1. Friend. O go to then, I knew 'twas not far off: What a world's this! 'Tis right and fair, and he that breathes against it, Thanks, thanks, for this most unexpected nobleness. [The Colonel is disarmed. Cap. Truth never fails her servant, Sir, nor leaves him With the day's shame upon him. 1. Friend. Thou 'st redeemed Thy worth to the same height, 'twas first esteemed. [The insipid levelling morality to which the modern stage is tied down would not admit of such admirable passions as these scenes are filled with. A puritanical obtuseness of sentiment, a stupid infantile goodness, is creeping among us, instead of the vigorous passions, and virtues clad in flesh and blood, with which the old dramatists present us. These noble and liberal casuists could discern in the differences, the quarrels, the animosities of man, a beauty and truth of moral feeling, no less than in the iterately inculcated duties of forgiveness and atonement. With us all is hypocritical meekness. A reconciliation scene (let the occasion be never so absurd or unnatural) is always sure of applause. Our audiences come to the theatre to be complimented on their goodness. They compare notes with the amiable characters in the play, and find a wonderful similarity of disposition between them. We have a common stock of dramatic morality out of which a writer may be supplied without the trouble of copying it from originals within his own breast. To know the boundaries of honor, to be judiciously valiant, to have a temperance which shall beget a smoothness in the angry swellings of youth, to esteem life as nothing when the sacred reputa tion of a parent is to be defended, yet to shake and tremble under a pious cowardice when that ark of an honest confidence is found to be frail and tottering, to feel the true blows of a real disgrace blunting that sword which the imaginary strokes of a supposed false imputation had put so keen an edge upon but lately: to do, or to imagine this done in a feigned story, asks something more of a moral sense, somewhat a greater delicacy of percep tion in questions of right and wrong, than goes to the writing of two or three hackneyed sentences about the laws of honor as opposed to the laws of the land, or a common-place against duelling. Yet such things would stand a writer now a days in far better stead than Captain Ager and his conscientious honor; and he would be considered as a far better teacher of morality than old Rowley or Middleton if they were living.] ALL'S LOST BY LUST. A TRAGEDY. BY WILLIAM ROWLEY. Roderigo, King of Spain, takes the opportunity to violate the Daughter of Julianus, while that old General is fighting his battles against the Moors. Jacinta seeks her Father in the Camp, at the moment of Victory. JULIANUS. Servant. Ser. Sir, here's a Woman (forced by some tide of sorrow) With tears intreats your pity, and to see you. Jul. If any Soldier has done violence to her, Death shall divide him from us: fetch her in. And when I ha' told my conquest to my King, Servant returns with JACINTA veiled. Is this the creature? Serv. Yes, my Lord, and a sad one. Jul. Leave us. A sad one! The down-cast look calls up compassion in me, Hast not a tongue to read thy sorrows out? This book I understand not. Jacin. O my dear father! Jul. Thy father, who has wrong'd him? Jacin. A great Commander. Jul. Under me? Jacin. Above you. Jul. Above me! who's above a general } None but the general of all Spain's armies ; And that's the king, king Roderick: he's all goodness, Jacin. What was Tarquin? Jul. A king, and yet a ravisher. Jacin. Such a sin Was in those days a monster; now 'tis common. Jul. Prithee be plain. Jacin. Have not you, Sir, a daughter? Jul. If I have not, I am the wretched'st man That this day lives; for all the wealth I have Jacin. O for your daughter's sake then hear my woes. Jacin. No, let me kneel still: Such a resemblance of a daughter's duty Jul. And so they do; For whilst I see thee kneeling, I think of my Jacinta. And ne'er felt heat, to spread the summer sweet; Did to itself keep in its own perfumo ; Say that some rapine hand had pluck'd the bloom,* do 1 With ugly blacks of lust: what would you Jacin. Would you in such a case respect degrees? • K 'Cropt this fair Rose," &c.—Otway. Jacin. Say he were noble. Jul. Impossible: the act's ignoble. The Bee can breed No poison, though it suck the juice of hemlock. Jacin. Say a king should do it; were the act less done, By the greater power? does majesty Extenuate a crime? Jul. Augment it rather. Jacin. Say then that Roderick, your king and master, To quit the honors you are bringing home, Had ravish'd your Jacinta. Jul. Who has sent A Fury in this foul-fair shape to vex me? Jul. Ha! Jacin. The king my ravisher. Jul. The king thy ravisher! oh, unkingly sound. He dares not sure; yet in thy sullied eyes I read a tragic story. ANTONIO, ALONZO, and other Officers, enter. Jul. O noble friends, Our wars are ended, are they not? All. They are, Sir. Jul. But Spain has now begun a civil war, And to confound me only. See you my daughter? Alon. On whom? speak loud your wrongs; Give your considerate thoughts the upper hand Revenge them, and we second you. Jacin. Father, dear father. Jul. Daughter, dear daughter. Jacin. Why do you kneel to me, Sir! Jul. To ask thee pardon that I did beget thee. I brought thee to a shame, stains all the way "Twixt earth and Acheron: not all the clouds (The skies' large canopy) could they drown the seas With a perpetual inundation, Can wash it ever out: leave me, I pray. Alon. His fighting passion will be o'er anon, And all will be at peace. Ant. Best in my judgment We wake him with the sight of his won honors. His prisoners to him: such a sight as that Will brook, no sorrow near it. [Falls down. Jul. "Twas a good doctor that prescrib'd that physio. Jacin. Dear father, Recollect your noble spirits: conquer grief, There's reason in thy shame, thou shouldst not see me. |