his passport and resolve to die. He is determined to save them in spite of themselves.

Go, Mustapha, and strictest orders give,
Through all the camp, that in assault they spare,
And in the sack of this presumptuous town,
The lives of these two strangers with a care
Above the preservation of their own.
Alphonso has so oft his courage shown,
That he to all but cowards must be known.
Ianthe is so fair, that none can be
Mistaken, among thousands, which is she.

"The scene returns to that of the town besieged. Enter Alphonso, Ianthe." Ianthe reasons that—

We were too proud no use to make

Of Solyman's obliging proffer;

For why should honour scorn to take
What honour's self does to it offer.

Alphonso. To be o'ercome by his victorious sword

Will comfort to our fall afford:

Our strength may yield to his; but 'tis not fit
Our virtue should to his submit ;

In that, Ianthe, I must be

Advanced, and greater far than he.

Ianthe. He is a foe to Rhodes and not to you.
Alphonso. In Rhodes besieged we must be Rhodians too.
Ianthe. "Twas fortune that engaged you in this war.
Alphonso. 'Twas Providence. Heaven's prisoners here

we are.

Ianthe. That Providence our freedom does restore; The hand that shut now opens us the door.

Alphonso. Had Heaven that passport for our freedom

sent,

It would have chosen some better instrument

Than faithless Solyman.

Ianthe. O say not so!

To strike and wound the virtue of your foe

Is cruelty which war does not allow:

Sure he has better words deserved from you.
Alphonso. From me, Ianthe, no;

What he deserves from you, you best must know..

So Alphonso proceeds to be jealous. Ianthe is distressed thereby, and resolves to seek her death in the assault to-morrow. Then enter Villerius and the Admiral, who let us know that the enemy has mined, the Rhodians have countermined, and Duke Alphonso has his courage and his reason overthrown by jealousy. Everybody knows it. Says the Admiral

Already they perceive Alphonso wild,
And the beloved Ianthe grieved.

Villerius. Let us no more by honour be beguiled;
This town can never be relieved;
Alphonso and Ianthe being lost,

Rhodes, thou dost cherish life with too much cost.

Chorus proposes then a sally from the forts.

Drive back the Crescent and advance the Cross Or sink all human empires in our loss!

Then enters Roxolana, jealous, with Pirrhus, Rustan, and two of her women. Solyman will not see

her before the impending assault has been delivered. His mind, she knows, is on Ianthe. Haly enters to announce the sally of the Rhodians.

Our foes appear! the assault will straight begin.
They sally out where we must enter in.

Roxolana laments for Solyman, and a chorus of wives closes the fourth entry by singing about jealousy. Then the scene is changed into a representation of a general assault given to the town; the greatest fury of the army being discerned at the English station.

The fifth entry, again prepared by instrumental music, begins with Pirrhus busy. "Traverse the cannon! Mount the batteries higher!" and so forth. Then Mustapha—

More ladders and reliefs to scale!

The fire-crooks are too short! Help, help to hale!

Solyman advances,

The English seem to retire. seeking to conquer two whom he by force would save. Then enters Alphonso with his sword drawn, worried by Solyman's edict that forbids attack upon himself or Ianthe. The Admiral enters to call him to aid; tells that Ianthe disguised lies wounded in the English bulwark. Rhodes calls him to the rescue of his great master. Honour pulls that way. Pity calls him to the side of his suspected wife. Pity pulls strongest, and says Alphonso-

Hence, Admiral, and to my master hie!
I will as swiftly to my mistress fly.

Nor shall Ianthe from my favour run,

But stay to meet and praise what she did shun.

The scene is chang'd to that of the town besieg'd.
Enter VILLERIUS, ADMIRAL, IANTHE.

She in a night-gown; and a chair is brought in.

Ianthe is told in song that she is not seriously wounded, and that the Ottoman attack has been repelled, chiefly by help of Alphonso's valour; but Alphonso too is slightly wounded. Presently Alphonso also enters wounded, led in by two mutes. He is sorry he was jealous; she is sorry that she did resent his jealousy.

Alphonso. Accursed crime! O let it have no name Till I recover blood to show my shame.

Ianthe. Why stay we at such distance when we treat? As monarchs' children making love

By proxy to each other move,

And by advice of tedious councils meet.

Alphonso. Keep back, Ianthe, for my strength does fail When on thy cheek I see thy roses pale. Draw all the curtains, and then lead her in; Let me in darkness mourn away my sin.

So Ianthe is carried out in a sedan chair, and Alphonso is led away by the two mutes. Then enter Solyman and Roxolana with her women attendants. Solyman tells his wife that her women have fed her jealousy. The women say that reports justified them, and Solyman thus ends the dialogue of the play :

My war with Rhodes will never have success

Till I at home, Roxana, make my peace.

I will be kind, if you'll grow wise;

Go chide your whisperers and your spies.

Be satisfied with liberty to think;

And when you should not see me, learn to wink.

Then all ends with a triumphant chorus of soldiers of Rhodes. The last stanza thereof, on which the curtain falls, will be eight lines more than enough of it.

You began the assault
With a very long halt;
And as halting ye came,

So ye went off as lame;

And have left our Alphonso to scoff ye.

To himself as a dainty

He keeps his Ianthe,

Whilst we drink good wine, and you drink but coffee.

THE END OF THE FIFTH ENTRY.
The Curtain is let fall.

In Sir William Davenant's company in April, 1662, Mistress Davenport played Roxalana, and Mistress Saunderson played Ianthe in the "Siege of Rhodes." Among the boys who were still used to play women's parts, the most popular was Edward Kynaston, who grew to be a stately actor, and died a rich man in 1712. Charles Hart, son of a player who was the eldest son of Shakespeare's sister, was after 1663 the best actor in the King's company of players, under Thomas Kill. Hart withdrew

from the stage in 1679, and died soon afterwards. In the Duke of York's company, under Sir William Davenant, the chief actor was Thomas Betterton, who achieved in the " Siege of Rhodes" a great success, and then played "Hamlet" under instruction from Sir William Davenant, who had seen how

the part was acted when it might be supposed that Shakespeare's own instructions to the player added charm to the performance. Betterton did not rant, and in later years he won the applause of Richard Steele when acting "Hamlet" at the age of seventyfour. In 1663, Betterton married Mistress Saunderson, the actress of Ianthe in the "Siege of Rhodes." In respectable families, only the little girls were then called "Miss," and no actress was so styled before the year 1702. Betterton died in 1710. Colley Cibber said of him, "How Shakespeare wrote, all men who have a taste for nature may read and know; but with what higher rapture would he still be read, could they perceive how Betterton played him." He is said to have felt his part so keenly, that on the appearance of the ghost in the third act of "Hamlet," Betterton's naturally ruddy face would turn perfectly white with emotion. His wife's Lady Macbeth was not less famous.

The new theatre designed by Sir Christopher Wren for Sir William Davenant soon after the Restoration

He

protect the Inca and his daughter against the wrath
of Montezuma. The next scene shows the mother of
Acasis, Zempoalla, the usurping Indian Queen, with
her general, Traxalla, who has crowned her by slay-
ing her brother, and is encouraged in aspiration to
her love. Shouts of the Mexicans and tidings that
Montezuma, that mighty man by whom they have
been thrice overcome, now brings his fate and valour
to their aid close the first act, with Zempoalla's vow
to sacrifice a prince to the gods if they give victory.
In the Second Act, the Inca and his daughter
Orazia first appear pursued in battle. Montezuma
dismisses the soldiers, who were about to seize them,
and has pangs of conscience in their presence.
will turn back the tide of ruin. Traxalla, brought in
by the Mexican soldiers to the prey snatched from
them, claims the Inca and Orazia as his prisoners.
Montezuma holds by his own claim. Acasis enters.
He has often in that day's battle saved the lives of the
Inca and his daughter. Traxalla and the Mexicans
welcome their prince. He is made by them umpire
of the rival claims to the prisoners, and adjudges the
Inca and Orazia to Montezuma. The next scene
shows Zempoalla frowning on her throne because the
victorious Mexicans exalt a stranger's name above
that of their prince. When told by Traxalla that
her son Acasis has given the Inca and his daughter
to Montezuma, she requires them to be forced away,
their lives are due to the gods in payment of her vow.
Traxalla gladly departs to do her bidding. The scene
changes to a dialogue of friendship between Monte-
zuma and Acasis, who tells his grief in his mother's
usurpation of the throne after the murder of his
uncle by Traxalla. His uncle was a gentle ruler,
who left his queen, Amexia, about to be a mother.
Amexia had fled, " only with true Garrucca for her
aid," and had been vainly searched for. While the
friends speak, a messenger tells that Orazia and the
Inca have been forced from Montezuma's tent by
Traxalla.

Mont. Orazia forc'd away! what tempests roll
About my thoughts, and toss my troubled soul?
Can there be gods to see, and suffer this?
Or does mankind make his own fate or bliss,
While every good and bad happens by chance,
Not from their orders, but their ignorance?
But I will pull a ruin on them all,
And turn their triumph to a funeral.
Aca. Be temperate, friend.

Mont. You may as well advise

That I should have less love, as grow more wise.
Aca. Yet stay--I did not think to have revealed
A secret which my heart has still concealed;
But in this cause since I must share with you,
'Tis fit you know-I love Orazia too:
Delay not then, nor waste the time in words,
Orazia's cause calls only for our swords.

Mont. That ties my hand, and turns from thee that rage

Another way, thy blood should else assuage:

The storm on our proud foes shall higher rise,

And changing, gather blackness as it flies:

So when winds turn, the wandering waves obey,

And all the tempest rolls another way.

Aca. Draw then a rival's sword, as I draw mine, And like friends suddenly to part, let's join

ZEMPOALLA appears seated upon her Slaves in triumph, and the
Indians as to celebrate the Victory, advance in a warlike
Dance; in the midst of which triumph, AcASIS and Mox-
TEZUMA fall in upon them.

ZEMPOALLA descends from her triumphant Throne, and ACASIS
and MONTEZUMA are brought in before her.
Zemp. Shame of my blood, and traitor to thy own,
Born to dishonour, not command, a throne;
Hast thou with envious eyes my triumph seen?
Or couldst not see thy mother in the Queen?
Couldst thou a stranger above me prefer?

Aca. It was my honour made my duty err;
I could not see his prisoners, forc'd away
To whom I ow'd my life, and you the day.

Zemp. Is that young man the warrior so renown'd?
Mont. Yes, he that made thy men thrice quit their ground.
Do, smile at Montezuma's chains; but know,
His valour gave thee power to use him so.

Trax. Grant that it did, what can his merits be,
That sought his vengeance, not our victory?
What has thy brutish fury gain'd us more,
Than only heal'd the wounds it gave before?
Die then, for whilst thou liv'st wars cannot cease;
Thou may'st bring victory, but never peace.
Like a black storm thou roll'st about us all,
E'en to thyself unquiet till thy fall.
Aca. Unthankful villain, hold.
Trax. You must not give

Him succour, sir.

Aca. Why then I must not live. Posterity shall ne'er report they had Such thankless fathers, or a prince so bad.

[Draws to kill him.

Zemp. You're both too bold to will or to deny,
On me alone depends his destiny.

Tell me, audacious stranger, whence could rise
The confidence of this rash enterprise?

Mont. First tell me how you dar'd to force from me
The fairest spoils of my own victory?

Zemp. Kill him-hold, must he die?-why let him die;
Whence should proceed this strange diversity
In my resolves?—

Does he command in chains? what would he do,
Proud slave, if he were free, and I were so ?

But is he bound, ye gods, or am I free?
'Tis love, 'tis love, that thus disorders me:
How pride and love tear my divided soul!
For each too narrow, yet both claim it whole:
Love as the younger must be forced away;
Hence with the captives (General) and convey
To several prisons that-young man, and this-
Peruvian woman-

Trax. How concern'd she is!

I must know more.

Mont. Fair princess, why should I
Involve that sweetness in my destiny?

I could out-brave my death, were I alone
To suffer, but my fate must pull yours on.
My breast is armed against all sense of fear,
But where your image lies, 'tis tender there.
Inca. Forbear thy saucy love, she cannot be
So low, but still she is too high for thee.
Zemp. Begone, and do as I command, away.

Mont. I ne'er was truly wretched 'till this day. Orazia. Think half your sorrows on Orazia fall, And be not so unkind to suffer all: Patience in cowards is tame hopeless fear, But in brave minds a scorn of what they bear.

[Exit INCA, MONTEZUMA, ORAZIA, TRAXALLA.

Mother and son remain together. Acasis pleads for honour. Zempoalla loves her son, but is also suddenly in love with Montezuma, and her jealousy dooms Orazia to die with her father. Acasis departs with a vow that he will not survive Orazia. Traxalla, suddenly in love with Orazia, enters, and finds in the next dialogue confirmation of his fear that a sudden love of Zempoalla for Montezuma stands between him and the throne. He also pleads in vain for Orazia. Then follows the musical scene which, with or without ballet, was usually introduced into the "heroic plays " of the Restoration. Ismeron, a conjuror, is asleep; Zempoalla comes to him for the interpretation of a dream. He raises by musical incantation the God of Dreams, who answers mystically. Zempoalla" sits down sad," and then a

SONG is suppos'd sung by Aerial Spirits.

Poor mortals that are clogged with earth below Sink under Love and Care,

While we that dwell in air

Such heavy passions never know.

Why then should mortals be

Unwilling to be free

From blood, that sullen cloud,

Which shining souls does shroud?

Then they'll show bright,
And like us light,

When leaving Bodies with their care
They slide to us and Air.

In the Fourth Act the scene opens and discovers Montezuma sleeping in prison.

Enter TRAXALLA leading in ORAZIA.

Trax. Now take your choice, and bid him live or die; To both show pity or show cruelty: 'Tis you that must condemn, I'll only act; Your sentence is more cruel than my fact.

Oraz. You are most cruel to disturb a mind
Which to approaching fate was so resign'd.

Trax. Reward my passions, and you'll quickly prove
There's none dare sacrifice what I dare love.
Next to thee, stranger:-Wake, and now resign
The bold pretences of thy love to mine,

Or in this fatal minute thou shalt find

Mont. Death, fool; in that thou mayst be just and kind: 'Twas I that lov'd Orazia, yet did raise

The storm in which she sinks: why dost thou gaze,
Or stay thy hand from giving that just stroke,
Which rather than prevent, I would provoke?
When I am dead Orazia may forgive;
She never must, if I dare wish to live.

Oraz. Hold, hold-O Montezuma, can you be
So careless of yourself, but more of me?
Though you have brought me to this misery,
I blush to say I cannot see you die.

Mont. Can my approaching fate such pity move?
The gods and you at once forgive and love.

Zemp. Hold, hold, Traxalla, or Orazia dies.
O, is't Orazia's name that makes you stay?
'Tis her great power, not mine, that you obey.
Inhumane wretch, dar'st thou the murtherer be
Of him that is not yet condemn'd by me?

Trax. The wretch that gave you all the pow'r you have, May venture sure to execute a slave;

And quench a flame your fondness would have burn,
Which may this city into ashes turn.
The nation in your guilty passion lost,
To me ungrateful, to your country most:
But this shall be their offering, I their priest.

Zemp. The wounds thou giv'st I'll copy on her breast.
Strike, and I'll open here a spring of blood,
Shall add new rivers to the crimson flood.
How his pale looks are fix'd on her!-'tis so.
Oh, does amazement on your spirit grow?
What, is your public love Orazia's grown?
Couldst thou see mine, and yet not hide thy own?
Suppose I should strike first, would it not breed
Grief in your public heart to see her bleed?

Trax. She mocks my passions, in her sparkling eyes
Death and a close dissembled fury lies:

I dare not trust her thus.-If she must die,

The way to her lov'd life through mine shall lie.

[He puts her by and steps before ORAZIA, and ́ she runs before MONTEZUMA.

Under this new combination Orazia and Montezuma show more clearly their love for one another. They shall die. Zempoalla, in a passion of thwarted feeling, sends Montezuma to a darker dungeon, and says

Come, my Traxalla, let us both forgive
And in these wretches' fates begin to live.
The altars shall be crowned with funeral boughs,
Peace offerings paid,-but with unquiet vows.

Orazia being left also with her conflicts of feeling, sees the generous Acasis pass with the gaoler to release Montezuma and restore to him his sword. But one of the Indians says, "This shall to the Empress," and "Exit Indian." Then Orazia is at his bidding taken from the prison and set free, Acasis. saying of himself and Montezuma

Permit we two a little while remain
Behind, while you go softly o'er the plain.

Orazia being gone, Acasis says that he has obeyed honour in freeing her, and now he must obey love, and fight for her. Montezuma, unwilling to fight with his friend, says―

Let fair Orazia then the sentence give,
Else he may die whom she desires to live.

But Acasis replies