BUSIRIS,

KING OF EGYPT.

A Tragedy.

ACTED AT THE THEATRE-ROYAL IN DRURY-LANE,

1719.

O triste planè acerbumque funus! O morte ipsâ mortis tempus indignius! Jam destinata erat egregio juveni, jam electus nuptiarum dies; quod gaudium, quo morore mutatum est?

PLIN. Epist.

PROLOGUE

BY A FRIEND.

SPOKEN BY MR. BOOTH.

LONG have you seen the Greek and Roman name,
Assisted by the muse, renew their fame,

While yet unrung those heroes sleep, from whom
Greece form'd her Platos, and her Cæsars Rome.
Such, Egypt, were thy sons! divinely great
In arts, in arms, in wisdom, and in state.
Her early monarchs gave such glories birth,
Their ruins are the wonders of the earth.
Structures so vast by those great kings design'd,
Are but faint sketches of their boundless mind:
Yet ne'er has Albion's scene, though long renown'd,
With the stern tyrants of the Nile been crown'd.
The tragic muse in grandeur should excel,
Her figure blazes, and her number swell.
The proudest monarch of the proudest age,
From Egypt comes to tread the British stage:
Old Homer's heroes, moderns are to those
Whom this night's venerable scenes disclose.

Here pomp and splendor serves but to prepare:

To touch the soul is our peculiar care;

By just distress soft pity to impart,

And mend your nature, while we move your heart;
Nor would these scenes in empty words abound,
Or overlay the sentiment with sound.

When passion rages, eloquence is mean;
Gestures and looks best speak the moving scene.
Ye shining Fair! when tender woes invite
To pleasing anguish and severe delight,
By your affliction you compute your gain,
And rise in pleasure as you rise in pain.
If then just objects of concern are shown,
And your hearts heave with sorrows not your own,
Let not the gen'rous impulse be withstood,
Strive not with nature; blush not to be good:
Sighs only from a nobler temper rise,

And 'tis your virtue swells into your eyes.

NICANOR, Father of Mandane,.....- Mr. MILLS.

BUSIRIS,

KING OF EGYPT.

ACT I. SCENE I.

Enter PHERON and SYPHOCES.

SYPHOCES.

IF glorious structures, and immortal deeds,

Enlarge the thought, and set our souls on fire,
My tongue has been too cold in Egypt's praise,
The queen of nátions, and the boast of times.
Mother of science, and the house of gods!
Scarce can I open wide my lab'ring mind
To comprehend the vast idea, big

With arts and arms, so boundless in their fame.

PHERON.

Thrice happy land! did not her dreadful king,
Far-fam'd Busiris, whom the world reveres,
Lay all his shining wonders in disgrace,
By cruelty and pride?

SYPHOCES.

By pride indeed; He calls himself the Proud, and glories in it, Nor would exchange for Jupiter's Almighty. Have we not seen him shake his silver reins