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it was above being shaken by absence, or affected by events. How have I been deceived! I find that

Em. Pardon me, Sir, I never deceived you; nay, you see that I disdained the thought of de-a ceiving you even for a day. Out of respect to our late mutual attachment, I am resolved to deal openly with you. In a word, then, every thing between us must now be at an end.

Tam. Confusion !-Every thing at an end! and can you, you, Emily, have the courage to tell me so?

Em. Why not? Come, come, Colonel Tamper, vanity is your blind side.

Tam. Zounds, Madam!

Em. Don't be in a passion-Do but consider the matter calmly; and though it may rather be displeasing, yet when you have duly weighed all circumstances I'm sure you must do me the justice to acknowledge my sincerity.

Tam. I shall run mad-Is it possible, Emily? -Sincerity do you call this?-Dissimulationdamned dissimulation!

Em. Have patience, Sir! The loss of your whole fortune would have been trifling to me; but how can I reconcile myself to this mangling of your figure-Let me turn the tables on you for moment-Suppose now, colonel, that I had been so unfortunate as to have lost a leg and an eye, should you, d'ye think, have retained your affection inviolable for me.

Tam. You are a villain, Sir!-Withdraw. Bell. Oh heavens! here will be murder-Don't stir, I beg you, Sir.

Flo. O never fear me, Madam; I am not such poltroon as to contend with that gentleman-Do you think I would set my strength and skill against a poor blind man, and a cripple?

Tam. Follow me, Sir; I'll soon teach you to use your own legs.

Flo. Oh, the sturdy beggar! stir your stumps and begone; here's nothing for you, fellow! Tam. Villain!

Flo. Poor man!
Tam. Scoundrel!

Flo. Prithee, man, don't expose yourself.
Tam. Puppy!

Flo. Poor wretch!

Em. What, quarrel before ladies! Oh, for shame, colonel!

Tam. This is beyond all sufferance. I can contain no longer-Know then, Madam, [To EMILY.] to your utter confusion, I am not that mangled thing which you imagine me-You may see Madam- [Resuming his natural manner Em. Bell. Flo. Ha, ha, ha, ha! [Laughing violently.

Em. A wonderful cure of lameness and blindness-Your case is truly curious, Sir;—and attested by three credible witnesses-Will you give us leave to print it in the public papers?

Tam. Madam, Madam!

Flo. I think the story would make a figure in the Philosophical Transactions. Tam. Sir!

Tam. False, false woman!-Have a care, Emily! have a care I say, or you'll destroy your fame and happiness for ever. Consider what you are doing, ere you make a final resolution-You'll repent your inconstancy, I tell you beforehand-minuet upon my soul, you will-you'll have more reason to repent it, than you can possibly imagine.

Em. Why will you oblige me now to say shocking things to you? It goes against me to tell you so, but I can't even see you now without horror; nay, was I even, from a vain point of honour, to adhere to my engagements with you, I could never conquer my disgust. It would be a most unnatural connection. Would not it, Captain Johnson?

Tam. Hell! 'sdeath! confusion!-How steadily she persists in her perfidy! Madam! Madam!-I shall choke with rage-But one word, and I am gone for ever-for ever, for ever, Madam! Em. What would you say, Sir.

Will you dance a

Bell. A pretty leg, indeed. with me, colonel? Em. Your wounds are not mortal, I hope, colonel.

Tam. No, Madam! my person, I thank Heaven, is still unhurt. I have my legs, both legs, Madam; and I will use them to transport me as far as possible from so false a woman-I have my eyes, too-my eyes, Madam-but they shall never look on you again, but as the most faithless and ungrateful of your sex.

Em. If I'm not surprised how he could act it so well! Pray, let us see you do it over again, colonel-How was it, eh? [Mimicking.] hip-hophip-hop, like Prince Volscious, I think.

Tam. I took that method, Madam, to try your truth, constancy, and affection. I have found you void of all those qualities, and shall have reason to rejoice at the effect of my experiment as long as I live.

Tam. Tell me then-and tell me truly have Tot you received the addresses of that gentleman? Em. He has honoured me with them, I confess, Sir; and every circumstance is so much in Em. If you meant to separate yourself from his favour, that I could have no manner of objec-me, you have indeed taken an excellent method. tion to him, but my unfortunate engagements to And a mighty proof you have given of your own you-But since your ill fortune has invincibly affection, truly! Instead of returning, after an divorced us from each other, I think I am at li-anxious absence, with joy into my presence, to berty to listen to him.

come home with a low and mean suspicion, with a narrow jealousy of mind, when the frankness and generosity of my behaviour ought to have engaged you to repose the most unlimited conf

Tam. Matchless confidence!-Mighty well, Madam!-It is not then the misfortunes that have befallen me, but the charms you have found in tnat gentleman, which have altered your incli-dence in me! nation.

Flo. Well, Sir! and what then, Sir! the lady, I presume, is not included, like an old mansionhouse, in the rent-roll of your estate, or the inventory of your goods and chattles. Her hand, I hope, is still her own property, and she may bestow it on you or me, or any body else, just as she pleases.

Tam. The event, Madam, has but well warranted my experiment.

Em. And shall justify it, Sir, still more: for here, before your face, I give my hand to this gentleman;-solemnly declaring, that it shall never be in your power to dissolve the connection formed between us.

Tam. As to you, Madam, your infidelity be

from me.

Fio. I defy you, Sir!

Em. Nothing further remains between

us-

your punishment. But that gentleman shall hear | am ruined past redemption-I have behaved most extravagantly, both to your lady and Emily. 1 shall never be able to look them in the face again. Belf. Ay, ay, I foresaw this. Did not Ï tell you that you would expose yourself confoundedly? -However, I'll be an advocate for you-my Florival shall be an advocate for you; and I make no doubt but you will be taken into favour again. Em. Does he deserve it, major?

leave me, Sir!

Tam. I am gone, Madam! and so help me Heaven, never, never to return- [Going.

Belford! oh!

Enter MAJOR Belford.

Belf. Why, Madam, I can't say much for him

on your goodness.

Flo. He's a true penitent, I see, Madam, and I'll answer for it, he loves you to excess. Nay, look on him.

Belf. How! going in a passion ?-Hold, Tam--or myself either, faith-We must rely entirely per-All in confusion !-I thought so—and came to set matters to rights again. Flo. What do I see! Major Belford!-Major [Faints. Belf. Ha, my name, and fainting? What can this mean? [Runs and takes her in his arms.] By heavens, a woman! May I hope that -Hold, she recovers-It is, it is she! my dear Florival herself!-and we shall still be happy.

Tam. Belford's Belleisle lady, as I live!-My rival a woman! I begin to feel myself very ridicalous.

Belf. What wonder, my love, has brought you hither, and in this habit?

Flo. Oh, Sir, I have a long story to relate. At present, let it suffice to say, that that lady's brother has been the noblest of friends to me; and she herself this morning generously vouchsafed to take me under her protection.

At my

Belf. I am bound to them for ever. return I found letters from your father, who, supposing you was in England with me, wrote to acquaint me that he was inconsolable for your loss, and that he would consent to our union if I would but assure him that you was safe and well. The next post shall acquaint him of our good fortune. Well, Tamper, am not I a lucky fellow? Tam. Oh, Belford! I am the most miserable dog in the world.

Belf. What, have you dropped your mask, I see-you're on your legs again-I met Prattle in the street-He stopped his chariot to speak to me about you, and I found that he had blown you up, and discovered to the ladies that you was returned quite unhurt from the Havannah.

Tam. Did that coxcomb betray me? That accounts for all Emily's behaviour-Oh, major, I

Em. Was it well done, colonel, to cherish a mean distrust of me? to trifle with the partiality I had shown to you? and to endeavour to give me pain, merely to secure a poor triumph over my weakness to yourself?

Tam. I am ashamed to answer you.

Bell. Ashamed! and so you well may indeed. Tam. I see my absurdity; all I wish is to be laughed at, and forgiven.

Belf. A very reasonable request. Come, Madam, pity the poor fellow, and admit him to your good graces again.

Flo. Let us prevail on you, dear Madam.
Em. Well; now I see he is most heartily mor-
tified, I am half inclined to pity him.
Tam. Generous Emily!

Em. Go, you provoking wretch! 'tis more than
you deserve."
[TO TAMPER
Tam. It shall be the future study of my life to
deserve this pardon.-[Kissing her hand.]—Bel
ford, I give you joy-Madam-[ TO FLORIVAL.]—-
I have behaved so ill to you, I scarce know how
to give you joy as I ought.

Belf. Come, come, no more of this at presentNow we have on all sides ratified the preliminaries, let us settle the definitive treaty as soon as we can-We have been two lucky fellows, Tanıper-I have been fortunate in finding my mistress, and you as fortunate in not losing yours.

Tam. So we have, Belford; and I wish every brave officer in his majesty's service had secured to himself such comfortable winter-quarters, as we have, after a glorious campaign. Exeunt

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GUSTAVUS VASA:

OR,

THE DELIVERER OF HIS COUNTRY.

AN HISTORICAL TRAGEDY,

IN FIVE ACTS.

BY HENRY BROOKE, Esq.

REMARKS.

THIS tragedy was accepted at Drury-Lane theatre in 1739, and, during the rehearsals, excited great expecta tions of success; a prohibitory order from the lord chamberlain, however, deprived the author of his expected aurels on the stage, but rendered his production so popular, that, on its publication the same year, not less than a thousand pounds are said to have been the clear produce. The present ministry allowed its representation in 1805, when Master Betty attempted the character of Gustavus.

The genuine lover of liberty will here meet with those noble principles of action which elevate humanity and have expanded the energies of free minds in free countries; but it cannot be concealed, that the play is deficient in interest, bustle, and incidents for the prevailing dramatic taste. The following extract will furnish the plot :"Gustavus I. king of Sweden, known by the name of Gustavus Vasa, was born in 1490. He was the son of Erie Vasa, Duke of Gripsholm, and descended from the ancient kings of Sweden. Christiern II. king of Denmark, having got Gustavus into his hands, in the war in which he reduced Sweden, kept him several years prisoner at Copen hagen. He, at length, made his escape, and having prevailed on the Dalecarlians to throw off the Danish yoke, he put himself at their head."—Modern Universal History.

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ACT I.

Mrs. H. Johnston. ..Mrs. St. Ledger. .Miss Brunton.

Mrs. Humphries

Behold him stretch'd, where reigns eternal night,

SCENE I.—The inside of the Copper Mines in The flint his pillow, and cold damps his cov ring

Dalecarlia

Enter ANDERSON and ARNOLDUS.-GUSTAVUS

lying down in the distance.

And. You tell me wonders.

Arn. Soft, behold, my lord

Yet, bold of spirit, and robust of limb,
He throws inclemency aside, nor feels
The lot of human frailty.

And. What horrors hang around! the savage

race

Ne'er hold their den but where some glimmering

[Points to GUSTAVUS.

ray

May bring the cheer of morn-What then is he?
His dwelling marks a secret in his soul,
And whispers somewhat more than man about
him.

Arn. Draw but the veil of his apparent wretchedness,

And you shall find, his form is but assum'd,
To hoard some wondrous treasure, lodg'd within.
And. Let him bear up to what thy praises speak
him,

And I will win him, spite of his reserve,
Bind him with sacred friendship to my soul,
And make him half myself.

Arn. 'Tis nobly promised;

For worth is rare, and wants a friend in Sweden;
And yet I tell thee, in her age of heroes,
When, nursed by freedom, all her sons grew great,
And every peasant was a prince in virtue,
I greatly err; or this abandon'd stranger
Had stepp'd the first for fame-though now he
seeks

To veil his name, and cloud his shine of virtues;
For there is danger in them.

And. True, Arnoldus.

Were there a prince throughout the sceptred globe,
Who search'd out merit for its due preferment,
With half that care our tyrant seeks it out
For ruin,-happy, happy were that state,
Beyond the golden fable of those pure
And earliest ages--

When came this stranger hither?

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And. Say-ur.fold.

Gust. Art thou a soldier, a chief lord in Sweden, And yet a stranger to thy country's voice, That loudly calls the hidden patriot forth! But what's a soldier? What's a lord in Sweden? All worth is fled, or fallen-nor has a life Been spar'd, but for dishonour; spar'd to breed More slaves for Denmark, to beget a race Of new-born virgins for th' unsated lust Of our new masters.-Sweden! thou'rt no more! Queen of the North! thy land of liberty, Thy house of heroes, and thy seat of virtues, Is now the tomb where thy brave sons lie speechless.

And. O 'tis true.

But wherefore? To what purpose?

Gust. Think of Stockholm!

When Christiern seiz'd upon the hour of peace,
And drench'd the hospitable floor with blood;
Then fell the flower of Sweden, mighty names!
Her hoary senators, and gasping patriots!
The tyrant spoke, and his licentious band
Of blood-train'd ministry were loos'd to ruin.
Husbands, sons, and sires,

With dying ears drank in the loud despair
Of shrieking chastity. Is there a cause for this?
For sin without temptation, calm, cool villany,
Deliberate mischief, unimpassion'd lust,

Arn. Six moons have chang'd upon the face of And smiling murder? Lie thou there, my soul,

night,

Since here he first arriv d, in servile weeds,
But yet of mien majestic. I observ'd him,
And, ever as I gaz'd, some nameless charm,
A wondrous greatness, not to be conceal'd,
Broke through his form, and aw'd my soul before
him.

Amid these mines he earns the hireling's portion;
His hands out-toil the hind, while on his brow
Sits patience, bath'd in the laborious drop
Of painful industry.-I oft have sought,
With friendly tender of some worthier service,
To win him from his temper; but he shuns
All offers, yet declin'd with graceful act,
Engaging beyond utt'rance; and at eve,
When all retire to some domestic solace,
He only stays, and, as you see, the earth
Receives him to her dark and cheerless bosom.
And. Has no unwary moment e'er betray'd
The labours of his soul, some fav'rite grief,
Whereon to raise conjecture?

Arn. I saw, as some bold peasants late deplor'd
Their country's bondage, sudden passion seiz'd,
And bore him from his seeming ease; strait his
Was turn'd to terror, ruin fill'd his
eye,
And his proud step appear'd to awe the world:
But sadness soon usurp'd upon his brow,
And the big tear roll'd graceful down his visage.
And. Forbear-he rises-Heavens, what ma-
jesty!

GUSTAVUS comes forward. Your pardon, stranger, if the voice of virtue, If cordial amity from man to man, And somewhat that should whisper to the soul, To seek and cheer the sufferer, led me hither, Impatient to salute thee. Be it thine Alone to point the path of friendship out; And my best power shall await upon thy fortunes. Gust. There is a wondrous test,

Sleep, sleep upon it, image not the form
Of any dream but this, 'till time grows pregnant,
And thou canst wake to vengeance.
And. Thou'st greatly mov'd me.

tears start forth.

Ha! thy

Yes, let them flow, our country's fate demands them;

But wherefore talk of vengeance? 'Tis a word Should be engraven on the new-fallen snow, Where the first beam may melt it from observance. Vengeance on Christiern? Norway and the Dane, The sons of Sweden, all the peopled North, Bend at his nod! my humbler boast of power Meant not to cope with crowns.

Gust. Then what remains

Is briefly this: your friendship has my thanks,
But must not my acceptance:-no--
First sink, thou baleful mansion, to the centre!
And be thy darkness doubled round my head;
Ere I forsake thee for the bliss of paradise,
To be enjoy'd beneath a tyrant's sceptre.

And. Nor I, while I can hold it; but, alas!
That is not in our choice.

Gust. Why? where 's that power, whose engines are of force

To bend the brave and virtuous man to slavery?
He has debauch'd the genius of our country,
And rides triumphant, while her captive sons
Await his nod! the silken slaves of pleasure,
Or fetter'd in their fears.

And. No doubt, a base submission to our wrongs
May well be term'd a voluntary bondage;
But, think, the heavy hand of power is on us;
Of power, from whose imprisonment and chains
Not all our free-born virtue can protect us

Gust. 'Tis there you err, for I have felt their

force;

And had I yielded to enlarge these limbs, Or share the tyrant's empire, on the term Which he propos'd-I were a slave indeed.

No-in the deep and poisonous damp of dungeons, The soul can rear her sceptre, smile in anguish, And triumph o'er oppression.

And. O glorious spirit! think not I am slack To relish what thy noble scope intends; But then the means, the peril, and the consequence !

Great are the odds, and who shall dare the trial?
Gust. I dare.

O wert thou still that gallant chief,
Whom once I knew! I could unfold a purpose,
Would make the greatness of thy heart to swell,
And burst in the conception.

And. Give it utterance.-You say you know me;
But give a tongue to such a cause as this,
And, if you hold me tardy in the call,
You know me not.-But thee, I've surely known;
For there is somewhat in that voice and form,
Which has alarm'd my soul to recollection;
But, 'tis as in a dream, and mocks my reach.
Gust. Then name the man, whom it is death
to know,

Or, knowing, to conceal-and I am he.

Gust. I know they're brave.

Of such the time has need, of hearts like yours, Faithful and firm, of hands inur'd and strong, For we must ride upon the neck of danger, And plunge into a purpose big with death.

And. Here let us kneel, and bind us to thy side. Gust. No, hold,-if we want oaths to join us, Swift let us part, from pole to pole asunder. A cause like ours is its own sacrament; Truth, justice, reason, love, and liberty, Th' eternal links that clasp the world, are in it; And he, who breaks their sanction, breaks all law,

And infinite connection.
Arn. True, my lord.

And. And such the force I feel.

Arv. And I.

Arn. And all.

Gust. Know, then, that ere our royal Stenon fell, While this my valiant cousin and myself By chains and treachery lay detained in Denmark, Upon a dark and unsuspected hour

The bloody Christiern sought to take my head.

And. Gustavus! Heavens! 'Tis he, 'tis heI escap'd, himself!

Enter ARVIDA, speaking to a SERVANT.

retire.

Are. I thank you, friend, he 's here, you may [Exit SERVANT. And. Good morning to my noble guest, you're early! [GUSTAVUS walks apart. Arv. I come to take a short and hasty leave: 'Tis said, that from the mountain's neighb'ring brow

The canvass of a thousand tents appears,
Whitening the vale-Suppose the tyrant there;
You know my safety lies not in the interview-
Ha! What is he, who, in the shreds of slavery,
Supports a step, superior to the state
And insolence of ermine?

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Led by a generous arm, and some time lay
Conceal'd in Denmark; for my forfeit head
Became the price of crowns, each port and path
Was shut against my passage, 'till I heard
That Stenon, valiant Stenon, fell in battle,
And freedom was no more. O then what bounds
Had power to hem the desp'rate? I o'erpass'd them,
Travers'd all Sweden, thro' ten thousand foes,
Impending perils, and surrounding tongues,
That from himself inquired Gustavus out.
Witness, my country, how I toil'd to wake
Thy sons to liberty! in vain-for fear,
Cold fear, had seiz'd on all.-Here last I came
And shut me from the sun, whose hateful beams
Serv'd but to show the ruins of my country.
When here, my friends, 'twas here at length I

found,

What I had left to look for, gallant spirits,
In the rough form of untaught peasantry.

And. Indeed they once were brave; our Dalecarlians

Have oft been known to curb despotic sway: And, as their only wealth has been their liberty, From all th' unmeasur'd graspings of ambition They've held that gem untouch'd—though now 'tis fear'd

Gust. It is not fear'd—I say, they still shall

hold it.

I've search'd these men, and find them like the soil,
Barren without, and to the eye unlovely,
But they've their minds within; and this the day,
In which I mean to prove them.

Arn. O Gustavus!

Most aptly hast thou caught the passing hour,
Upon whose critical and fated hinge
The state of Sweden turns.

Gust. And to this hour

I've therefore held me in this darksome womb,
That sends me forth as to a second birth
Of freedom, or through death to reach eternity.
This day, return'd with every circling year,
In thousands pours the mountain peasants forth
Each with his batter'd arms and rusty helm,
In sportive discipline well train'd and prompt
Against the day of peril Thus disguised,
Already have I stirr'd their latent sparks
Of slumb`ring virtue, apt as I could wish
To warm before the lightest breath of liberty

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