SCENE FROM GOFFE'S TRAGEDY OF AMURATH, OR THE COURAGEOUS TURK.

Aladin, husband to the daughter of Amurath, having rebelled against his father-in-law, is brought captive before him.

Enter at one door, Amurath with attendants; at the other door, Aladin, his wife, two children, in white-they kneel to Amurath.

Amur. OUR hate must not part thus. I'll tell thee, prince,

That thou hast kindled Etna in our breast! And such a flame is quench'd with nought but blood

His blood whose hasty and rebellious blast

Gave life unto the fire! * *

*

Alad. Why then, I'll, like the Roman Pompey,

hide

My dying sight, scorning imperious looks
Should grace so base a stroke with sad aspèct.
Thus will I muffle up, and choke my groans,
Lest a griev'd tear should quite put out the name
Of lasting courage in Carmania's fame!

Amur: What, still stiff-neck'd? Is this the truce you beg?

Sprinkled before thy face, those rebel brats

Shall have their brains-and their dissected limbs
Hurl'd for a prey to kites !-for, lords, 'tis fit
No spark of such a mountain-threat'ning fire
Be left as unextinct, lest it devour,

And prove more hot unto the Turkish Empery
Than the Promethean blaze did trouble Jove!-
First sacrifice those brats!

Alad, wife. Dear father, let thy fury rush on me! Within these entrails sheath thine insate sword! And let this ominous and too fruitful womb

Be torn in sunder! for from thence those babes
Took all their crimes; error (hath) made them guilty-
'Twas nature's fault, not theirs. O if affection
Can work then!-now shew a true father's love:
If not, appease those murdering thoughts with me;
For as Focasta pleaded with her sons

For their dear father, so to a father I

For my dear babes and husband-husband! father!

Which shall I first embrace? Victorious father! Be blunt those now sharp thoughts; lay down those threats;

Unclasp that impious helmet; fix to earth
That monumental spear-look on thy child
With pardoning looks, not with a warrior's eye,
Else shall my breast cover my husband's breast,
And serve as buckler to receive thy wounds-
Why dost thou doubt ?-fear'st thou thy daughter's
faith?

Amur. I fear; for after daughter's perjury,
All laws of nature shall distasteful be,

Nor will I trust thy children or thyself.

O let me kiss, kind father! first the earth

*

On which you tread, then kiss mine husband's cheek. Great king, embrace those babes-you are the stock On which these grafts were planted

Amur. True; and when sprouts do rob the tree of sap,

They must be prun'd.

Alad. wife. Dear father! leave such harsh simili-
tudes.

By my deceased mother, to whose womb
I was a ten months' burthen-by yourself,
To whom I was a pleasing infant once,
Pity my husband and these tender infants!

Amur. Yes; to have them collect a manly strength, And their first lesson that their dad shall teach them, Shall be to read my misery.

Alad. Stern conqueror! but that thy daughter shews

There once dwelt good in that obdurate breast,
I would not spend a tear to soften thee.
Thou see'st my countries turn'd into a grave!
My cities scare the sun with fiercer flames,
Which turn them into ashes!-all myself
So sleckt and carv'd, that my amazed blood
Knows not through which wound first to take its
way!

If not on me, have mercy on my babes,

Which with thy mercy thou may'st turn to love.
Amur. No, Sir, we must root out malicious seed;
Nothing sprouts faster than an envious weed.
We see a little bullock 'mongst an herd,

Whose horns are yet scarce crept from out his front,

Grows on a sudden tall, and in the fields
Frolics so much, he makes his father yield.
A little twig left budding on an elm,

Ungratefully bars his mother's sight from heavenI love not future Aladins.

Alas, these infants!-these weak-sinew'd hands
Can be no terror to these Hector's arms.

Beg, infants-beg, and teach these tender joints
To ask for mercy-learn your lisping tongues
To give due accent to each syllable;
Nothing that fortune urgeth to is base.

Put from your thoughts all memory of descent;
Forget the princely titles of your father.
If your own misery you can feel,

Thus learn of me to weep-of me to kneel.

1st Child. Good grandsire, see-see how my

father cries!

Wife. Good father, hear-hear how thy daughter

prays.

Thou that know'st how to use stern warrior's arms, Learn how to use mild warrior's pity too.

Amur. Rise, my dear child! as marble against

rain,

So I at these obedient showers melt.

Thus I do raise thy husband-thus thy babes,

Freely admitting you to former state.

SIR FULK GREVILLE,

WHO ordered this inscription for his own grave : "Servant to Queen Elizabeth, counsellor to King James, and friend to Sir Philip Sydney;" was created knight of the bath at James's coronation, afterwards appointed sub-treasurer, chancellor of the exchequer, and made a peer, by the title of Baron Brook, in 1621. He died by the stab of a revengeful. servant, in 1628.

STANZAS FROM HIS TREATISE ON HUMAN LEARNING.

KNOWLEDGE.

A CLIMBING height it is, without a head,
Depth without bottom, way without an end;
A circle with no line environed,

Not comprehended, all it comprehends;
Worth infinite, yet satisfies no mind
Till it that infinite of the God-head find.

For our defects in nature who sees not?
We enter first, things present not conceiving,
Not knowing future, what is past forgot;
All other creatures instant power receiving
To help themselves: man only bringeth sense
To feel and wail his native impotence.