him even a grave.
Undone myself, and sinking with his ruin,

I had no wealth to bring, nothing to succour him,

But fruitless tears.

Hor. Yet what thou couldst, thou didst, And didst it like a son; when his hard creditors,

Urged and assisted by Lothario's father,

(Foe to thy house, and rival of their greatness) By sentence of the cruel law forbid

His venerable corpse to rest in earth,
Thou gav'st thyself a ransom for his bones;
With piety uncommon didst give up

Thy hopeful youth to slaves, who ne'er knew mercy,

Sour, unrelenting, money-loving villains,
Who laugh at human nature and forgiveness,
And are, like fiends, the factors of destruction.
Heaven, who beheld the pious act, approved it,
And bade Sciolto's bounty be its proxy,
To bless thy filial virtue with abundance.

All. But see, he comes, the author of my hap piness,

The man who saved my life from deadly sorrow, Who bids my days be blest with peace and

plenty,

And satisfies my soul with love and beauty! Enter SCIOLTO; he runs to ALTAMONT, and embraces him.

Sci. Joy to thee, Altamont! Joy to myself! Joy to this happy morn that makes thee mine; That kindly grants what nature had denied me, And makes me father of a son like thee!

Alt. My father! Oh, let me unlade my breast, Pour out the fulness of my soul before you; Shew every tender, every grateful thought, This wondrous goodness stirs. But 'tis impossible,

And utterance all is vile; since I can only Swear you reign here, but never tell how much. Sci. It is enough; I know thee, thou art ho

Even from that day of sorrows when I saw thee,
Adorned and lovely in thy filial tears,
The mourner and redeemer of thy father,
I set thee down, and sealed thee for my own:
Thou art my son, even near me as Calista.
Horatio and Lavinia too are mine;

[Embraces HORATIC.
All are my children, and shall share my heart.
But wherefore waste we thus this happy day?
The laughing minutes summon thee to joy,
And with new pleasures court thee as they pass;
Thy waiting bride even chides thee for delaying,
And swears thou com❜st not with a bridegroom's
haste.

Alt. Oh! could I hope there was one thought of Altamont,

One kind remembrance in Calista's breast,

The winds, with all their wings, would be too slow

To bear me to her feet. For oh, my father! Amidst the stream of joy that bears me on, Blest as I am, and honoured in your friendship, There is one pain that hangs upon my heart. Sci. What means my son?

Alt. When, at your intercession,
Last night Calista yielded to my happiness,
Just ere we parted, as I sealed my vows
With rapture on her lips, I found her cold,
As a dead lover's statue on his tomb;
A rising storm of passion shook her breast,
Her eyes a piteous shower of tears let fall,
And then she sighed, as if her heart were break-
ing.

With all the tenderest eloquence of love,
I begged to be a sharer in her grief;

But she, with looks averse, and eyes that froze

me,

Sadly replied, her sorrows were her own,
Nor in a father's power to dispose of.

Sci. Away! it is the cozenage of their sex;
One of the common arts they practise on us:
To sigh and weep then when their hearts beat
high

With expectation of the coming joy.
Thou hast in camps and fighting fields been bred,
Unknowing in the subtleness of women.
The virgin bride, who swoons with deadly fear,
To see the end of all her wishes near,
When blushing, from the light and public eyes,
To the kind covert of the night she flies,
With equal fires to meet the bridegroom moves,
Melts in his arms, and with a loose she loves.
[Exeunt.

Enter LOTHARIO and ROSSANO.

Loth. The father, and the husband!
Ros. Let them pass.

They saw us not.

Loth. I care not if they did;

Ere long I mean to meet them face to face,
And gall them with my triumph o'er Calista.
Ros. You loved her once.

Loth. I liked her, would have married her,
But that it pleased her father to refuse me,
To make this honourable fool her husband:
For which, if I forget him, may the shame
I mean to brand his name with, stick on mine!
Ros. She, gentle soul, was kinder than her fa-
ther?

Loth. She was, and oft in private gave me hearing;

Till, by long listening to the soothing tale,
At length her easy heart was wholly mine.
Ros. I have heard you oft describe her,
haughty, insolent,

And fierce with high disdain: it moves my wonder,

That virtue, thus defended, should be yielded
A prey to loose desires.

Loth. Hear then, I will tell thee:
Once in a lone and secret hour of night,
When every eye was closed, and the pale moon

And stars alone shone conscious of the theft,
Hot with the Tuscan grape, and high in blood,
Haply I stole unheeded to her chamber.
Ros. That minute sure was lucky.
Loth. Oh, 'twas great!

I found the fond, believing, love-sick maid,
Loose, unattired, warm, tender, full of wishes;
Fierceness and pride, the guardians of her ho-

nour,

Were charmed to rest, and love alone was wa king.

Within her rising bosom all was calm,

As peaceful seas that know no storis, and only
Are gently lifted up and down by tides.
I snatched the glorious golden opportunity,
And with prevailing, youthful ardour pressed her,
'Till with short sighs, and murmuring reluctance,
The yielding fair one gave me perfect happiness.
Even all the live-long night we passed in bliss,
In extacies too fierce to last for ever;

At length the morn and cold indifference came;
When, fully sated with the luscious banquet,
I hastily took leave, and left the nymph
To think on what was past, and sigh alone.
Ros. You saw her soon again?
Loth. Too soon I saw her:

For, Oh! that meeting was not like the former: I found my heart no more beat high with transport,

No more I sighed, and languished for enjoyment; 'Twas past, and reason took her turn to reign, While every weakness fell before her throne. Ros. What of the lady?

Loth. With uneasy fondness

She hung upon me, wept, and sighed, and swore She was undone; talked of a priest, and mar

riage;

Of flying with me from her father's power;
Called every saint, and blessed angel down,
To witness for her that she was my wife.
I started at that name.

Ros. What answer made you?

Loth. None; but pretending sudden pain and

illness,

Escaped the persecution. Two nights since,
By message urged and frequent importunity,
Again I saw her. Straight with tears and sighs,
With swelling breasts, with swooning, with dis-
traction,

With all the subtleties and powerful arts
Of wilful women, labouring for her purpose,
Again she told the same dull nauseous tale.
Unmoved, I begged her spare the ungrateful sub-

ject,

Since I resolved, that love and peace of mind
Might flourish long inviolate betwixt us,
Never to load it with the marriage chain;
That I would still retain her in my heart,
My ever gentle mistress and my friend!
But for those other names of wife and husband,
They only meant ill-nature, cares, and quarrels.
Ros. How bore she this reply?
Loth. Even as the earth,

When winds pent up, or eating fires beneath,
Shaking the mass, she labours with destruction.