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Nor can thy tender, trembling heart sustain it. And now, ye trembling cords of life, give way! Long years of bliss remain in store for thee; Nature and time, let go your hold !-eternity And smiling time his treasures shall unfold Demands me. (Exeunt Essex and Lieut. To bribe thy stay!

Rut. Where has my lost, benighted soul, been Rut. Thou cruel comforter !

wandering ?Alas! what's life-what's hated life to me? What means this mist, that hangs about my Alas, this universe, this goodly frame,

mind, Shall all as one continued curse appear,

Through which reflection's painful eye discerns And every object blast, when thou art gone. Imperfect forms, and horrid shapes of woe ?Esser. Oh, strain not thus the little strength The cloud dispels, the shades withdraw, and all I've left,

My dreadful fate appears.-Oh! where's my The weak support that holds up life ! to bear

lord?A few short moments more, its weight of woe, My life! my Essex! Oh! whither have they Its loss of thee! Oh, turn away those eyes!

ta'en him? Nor with that look melt down my fixed resolve! And yet, a little longer let me gaze

Enter Queen ELIZABETH and Attendants. On that loved form? Alas! I feel my sight Grows dim, and reason from ber throne

retires :

Qu. Eliz. To execution !--Fly with lightning's For pity's sake, let go my breaking heart,

ving, And leave me to

And save him ! fate!

my Rut. Why wilt thou still

Be calm, he shall not die! Rise up-I came Of parting talk?

To save his life. Oh, that the friendly hand of Heaven would

Rut. 'Tis mercy's voice that speaks !snatch

My Essex shall again be mine! My queen, Us both at once, above the distant stars,

My bounteous, gracious queen! has said the word. Where fortune’s venomed shafts can never pierce, May troops of angels guard thy sacred life! Nor cruel queens destroy !

And, in thy latest moments, waft thy soul Esser. The awful Searcher, whose impartial which, now, thy royal goodness grants to me!

To meet that mercy in the realms of joy, eye Explores the secrets of each human heart,

Enter BURLEIGH. And every thought surveys, can witness for me, How close thy image clings around my soul ! Bur. Madam, your orders came, alas! too late. Retards each rising wish, and draws me back Ere they arrived, the axe had fallen on Essex. To life, entangled by that loved idea.

Rut. Ha! dead! What hell is this, that opens Lieut. My lord,

round me? It now grows late.

What fiend art thou, that draws the horrid scene? Essex. Lead on.

Ah! Burleigh! bloody murderer! where's my Rut. Stay, stay, my love! my dearest, dying

husband ? lord !

Oh! where's my lord, my Essex ? Ah! whither wouldst thou go? Ah, do not leave Destruction seize, and madness rend, my brain !

[Faints. See-see, they bend him to the fatal block! Esser. Thou sinking excellence! thou match- Now—now the horrid axe is lifted highless woman!

It falls it falls ! he bleeds-he bleeds ! he dies! Shall fortune rob me of thy dear embrace,

Qu. Eliz. Alas! her sorrows pierce my sufferOr earth's whole power, or death divide us now?

ing heart ! Stay, stay, thou spotless injured saint !

Rut. Eternal discord tear the social world, Lieut. My lord, already you have been in- And nature's laws dissolve! expunge--erase dulged

The hated marks of time's engraving hand, Beyond what I can warrant by my orders. And every trace destroy! Arise, despair ! Esser. One moment more

Assert thy rightful claim-possess me all ! Afford me to my sorrows

-Oh, look there! Bear, bear me to my murdered lord--to clasp Could bitter anguish pierce your heart, like mine, His bleeding body in my dying arms ! You'd pity now the mortal pangs I feel,

And, in the tomb, embrace his dear remains, The throbs that tear my vital strings away, And mingle with his dust--for ever! [Exit. And rend my agonizing soul!

Qu. Eliz. Hapless woman! Lieut. My lord

She shall henceforth be partner of my sorrows; Esser. But one short moment, and I will at- And we'll contend who most shall weep for Essex. tend.

Oh, quick to kill, and ready to destroy! Ye sacred ministers, thiat virtue guard,

(To BURLEIGU. And shield the righteous in the paths of peril,

Could no pretext be found---no cause appear, Restore her back to life, and lengthened years To lengthen mercy out a moment more, Of joy! dry up her bleeding sorrows all ! And stretch the span of grace !--Oh, cruel BurOh, cancel from her thoughts this dismal hour,

leigh ! And blot my image from her sad remembrance ! This, this, was thy dark work, unpitying man!


'Tis done.



It was the lady Nottingham, not 1.

Qu. Eliz. Oh, barbarous woman! Brer. My gracious mistress, blame not thus my

Surrounded still by treachery and fraud !

What bloody deed is this !-Thou injured Esser! My firm obedience to your high command. The laws condemned him first to die; nor think My fame is soiled to all succeeding times;

But Heaven alone can view my breaking heartI stood between your mercy and his life.

Then let its will be done.
Herself confessed it all, in wild despair,

From hence, let proud, resisting mortals know
That, from your majesty to Essex sent
With terms of proffered grace, she then received, The arm parental, and the indulgent blow.
From his own hand, a fatal ring, a pledge, To Heaven's corrective rod submissive bend;

Adore its wisdom, on its power depend;
With earnest suit and warm entreaty, begged her, Whilst ruling justice guides eternal sway,
It seems, of much importance, which the earl,
As she would prize his life, to give your majesty: Let nature tremble, and let man obey.
in this she failed-- In this she murdered Essex.




News ! news! good folks, rare news, and you

shall know it
I've got intelligence about the poet.
Who do you think he is !---You'll never guess;
An Irish bricklayer, neither more nor less.
And now the secret's out, you cannot wonder,
That in commencing bard he makes a blunder.
Has he not left the better for the worse,
In quitting solid brick for empty verse ?
Can he believe the example of old Ben,
Who changed, like him, the trowel for the pen,
Will in his favour move your critic bowels ?--
You rather wish most poet's pens were trowels.
One man is honest, sensible, and plain,
Nor has the poet made him pert, in vain :
No beau, no courtier, nor conceited youth ;
But then so rude, he always speaks the truth.
I told him he must flatter, learn address,
And gain the heart of some rich patroness :
'Tis she, said I, your labours will reward,
If you but join the bricklayer with the bard ;

As thus---should she be old, and worse for wear,
You must new-case her, front her, and repair ;
If cracked in fame, as scarce to bear a touch,
You cannot use your trowel then too much;
In short, whate'er her morals, age, or station,
Plaster and whitewash in your dedication.
Thus I advised--but he detests the plan:
What can be done with such a simple man?
A poet's nothing worth, and nought availing,
Unless he'll furnish where there is a failing.
Authors in these good times are made and used,
To grant these favours nature has refused.
If he won't fish, what bounty can he crave?

for what we want, not what we have.-
Nay, though of every blessing we have store,
Our sex will always wish--a little more..
If he'll not bend his heart to do his duty,
And sell, to who will buy, wit, honour, beauty;
The bricklayer still for him the proper trade is,
Too rough to deal with gentlemen and ladies.

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Measter! measter!

But long with him I could not make abode, Is not my measter here among you, pray? For, could you think it?-he eat a great sea-toad! Nay, speak-my measter wrote this fine new He call'd it belly-patch and capapee! play.

Law, how I star'd- I thought-who knows but I The actor-folks are making such a clatter! For want of monsters, may be made a pye! They want the pro-log-I know nought o'th' Rather than tarry here for bribe or gain, matter!

I'll back to whoame, and country fare again. He must be there among you-look about- I left toad-eater; then I served a lord, A weezen pale-fac'd man, do-find him out- And there they promised—but ne'er kept their Pray, measter, come-or all will fall to sheame;

word. Call mister,-hold—I must not tell his name. While 'mong the great, this geaming work the Law! what a crowd is here! what noise and

trade is, pother!

They mind no more poor servants, than their Fine lads and lasses! one o' top o'ť other.

ladies. [Pointing to the rows of Pit and Gallery. A lady next, who lik’d a smart young lad, I could for ever here with wonder geaze ! Hir'd me forthwith—but, troth I thought her I ne'er saw church so full in all my days !

mad : Your servant, surs !-what do you laugh for? Eh! She turn'd the world top down, as I may say, You donna take me sure for one o' the play? She chang’d the day to neet, the neet today! You should not sout an honest country lad- I stood one day with coach, and did but stoop You think me fool, and I think you half mad: To put the foot-board down, and with her hoop You're all as strange as I, and stranger too, She cover'd me all o'er—“Where are you, lout?”. And if you laugh at me, I'll laugh at you. Here, ma'am, says I, for heav'n's sake let me out!

(Laughing. I was so sheam'd with all her freakish ways, I donna like your London tricks, not I,

She wore her gear so short, so low her staysAnd since you rais'd my blood, I'll tell you why ; Fine folks shew all for nothing now-a-days ! And if you wul, since now I am before ye, Now I'm the poet's man- I find with wits For want of pro-log, I'll relate my story. There's nothing sartain-nay, we eat by fits.

I came from country here to try my fate, Our meals, indeed, are slender, what of that? And get a place among the rich and great; There are but three on’s--measter, I, and cat. But troth. I'm sick o'th' journey I ba' ta'en,


but see us all, as I'm a sinner, I like it not—would I were home again ! You'd scarcely say which of us three is thinnet. First, in the city I took up my station,

My wages all depend on this night's piece, And got a place with one oʻth' corporation, But should you find that all our swans are geese, A round big man--he eat a plaguy deal, E’feck I'll trust no more to measter's brain, Zooks, he'd have beat five plowmen at a meal! But pack up all, and whistle whoame again.

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This habit, which, to thy mistaken eye,

Confirms my guilt, I wea a heart as true

As Sadi's to my king.
Enter OTHMAN and a Slave.

Sadi. Why then beneath Olh. A STRANGER, say'st thou, that enquires This cursed roof, this black usurper's palace, of Othman?

Dar'st thou to draw infected air, and live Slace. He does ; and waits admittance. The slave of insolence? Why lick the dust Oth. Did he tell

Beneath his feet, who laid Algiers in ruin? His name and quality ?

But age, which should have taught thee honest Slave. That he declined :

caution, But called himself thy friend.

Has taught thee treachery! Oth. Where didst thou see him ?

Oth. Mistaken man! Slave. Even now, while twilight closed the day, Could passion prompt me to licentious speech I spied bim

Like thineMusing amid the ruins of yon tower,

Sadi. Peace, false one! peace! The slave to That overhangs the flood. On my approach,

power With aspect stern, and words of import dark, Still wears a pliant tongue.-Oh, shame! to dwell He questioned me of Othman. Then the tear With murder, lust, and rapine ! did he not Stole from his eye. But when I talked of power Come from the depths of Barca's solitude, And courtly honours here conferred on thee, With fair pretence of faith and firm alliance? His frown grew darker : 'All I wish,' he cried, Did not our grateful king, with open arms, • Is to confer with him, and then to die ! Receive him as his guest? O fatal hour! Oth. What may this mean? - Conduct the Did he not, then, with hot, adulterous eve, stranger to me.

[Erit Slave. Gaze on the queen Zaphira ? Yes, 'twas lust, Perhaps some worthy citizen, returned

Lust gave the infernal whisper to his soul, From voluntary exile to Algiers,

And bade him murder, if he would enjoy! Once known in happier days.

O complicated horrors ! hell-born treachery!

Then fell our country, when good Selim died ! Enter SADI.

Yet thou, pernicious traitor, unabashed, Ah, Sadi here!

Canst wear the murderer's badge! My honoured friend!

Oth. Mistaken man ! Sudi. Stand off-pollute me not!

Yet hear me, SadiThese honest arms, though worn with want, dis- Sadi, What can dishonour plead? dain

Oth. Yet blame not prudence. Thy gorgeous trappings, earned by foul dishonour, Sadi. Prudence! the stale pretence of every Oth. Forbear thy rash reproaches : for beneath


The traitor's ready mask!

Oth. His rage pursues Oth. Yet still I love thee;

The virtuous youth, even into foreign climes. Still, unprovoked by thy intemperate zeal: Ere this, perhaps, he bleeds. A murdering ruffiap Could passion prompt me to licentious speech, Is sent to watch his steps, and plunge the dagger Bethink thee ! -might I not reproach thy flight Into his guiltless breast. With the foul names of fear and perfidy?

Sadi. Is this thy faith! Didst thou not fly, when Barbarossa's sword Tamely to witness to such deeds of horror! Reeked with the blood of thy brave countrymen? Give me thy poignard; lead me to the tyrant. What then did I?-Beneath this hated roof, What though surrounding guards— In pity to my widowed queen

Oth. Repress thy rage. Sadi. In pity ?

Thou wilt alarm the palace, wilt involve Oth. Yes, Sadi ; Heaven is my witness, pity Thyself, thy friend, in ruin. Haste thee hence; swayed me.

Haste to the remnant of our loyal friends, Sadi. Words, words ! dissimulation all, and And let maturer councils rule thy zeal. guilt!

Sadi. Yet let us ne'er forget our prince's Oth. With honest guile I did inrol my name

wrongs. In the black list of Barbarossa's friends :

Remember, Othman, (and let vengeance rise) In hope, that some propitious hour might rise, How in the pangs of death, and in his gore When heaven would dash the murderer from his Weltering, we found our prince! The deadly throne,

dagger And give young Selim to his orphaned people. Deep in his heart was fixed ! His royal blood, Sadi. Indeed! can'st thou be true ?

The life-blood of his people, o'er the bath Oth. By Heaven, I am.

Ran purple! Oh, remember! and revenge! Sadi. Why then dissemble thus ?

Oth. Doubt not my zeal. But haste, and seek Oth. Have I not told thee?

our friends. I held it vain to stem the tyrant's power Near to the western port Almanzor dwells, By the weak efforts of an ill-timed rage.

Yet unseduced by Barbarossa's

power. Sadi. Enough: I find thee honest; and with He will disclose to thee if aught be heard pride

Of Selim's safety, or (what more I dread) Will join thy counsels. This, my faithful arm, Of Selim's death. Thence best may our resolves Wasted with misery, shall gain new nerves

Be drawn hereafter. But let caution guide thee. For brave resolves. Can aught, my friend, be For in these walks, where tyranny and guilt done?

Usurp the throne, wakeful suspicion dwells, Can aught be dared ?

And squint-eyed jealousy, prone to pervert,
Oth. We groan beneath the scourge.

Even looks and smiles to treason.
This very morn, on false pretence of vengeance Sadi. I obey thee.
For the foul murder of our honoured king, Near to the western port, thou say'st.
Five guiltless wretches perished on the rack.

Oth. Even there ;
Our long-loved friends, and bravest citizens,

Close by the blasted palm-tree, where the mosque Self-banished to the desert, mourn in exile: O’erlooks the city. Haste thee hence, my friend. While the fell tyrant lords it o'er a crew

I would not have thee found within these walls. Of abject sycophants, the needy tools

(Flourish. of power usurped, and a degenerate train And hark! these warlike sounds proclaim the Of slaves in arms.

approach Sudi. O my devoted country!

Of the proud Barbarossa, with his train. But say, thc widowed queen-my heart bleeds Begone for her.

Sadi. May dire disease and pestilence Olh. If pain be life, she lives: But in such Hang o'er his steps ! Farewell-remember, Oth

woe, As want and slavery might view with pity, Thy queen’s, thy prince's, and thy country's And bless their happier lot! Hemmed round by wrongs,

(Erit SADI terrors,

Oth. When I forget them, be contempt my lot!
Of every joy through seven long years bereft, Yet, for the love I bear them, I must wrap
She mourns her murdered lord, her exiled son, My decp resentments in the specious guise
Her people fallen! the murderer of her lord, of smiles, and fair deportment.
Returning now from conquest o'er the Moors,
Tempts her to marriage : spurred at once by lust,

Enter BARBAROSSA, Guards, &c.
And black ambition. But with noble firmness, Bar. Valiant Othman,
Surpassing female, she rejects his vows, Are these vile slaves impaled ?
Scoming the horrid union. Meantime he,

Oth. My lord, they are.
With ceaseless hate, pursues her exiled son;

Bur. Did not the rack extort confession from And- detested monster

(He weeps.

them? Sedi. Yet more deeds

Oth. They died obdurate : while the melting Of cruelty! Just Heaven!



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