MAHOME T.

Had'st thou heard a moment,

Thou might't have liv'd, for thou hadft fpar'd Irene.

CARAZA.

I heard her, pitied her, and wifh'd to fave her.

MAHOMET.

And wifh'd-be ftill thy fate to wish in vain.

CARAZ A.

I heard and foften'd, till Abdalla brought
Her final doom, and hurried her deftruction.

MAHOME T.

Abdalla brought her doom! Abdalla brought it! The wretch, whose guilt declar'd by tortur'd Cali, My rage and grief had hid from my remembrance: Abdalla brought her doom!

HASAN.

Abdalla brought it,

While yet she begg'd to plead her caufe before thee.

MAHOMET.

O feize me, Madness-Did fhe call on me!

I feel, I fee the ruffian's barb'rous ragė.

He feiz'd her melting in the fond appeal,

And stopp'd the heav'nly voice that call'd on me.
My fpirits fail, awhile fupport me, Vengeance-
Be juft, ye flaves; and, to be just, be cruel;
Contrive new racks, imbitter ev'ry pang,
Inflict whatever treafon can deferve,

Which murder'd innocence that call'd on me.

[Exit Mahomet; Abdalla is dragged off.

SCENE

SCENE XIII.

HASAN, CARAZA, MUSTAPHA, MURZA.

MUSTAPHA TO MURZA.

What plagues, what tortures, are in ftore for thee,
Thou fluggish idler, dilatory flave!

Behold the model of confummate beauty,
Torn from the mourning earth by thy neglect !

MURZA.

Such was the will of Heav'n-A band of Greeks That mark'd my courfe, fufpicious of my purpose, Rufh'd out and feiz'd me, thoughtless and unarm'd, Breathlefs, amaz'd, and on the guarded beach Detain'd me till Demetrius fet me free.

MUSTAPHA.

So fure the fall of greatnefs rais'd on crimes!
So fix'd the juftice of all-confcious Heav'n!
When haughty guilt exults with impious joy,
Mistake shall blast, or accident destroy;
Weak man with erring rage may throw the dart,
But Heav'n fhall guide it to the guilty heart.

M

EPILOGUE.

ARRY a Turk! a haughty, tyrant king! Who thinks us women born to dress and fing To please his fancy !-fee no other man!Let him perfuade me to it-if he can : Befides, he has fifty wives; and who can bear To have the fiftieth part her paltry share?

'Tis true, the fellow 's handsome, strait, and tall; But how the devil should he please us all! My fwain is little-true-but, be it known, My pride's to have that little all my own. Men will be ever to their errors blind, Where woman's not allow'd to speak her mind ; I swear this Eastern pageantry is nonsense,

And for one man-one wife 's enough of conscience.

In vain proud man ufurps what's woman's due For us alone, they honour's paths pursue: Infpir'd by us, they glory's heights afcend; Woman the fource, the object, and the end. Tho' wealth, and pow'r, and glory, they receive, These all are trifles to what we can give.

For us the statesman labours, hero fights,

Bears toilsome days, and wakes long tedious nights ; And, when bleft peace has filenc'd war's alarms, Receives his full reward in beauty's arms.

PROLOGUE,

SPOKEN by Mr. GARRICK, APRIL 5, 1750,

Before the MASQUE of COMUS.

Acted at DRURY-LANE THEATRE, for the Benefit of MILTON'S Grand-Daughter *.

Y

E patriot crowds, who burn for England's fame,
Ye nymphs, whose bofoms beat at Milton's name,
Whose gen'rous zeal, unbought by flatt'ring rhymes,
Shames the mean penfions of Auguftan times,
Immortal patrons of fucceeding days,
Attend this prelude of perpetual praise ;
Let wit, condemn'd the feeble war to wage
With close malevolence, or publick rage,
Let study, worn with virtue's fruitless lore,
Behold this theatre, and grieve no more.
This night, diftinguifh'd by your finiles, fhall tell
That never Britain can in vain excel;
The flighted arts futurity shall trust,
And rifing ages haften to be juft.

At length our mighty bard's victorious lays
Fill the loud voice of univerfal praise;
And baffled fpite, with hopeless anguish dumb,
Yields to renown the centuries to come;
With ardent hafte each candidate of fame,
Ambitious, catches at his tow'ring name;
He fees, and pitying fees, vain wealth bestow
Those pageant honours which he fcorn'd below,
While crowds aloft the laureat buft behold,

Or trace his form on circulating gold.