or force enough to engage their fpectators, for five acts together, by a fimple action, fupported by the violence. of paffions, the beauty of fentiments, and the nobleness of expreffion.'-I would not be understood to mean that all these things are to be found in my performance: I only fhew the reader what I aimed at, and how I would have pleafed him, had it been in my power.

As to the character of Sophonifba; in drawing it, I have confined myself to the truth of hiftory. It were an affront to the age, to fuppofe fuch a character out of nature; efpecially in a country which has produced fo many great examples of public fpirit and heroic virtues, even in the fofter fex: and I had destroyed her character intirely, had I not marked it with that ftrong love to her country, difdain of fervitude, and inborn averfion to the Romans, by which all hiftorians have diftinguished her. Nor ought her marrying Mafiniffa, while her former hufband was still alive, to be reckoned a blemish in her character. For, by the laws both of Rome and Carthage, the captivity of the husband diffolved the marriage of courfe; as among us impotence, or adultery: not to mention the reasons of a moral and public nature, which I have put into her own mouth in the fcene between her and Syphax.

This is all I have to fay of the play itself. But I cannot conclude without owning my obligations to thofe concerned in the reprefentation. They have indeed done me more than justice. Whatever was defigned as amiable and engaging in Mafiniffa fhines out in Mr. Wilks's action. Mrs. Oldfield, in the character of Sophonisba, has excelled what, even in the fondness of an author, I could either wifh or imagine. The grace, dignity, and happy variety of her action have been univerfally applauded, and are truly admirable.

PRO.

PROLOGUE.

By a FRIEND.

WHEN learning, after the long Gothic night,
Fair, o'er the western world, renew'd his light,
With arts arifing Sophonifba rofe:

The tragic mufe, returning, wept her woes.
With her th' Italian fcene firft learnt to glow:
And the firft tears for her were taught to flow.
Her charms the Gallic mufes next infpir'd:
Corneille himself faw, wonder'd, and was fir'd.
What foreign theatres with pride have shewn,
Britain, by jufter title, makes her own.
When freedom is the caufe, 'tis hers to fight;
And hers, when freedom is the theme, to write.
For this, a British author bids again
The heroine rife, to grace the British scene.
Here, as in life, he breathes her genuine flame:
She asks what befom has not felt the fame?
Afks of the British youth Is filence there?
She dares to afk it of the British fair.

To-night, our home-fpun author would be true,
At once, to nature, hiftory, and you.
Well-pleas'd to give our neighbours due applause,
He owns their learning, but difdains their laws.
Not to his patient touch, or happy flame;
'Tis to his British heart he trufts for fame.
If France excel him in one free-born thought,
The man, as well as poet, is in fault.

Nature! informer of the poet's art,

Whofe force alone can raife or melt the heart,
Thou art his guide; each paffion, every line,
Whate'er he draws to pleafe, muft all be thine.
Be thou his judge: in every candid breast,
Thy filent whifper is the facred teft.

DRA

(9)

SOPHONIS B A.

TH

Enter Sophonifba and Phoeniffa.
SOPHONISBA.

HIS hour, Phoeniffa, this important hour,
Or fixes me a queen, or from a throne
Throws Sophonifba into Roman chains.
Detested thought! For now his utmost force
Collected, defperate, diftrefs'd, and fore
From battles loft; with all the rage of war,
Ill-fated Syphax makes his laft effort.
But fay, thou partner of my hopes and fears,
Phoeniffa, fay; while, from the lofty tower,
Our straining eyes the field of battle fought,
Ah, thought you not that our Numidian troops
Gave up the broken field, and scattering fled,
Wild o'er the hills, from the rapacious fons
Of still triumphant Rome?

Phon. The dream of care!

And think not, Madam, Syphax can refign,
But with his ebbing life, in this last field,
A crown, a kingdom, and a queen he loves
Beyond ambition's brightest wish; for whom,
Nor mov'd by threats, nor bound by plighted faith,
He fcorn'd the Roman friendship (that fair name
For flavery) and from th' engagements broke
Of Scipio, fam'd for every winning art,
The towering genius of recover'd Rome.

Soph. Oh, name him not! These Romans fir my blood
To too much rage. I cannot bear the fortune
Of that proud people.Said you not, Phoeniffa,
That Syphax lov'd me; which would fire his battle,
And urge him on to death or conquest? True,

He