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Moh. No, old man.

Alc. Propitious heavens? Say, Mohammed, for now
Methinks I could hold endless converse with thee;
Say what's their portion, liberty or bondage?

Moh. Bred in my camp, and tutored in my law,
I hold the balance of their destinies ;

-

And now 't is on the turn their lives or deaths 'Tis thine to say which shall preponderate.

Ale. Mine! can I save them? name the mighty ransomIf I must bear their chains, double the weight, And I will kiss the hand that puts them on; Or if my streaming blood must be the purchase, Drain every sluice and channel of my body; My swelling veins will burst to give it passage!

Moh. I'll tell thee, then: Renounce thy pagan faith, Abolish thy vain gods, and

Alc. Ha!

Moh. Nay, more:

Surrender Mecca to me, quit this temple,

Assist me to impose upon the world,

Thunder my Koran to the gazing crowd,

Proclaim me for their prophet and their king,

And be a glorious pattern of credulity

? Korah's stubborn tribe. These terms performed,
Thy son shall be restored, and Mohammed's self
Will deign to wed thy daughter.

Alc. Hear me, Mohammed:

I am a father, and this bosom boasts

A heart as tender as e'er parent bore.

After a fifteen years of anguish for them,

Once more to view my children, clasp them to me,
And die in their embraces-melting thought!
But were I doomed or to enslave my country,
And help to spread black error o'er the earth,
Or to behold those blood-imbruéd hands

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Deprive me of them both know me, then, Mohammed,
I'd not admit a doubt to cloud my choice -

(Looks earnestly at Mohammed for some time before he speaks.) Farewell!

Moh. Why, fare thee well, then, churlish dotard :
Inexorable fool! Now, by my arms,

I will have great revenge: I'll meet thy scorn
With triple retribution!

(Exii.)

MILLER

THE DRAMATIST.

SIR FRETFUL PLAGIARY -DANGLE

SNEER.

Dan. Sir Fretful, have you sent your play to the manag or can I be of any service to you?

yet?

Sir F. No, no, I thank you; I believe the piece had sufficient recommendation with it. I thank you, though-I sent it to the manager of Covent-Garden theater this morning.

Sneer. I should have thought that it might have been cast (as the actors call it) better at Drury-Lane.

Sir F. Oh! no- never send a play there, while I live (Whispers Sneer.)

hark 'ee!

Sneer. "Writes himself!" I know he does

Sir F. I say nothing-I take away from no man's meritam hurt at no man's good fortune-I say nothing.. - But this I will say, through all my knowledge of life I have observed, that there is not a passion so strongly rooted in the human heart as envy!

Šneer. I believe you have reason for what you say, indeed. Sir F. Besides, I can tell you it is not always so safe to leave a play in the hands of those who write themselves.

Sneer. What, they may steal from them, hey, my dear Plagiary?

Sir F. Steal! to be sure they may; and, serve our best thoughts as gipsies do stolen children, disfigure them to make 'em pass for their own.

Sneer. But your present work is a sacrifice to Melpomene, and he you know never

Sir F. That's no security. A dextrous plagiarist may do anything. Why, sir, for aught I know, he might take out some of the best things in my tragedy, and put them into his own comedy.

Sneer. That might be done, I dare be sworn.

Sir F. And then, if such a person gives you the least hint of assistance, he is apt to take the merit of the whole

Dan. If it succeeds.

Sir F. Ay: but with regard to this piece, I think I can hit that gentleman, for I can safely aver he never read it.

Sneer. I'll tell you how you may hurt him more.

Sir F. How?

Sneer. Declare he wrote it.

Sir F. Plague on 't now, Sneer, I shall take it ill. you want to take away my character as an author.

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Sneer. Then I am sure you ought to be very much obliged

to me.

Sir F. Hey! sir!

Dan. Oh, you know he never means what he says.

Sir F. Sincerely then-you do like the piece?

Sneer. Wonderfully!

Sir F. But come now, there must be something that you think might be mended, hey?- Mr. Dangle, has nothing struck you?

Dan. Why, truly, it is but an ungracious thing, for the most part, to

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Sir F. With most authors it is just so indeed; they are in general strangely tenacious! But, for my part I am never so well pleased as when a judicious critic points out any defect to me; for what is the purpose of showing a work to a friend, if you do not mean to profit by his opinion?

Sneer. Very true. Why, then, though I seriously admire the piece upon the whole, yet there is one small objection; which, you 'll give me leave, I'll mention.

if

Sir F. Sir, you can 't oblige me more.

Sneer. I think it wants incident.

Sir F. You surprise me ! — wants incident?

Sneer. Yes; I own I think the incidents are too few.

Sir F. Believe me, Mr. Sneer, there is no person for whose judgment I have a more implicit deference. But I protest to you, Mr. Sneer, I am only apprehensive that the incidents are too crowded. My dear Dangle, how does it strike you?

Dan. Really, I can 't agree with my friend Sneer. I think the plot quite sufficient; and the first four acts by many degrees the best I ever read or saw in my life. If I might venture to sug gest anything, it is that the interest rather falls off in the fifth. Sir F. Rises, I believe you mean, sir.

Dan. No, I do not, upon my word.

Sir F. Yes, yes, you do, upon my soul; it certainly don't tall off, I assure you. No, no; it don't fall off.

Dan. Well, Sir Fretful, I wish you may be able to get rid as easily of the newspaper criticisms as you do of ours.

Sir F. The newspapers! Sir, they are the most villainous licentious abominable-infernal Not that I ever read them -No I make it a rule never to look into a newspaper.

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Dan. You are quite right; for it certainly must hurt an author of delicate feelings to see the liberties they take.

Sir F. No! quite the contrary; their abuse is, in fact, the best panegyric-I like it of all things. An author's reputation is only in danger from their support.

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Dan. Ay, you mean in a paper of Thursday: it was com pletely ill-natured, to be sure."

Sir F. Oh, so much the better. Ha! ha! ha! I would n't have it otherwise.

do

Dan. Certainly, it is only to be laughed at, for
Sir F. You don't happen to recollect what the fellow said,

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Sneer.

Pray, Dangle, Sir Fretful seems a little anxiousSir F. Oh no!- anxious, - not I, - not the least-I-but one may as well hear, you know.

Dan. Sneer, do you recollect? Make out something.

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Sir F. Well, and pray now might the gentleman say?

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Sneer. Why, he roundly asserts that you have not the slight est invention or original genius whatever; though you are the greatest traducer of all other authors living.

Sir F. Ha ha! ha!-very good!

Sneer. That as to comedy, you have not one idea of your own, he believes, even in your common-place book, where stray jokes and pilfered witticisms are kept with as much method as the leger of the lost and stolen office.

Sir F. Ha ha! ha! - very pleasant!

Sneer. Nay, that you are so unlucky as not to have the skill even to steal with taste: but that you glean from the refuse of obscure volumes, where more judicious plagiarists have been before you; so that the body of your work is a composition of dregs and sediments, like a bad tavern's worst wine.

Sir F. Ha! ha!

Sneer. In your more serious efforts, he says, your bombast would be less intolerable, if the thoughts were ever suited to the expression; but the homeliness of the sentiment stares through the fantastic encumbrance of its fine language, like a clown in one of the new uniforms!

Sir F. Ha! ha!

Sneer. That your occasional tropes and flowers suit the general coarseness of your style, as tambour sprigs would a ground of linsey-woolsey; while your imitations of Shakspeare resemble the mimicry of Falstaff's page, and are about as near the standard of the original.

Sir F. Ha!

Sncer. In short, that even the fine passages you steal are of no service to you; for the poverty of your own language prevents their assimilating; so that they lie on the surface like lumps of marl on a barren moor, encumbering what it is not in their power to fertilize!

Sir F. (after great agitation.) Now another person would be vexed at this.

Sneer. Oh! but I would n't have told you, only to divert you.

Sir F. I know it I am diverted. Ha ha ha! - not the least invention! - Ha ha ha! very good!

Sneer. Yes-no genius! Ha! ha! ha!

very good!

Dan. A severe rogue! Ha! ha! ha! But you are quite right, Sir Fretful, never to read such nonsense.

Sir F. To be sure - for if there is anything to praise, it is a foolish vanity to be gratified at it; and if it is abuse, why one is always sure to hear of it from one rascally good-natured friend or another!

SHERIDAN.

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SCENE 1..

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A mountain with mist. (Gesler seen descending with a hunting pole.)

Gres. Alone- alone! and every step the mist
Thickens around me! On these mountain tracks
To lose one's way, they say, is sometimes death!
What, ho! Holloa! No tongue replies to me!
What thunder hath the horror of this silence!

Cursed slaves, to let me wander from them! Ho-Holloa!
My voice sounds weaker to mine ear; I've not
The strength to call I had; and through my limbs.

Cold tremor runs, and sickening faintness seizes

On my

heart. O heaven, have mercy! Do not see

The color of the hands I lift to thee!

Look only on the strait wherein I stand,

And pity it! Let me not sink — Uphold!

Support me! Mercy!-mercy! (He falls with faintness.) Albert enters, almost breathless from the fury of the storm.)

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