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Scou'ring the watch grows out-of-fashion wit:
Now we set up for tilting in the pit,
W! here 'tis agreed by bullies, chicken-hearted,
To fright the ladies first, and then be parted,
A fair attempt bas twice or thrice becn made,
To hire night-murd'rers, and make death a trade,
When murder's out, what vice can we advance ?
Unless the new-found pois'ning trick of France :
And when their art of rats-bane we have got,
By way of tbanks, we'll fend them o'er our plot.

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Leonora, Queen of
Arragon,

Mrs. Yatesa Mrs. Hartley Teresa, woman to Leonora,

Mrs. Bennet. Mrs. Poussin. Elvira, wife ofGomez, Mrs. Cibber. Mrs. Mattocks.,

THE

Τ Η Ε

SPANISH FRY AR.

The lines distinguished by inverted comas, stbus,' are omitted in the

representation.

.

1

А. ст I. Alphonso and Pedro meet, with Soldiers on each side,

Drums, &c.

ALPHONSO.
TAND! give the word.
Ped. The

queen of Arragon
Alph. Pedro ;-how goes the night?
Ped. She wears apace.
Alph. Then welcome, day-light; 'we shall have warm
The Moor will gage

{work on't ; His utmost forces on this next assault, To win a queen and kingdom.

Ped. Pox o'this lion-way of wooing, though: Is the queen stirring yet?

Alph. She has not been a-bed, but in her chapel
All night devoutly watch'd, and brib'd the saints
With vows for her deliverance.

Ped. Oh, Alphonso,
I fear they come too late : her father's crimes
Sit heavy on her, and weigh down her prayers.
A crowu usurp'd, a lawful king deposid,
In bondage held, debarr’d the common light;
His children murder'd, and his friends destroy'd;
What can we less expect than what we feel?
And what we fear will follow.
Alph, Heav'n avert it,

Ped.

Ped. Then heav'n must not be heav'n. Judge the event By what has palsd. Th' ufurper 'joy'd not long His il!-got crown! 'Tis true, he dy'd in peace : (Unriddle that, ye Pow's ;) bút left his daughter, Our prefent queen, engag'd upon his death-bed, To marry with young Bertran, whose curs'd father Had help'd to make him great. Hence, you well know, this fatal war arose; Because the Moor Abdallah, with whose troops Th' usurper gain a the kingdom, was refusa, And, as an infidel, his love despis?d.

Alph. Well, we are foldiers, Pedro, and, like lawyers, Plead for our pay.

Ped. A good cause would do well though;
It gives my sword an edge. You see this Bertran
Has now three times been beaten by the Moors*:
What hope we have is in young Torrismond,
Your brother's son.

Alph. He's a successful warrior,
• And has the soldiers hearts. Upon the skirts
• Of Arragon our squander'd troops he rallies :'
Our watchmen from the tow'rs with longing eyes
Expect his swift arrival.
Ped. It must be swift, or it will come too late,
Alpb. No more: -Duke Bertran.

Enter Bertran attended. Bert. Relieve the centries that have warch'd all night, [To Ped,] Now, Colonel, have you dispos’d your men, That you stand idle here?

Ped. Mine are drawn off,
To take a short repose.

Bert. Short let it be,
For, from the Moorish camp, this hour and more,
There has been heard a distant humming noise,
Like bees difturb'd, and arming in their hives.
What courage in our foldiers ? Speak! what hope?

Ped. As much as when phylicians fhake their heads, And bid their dying patient think of heaven. • Our walls are thinly mann'd: our best men flain : • The reft, an heartless number, spent with watching, • And harrass'd out with duty.' Bert. Good-night all then.

Ped.

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Ped. Nay, for my part, 'tis but a single life
I have to lose : I'll plant my colours down
In the mid-breach, and by them fix my foot ;
Say a short foldier's pray'r, to spare the trouble
Of
my

few friends above; and then expect The next fair buller.

Alph. Never was known a night of such distraction; • Noise so confus’d and dreadful ; juftling crowds, · That run, and know not whither; torches gliding, . Like meteors, by each other in the streets.

Ped. I met a reverend, fat, old, gouty fryar ; . With a paunch swoll'n so high, his double chin

Might reft upon't: a true son of the church;
• Fresh colour'd, and well thriven on his trade,
• Came puffing with his greafy bald-pate choir,
. And fumbling o'er his beads, in such an agony,
• He told them false for fear : about his neck
• There hung a wench, the label of his function,
" Whom he took off, i'faith, methought, unkindly.
• It seems the holy stallion durft not score
• Another fin before he left the world."

Enter a Captain.
Capt. To arm's, my Lord, to arms !
From the Moors' camp the noise grows louder still:

Rattling of armour, trumpets, drums and atabals ; . And sometimes peals of thouts that rend the heav'ns, • Like victory: the groans again, and howlings,

Like those of vanquish'd men; but every echo Goes fainter off; and dies in diftant sounds.'

Bert. Some false attack : expect on th other side: One to the gunners on St. Jago's tow'r ; bid them, for Level their cannon lower : on my foul; [thame, They're all corrupted with the gold of Barbary To carry over, and not hurt the Moor.

Enter a second Captain. 2d Capt. My Lord, here's fresh intelligence arriv’d; Our army, led by valiant Torrismond, Is now in hot engagement with the Moors ; 'Tis said, within their trenches.

Bert, I think all fortune is referv'd for him, He might have fent us word though ;

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To pray

And then we could have favour'd his attempt
With fallies from the town

Alph. It could not be :
We were so close block'd

up,

that none could peep Upon the walls and live; but yet 'tis time

Bert. No, 'tis too late; I will not hazard it: On pain of death, let no man dare to sally.

Ped. [Aside.] Oh, envy, envy, how it works within How now! what means this show?

[him ! Alph. 'Tis a procession: The queen is going to the great cathedral,

for our success against the Moors. Ped. Very good : fhe usurps the throne ; keeps the old king in prison; and, at the same time, is praying for a blelling: Oh, religion and roguery, how they go together!

[Shout and a flourish of trumpets. A procession of priests and choristers in white, with tapers,

followed by the queen and ladies, goes over the stage: s'the choristers finging. Look down, ye bless'd above, look down, • Behold our weeping matrons tears,

"Behold our tender virgins fears, . And with success our armies crown. ! Look down, ye bless'd above, look down :

• Oh, fave us, save us, and our state restore ;

· For pity, pity, pity, we implore ; • For pity, piry, pity, we implore.

[The proceffion goes off, and fout within." Enter Lorenzo, who kneels to Alphonzo. Bert. [To Alph.] A joyful cry; and see your son, Lorenzo : good news, kind Heav'n! Alph. [To Lor.) Oh, welcome, welcome! Is the Gene

ral safe?
How near our army? When shall we be succour'd?
Or, are we succour'd? Are the Moors remov'd ?
Answer these questions first, and then a thousand more ;
Answer them all together.

Lor. Yes, when I have a thousand tongues, I will.
The General's well; his army too is safe
As victory can make them : the Moors' king
Is fafe enough, I warrant him, for one,

AL

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