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Pho. No-on thy life no further.

Cal. What, dost thou frown too!—sure thou know'st me not!

Pho. Not know thee!Yes, too well I know thee

now,

O murd'rous fiend! Why all this waste of blood?
Didst thou not promise-
Cal. Promise!-Insolence!

'Tis well, 'tis well

-for now I know thee too.
Perfidious, mongrel slave! Thou double traitor!
False to thy first and to thy latter vows!
Villain !

Pho. That's well-go on-I swear I thank thee.
Speak it again, and strike it thro' my ear!
A villain; Yes, thou mad'st me so, thou devil!
And mind'st me now what to demand from thee.
Give, give me back my former self, my honour,
My country's fair esteem, my friends, my all-
Thou canst not-O thou robber!--Give me then
Revenge or death! The last I well deserve,
That yielded up my soul's best wealth to thee,
For which accurst be thou, and curst thy prophet!
Cal. Hear'st thou this, Mahomet?—Blaspheming
mouth;

For this thou soon shalt chew the bitter fruit
Of Zacon's tree, the food of fiends below.

Go--speed thee thither

Pushing at him with his Lance, which PHOCY AS puts by, and kills him.

Pho. Go thou first thyself.

Cal. [Falling.] O dog! thou gnaw'st my heart I

False Mahomet!

Is this then my reward- -O

[Dies.

Pho. Thanks to the gods, I have reveng'd my coun

try!

[Exit PHOCYAS.

SCENE II.
SCENE

THE SIEGE OF DAMASCUS.

63

Several Parties of CHRISTIANS and SARACENS pass over the further end of the Stage, fighting. The former are beaten. At last EUMENES rallies them, and makes a stand, then,

Enter ABUDAH, attended.

Abu. Forbear, forbear, and sheath the bloody sword,

Eum. Abudah! is this well?

Abu. No--I must own

You've cause.- -O mussulmans, look here! Be hold,

Where like a broken spear, your arm of war

Is thrown to earth!

Eum. Ha! Caled?

Abu. Dumb and breathless.

Then thus has Heaven chastis'd us in thy fall,
And thee for violated faith! Farewell,
Thou great, but cruel man!

Eum. This thirst of blood
In his own blood is quench'd.
Abu. Bear hence his clay

Back to Damascus. Cast a mantle first
O'er this sad sight: so should we hide his faults-
Now hear, ye servants of the prophet, hear!
A greater death than this demands your tears,
For know, your lord the caliph is no more!
Good Abubeker has breath'd out his spirit
To him that gave it. Yet your Caliph lives,
Lives now in Omar. See, behold his signet,
Appointing me, such is his will, to lead
His faithful armies warring here in Syria.
Alas!-foreknowledge sure of this event
Guided his choice! Obey me, then, your chief.
For you, O christians! know, with speed I came,
On the first notice of this foul design,

Or to prevent it, or repair your wrongs.

Your goods shall be untouch'd, your persons safe,
Nor shall our troops, henceforth, on pain of death,
Molest your march.-If more you ask, 'tis granted.
Eum. Still just and brave! thy virtues would
adorn

A purer faith! Thou, better than thy sect,
That dar'st decline from that to acts of mercy!
Pardon, Abudah, if thy honest heart

Makes us even wish thee ours.

Abu. [Aside.] O Power Supreme!

That mad'st my heart, and know'st its inmost frame, If yet I err, O lead me into truth,

Or pardon unknown error !--Now, Eumenes,

Friends as we may be, let us part in peace.

Exeunt severally.

Enter ARTA MON and EUDOCIA.

Eud. Alas! but is my father safe?

Art. Heaven knows.

I left him just preparing to engage :

When, doubtful of th' event, he bade me haste
To warn his dearest daughter of the danger,
And aid your speedy flight.

Eud. My flight! but whither?

O no-if he is lost

Art. I hope not so.

The noise is ceas'd. Perhaps they're beaten off.

We soon shall know ;

us.

-here's one, that can inform

Enter first OFFICER.

Soldier, thy looks speak well. What says thy tongue? 1 Offi. The foe's withdrawn; Abudah has been here,

And has renew'd the terms. Caled is kill'd

Art. Hold-first thank Heaven for that!

Eud. Where is Eumenes?

1 Offi. I left him well; by his command I came
To search you out: and let you know this news.
I've more; but that-

Art. Is bad, perhaps, so says

This sudden pause. Well, be it so; let's know it,
"Tis but life's checquer'd lot.

1 Offi. Eumenes mourns

A friend's unhappy fall; Herbis is slain ;
A settled gloom seem'd to hang heavy on him,
Th' effect of grief, 'tis thought, for his lost son.
When on the first attack, like one that sought
The welcome means of death, with desperate valour
He press'd the foe, and met the fate he wish'd.

Art. See, where Eumenes comes! What's this?
He seems

To lead some wounded friend- -Alas! 'tis-

[They withdraw to one Side of the Stage.

Enter EUMENES, leading in PHOCYAS, with an Arrow
in his Breast.

Eum. Give me thy wound ! O I could bear it for
thee !

This goodness melts my heart. What, in a moment
Forgetting all thy wrongs, in kind embraces
T'exchange forgiveness thus!

Pho. Moments are few,

And must not now be wasted. O Eumenes,
Lend me thy helping hand a little farther;
O where, where is she?

Eum. Look, look here, Eudocia !

[They advance.

-O what cruel

Behold a sight, that calls for all our tears!
Eud. Phocyas, and wounded!-

hand-

Pho. No 'twas a kind one-Spare thy tears, Eu-

docia !

For mine are tears of joy――

Eud. Is't possible?

Pho. "Tis done the powers supreme have heard

my prayer,

And prosper'd me with some fair deed this day.

I've fought once more, and for my friends, my country.

By me the treacherous chiefs are slain; a while
I stopp'd the foe, till, warn'd by me before,
Of this their sudden march, Abudah came;
But first this random shaft had reach'd my breast.
Life's mingled scene is o'er—'tis thus that Heaven
At once chastises, and, I hope, accepts me.

Eud. What shall I say to thee, to give thee comfort?

Pho. Say only thou forgiv'st me--O, Eudocia! No longer now my dazzled eyes behold thee Thro' passion's mists: my soul now gazes on thee, And sees thee lovelier in unfading charms! Bright as the shining angel host that stood― Whilst I-but there it smarts

Eud. Look down, look down,

Ye pitying powers! and help his pious sorrow! Eum. "Tis not too late, we hope, to give thee help. See! yonder is my tent: we'll lead thee thither; Come, enter there, and let thy wound be dress'd. Perhaps it is not mortal.

Pho. No, not mortal ?

No flattery now. By all my hopes hereafter,
For the world's empire I'd not lose this death!
Alas! I but keep in my fleeting breath

A few short moments, till I have conjur'd you,
That to the world you witness my remorse
For my past errors, and defend my fane.

For know--
――soon as this pointed steel's drawn out,
Life follows thro' the wound.

Eud. What dost thou say?

O touch not yet the broken springs of life!
A thousand tender thoughts rise in my soul,

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