ACT THE FIFTH. SCENE I. An open place in the City. Enter CALED and DARAN meeting. Caled. Soldier, what news? thou look'st as thou wert angry. Dar. And, durst I say it, so, my chief, I am; I've spoke--If it offends, my head is thine, Take it, and I am silent. Cal. No, say on. I know thee honest, and perhaps I guess Dar. Is this, my leader, A conquer'd city?-View yon vale of palms : Dar. Beyond those hills, the place Cal. What hast thou seen? Dar. Why, all Damascus :-All its souls, its life, Its heart blood, all its treasure, piles of plate, Crosses enrich'd with gems, arras and silks, And vests of gold, unfolded to the sun, Cal. How! Dar. 'Tis true. The bees are wisely bearing off their honey, Cal. So forward too! Curse on this foolish treaty ! Dar. Forward--it looks as if they had been forewarn'd. By Mahomet, the land wears not the face Of war, but trade! and thou wouldst swear its merchants Were sending forth their loaded caravans To all the neighb'ring countries. Cal. Dogs infidels ! 'tis more than was allow'd! Dar. And shall we not pursue them-Robbers! thieves ! That steal away themselves, and all they're worth, And wrong the valiant soldier of his due ? Cal. [Aside.] The caliph shall know this-he shall. This is thy coward bargain-I renounce it, Dar. And strip Cal. And kill. Dar. That's well. And yet I fear Abudah's christian friend Cal. If possible, He should not know of this. No, nor Abudah : Their cursed lives, and taints our cause with mercy. Will know it soon-I met him near the gate : Cal. No more, away With thy cold fears-we'll march this very instant, And quickly make this thriftless conquest good: The sword too has been wrong'd, and thirsts for blood. [Exeunt. SCENE II. A Valley full of Tents; Baggage and Harness lying up and down amongst them. The Prospect terminating with Palm Trees and Hills at a Distance. Enter EUMENES, with OFFICERS and ATTENDANTS. Eum. [Entering.] Sleep on-and angels be thy guard!-soft slumber Has gently stole her from her griefs awhile, Let none approach the tent-Are out guards plac'd On yonder hills? [To an OFFICER. Offi. They are. Eum. [Striking his Breast.] Damascus, O-Still art thou here !-Let me intreat you, friends, To keep strict order; I have no command, And can but now advise you. Offi. You are still Our head and leader. We're all prepar'd to follow you. Eum. I thank you. The sun will soon go down upon our sorrows, Meanwhile, each, as he can, forget his loss, 3 Offi. Sir, I have mark'd The camp's extent: 'tis stretch'd quite through the valley. I think that more than half the city's here. Eum. The prospect gives me much relief. I'm My honest countrymen, t'observe your numbers; Alas! what's that?-Prosperity!—a harlot, Hear me, all gracious Heaven, Let me wear out my small remains of life Or, in affliction's hard but wholesome school, And that's more worth than empire. But, O Heaven, It has undone me !-Herbis! where, my friend, Enter HERBIS. Herb. On yonder summit, To take a farewell prospect of Damascus. Herb. No-I've forgot it. All our possessions are a grasp of air: We're cheated, whilst we think we hold them fast: And when they're gone, we know that they were nothing. But I've a deeper wound. Eum. Poor, good old man! 'Tis true-thy son-there thou'rt indeed unhappy. Enter ARTAMON. What, Artamon! art thou here, too? Art. Yes, sir. I never boasted much, Yet I've some honour, and a soldier's pride; Eum. Thou'rt brave and honest. Nay, we'll not yet despair. A time may come, And kindly offers his cool, wholesome draughts, Enter EUDOCIA. My daughter!-wherefore hast thou left thy tent? What breaks so soon thy rest? Eud. Rest is not there, Or I have sought in vain, and cannot find it. There is no rest for us. Eum. Thou art not well. Eud. I would, if possible, avoid myself. I'm better now, near you. Eum. Near me! alas, The tender vine so wreathes its folded arms Around some falling elm-It wounds my heart |