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Adorn your ftarry chambers too with geins;
Contrive the plated ceilings to turn round,
With pipes to cait ambrofian oils upon you:
Confume with this prodigious vanity,
In mere perfumes and odorous diftillations,
Of fefterces at once four hundred millions:
Let naked virgins wait you at your table,
And wanton Cupids dance and clap their wings.
No matter what becomes of the poor foldiers,
So they perform the drudgery they are fit for;
Why, let 'em ftarve for want of their arrears,
Drop as they go, and lie like dogs in ditches.
Theo. Come, you are a traitor!

Mar. Go to, you are a boy

Or by the gods

Theo. If arrogance like this,

And to the emperor's face, should 'fcape unpunished,

I'll write myself a coward; die, then, villain,
A death too glorious for fo bad a man,
By Theodofius' hand.

[Marcian difarms him, but is wounded.
Mar. Now, fir, where are you?
What, in the name of all our Roman fpirits,
Now charms my hand from giving thee thy fate?
Has he not cut me off from all my honours?
Torn my commiffions, fham'd me to the earth,
Banish'd the court, a vagabond for ever?
Do not the foldiers hourly afk it from me?
Sigh their own wrongs, and beg me to revenge'em?
What hinders now, but that I mount the throne,
And make, befides, this purple youth my footflool!
The armies court me and my country's caufe,
The injuries of Rome and Greece, perfuade me.
Shew but this Román blood which he has drawn,
They'll make me emperor whether I will or no:
Did not, for lefs than this, the latter Brutus,
Because he thought Rome wrong'd, in perfon head
Against his friend a black confpiracy,
And ftab the majefty of all the world?

Theo. Act as you pleafe: I am within your pow'r.
Mar. Did not the former Brutus, for the crime
Of Sextus, drive old Tarquin from his kingdom?
And thall this prince too, by permitting others
To act their wicked wills, and lawlefs pleafures,
Ravish from the empire its dear health,
Well-being, happinefs, and ancient glory?
Go on in this dithonourable reft?

Shall he, I fay, dream on, while the ftarv'd troops
Lie cold and waking in the winter camp;
And, like pin'd birds, for want of fuftenance,
Feel on the haws and berries of the fields?
O temper, temper me, ye gracious gods;
Give to my hand forbearance, to my heart
Its conftant loyalty! I would but shake him,
Roufe him a little from this death of honour,
And fhew him what he should be.

Theo. You accufe me,

As if I were fome monster most unheard of!
First, as the ruin of the army; then
Of taking your commiffion: but by Heaven
I fwear, O Marcian! this I never did,
Nor ne'er intended it: nor fay I this
To alter thy ftern ufage; for with what

Thou'ft faid, and done, and brought to my re

membrance,

I grow already weary of my life.

Mar. My lord, I take your word: you do not know

The wounds which rage within your country's bowels;

The horrid ufage of the fuffering foldier:
But why will not our Theodofius know?
If you entrust the government to others
That act thefe crimes, who but yourfelf's to blame?
Be witnefs, O ye gods! of my plain dealing,
Of Marcian's Fonefty, howe'er degraded.
I thank you for my banishment: but, alas!
My lofs is little to what foon will follow!
Reflect but on yourself and your own joys;
Let not this lethargy for ever hold you.
'Twas rumour'd thro' the city, that you lov'd;
That your efpoufals should be folemniz'd;
When on a fudden here you fend your orders
That this bright favourite, the lov'd Budofia,
Should lofe her head.

Theo. O heaven and earth! What fav't thou? That I have feal'd the death of my Eudofia!

Mar. 'Tis your own hand and fignet: yet I

fwear,

Tho' you have given to female hands your fway;
And therefore 1, as well as the whole army,
For ever ought to curfe all womankind;
Yet when the virgin came, as the was doom'd,
And on the fcaffold, for that purpofe rais'd
Without the walls, appear'd before the army-

Theo. What! on a fcaffold! ha! before the army?
Mar. How quickly was the tide of fury turn'd
To foft compaffion, and relenting tears!
But when the axe

Sever'd the brightest beauty of the earth
From that fair body-had you heard the groan,
Which, like a peal of distant thunder, ran
Through all the armed hoft, you would have
thought,

By the immediate darkness that fell round us,
Whole nature was concern'd at fuch a fuffring,
And all the gods were angry.

Theo. O Pulcheria!

Cruel, ambitious fifter! this must be
Thy doing. O, fupport me, noble Marcian!
Now, now's the time, if thou dar`st strike: behold,
I offer thee my breast; with my last breath,
I'll thank thee too, if now thou draw'ft my blood.
Were I to live, thy counfel fhould direct me;
But 'tis too late--

Mar. He faints! What, hoa, there! Lucius!
My lord the emperor! Eudofia lives;
She's here, or will be in a minute, moment!
Quick as the thought, fhe calls you to the temple.
O, Lucius, help!—I've gone too far; but fee,
He breathes again.-Eudofia has awaked him.
Thɛo. Did you not name Eudofia ?
Mar. Yes, the lives:

I did but feign the story of her death,
To find how near you plac'd her to your heart:
And may the gods rain all their plagues upon me,
If ever I rebuke you thus again!

i 2

Yet

Yet 'tis most certain that you fign'd her death,
Not knowing what the wife Pulcheria offer'd,
Who left it in my hand to startle you :
But, by my life and fame, I did not think
It would have touch'd your life. O pardon me,
Dear prince, my lord, my emperor, royal mafter;
Droop not because I utter'd fome rafh words,
And was a madman.-By the immortal gods
I love you as my foul: whate'er I said,
My thoughts were otherwife; believe these tears,
Which do not use to flow: all fhall be well.
I swear that there are feeds in that fweet temper,
T'atone for all the crimes in this bad age.
Theo. I thank thee firft for my Eudofia's life.
What but my love could have call'd back that life
Whichthou haft made me hate? But, O, methought
'Twas hard, dear Marcian, very hard, from thee,
From him I ever reverenc'd as my father,
To hear fo harfh a meffage !-But no more;
We're friends: thy hand. Nay, if thou wilt not
rife,

And let me fold my arms about thy neck,
I'll not believe thy love: in this forgive me.
First let me wed Eudofia, and we'll out;
We will, my general, and make amends
For all that's paft: glory and arms, ye call,
And Marcian leads me on!

Mar. Let her not reft, then;

Efpoufe her ftraight: I'll ftrike you at a heat. May this great humour get large growth within

you;

And be encourag'd by the embold'ning gods!
O what a fight will this be to the foldier,
To fee me bring you drefs'd in fhining armour,
To head the fhouting fquadrons!O ye gods!
Methinks I hear the echoing cries of joy,
The founds of trumpets, and the beat of drums;
I fee each ftarving foldier bound from earth,
As if a god by miracle had rais'd him;
And, with beholding you, grow fat again!
Nothing but gazing eyes, and op'ning mouths,
Checks red with joy, and lifted hands about you;
Some wiping the glad tears that trickle down
With broken Io's, and with fobbing raptures,
Crying, To arms! he's come; our emperor's come
To win the world!-Why, is not this far better
Than lolling in a lady's lap, and fleeping,
Fafting or praying? Come, come, you fhall be merry:
And for Eudofia, fhe is yours already :
Marcian has faid it, fir; fhe fhall be yours.

Theo. O Marcian! O my brother, father, all! Thou beft of friends! moft faithful counfellor! I'll find a match for thee too, ere I reft,

Believe me, fhe has won me much to pity her:
Alas! her gentle nature was not made
To buffet with adverfity. I told her
How worthily her cause you had befriended;
How much for your good fake we meant to do;
That you had fpoke, and all things fhould be well.
Haft. Your highness binds me ever to your fer-
vice.

Gloft. You know your friendship is most potent
with us,

And fhares our power. But of this enough,
For we have other matter for your ear;
The state is out of tune: distracting fears,
And jealous doubts, jar in our public counfels;
Amidft the wealthy city murmurs rise,
Lewd railings, and reproach on those that rule,
With open fcorn of government; hence credit,
And public trust 'twixt man and man, are broke.
The golden ftreams of commerce are withheld,
Which fed the wants of needy hinds and artizans,
Who therefore curfe the great, and threat rebellion.

Haft. The refty knaves are over-run with eafe,
As plenty ever is the nurse of faction;
If in good days, like thefe, the headstrong herd
Grow madly wanton, and repine, it is
Because the reins of pow'r are held too flack,
And reverend authority of late

Has worn a face of mercy more than juftice.
Gloft. Befhrew my heart! but you have well
divin'd

The fource of thefe diforders. Who can wonder
If riot and mifrule o'erturn the realm,
When the crown fits upon a baby brow?
Plainly to fpeak-hence comes the gen'ral cry,
And fum of all complaint: 'twill ne'er be well
With England (thus they talk) while children
govern.
[that?

Haft. 'Tis true the king is young; but what of
We feel no want of Edward's riper years,
While Glofter's valour and moft princely wifdom
So well fupply our infant fovereign's place,
His youth's fupport, and guardian to his throne.
Gloft. The council (much I'm bound to thank
'em for't)

Have plac'd a pageant fceptre in my hand,
Barren of pow'r, and fubject to controul;
Scorn'd by my foes, and useless to my friends.
O worthy lord! were mine the rule indeed,
I think I should not füffer rank offence
At large to lord it in the commonweal;
Nor would the realm be rent by difcord thus,
Thus fear and doubt, betwixt difputed titles.
Haft. Of this I am to learn; as not fuppofing

To make thee love me. For when thou art with A doubt like this

me,

Gloft. Ay, marry, but there is;

I'm strong and well; but when thou'rt gone, I'm And that of much concern. Have you not heard

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How, on a late occafion, Doctor Shaw

Has mov'd the people much about the lawfulness Of Edward's iffue? By right grave authority

Of learning and religion plainly proving,

A baftard fcion never fhould be grafted

Chf. MY lord, y' are well encounter'd; here Upon a royal frock; from thence, at full

has been

A fair petitioner this morning with us;

Difcourfing on my brother's former contract To Lady Elizabeth Lucy, long before

His jolly match with that fame buxom widow
The queen he left behind him-

Haft. Ill befal

Such meddling priefts, who kindle up confusion,
And vex the quiet world with their vain fcruples!
By Heaven, 'tis done in perfect spite to peace.
Did not the king,

Our royal mafter, Edward, in concurrence
With his eftates affembled, well determine
What course the fov'reign rule fhould take hence-
forward?

When shall the deadly hate of faction cease,
When fhall our long-divided land have rest,
If every peevish, moody malecontent
Shall fet the fenfelefs rabble in an uproar,
Fright them with dangers, and perplex their
brains,

Each day, with fome fantastic giddy change?
Gloft. What if fome patriot, for the public good,
Should vary from your fcheme, new-mould the
ftate?

Haft. Curfe on the innovating hand attempts it!
Remember him, the villain, righteous Heaven,
In thy great day of vengeance! Blaft the traitor
And his pernicious counfels, who for wealth,
For pow'r, the pride of greatness, or revenge,
Would plunge his native land in civil wars!
Gloft. You go too far, my lord.
Haft. Your highness' pardon-
Have we fo foon forgot thofe days of ruin,

When York and Lancaster drew forth the battles?
When, like a matron butcher'd by her fons,
And caft befide fome common way, a spectacle
Of horror and affright to paffers by,
Our groaning country bled at ev'ry vein;
When murders, rapes, and maffacres prevail'd;
When churches, palaces, and cities blaz’d;
When infolence and barbarifm triumph'd,
And swept away diftinétion; peasants trod
Upon the necks of nobles: low were laid
The reverend crofier and the holy mitre,
And defolation cover'd all the land;
Who can remember this, and not, like me,
Here vow to sheath a dagger in his heart
Whofe damn'd ambition would renew thofe hor-

rors,

And fet once more that fcene of blood before us?
Gloft. How now! fo hot!

Haft. So brave, and so resolv'd.

Gloft. Is then our friendship of fo little moment,
That you could arm your hand against my life?
Haft. I hope your highnefs does not think I
meant it;

No, Heaven forefend that e'er your princely perfon
Should come within the fcope of my refentment.
Gloft. O noble Haftings! Ñay, I must embrace

you:

By holy Paul, y' are a right honeft man!
The time is full of danger and distrust,
And warns us to be wary. Hold me not
Too apt for jealoufy and light furmife,
If when I mean to lodge you next my heart,
I put your truth to trial. Keep your loyalty,
And live, your king and country's beft fupport:

For me,
I ask no more than honour gives,
To think me yours, and rank me with your friends.
Haft. Accept what thanks a grateful heart
hould pay.

O princely Glofter! judge me not ungentle,
Of manners rude, and infolent of speech,
If, when the public fafety is in question,
My zeal flows warm and eager from my tongue.
Gloft. Enough of this; to deal in wordy com
pliment

Is much against the plainnefs of my nature:
I judge you by myself, a clear true spirit;
And, as fuch, once more join you to my bofom.
Farewel, and be my friend.
[Exit.

Haft. I am not read,
Nor fkill'd and practis'd, in the arts of greatness,
To kindle thus, and give a fcope to pallion.
The duke is furely noble; but he touch'd me
Ev'n on the tend'reft point, the mafter-string
That makes most harmony or discord to me.
I own the glorious fubject fires my breast,
And my foul's darling paffion ftands confefs'd;
Beyond or love's or friendship's facred band,
Beyond myself, I prize my native land:
On this foundation would I build my fame,
And emulate the Greek and Roman name;
Think England's peace bought cheaply with my
blood,

And die with pleasure for my country's good.

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6th Dale. Or hands to wield them.
7th Dale. Get on the bank, Gustavus,
Anderfon. Do, my lord.

Gustavus. My countrymen !-
ift Dale. Ho! hear him!

2d Dale. Peace!

3d Dale. Peace!
4th Dale. Peace!

[hearts,

Guf. Amazement I perceive hath fill'd your
And joy for that your loft Guftavus, 'fcap'd
Thro' wounds, imprisonments, and chains, and
deaths,

Thus fudden, thus unlook'd for, stands before ye.
As one efcap'd from cruel hands I come,
From hearts that ne'er knew pity, dark and
vengeful;

Who quaff the tears of orphans, bathe in blood,
And know no mufic but the groans of Sweden.
Yet, not for that my fifter's early innocence,
And mother's age, now grind beneath captivity;
Nor that one bloody, one remorfeless hour
Swept my great fire and kindred from my fide;
For them Gustavus weeps not, tho' my eyes
Were far lefs dear, for them I will not weep.
But, O great parent, when I think on thee !
Thy numberless, thy nameless, fhameful infamies,

My widow'd country! Sweden! when I think Upon thy defolation, fpite of rage

And vengeance that would choke them-tears will flow.

And. O, they are villains, ev'ry Dane of them. Practis'd to ftab and smile, to ftab the babe That imiles upon them.

Arn. What accurfed hours

Roll o'er those wretches who to fiends like thefe,
In their dear liberty, have barter'd more
Than worlds will rate for!

Guf. O Liberty, Heaven's choice prerogative!
True bond of law, thou focial foul of property,
Thou breath of reafon, life of life itself!
For thee the valiant bleed. O facred Liberty!
Wing'd from the fummer's fnare, from flatt'ring
ruin,

Like the bold ftork you feek the wint'ry fhore,
Leave courts, and pomps, and palaces to flaves,
Cleave to the cold, and rest upon the ftorm.
Upborne by thee, my foul difdain'd the terms
Of empire, offer'd at the hands of tyrants.
With thee I fought this fav'rite foil; with thee
Thefe fav'rite fons I fought; thy fons, O Liberty!
For e'en amid the wilds of life you lead them,
Lift their low-rafted cottage to the clouds,
Smile o'er their heaths, and from their mountain
tops

Beam glory to the nations.

All. Liberty! Liberty!

Guf. Are ye not mark'd, ye men of Dalecarlia, Are ye not mark'd by all the circling world As the great stake, the last effort for liberty? Say, is it not your wealth, the thirst, the food, The fcope and bright ambition of your fouls? Why elfe have you, and your renown'd forefathers,

From the proud fummit of their glittring thrones
Caft down the mightieft of your lawful kings,
That dar'd the bold infringement? What but
liberty,

Thro' the fam'd cou: fe of thirteen hundred years,
Aloof hath held invafion from your hills,
And fan&tified their fhade?-And will ye, will ye
Shrink from the hopes of the expecting world;
Bid your high honours ftoop to foreign infult;
And in one hour give up to infamy

The harveft of a thousand years of glory?
if Dale. No.

2d Dale. Never, never,

3d Dale. Perith all first.

4th Dale. Die all!

Guf. Yes, die by piece-meal!

Leave not a limb o'er which a Dane may triumph!
Now from my foul I joy, I joy, my friends,
To fee ye fear'd; to fee that e'en your foes
Do juftice to your valours!There they be,
The pow'rs of kingdoms, fumm'd in yonder hoft,
Yet kept aloof, yet trembling to affail ye.
And, O, when I look round and fee
you here,
Of number fhort, but prevalent in virtue,
My heart fwells hig, and burns for the encounter.
True courage but from oppofition grows;
And what are fifty, what a thoufand flaves,

Match'd to the finew of a fingle arm
That ftrikes for liberty-that strikes to fave
His fields from fire, his infants from the fword,
His couch from luft, his daughters from pollution,
And his large honours from eternal infamy?
What, doubt we then? Shall we, fhall we ftand here,
Till motives that might warm an ague's froft,
And nerve the coward's arm, fhall poorly ferve
To wake us to refiftance-Let us on!
O, yes, I read your lovely fierce impatience;
You fhall not be withheld; we will rush on
them

This is indeed to triumph, where we hold
Three kingdoms in our toil! Is it not glorious,
Thus to appal the bold, meet force with fury,
And push yon torrent back, till ev'ry wave
Flee to its fountain?

3d Dale. On, lead us on, Gustavus; one word

more

Is but delay of conqueft.

Guf. Take your wish.

He who wants arms may grapple with the foe,
And fo be furnish'd. You, moft noble Anderson,
Divide our pow'rs, and with the fam'd Olaus
Take the left route-You, Eric, great in arms!
With the renown'd Nederbi, hold the right,
And fkirt the foreft down: then wheel at once,
Confefs'd to view, and close up all the vale:
Myfelf, and my moft valiant coufin here,
Th' invincible Arvida, gallant Sivard,
Arnoldus, and these hundred hardy vet'rans,
Will pour directly on, and lead the onset.
Joy, joy, I fee confefs'd from ev'ry eye,
Your limbs tread vigorous, and your breasts beat
high!

Thin tho' our ranks, tho' fcanty be our bands,
Bold are our hearts, and nervous are our hands.
With us, truth, juftice, fame, and freedom close,
Each fingly equal to an hoft of foes:

I feel, I feel them fill me out for fight,
They lift my limbs as feather'd Hermes light!
Or like the bird of glory, tow'ring high,
Thunder within his grafp, and lightning in his eyel

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Cif. TELL this,

ELL me, Guftavus, tell me why is

That, as a ftrcam diverted from the banks
Of smooth obedience, thou haft drawn those men.
Upon a dry unchannell'd enterprize,

To turn their inundation? Are the lives
Of my mifguided people held fo light,
That thus thou'dft push them on the keen rebuke
Of guarded majefty; where juftice waits,
All awful and refiftlefs, to affert

Th' impervious rights, the fanctitude of kings;
And blaft rebellion

Guf. Juftice, fanétirude,

And rights! O, patience! Rights! what rights, thou tyrant?

Yes, if perdition be the rule of pow'r,
If wrongs give right, O then, fupreme in mifchief,
Thou wert the lord, the monarch of the world!

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Too narrow for thy claim. But if thou think'ft | To wrath and bitterness. Ye hallow'd men,

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Not even the high anointing hand of Heaven,
Can authorife oppreflion, give a law
For lawless pow'r, wed faith to violation,
On reafon build mifrule, or juftly bind
Allegiance to injuftice. Tyranny
Abfolves all faith; and who invades our rights,
Howe'er his own commence, can never be
But an ufurper. But for thee, for thee
There is no name. Thou haft abjur'd mankind,
Dash'd fafety from thy bleak, unfocial fide,
And wag'd wild war with univerfal nature.
Crif. Licentious traitor! thou canft talk it largely.
Who made thee umpire of the rights of kings,
And pow'r, prime attribute-as on thy tongue
The poife of battle lay, and arms of force,
To throw defiance in the front of duty?
Look round, unruly boy! thy battle comes
Like raw, disjointed muft ring, feeble wrath,
A war of waters, borne againit the rock
Of our firm continent, to fume, and chafe,
Aud fhiver in the toil.

Guf. Miftaken man!

In whom vice fanétines, whofe precepts teach Zeal without truth, religion without virtue; Who ne'er preach Heaven but with a downy ard fye, [ofe That turns your fouls to drofs! who, fhouti. g

The dogs of hell upon us. Thefts and rapes Sack'd towns, and midnight howlings thro' the realm,

Receive your fanction. O, 'tis glorious mischief!
When vice tu ns holy, puts religion on,
Affumes the robe pontifical, the eye

Of faintly elevation, bleffeth fin,

And makes the feal of weet offended Heaven
A fign of blood, a label for decrees
That Hell would fhrink to own.

Crift. No more of ti.is.

Guftavus, wouldst thou yet return to grace, And hold thy motions in the fphere of duty, Acceptance might be found,

Guf. Imperial fpoiler!

Give me my father, give me back my kindred, Give me the fathers of ten thoufand orphans, Give me the fons in whom thy ruthle's fword Has left our widows childiefs. Mine they were, Both mine, and ev'ry Swede's, whofe patriot breast Bleeds in his country's woundings. O, thou canst

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I come impower'd and strengthen'd in thy weak- Compact with thee? and mean'ft thou for my coun

nefs;

For tho' the ftructure of a tyrant's throne
Rife on the necks of half the fuffring world,
Fear trembles in the cement; pray 'rs, and tears,
And fecret curfes, fap its mould'ring bafe,
And fteal the pillars of allegiance from it:
Then let a fingle arm but dare the fway,
Headlong it turns, and drives upon deftruction.

Trol. Profane, and alien to the love of heaven!
Art thou ftill harden'd to the wrath divine,
That hangs o'er thy rebellion? Know'ft thou not
Thou art at enmity with grace, caft out,
Made an anathema, a curie enroll'd
Among the faithful, thou and thy adherents
Shorn from our holy church, and offer'd up
As facred to damnation?

Guf. Yes, I know,

When fuch as thou, with facrilegious hand,
Seize on the apoftolic key of heaven,
It then becomes a tool for crafty knaves
To fhut out virtue, and unfold thofe gates
That Heaven itfelf had barr'd against the lufts
Of avarice and ambition. Soft and sweet,
As looks of charity, or voice of lambs
That bleat upon the mountain, are the words
Of Chriftian meeknefs' miflion all divine!
The law of love fole mandate. But your gall,
Ye Swedish prelacy, your gall hath turn'd
The words of fweet, but indigefted peace,

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I would attend awhile this mighty motion,
Wait till the tempeft were quite overblown,
That I may take thee in the calm of nature,
With all thy gentler virtues brooding on thee;
So hufh'd a ftilineis, as if all the gols
Look'd down, and liften'd to what we were faying;
Speak then, and tell me, O my heft belov'd,
My fon, my Titus, is all well again › [thing;

Tit. So well, that faying how must make it no-
So well, that I could with to die this moment,
For fo my heart with pow'rful throbs perfuades me,
That were indeed to make you reparation,
That were, my lord, to thank you home, to die:
And that for Titus too would be moft happy.
Brut. How's that, my fon? Would death for
thee be happy?

Tit. Moft certain, fi; for in my grave I 'fcape All thofe affronts which I in life must look for, All thote reproaches which the eyes, and fingers, And tongues of Rome will daily caft upon me;

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