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Haste from this fatal place-I cannot leave her! Whom did I strike? Was this the act of love? Swallow me, earth!-She's silent-Zara's dead! And should I live to see returning day,
Twill show me but her blood!-shew me left joyless,
In a wide, empty world, with nothing round me,
Enter ORASMIN with NERESTAN.
Approach, thou wretch! thou more than cursed!
| The remnant of the royal Christian blood:
Osm. Thy sister!-Lusignan her father!-Se-
Can this be true?-and have I wronged thee,
Sel. Thy love was all the cloud 'twixt her and
-for thou art base, to add
To my already more than bleeding heart.
Ner. Why should a tyrant hesitate on murder? There now remains but mine, of all the blood, Which, through thy father's cruel reign and thine,
IIas never ceased to stream on Syria's sands.
Oras. Alas! my lord, return-whither would grief
Transport your generous heart?-This Chris tian dog
Osm. Take off his fetters, and observe my
To him, and all his friends, give instant liberty: Pour a profusion of the richest gifts
On these unhappy Christians; and, when heaped With varied benefits, and charged with riches, Give them safe conduct to the nearest port. Oras. But, sir
Osm. Reply not, but obey.-
Go-lose no time-farewell-begone-and thou!
If They, who shall hate my crime, shall pity me. Take, too, this poniard with thee, which my.
She was my sister—All that now is left thee, Dispatch-From my distracted heart drain next
Has stained with blood far dearer than my own; Tell them-with this I murdered her I loved; The noblest and most virtuous among women!
The soul of innocence, and pride of truth:
Ner. Direct me, great inspirer of the soul! How should I act, how judge in this distress? Amazing grandeur! and detested rage! Even I, amidst my tears, admire this foe, And mourn his death, who lived to give me woe. [Exeunt omnes.
THE day is far advanced. The chearful sun
Dependent worlds, bestows both life and motion
Yet man, of jarring clements composed,
Rand. Not out of Penryn, sir; but to the strand,
To hear what news from Falmouth, since the
Of wind last night.
O. Wilm. It was a dreadful one.
Rand. Some found it so. A noble ship from
Entering the harbour, run upon a rock,
O. Wilm. What became of those on board her?
Who posts from change to change, from the first 'Tis thought, are perished.
Of his frail being to his dissolution,
To think and to be wretched!-What is life
Or, what the wisdom, whose perfection ends
Mere contradiction all! A tragic farce,
Where hast been, Randal?
O. Wilm. They are past the fear
Rand. I saw her pass the High-street, towards
O. Wilm. She is gone to visit Charlotte. She
In the soft bosom of that gentle maid
Whom more than life she loves! How shun for him,
Whom we shall ne'er see more, the rich and
Who own her charms, and sigh to make her happy!
Since our misfortunes we have found no friend,
And blast her youth with our contagious woe! Who, that had reason, soul, or sense, would bear it
A moment longer? Then this honest wretch!-
How long hast thou been with me?
Rand. Fifteen years.
I was a very child, when first you took me,
O. Wilm. That cannot be revived,
Rand. The whole of my intent
O. Wilm. No more of that: Thou hast served
Without reward; so that account is balanced,
Rand. Nay, I beseech you, sir!
0. Wilm. With my distress,
In perfect contradiction to the world,
Rand. Heaven forbid !
Shall I forsake you in your worst necessity?—
O. Wilm. What! canst thou feed on air? I have not left wherewith to purchase food For one meal more.
Rand. Rather than leave you thus, I'll beg my bread, and live on others bounty, While I serve you.
O. Wilm. Down, down my swelling heart, Or burst in silence! 'Tis thy cruel fate Insults thee by his kindness-He is innocent Of all the pain it gives thee-Go thy ways: I will no more suppress thy youthful hopes Of rising in the world.
Rand. 'Tis true, I'm young,
And never tried my fortune, or my genius, Which may perhaps find out some happy means, As yet unthought of, to supply your wants.
Ŏ. Wilm. Thou torturest me: I hate all obligations
Which I can ne'er return-And who art thou,
Rand. Be not offended, sir, and I will go.
O. Wilm. Farewell!-Stay!
If thou weepest thus, I shall proceed no farther.
Is this the man I thought so wise and just?
Pleasure he loved, but honour was his idol.
SCENE II-Charlotte's House.
Enter CHARLOTTE and MARIA.
Hadst thou died there unseen,
My wounded eyes had been
Saved from the direst scene
[Charlotte finds a letter.
Mar. Why should it break your peace, to hear the sighs
Of honourable love? This letter is
Char. No matter whence; return it back unopened:
I have no love, no charms, but for my Wilmot, Nor would have any.
Mar. Alas! Wilmot's dead!
Or, living, dead to you.
Char. I'll not despair: Patience shall cherish hope;
Nor wrong his honour by unjust suspicion.
Char. What terror and amazement must they Whether he sleeps secure from mortal cares, feel,
Who die by ship-wreck !
Mar. 'Tis a dreadful thought!
Char. Aye! is it not, Maria?-To descend, Living and conscious, to the watery tomb!Alas! had we no sorrows of our own, The frequent instances of others woe Must give a generous mind a world of pain. But you forget you promised me to sing. Though cheerfulness and I have long been stran
Harmonious sounds are still delightful to me.
Mar. Cease, cease, heart-easing tears!
Tears are for lighter woes;
In the deep bosom of the boisterous main,
Can witness, they were made without reserve;
Mar. And did your vows oblige you to support
Char. I weep to think, that I can do no more For their support. What will become of them! The hoary, helpless, miserable pair!
Mar. What I can't praise, you force me to admire,
And mourn for you, as you lament for them.
Char. So pride would tell me,
Mar. You have the heavenly art still to improve Your mind by all events.-But here comes one, Whose pride seems to increase with her misfor