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1 A newspaper does wonders! none can be (Peeping in at the Stage Door. In debt, in love, dependent, or quite free; Hip! music! music ! -Have you more to play? | Ugly, or handsome, well, or ill in bed; Somewhat I'd offer-stop your catgut, pray. Single, or married, or alive, or dead, Will you permit, and not pronounce me rude, But we give life, death, virtue, vice, with ease; A bookseller one moment to intrude?

In short, a newspaper does what we please. My name is Foolscap:--all my trouble's past, There jealous authors at each other bark; Fortune hąth given me a rare helping cast. Till truth leaves not one glimpse, no, not To all my toils a wife hath put a stop:

one spark; A devil tirst; but now I keep a shop.

But lies meet lies, and jostle in the dark. My master died, poor man ! he's out of print! Our bard within has often felt the dart His widow, she had eyes, and took my hìnt. Sent from our quiver, levelled at his heart. A prey to grief she could not bear to be,

I've press'd him, ere he plays this desperate game, And so turn'd over a new leaf with me.

To answer all, and vindicate his name. I drive a trade ; have authors in my pay, But he, convinc'd that all but truth must die, Men of all work, per week, per sheet, per day. Leaves to its own mortality the lie. Trav'llers, who not one foreign country know, Would any know while parties fight pell mell, And past'ral poets in the sound of Bow; How he employs his pen ?-his play will tell. Translators, from the Greek they never read; | To that he trusts; that he submits to you, Cantabs and Sophs, in Covent-Garden bred ; Aim'd at your tenderest feelings; moral, new. Historians, who can't write, who only take The scenes, he hopes, will draw the heart-felt Scissars and paste; cut, vamp; a book they make.

tear; I've treated for this play; can buy it too, Scenes that come home to every bosóm here. If I could learn what you intend to do.

If this will do, I'll run and buy it straight; If, for nine nights, you'll hear this tragic stuff; Stay, let me see; I think I'd better wait: I have a newspaper, and tliere can puff. | Yes, I'll lie snug, till you have fix'd its fate.


CALIPPUS, Partizan of the Usurper.
DIONYSIUS, Usurper of Syracuse,

Greek Soldier.

EVANDER, the deposed King.
PuOcion, Husband to Euphrasia.

MELANTHON, Friend to Erander.
PHILOTAS, eenpluued in guarding Evander.

EUPHRASIA, Daughter of Evander,
CAS. amp@yed 11 kuuraing buandet. | ERIXENE, her Attendant.
Greek Herald




| To hurl ambition from a throne usurped,

| And bid all Sicily resume her rights. Enter MELANTHON and PHILOTAS.

Phil. Thou wert a statesman once, Melanthon; Melan. Yet, a moment; hear, Philotas, hear me.

now, Phil. No more; it must not be.

Grown dim with age, thy eye pervades no more Melan. Obdurate man !

The deep-laid schemes which Dionysius plans. Thus wilt thou spurn me, when a king distressed, Know then, a fleet from Carthage even now A good, a virtuous, venerable king,

Stems the rough billow; and, ere yonder sun, The father of his people, from a throne,

That, now declining, seeks the western wave, Which long, with every virtue he adorned, Shall to the shades of night resign the world, Torn by a ruffian, by a tyrant's hand,

Thou'lt see the Punic sails in yonder bay, Groans in captivity? In his own palace

Whose waters wash the walls of Syracuse. Lives a sequestered prisoner? oh! Philotas, Melun. Art thou a stranger to Timoleon's If thou hast not renounced humanity,

name? Let me behold my sovereign; once again

Intent to plan, and circumspect to see Admit me to his presence ; let me see

All possible events, he rushes on My royal master.

Resistless in his course! Your boasted master Phil. Urge thy suit no further ;

Scarce stands at bay; each hour the strong blockThy words are fruitless; Dionysius' orders

ade Forbid access; he is our sovereign now;

Hems him in closer, and, ere long, thou'le view 'Tis his to give the law, mine to obey.

Oppression's iron rod to fragments shivered! Melan. Thou can'st not mean it: his to give The good Evander thenthe law!

Phil. Alas! Evander Detested spoiler !-his! a vile usurper !

Will ne'er behold the golden time you look for! Have we forgot the elder Dionysius,

Melan. How ! not behold it! Say, Philotas, Surnamed the tyrant? To Sicilia's throne

speak; The monster waded through whole seas of blood. Has the fell tyrant, have his felon murderersSore groaned the land beneath his iron rod,

Phil. As yet, my friend, Evander lives. Till, roused at length, Evander came from Greece, Melan. And yet, Like Freedom's genius came, and sent the tyrant, Thy dark half-hinted purpose-lead me to him; Stripped of the crown, and to his humble rank If thou hast murdered himOnce more reduced, to roam, for vile subsistence, Phil. By Heaven, he lives ! A wandering sophist through the realms of Greece. Melan. Then bless me with one tender interPhil. Melanthon, yes: full clearly I remember

view! The splendid day, when all rejoicing Sicily Thrice has the sun gone down, since last these Hailed her deliverer.

eyes Melan. Shall the tyrant's son

Have seen the good old king; say, why is thus? Deduce a title from the father's guilt?

Wherefore debarred his presence? Thee, Philotas, Philotas, thou wert once the friend of goodness; The troops obey, that guard the royal prisoner ; Thou art a Greek ; fair Corinth gave thee birth; Each avenue to thee is open ; thou I marked thy growing youth: I need not tell, Can'st grant admittance; let me, let me see him! With what an equal sway Evander reigned,

Phil. Entreat no more; the soul of Dionysios How just, how upright, generous, and good! Is ever wakeful; rent with all the pangs From every region bards and sages came; That wait on conscious guilt. Whate'er of science Egypt stored,

Melan. But when dun nightAll that the east had treasured, all that Greece Phil. Alas! it cannot be: but mark my words, Of moral wisdom tanght, and Plato's voice, Let Greece urge on her general assault. Was heard in Sicily. Shall Dionysius : Dispatch some friend, who may o'erleap the Extinguish every virtue from the land,

walls, Bow to his yoke the necks of freeborn men, And tell Timoleon, the good old Evander And here perpetuate a tyrant's reign ?

Has lived three days, by Dionysius' order, Phil. Whate'er his right, to him, in Syracuse, Locked up from every sustenance of nature, All bend the knee; his the supreme dominion, | And life, now wearied out, almost expires. And death and torment wait his sovereign nod. Melan. If any spark of virtue dwells with Melan. But soon that power shall cease: be

thee, hold his walls''

Lead me, Philotas, lead me to his prison. Now close encircled by the Grecian bands ; Phil. The tyrant's jealous care hath noted Timoleon leads them on; indignant Corinth

him thence. Sends her avenger forth, arrayed in terror, Melan. Ha! moved him, say'st thou?


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Phil. At the midnight hour,

Euph. The glorious tumult lifts my towering Silent conveyed him up the steep ascent,

soul. To where the elder Dionysius formed,

Once more, Melanthon, once again, my father On the sharp summit of the pointed rock, Shall mount Sicilia's throne. Which overbangs the deep, a dungeon drear: Melan. Alas! that hour Cell within cell, a labyrinth of horror,

Would come with joy to every honest heart, Deep caverned in the cliff, where many a wretch, Would shed divinest blessings from its wing ; Unseen by mortal eye, has groaned in anguish, But no such hour in all the round of time, And died obscure, unpitied, and unknown. I fear, the fates averse will e'er lead on, Melan. Clandestine murderer ! Yes, there's Euph. And still, Melanthon, still does pale the scene

despair Of horrid massacre. Full oft I've walked, Depress thy spirit ? Lo! Timoleon comes, When all things lay in sleep and darkness hush’d, | Armed with the power of Greece; the brave, Yes, oft I've walked the lonely sullen beach, The just, god-like Timoleon! ardent to redress, And heard the mournful sound of many a corse He guides the war, and gains upon his prey. Plunged from the rock into the wave beneath, | A little interval shall set the victor That murmurs on the shore. And means he thus Within our gates triumphant. To end a monarch's life? Oh! grant my prayer; Melan. Still my fears My timely succour may protect his days; Forebode for thee. Would thou had'st left this The guard is yours

Phil. Forbear; thou plead'st in vain; When hence your husband, the brave Phocion, And though I feel soft pity throbbing here, Though each emotion prompts the generous deed, Fled with your infant son ! I must not yield; it were assured destruction. I Euph. In duty fixed, Farewell ! dispatch a message to the Greeks ; | Here I remained, while my brave generous I'll to my station; now thou know'st the worst. Phocion

[Eru. Fled with my child, and from his mother's arms Melan. Oh, lost Evander! Lost Euphrasia Bore my sweet little one. Full well thou know'st

The pangs I suffered in that trying moment. How will her gentle nature bear the shock Did I not weep? Did I not rave and shriek, Of a dear father, thus in lingering pangs

And by the roots tear my dishevelled hair? A prey to famine, like the veriest wretch, Did I not follow to the sea-beat shore, Whom the hard hand of misery hath griped ! Resolved with him, and with my blooming boy, In vain she'll rave with impotence of sorrow; To trust the winds and waves ? Perhaps provoke her fate: Greece arms in vain ; Melan. Deem not, Euphrasia, All's lost; Evander dies !

I e'er can doubt thy constancy and love.

Euph. Melanthon, how I loved ! the gods, who Enter CALLIPPUS.

saw Cal. Where is the king ?

Each secret image that my fancy formed, Our troops, that sallied to attack the foe,

The gods can witness how I loved my Phocion. Retire disordered; to the eastern gate

And yet I went not with him. Could I do it? The Greeks pursue ; Timoleon rides in blood ! Could I desert my father? Could I leave Arm, arm, and meet their fury.

The venerable man, who gave me being, Melan. To the citadel

A victim here in Syracuse, nor stay Direct thy footsteps; Dionysius there,

To watch his fate, to visit his affliction, Marshals a chosen band.

To cheer his prison hours, and, with the tear Cal. Do thou call forth

Of filial virtue, bid even bondage smile? Thy hardy veterans; haste, or all is lost ! (Exit. Melan. The pious act, whate'er the fates intend,

(Warlike music. Shall merit heart-felt praise. Melan. Now, ye just gods ! now look propiti Euph. Yes, Phocion, go; ous down;

Go with my child, torn from this matron breast, Now give the Grecian sabre tenfold edge, This breast that still should yield its nurture to And save a virtuous king! (Warlike music. him,

Fly with my infant to some happier shore.

If he be safe, Euphrasia dies content.
Euph. War on, ye heroes,

Till that sad close of all, the task be mine Ye great assertors of a monarch's cause!

To tend a father with delighted care, Let the wild tempest rage. Melanthon, ha! To smooth the pillow of declining age, Did'st thou not hear the vast tremendous roar? See him sink gradual into mere decay, Down tumbling from its base, the eastern tower On the last verge of life watch every look, Burst on the tyrant's ranks, and on the plain Explore each fond unutterable wish, Lies an extended ruin.

Catch his last breath, and close his eyes in peace. Melan. Still new horrors

Melan. I would not add to thy afflictions ; yet Increase each hour, and gather round our heads. My heart misgives; Evander's fåtal period

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Euph. Still is far off; the gods have sent re- , Evander mocks the injuries of time.

Calippus, thou survey the city round; And once again I shall behold him king. Station the centinels, that no surprise Melun. Alas! those glittering hopes but lend | Invade the unguarded works, while drows night a ray.

Weighs down the soldier's eye. Afilicted fair, To gild the clouds, that hover o'er your head, Thy couch invites thee. When the tumult's o'er, Soon to rain sorrow down, and plunge you deeper Thou'lt see Evander with redoubled joy. In black despair.

Though now, unequal to the cares of empire, Euph. The spirit-stirring virtue,

His age sequester him, yet honours high That glows within me, ne'er shall know despair. Shall gild the.evening of bis various day. No, I will trust the gods. Desponding man! Euph. For this benignity, accept my thanks. Hast thou not heard with what resistless ardour | They gush in tears, and my heart pours its triTimoleon drives the tumult of the war?

bute. Hast thou not heard him thundering at our Dion. Perdiccas, ere the morn's revolving gates?

light The tyrant's pent up in his last retreat ; Unveil the face of things, do thou dispatch Anon thou'lt see his battlements in dust,

A well-vared galley to Tamilcar's fleet; His walls, his ramparts, and his towers in ruin; At the north point of yonder promontory, Destruction pouring in on every side;

Let some selected officer instruct him Pride and oppression at their utmost need; To moor his ships, and issue on the land. And nought to save him in his hopeless hour. Then may Timoleon tremble: vengeance, then,

(A flourish of trumpets. Shall overwhelm his camp, pursue his bands, Melan. Ha! the fell tyrant comes-Beguile With fatal havoc, to the ocean's margin,

And cast their limbs to glut the vulture's famige, And o'er your sorrows cast a dawn of gladness. In mangled heaps, upon the naked shore.

. (Exit DIONYSIUS, Enter DIONYSIUS, CALIPPUS, Officers, &c. Euph. What do I hear? Melanthon, can it be? Dion. The vain, presumptuous Greek ! his If Carthage comes, if her perfidious sons hopes of conquest,

List in his cause, the dawn of freedom's gone. Like a gay dream, are vanished into air.

Melan. Woe, bitterest woe impends; thu Proudly elate, and flushed with easy triumph

would'st not think O'er vulgar warriors, to the gates of Syracuse Euph. How?-Speak! unfold! He urged the war, till Dionysius' arm

Melan. My tongue denies its office. Let slaughter loose, and taught his dastard train Euph. How is my father? Say, Melanthorr To seek their safety by inglorious flight.

Metan. He, Euph. O Dionysius, if distracting fears I fear to shock thee with the tale of horror ! Alarm this throbbing bosom, you will pardon Perhaps he dies this moment. Since Timoleon A frail and tender sex. Should ruthless war First formed his lines round this beleagueres Roam through our streets, and riot here in blood,

Where shall the lost Euphrasia find a shelter? No nutriment has touched Evander's lips.
In vain she'll kneel, and clasp the sacred altar. In the deep caverns of the rock imprisoned,
O let me, then, in nerey, let me seek

He pines in bitterest want.
The gloomy mansion, where my father dwells; I Euph. To that abode
I die content, if in his arms I perish.

Of woe and horror, that last stage of life,
Dion. Thou lovely trembler, hush thy fears Has the fell tyrant moved him?
to rest.

Melan. There sequestered,
The Greek recoils ; like the impetuous surge Alas! he soon must perish.
That dashes on the rock, there breaks and foams, Euph. Well, my heart,
And backward rolls into the sea again.

Well do your vital drops forget to flow!
All shall be well in Syracuse: a fleet

Melan. Enough his sword has reeked with Appears in view, and brings the chosen sons

public slaughter; . of Carthage. From the hill that fronts the main, Now, dark insidious deeds must thin mankind. I saw their canvass swelling with the wind,

Euph. Oh! night, that oft has heard by peer While on the purple wave the western sun

cing shrieks Glanced the remains of day,

Disturb thy awful silence ; oft has heard Euph. Yet till the fury

Each stroke these hands, in frantic sorrow, gave, Of war subside, the wild, the horrid interval, From this sad breast resounding; now no FK In safety let me sooth to dear delight

I mean to vent complaints; I mean not now In a loved father's presence : from his sight, With busy memory to retrace the wrongs For three long days, with specious feigned excuse The tyrant heaped on our devoted race. Your guards debarred me. Oh! while yet he I bear it all; with calmest patience bear it, hves,

Resigned and wretched, desperate and lost. Indulge a daughter's love: worn out with age, Melan. Despair, alas! is all the sad resource Soon must be seal his eyes in endless night, Our fate allows us now. And with his converse charm my ear no more. | Euph. Yet, why despair?

Dion. Why thus anticipate misfortune? Still Is that the tribute to a father due?

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Blood is his due, Melanthon; yes, the blood, I Shall not the monster hear his daar
The vile, black blood, that fills the tyrant's veins, Shall he not tremble, when a daughter comes,
Would graceful look upon my dagger's point. Wild with her griefs, and terrible with wrongs,
Come, Vengeance, come! shake off this feeble sex, | Fierce in despair, all nature, in her cause,
Sinew my arm, and guide it to his heart.

Alarmed and roused with horror? Yes, MelanAnd thou, O filial piety! that rul'st

thon! My woman's breast, turn to vindictive rage; The man of blood shall hear me; yes ! my voice Assume the port of justice; shew mankind Shall mount aloft upon the whirlwind's wing, Tyrannic guilt had never dared in Syracuse, Pierce yon blue vault, and at the throne of HeaBeyond the reach of virtue.

ven Melan. Yet beware;

Call down red vengeance on the murderer's head. Controul this frenzy that bears down your rea Melanthon, come; my wrongs will lend me force; son.

The weakness of my sex is gone; this arm Surrounded by his guards, the tyrant mocks Feels tenfold strength; this arm shall do a deed Your utmost fury; moderate your zeal,

For heaven and earth, for men and gods, to wonNor let him hear these transports of the soul,

der at ! These wild upbraidings.

This arm shall vindicate a father's cause. Euph. Shall Euphrasia's voice

(Exeunt. Be hushed to silence, when a father dies ?


| Oh! would I could relieve him! Thou withdraw; SCENE I.-A wild romantic scene amidst over- | Thy wearied nature claims repose ; and now hanging rocks ; a cavern on one side. The watch is mine.

Arc. May no alarm disturb thee. (Erit. ARCAS. (With a speur in his hand.)

Phil. Some dread event is labouring into birth. The gloom of night sits heavy on the world; At close of day the sullen sky held forth And o'er the solemn scene such stillness reigns, Unerring signals. With disastrous glare As 'twere a pause of nature; on the beach The moon's full orb rose crimsoned o'er with No murmuring billow breaks; the Grecian tents blood; Lie sunk in sleep; no gleaming fires are seen; And lo! athwart the gloom a falling star Ali Syracuse is hushed; no stir abroad,

Trails a long tract of fire !--What daring step Save ever and anon the dashing oar,

Sounds on the finty rock? Stand there! what ho! That beats the sullen wave. And hark _Was Speak, ere thou dar'st advance! Unfold thy purthat

pose :
The groan of anguish from Evander's cell, Who and what art thou ?
Piercing the midnight gloom - It is the sound
Of bustling prows, that cleave the briny deep.

Enter EUPHRASIA, bearing a light in her hand.
Perhaps, at this dead hour, Hamilcar's feet Euph. Mine no hostile step;
Rides in the bay.

I bring no valour to alarm thy fears :

It is a friend approaches.
Enter PHILOTAS, from the cavern.

Phil. Ha! what mean
Phil. What ho! brave Arcas ! ho !

Those plaintive notes ? Arc. Why thus desert thy couch?

Euph. Here is no ambushed Greek, Phil, Methought the sound

No warrior to surprise thee on the watch. Of distant uproar chased affrighted sleep. An humble suppliant comes: Alas! my strength,

dro. At intervals the oars resounding stroke | Exhausted, quite forsakes this weary frame. Comes echoing from the main. Save that report, Phil. What voice thus piercing through the A death-like silence through the wide expanse

gloom of night . Broods o'er the dreary coast.

What art thou? what thy errand? quickly say Phil. Do thou retire,

What wretch, with what intent, at this dead hourAnd seek repose; the duty of thy watch

Wherefore alarm'st thou thus our peaceful watch ? Is now performed; I take thy post.

Euph. Let no mistrust affright thee-Lo! a Are. How fares

wretch, Your royal prisoner ?

The veriest wretch that ever groaned in anguish, Phil. Arcas, shall I own

Comes here to grovel on the earth before thee, A secret weakness? My heart inward melts To tell her sad, sad tale, inplore thy aidTo see that suffering virtue. On the earth, For sure the power is thine, thou canst relieve The cold, damp earth, the royal victim lies ; My bleeding heart, and soften all my woes. And while pale famine drinks his vital spirit, Phil. Ha ! sure those accentsHe welcomes death, and smiles himself to rest.

[Takes the light from her.

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