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say,

my heart

Let no advantage break; nor any view
SCENE II.

Make him give up his honesty to reach it:

Let him maintain his power, but not increase The King discovered on a Couch.

it ; King. Kind sleep, farewell !

The string, prerogative, when strain’d too high, Thou hast been loyal in the nightly care, Cracks like the tortur'd chord of harmony, And always smooth'd my pillow: at our parting, And spoils the concert between king and subject : As to a faithful friend, I farewell,

Let him regard his people more than ministers, And thank thee for thy service. Here's another, Whose interest or ambition may mislead him.

These rules observ'd, may make him a good Enter Bishop Juxon.

prince, Whose better care gives quiet to the mind; And happier than his father. Wilt thou, James, Who gives us the rich opiate of content,

Remember this? That makes us sleep in hope, and wake to mer- James. Oh, doubt not, royal sir ! cy;

Can what my father says escape my memory; Him too, the bankrupt Charles can only pay And at a time when he shall speak no more? As he has done the former; no return,

King. Come to my arms, my boy. But the poor gratitude of thanks, warın from the James. Would I could weep the blood that heart.

warms my heart ! Say, my good lord, have you so soften’d rigour, For water wrongs my sorrow. That I may see my children ere I die?

King. My dear Elizabeth, Jur. It is permitted, sir; they wait without; Draw near, and take thy dying father's blessing. I would not let them enter, till I knew

Say to thy mother (if thou e'er shalt see her,) You were prepar’d, and ready for the interview. That my thoughts never wander'd from her; that

(Erit Juxon. King. Good Juxon, lead them hither. Now Holds her as dear, even in this hour of death, the father,

As when my eyes first languish'd on her beauties; Spite of my firmness, steals into my eye, Tell her that Charles is only gone before And melts my manhood. Heart, thou hast no T' inherit an immortal crown, and share it with temper

her. Proof against nature, speaking in a child ! Farewell, Elizabeth! and let thy love

And thy obedience wait thy brother Charles. Enter Bishop Juxon, JAMES, Glo'ster, and

Eliz. Alas, my father, I but now have found ELIZABETH.

A passage for my words, and yet you say, James. My royal father!

Farewell

, already! King. Good Juxon, make them rise ;

King. Come, my little Glo'ster, For if I look that way I shall kneel too,

Come to my arms, and let me kiss thy cheek. And join with them in tears. A chair, good Juxon. Glo. Alas, my lord, 'tis cold and wet with (Juxon brings a chair forward, and raises

tears! the children.

I'll wipe it dry, and warm it with my hand, Come hither, James; nay, do not wcep, my boy; That it may meet your kindness as it ought. Keep thy eyes bright to look on better times. King. Glo'ster, when I am dead, your brother James. I will command my nature if I can,

Charles And stop these tears of sorrow; for indeed, Is then your king and master- -Love and obey They drown my sight; and I would view thee him. well,

These men who shall cut off thy father's head, Copy my royal father in his death,

When I am dead, perhaps, may make thee king; And be the son of his heroic virtues.

But do not thou, I charge thee, on my blessing, King. Thou art the child of duty: hear me, Accept the crown while thy two brothers live; James,

Consider, Glo'ster, they were born before thee, And lay up this last lesson in thy heart : And have an elder title-Wilt thou, Glo'ster? When I am dead, look on thy brother Charles, Glo. A king! No, they shall tear me first in Not as thy brother only, but thy king;

pieces. Pay him fraternal love, and subject duty;

King. Oh, nature, nature, do not strike so Nor let ambition, or the thirst to reign,

decply ! Poison thy firm alle:giance. When thou seest This scene is worse than death—I am ready, him,

sir.

[TOMLINSON at the door. Bear him my blessing, and this last advice: Jumes. Oh, sir! If Heaven restores hiin to his lawful crown, Eliz. My lord ! Let him wreak no revenge upon his foes,

Glo. My father! But think it his best aɔnquest to forgive;

King. Oh! With kindness let him treat success, so shall she Glo. I cannot part from you, my dearest father,

Would not those bloody men that cut your licad A constant guest; his promise, when once given, off,

be

If I should beg it, cut off mine?

'Tis now too late, impossible to save him : King. Heart, thou art marble, not to break at Fool that I was, I knew him for a villain, this

Yet trusted to him, to the monster Cromwell. Yet I must go; for dire necessity

Rich. Fairfax, the world acquits thee of the Has struggled long with my paternal fondness,

deed; And has at length prevail’d." Farewell, at once. Thy power has labour'd strongly for his safety:

(Going, returns. Behold where Juxon the good bishop comes, I thought I had taken my last leave of them; Return’d from his last service to his master. But find that nature calls me back again,

Fair. I will not stay to hear the sad relation, And asks another look, another parting kiss. But think on my revenge on Cromwell; Be virtuous, and be happy. Embrace. May the mercy which he deny'd to Charles's Glo. Oh, my poor father !

mortal part

[They are led off: Ne'er light upon his soul, though at his last enKing. So, now 'tis over- Let thy friendly treaty !

aid, Good Juxon, bear me company to death

Enter Juxon. Now, sir, lead on: ere long I hope to see

Rich. Charles is at peace. world more glorious; where no discord lives, Jur. He is, my gentle lord ; Nor error rises, and no faction thrives :

And may we all meet death with equal firmness! There the unfettered mind perfection knows, Patience sat by him in an angel's garb, And looks with pity upon human woes. [Ereunt. And held out a full bowl of rich content,

Of which he largely quaff’d: then came Charity, Enter Duke of RICHMOND and Marquis of And in behalf of Charles, with hasty hand, LINDSEY.

Dealt round forgiveness to the world : his prayer Rich. Oh, fatal day! now horror is on foot Was for his foes more earnest than himself, In her worst garb, and stern calamity

Because their wants were greater. Thus fell Can do no more to England: Charles's sun

Charles-
Sets in his blood, and blushes for his people. A monument of shame to the present age,

Lind. What awful majesty his visage bears, A warning to the future. His example
Nor deigns the tribute of one sorrowing look, May prove this maxim's truth to all mankind :
To grace misfortune!

The subject's reverence, and the prince's love, Rich. Look where Fairfax comes ;

Grasping and grasp’d, walk hand in hand togeHis motion wild, and his distemper'd eye

ther, Shoots fire around, and speaks some strange emo- Strengthen'd by union : then the king's comtion.

mand

Is lost in the obedience of the subject :
Enter FAIRFAX.

The king unask'd, confirms the people's rights, Fair. Curs'd be the villain's arts and every | And by the willing gift prevents the claim. wile

These are the virtues that endear a king, That wrought me to believe him ! Oh Credulity, Adorn a people, and true greatness bring. Thou hast as many ears as Fame has tongues,

(Ereunt. Open to every sound of truth and falsehood!

EPILOGUE.

SPOKEN BY A FRIEND.

At length our bard has told his dismal story- For government of kings, and petticoats.
He thinks-without offence to Whig or Tory. Had we then liv'd—what crowds of volunteers !
He writes not from a spirit of contention; Down with the Rump, and hey for Cavaliers !
And only on third night expects

his pension. In those prim times, our grandmothers of yore Ladies, when civil dudgeon first grew high, Preferr'd a pray'r-book to a matadore: And the good folks fell out-they knew not At court, each turtle only lov'd her mate, why

And no intrigues went on-but those of state. A stubborn race, no doubt on't, were those What odious Salique law ('twas none of nature) Round-heads,

Excludes us women from the legislature ? Rebels at once to female power, and crown's Could we assemble once in convocation, heads :

How purely would we settle all the nation ! But now, bless'd change ! our heroes give their Lovers and op'ras should employ our cares, votes

Cards, masquerades, and such-like state affairs : Debates, like a male senate, we could handle ; A milder sentence to receive, his trust is, And move, as well as they, to-snuff a candle : Tremendous pit, in your high court of justice. Our ayes and noes with one shrill voice declare, If bravely you'd support the good old cause, And none be mutes, but all, all speakers there. Atone your fathers' crimes by your applause; Now, on our stage, while Charles once more is Lay not a barb'rous tax on your good-nature, try'd,

Nor raise in spleen the funds of wit, by satire. He hopes none here can prove a regicide :

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Ask ye,

Britons, this night presents a state distrest,
Though brave, yet vanquish'd, and, though great,

opprest;
Vice, rav’ning vulture, on her vitals prey'd,
Her peers, her prelates, fell corruption sway'd;
Their rights, for power, th’ ambitious weakly

sold,
The wealthy, poorly, for superfluous gold.
Hence wasting ills, hence severing factions rose,
And gave large entrance to invading foes :
Truth, justice, bonour, fled th' infected shore,
For freedom, sacred freedom, was no more.

Then, greatly rising in his country's right,
Her hero, her deliverer, sprung to light;
A race of hardy, northern sons he led,
Guiltless of courts, untainted, and unread,
Whose inborn spirit spurn’d th' ignoble fee,
Whose hands scorn'd bondage, for their hearts

were free,

what law their conquering cause con

fest?
Great nature's law, the law within the breast;
Form’d by no art, and to no sect confin'd,
But stamp'd by Heav'n upon th' unletter'd mind.

Such, such of old the first-born natives were,
Who breath'd the virtues of Britannia's air ;
Their realm, when mighty Cæsar vainly sought,
For mightier freedom against Cæsar fought,
And rudely drove the fam'd invader home,
To tyrannize o'er polish'd, venal Rome.

Our bard, exalted in a free-born flame,
To every nation would transfer this claim:
He to no state, no climate, bounds his page,
He bids the moral beam through every age;
Then be your judgment ge ous as his plan!
Ye sons of freedom, save the friend of man!

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.

MEN.

ANDERSON, chief lord of Dalecarlia.
CRISTIERN, king of Denmark and Norway, and ARNOLDus, a Swedish priest, and chaplain in

usurper of Sweden.
TROLLIO, a Swede, archbishop of Upsal, and vice- SIVARD, captain of the Dalecarlians.
gerent to Cristiern.
PETERSON, a Swedish nobleman, secretly of the

WOMEN.
Danish party, and
friend to Trollio.

CRISTINA, daughter to Cristiern. LAERTES, a young Danish nobleman, attendant Augusta, mother to Gustavus, Prisoners in to Cristina,

GUSTAVA, sister to Gustavus, Cristiern's GUSTAVUS, formerly general of the Swedes, and child,

сатр. first cousin to the deceased king.

MARIANA, attendant and confidant to Cristina. Arvida, of the royal blood of Sweden, friend and cousin to Gustavus.

Soldiers, Peasants, Messengers, and Attendants. SCENE,-Dalecarlia, a northern province in Sweden. VOL. II.

L

}

ACT I.

race

ing ray

SCENE I.—The Inside of the Copper-mines of | Or turn upon our hunters.
Dalecarlia.

And. Now, Gustavus !

Thou Enter ANDERSON, ARNOLDUS, and Servants,

prop and glory of inglorious Sweden,

Where art thou, mightiest man?-Were he but with torches.

here! And. You tell me wonders.

I'll tell thee, my Arnoldus, I beheld him, Arn. Soft, behold, my lord,

Then when he first drew sword, serene and (Points behind the scenes.

dreadful, Behold him stretch'd, where reigns eternal night, As the browed evening ere the thunder break; The flint his pillow, and cold damps his covering! For soon he made it toilsome to our eyes Yet, bold of spirit, and robust of limb,

To mark his speed, and trace the paths of conHe throws inclemency aside, nor feels

quest. The lot of human frailty.

In vain we followed, where he swept the field; And. What horrors hang around! the savage 'Twas death alone could wait upon Gustavus.

Arn. He was, indeed, whate'er our wish could Ne'er hold their den, but where some glimmer.

form him.

And. Arrayed and beauteous in the blood of May bring the cheer of morn. What, then, is he?

Danes, His dwelling marks a secret in his soul,

The invaders of his country, thrice he chaced And whispers somewhat more than man about This Cristiern, this fell conqueror, this usurper, him.

With rout and foul dishonour at his heels, Arn. Draw but the veil of his apparent wretch- To plunge his head in Denmark. edness,

Arn. Nor ever had the tyrant known return, And you shall find his form is but assumed, To tread our necks, and blend us with the dust, To hoard some wondrous treasure lodged within. Had he not dared to break through every law And. Let him bear up to what thy praises That sanctifies the nations, seized our hero, speak him,

The pledge of specious treaty, tore him from And I will win him, spite of his reserve,

us, Bind him, with sacred friendship, to my soul, And led him, chained, to Denmark. Ard make him half myself.

And. Then we fell.
Arn. 'Tis nobly promised;

If still he lives, we yet may learn to rise;
For worth is rare, and wants a friend in Sweden; But never can I dare to rest a hope
And yet I tell thee, in her age of heroes,

On any arm but his.
When, nursed by freedom, all her sons grew great, Arn. And, yet, I trust,
And every peasant was a prince in virtue, This stranger, that delights to dwell with dark-
I greatly err, or this abandoned stranger

ness, Had stepped the first for fame, though now he Unknown, unfriended, compassed round with seeks

wretchedness, To veil his name, and cloud his shine of virtues; Conceals some mighty purpose in his breast, For there is danger in them.

Now labouring into birth. And. True, Arnoldus;

And. When came he hither? Were there a prince, throughout the sceptered Arn. Six moons have changed upon the face globe,

of night, Who searched out merit, for its due preferment, Since here he first arrived, in servile weeds, With half that care our tyrant seeks it out But yet of mien majestic. I observed him, For ruin; happy, happy were that state, And, ever as gazed, some nameless charm, Beyond the golden fable of those pure

A wondrous greatness not to be concealed, And early ages. Wherefore this, good Heaven? Broke through his form, and awed my soul beIs it of fate, that, who assumes a crown,

fore him. Throws off humanity?

Amid these mines, he earns the hireling's porArn. So Cristiern holds.

tion; He claims our country as by right of conquest, His hands ont-toil the hind; while, on his brow, A right to every wrong. Even now, 'tis said, Sits patience, bathed in the laborious drops The tyrant envies what our mountains yield of painful industry. I oft have sought, Of health, or aliment; he comes upon us,

With friendly tender of some worthier service, Attended by a numerous host, to seize

To win him from his temper; but he shuns These last retreats of our expiring liberty. All offers, yet declined with graceful act, And. Say'st thou?

Engaging beyond utterance: and, at eve, Arn. This rising day, this instant hour, When all retire to some domestic solace, Thus chaced, we stand upon the utmost brink He only stays, and, as you see, the earth Of steep perdition, and must leap the precipice, | Receives him to her dark and cheerless bosom.

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