To crown my thoughts with acts, be it thought and done:
The castle of Macduff I will surprise,

Seize upon Fife, give to the edge o' the sword
His wife, his babes, and all unfortunate souls
That trace him in his line.

This deed I'll do before this

No boasting like a fool;

purpose cool.

But no more sights!-Where are these gentlemen?

Come, bring me where they are.

SHAKESPEARE.

SCENE FROM DAMON AND PYTHIAS.

Adapted.

A scaffold, with steps ascending to it.-In the back of the stage the gates of a prison.-Executioner with an Axe, and Guards discovered.

Enter DAMOCLES and PROCLES.

Proc. It is a marvelous phantasy, thou speakest of In Dionysius.

Dam.-Yes, his mind is made

Of strange materials, that are almost cast
In contrariety to one another.

The school and camp, in his ambition, make

A strange division: "with the trumpet's call
He blends the languor of the poet's lyre!
The fierce, intrepid captain of the field

ย

Hath often, on the great Athenian stage,

Coped with the mightiest monarchs of the Muse;

And, in mine apprehension, he doth prize

The applauses of that polished populace,

More than the rising shout of victory.

Proc.-" And, over all, that science, which doth hold, Touching the soul and its affections,

Its high discoursing, hath attracted him."
It is his creed, that, in this flesh of ours,
Self ever entertains predominance;
And, to all friendship, he hath ever been
A persevering infidel. For this,
Belike, he tries a strange experiment.
What sayest thou? Will Damon come again?
Dam.-"Our love of life is in the very instinct
Of mere material action, when we do
Even so slight a thing, as wink an eye
Against the wind. Place me a soulless dog
Upon the bare edge of a height, and he

Shall shudder and shrink back, though none have proved To his capacity that the fall were dangerous."

I hold the thing impossible.

Proc.-He'll not!

Dam.-What, when he feels his pent-up soul abroad, His limbs unfettered, "and the mountain-breeze

Of liberty all around him, and his life

Or death upon his own free choice dependent?" 'Tis visionary!

Proc.-But is there no hope

Of Dionysius' mercy?

Dam.-He'll not give

A second's hundredth part to take a chance in.

"His indignation swells at such a rashness,

That, in its fling of proud philosophy,

Can make him feel so much out-soared and humbled."

What a vast multitude upon the hills

Stretch their long blackening outline in the round

Of the blue heavens!

Proc. They wait the great event.

"Mute expectation spreads its anxious hush

O'er the wide city, that as silent stands

As its reflection in the quiet sea."

Behold, upon the roof what thousands gaze
Toward the distant road that leads to Syracuse.
An hour ago a noise was heard afar,

Like to the pulses of the restless surge;
But as the time approaches, all grows still

As the wide dead of midnight!

[The gates of the prison are flung open, and PYTHIAS is discovered. He advances to the scaffold.

[To the Executioner.] There is no pang in thy

deep wedge of steel.

Nay, sir, you may spare

Yourself the pains to fit me for the block.—

Damon, I do forgive thee!-I but ask

Some tears unto my ashes!

[A distant shout is heard.-Pythias leaps upon the scaffold.

By the gods

[A shout.

A horse and horseman!-Far upon the hill,
They wave their hats, and he returns it—yet
I know him not-his horse is at the stretch!
Why should they shout as he comes on? It is-
No! that was too unlike-but there, now-there!
Oh, life, I scarcely dare to wish for thee;
And yet that jutting rock has hid him from me-
No-let it not be Damon!—he has a wife
And child!-gods!-keep him back!-

Damon.-[Without.] Where is he!*

[Shouts.

DAMON rushes in, and stands for a moment looking round. Ha!

He is alive! untouched! Ha! ha! ha!

[Falls with an hysterical laugh upon the stage.Three loud shouts without.

Pyth. The gods do know I could have died for him! And yet I dared to doubt!—I dared to breathe

The half-uttered blasphemy!

He faints!-How thick

[Damon is raised up.

This wreath of burning moisture on his brow!
His face is black with toil, his swelling bulk

Heaves with swift pantings. Damon, my dear friend!
Damon.-Where am I? Have I fallen from my horse,
That I am stunned, and on my head I feel

A weight of thickening blood!-What has befallen e? The horrible confusion of a dream

Is yet upon my sight. For mercy's sake,

Stay me not back-he is about to die!

Pythias, my friend! Unloose me, villains, or
You'll find the might of madness in mine arm!
[Sees Pythias.] Speak to me, let me hear thy voice!
Pyth. My friend!

Damon.—It pierced my brain, and rushed into my heart!

There's lightning in it!-That's the scaffold-there
The block-the axe-the executioner!

And here he lives!-I have him in my soul!
[Embraces Pythias.] Ha! ha! ha!

Pyth.-Damon!

Damon.-Ha! ha!

I can but laugh!—I cannot speak to thee!
I can but play the maniac, and laugh!

Thy hand!-Oh, let me grasp thy manly hand !—
It is an honest one, and so is mine!

They are fit to clasp each other! Ha! ha! ha!

Pyth.-Would that my death could have preserved thee!

Damon-Pythias,

Even in the very crisis to nave come,—
To have hit the very forehead of old time!
By heavens! had I arrived an hour before,
I should not feel this agony of joy—

This triumph over Dionysius!

Ha! ha! But did'st thou doubt me? Come, thou did'st— Own it, and I'll forgive thee.

Pyth. For a moment.

Damon.-Oh, that false slave-Pythias, he slew my horse,

In the base thought to save me! I would have killed

him,

And to a precipice was dragging him,

When, from the very brink of the abyss,
I did behold a traveler afar,

Bestriding a good steed-I rushed upon him,
Choking with desperation, and yet loud
In shrieking anguish, I commanded him
Down from his saddle: he denied me-but
Would I then be denied? as hungry tigers
Clutch their poor prey, I sprang upon his throat:
Thus, thus, I had him, Pythias!
Your horse, your horse, I cried.

Come, your horse,
Ha! ha! ha!

Dion. [Advancing and speaking in a loud tone.] Damon !

Damon. [Jumping on the scaffold.] I am here upon the scaffold! look at me:

I am standing on my throne; as proud a one
As yon illumined mountain, where the sun
Makes his last stand; let him look on me too;