For know, hot prince, I should disdain a throne
I could not fill with honour. Were I guilty,
I should not tremble at thy threatening voice;
No, 't is myself I fear.
Sel. Hear but one witness, and I ask no more,
To clear my name. The witness is a woman.
Her looks are truth; fair, uncorrupted faith
Beams from her eyes. Thou ne'er canst doubt such beauty;
For 't is the' expression of a spotless soul.
Ed. Curse on thy mean luxurious Eastern arts
Of cowardice! Thou wouldst seduce my vengeance.
But I detest all beauty.-Barbarous sultan!
Ah! thou hast murder'd beauty! Thy fell crime-
Haste, Gloucester, haste! In sight of camp and city
Prepare the lists.-Now show thyself a prince,
Or die in shameful tortures like a slave.
Sel. I came not hither or to dread thy wrath,
Or court thy mercy.
Sir, you cannot justly
Glo.
Refuse him his demand. The fervent soul
Of undissembled Innocence, methinks,
Is felt in what he says. First hear this person;
And if she gives not full conviction, then,
Have then recourse to what should always be
The last appeal of reasonable beings,——
Brute force.
Well, then; conduct her hither, sultan.(Selim goes out.) Ah my disorder'd mind! from thought to thought Uncertain toss'd, the wreck of stormy passion! This rage awhile supports me; but I feel It will desert me soon, and I again Shall soon relapse to misery and weakness. O Eleonora! little didst thou think How deeply wretched thy dire gift of life Would make me!
EDWARD, GLOUCESTER, THEALD.
To them SELIM conducting ELEONORA, DARAaxa.
Raise thy eyes, O king of England,
the bright witness of my blameless honour.
Ed. No; beauty shall no more engage my eyes;
It shall no more profane the shrine devoted
To the sweet image of my Eleonora !
Let her declare her knowledge in this matter.
Ele. Will not my Edward bless me with a look?
Ed. What angel borrows Eleonora's voice?—
O thou pale shade of her I weep for ever,
Permit me thus to worship thee!-Thou art,-
Amazing Heaven!-thou art my Eleonora !
My Eleonora's self! my dear, my true,
My living Eleonora!-What,-to whom
Owe I this miracle, this better life?—
Oppressive joy!—owe I my Eleonora?
Ele. To him, that generous prince, who put his life,
His honour, on the desperate risk to save me,
When in the arms of Death. Deprived of voice,
Of motion, and of sense, benumb'd I lay :
My frighted train around me thought me dead,
And fill'd the tent with cries. My heart alone
Still feebly beat; but soon the poison's force
Had driven out life from that its last retreat,
If, in the moment of approaching fate,
He, like my guardian-angel, had not brought
An antidote of wondrous power, by which
Ed. Did he, did he preserve thee? he, whom thus -to thee, my Edward! I have with such inhuman pride insulted?
O blind, O brutish, O injurious Rage!
They, they are wise who, when they feel thy madness,
Seal up their lips. And canst thou, then, forgive me,
Thou who hast o'er me gain'd that noblest triumph,
The triumph of humanity? Thou canst.
"T is easier for the generous to forgive
Than for Offence to ask it.
So harsh a word. More than forgive,-I love
Thy noble heat, thy beautiful disorder.
O! I am too much man, I feel myself
E'er to pretend, with supercilious brow,
Too much the charming force of human passions,
With proud affected virtue, to disdain them.
Ed. How, generous sultan, how shall I requite thee? Here, take thy loved Daraxa, whom I meant
To have restored, when this misfortune happen'd;
But secret-working Heaven ordain'd her stay,
To save us all.
Wert thou the lord of earth,
Thou couldst not give me more!-My dear Daraxa!
Ed. Hence to the camp, my Gloucester: bid the soldiers
Forsake the trenches: let unbounded joy
Reign fearless o'er the mingled camp and city.
Go, tell my faithful soldiers, that their queen,
My Eleonora, lives! a prize beyond
The chance of war to give! She lives to soften
My too imperious temper, and to make them,
To make my people, happy!-O my soul!
What love e'er equall'd thine? O dearest, best!
Pride of thy sex! inimitable Goodness!
Whenever woman henceforth shall be praised
For conjugal affection, men will say,
"There shine the virtues of an Eleonora !"
Transporting bliss! How bountiful is Heaven,
Depressing often but to raise us more!
Let never those despair who follow virtue.
Love, gratitude, divide me.-Once more, sultan,
Forgive me; pardon my mistaken zeal,
That left my country, cross'd the stormy seas,
To war with thee, brave prince, to war with Honour.
Now that my passions give me leave to think,
The hand of Heaven appears in what I suffer'd:
My erring zeal has suffer'd by a zealot.
Sel. It does, O king: and, venerable Christian,
I know thy moderation will excuse me;
But since by ruling Wisdom (who unweigh'd,
Unmeant, does nought) men are so various made,
So various turn'd, that in opinions they
Must blindly think, or take a different way;
In spite of force, since judgment will be free;
Then let us in this righteous mean agree :—
Let holy rage, let persecution cease;
Let the head argue, but the heart be peace;
Let all mankind in love of what is right,
In virtue and humanity, unite!
THESE poets are such fools! The man behind,
Who wrote this play,--a simple soul, I find,—
Believes with all his heart, there was a wife
Who needs would die-to save a husband's life!
He in the printed chronicles has read it :
And true it is,-Sir Richard Baker said it.
Why, what an ass these books do make a man!
Read nature; then believe it,-you who can.
Look round this town: the question is not, whether
Spouse dies for spouse; but, Who will live together?
Of old, they say, a husband was a lover:
But, thank our stars! those foolish days are over.
To such substantial prudence are we come,
We wed-not heart to heart, but-plum to plum.
"What sense? what beauty?" are not now the things:
But, "Can he settle-up to what she brings?”
Yet in this easy, all-forgiving age,
Bear with such moral fooleries on the stage.
Perhaps, too, there may be some gentle soul
Who rather likes to weep-than win a vole;
Who thinks that there are charms in generous love,
And would to Edward Eleonora prove.
FREDERICK PRINCE OF WALES.
THE honour Your Royal Highness has done me, in the protection you was pleased to give to this Tragedy, emboldens me to lay it now at your feet, and beg your permission to publish it under your royal patronage. The favouring and protecting of letters has been, in all ages and countries, one distinguishing mark of a great prince: and that with good reason; not only as it shows a justness of taste and elevation of mind, but as the influence of such a protection, by exciting good writers to labour with more emulation in the improvement of their several talents, not a little contributes to the embellishment and instruction of society, But, of all the different species of writing, none has such an effect upon the lives and manners of men as the dramatic; and therefore that, of all others, most deserves the attention of princes; who, by a judicious approbation of such pieces as tend to promote all public and private virtue, may, more than by any coercive methods, secure the purity of the stage and in consequence thereof greatly advance the morals and politeness of their people. How eminently Your Royal Highness has always extended your favour and patronage to every art and science, and in a particular manner to dra matic performances, is too well known to the world for me to mention it here. Allow me only to wish, that what I have now the honour to offer to Your Royal Highness, may be judged not unworthy of your protection, at least in the sentiments which it inculcates. A warm and grateful sense
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