DRURY-LANE.

TANCRED, Count of Lecce,

MATTEO SIFFREDI, Lord High Chancellor of Sicily,

EARL OSMOND, Lord High Constable
of Sicily,
RODOLPHO, Friend to Tancred, and
Captain of the Guards,

SIGISMUNDA, Daughter of Siffredi, LAURA, Sister of Rodolpho, and Friend to Sigismunda.

Barons, Officers, Guards, &c.
SCENE, the City of Palermo in Italy.

COVENT-GARDEN.

TANCRED, Count of Leece,

MATTEO SIFFREDI, Lord High Chan

cellor of Sicily,

EARL OSMOND, Lord High Constable
of Sicily,

RODOLPHO, Friend to Tancred, and
Captain of the Guards,

Barons, Officers, Guards, &c.

Mr. Farren.

Mr. Macready.

Women. Mrs. Merry.

Mrs. Mountain.

SCENE, the City of Palermo in Italy,

3

TANCRED AND SIGISMUNDA.

ACT I. SCENE I.

The Palace. Enter SIGISMUNDA and LAURA.

Sigismunda.

Ан, fatal day to Sicily! the king

Touches his last moments!

Laura. So 'tis fear'd.

Sig. "The death of those distinguish'd by their station,

"But by their virtue more, awakes the mind "To solemn dread, and strikes a saddening awe: "Not that we grieve for them, but for ourselves, "Left to the toil of life-And yet the best "Are, by the playful children of this world, "At once forgot, as they had never been." Laura, 'tis said, the heart is sometimes charged With a prophetic sadness: such, methinks, Now hangs on mine. The king's approaching death Suggests a thousand fears. What troubles thence May throw the state once more into confusion,

What sudden changes in my father's house

May rise, and part me from my dearest Tancred,
Alarms my thoughts.

Laura. The fears of love-sick fancy!

Perversely busy to torment itself.

But be assured, your father's steady friendship,
Join'd to a certain genius, that commands,
Not kneels to fortune, will support and cherish,
Here in the public eye of Sicily,

This, I may call him, his adopted son,

The noble Tancred, form'd to all his virtues.

Sig. Ah, form'd to charm his daughter !—This fair

morn

Has tempted far the chase. Is he not yet
Return'd?

Laura. No.-When your father to the king,
Who now expiring lies, was call'd in haste,
He sent each way his messengers to find him;
With such a look of ardour and impatience,
As if this near event was to Count Tancred
Of more importance than I comprehend.

Sig. There lies, my Laura, o'er my Tancred's birth
A cloud I cannot pierce. With princely accost,
Nay, with respect, which oft I have observ'd,
Stealing at times submissive o'er his features,
In Belmont's woods my father rear'd this youth--
Ah, woods! where first my artless bosom learn'd
The sighs of love. He gives him out the son
Of an old friend, a baron of Apulia,
Who in the late crusado bravely fell.

But then 'tis strange; is all his family

As well as father dead? and all their friends,
Except my sire, the generous good Siffredi ?
Had he a mother, sister, brother left,

The last remain of kindred; with what pride,
What rapture, might they fly o'er earth and sea,
To claim this rising honour of their blood!
This bright unknown! this all-accomplish'd youth!
Who charms too much, the heart of Sigismunda!
"Laura, perhaps your brother knows him better,
"The friend and partner of his freest hours."
What says Rodolpho? Does he truly credit
This story of his birth?

Laura. He has sometimes,

Like you, his doubts; yet, when maturely weigh'd,
Believes it true. As for Lord Tancred's self,
He never entertain'd the slightest thought
That verg'd to doubt; but oft laments his state,
By cruel fortune so ill pair'd to yours.

Sig. Merit like his, the fortune of the mind, Beggars all wealth-Then, to your brother, Laura, He talks of me?

Laura. Of nothing else. Howe'er

The talk begin, it ends with Sigismunda.

Their morning, noontide, and their evening walks, Are full of you, and all the woods of Belmont

Enamour'd with your name

Sig. Away, my friend;

You flatter-yet the dear delusion charms.

Laura. No, Sigismunda, 'tis the strictest truth,

Nor half the truth, I tell you. Even with fondness
My brother talks for ever of the passion
That fires young Tancred's breast.
strikes him,

He praises love as if he were a lover.

So much it

"He blames the false pursuits of vagrant youth, "Calls them gay folly, a mistaken struggle "Against best judging nature." Heaven, he says, In lavish bounty form'd the heart for love; In love included all the finer seeds Of honour, virtue, friendship, purest blissSig. Virtuous Rodolpho!

Laura. Then his pleasing theme

He varies to the praises of your lover

Sig. And what, my Laura, says he on the subject? Laura. He says that, though he was not nobly born, Nature has form'd him noble, generous, brave, "Truly magnanimous, and warmly scorning "Whatever bears the smallest taint of baseness; "That every easy virtue is his own;

"Not learnt by painful labour, but inspir'd,
"Implanted in his soul."-Chiefly one charm
He in his graceful character observes ;

That though his passions burn with high impatience,
And sometimes, from a noble heat of nature,
Are ready to fly off; yet the least check

Of ruling reason brings them back to temper,
And gentle softness.

Sig. True! Oh, true, Rodolpho!

Blest be thy kindred worth for loving his!
He is all warmth, all amiable fire,