M A H O M E T.

Had'ít thou heard a moment, Thou might'st have liv'd, for thou hadft spar'd Irene.

CARA ZA.
I heard her, pitied her, and wish'd to save her.

Μ Α Η Ο Μ Ε Τ.
And wish'd be still thy fate to wish in vain.

CARA ZA.
I heard and soften'd, till Abdalla brought
Her final doom, and hurried her destruction.

Μ Α Η Ο Μ Ε Τ.

Abdalla brought her doom! Abdalla brought it! The wretch, whose guilt declar'd by tortur d Cali, My rage and grief had hid from my remenabrance : Abdalla brought her doom!

H AS A N.

Abdalla brought it, While yet she begg'd to plead her cause before thee.

M A HOM ET. O seize me, Madness-Did she call on ine! I feel, I fee the ruffian's barb'rous rage. He feiz'd her melting in the fond appeal, And stopp'd the heav'nly voice that callid on me. My spirits fail, awhile support me, VengeanceBe just, ye flaves; and, to be just, be cruel; Contrive new racks, imbitter ev'ry pang, Inflict whatever treason can deserve, Which murder'd innocence that callid on me, [Exit Mahomet; Abdalla is dragged off.

SCENE SCENE XIII.

HASAN, CARAZA, MUSTAPHA, MURZA.

MUSTAPHA TO MURZA. What plagues, what tortures, are in store for thee, Thou sluggish idler, dilatory slave ! Behold the model of consummate beauty, Torn from the mourning earth by thy neglect !

MURZA. Such was the will of Heav'n-A band of Greeks That mark'd my course, suspicious of my purpose, Rufh'd out and seiz'd me, thoughtless and unarm’d, Breathless, amaz'd, and on the guarded beach Detain'd me tili Deinetrius set me free,

MUST A PH A.
So sure the fall of greatness rais’d on crimes !
So fix'd the justice of all-conscious Heav'n!

When haughty guilt exults with impious joy,
Mistake shall blast, or accident destroy ;
Weak man with erring rage may throw the dart,
But Heav'n shall guide it to the guilty heart.

M

ARRY a Turk! a haughty, tyrant king !

Who thinks us women born to dress and fing To please his fancy!— see no other man !Let him persuade me to it—if he can: Besides, he has fifty wives; and who can bear To have the fiftieth part her paltry share ?

'Tis true; the fellow 's handsome, strait, and tall; But how the devil should he please us all! My swain is little-true-but, be it known, My pride's to have that little all my own. Men will be ever to their errors blind, Where woman 's not allow'd to speak her mind; I swear this Eastern pageantry is nonsense, And for one man-one wife's enough of conscience.

In vain proud man usurps what's woman's dues For us alone, they honour's paths pursue : Inspir’d by us, they glory's heights ascend; Woman the source, the object, and the end. Tho'wealth, and pow'r, and glory, they receive, These all are trifles to what we can give. For us the statesman labours, hero fights, Bears toilsome days, and wakes long tedious nights; And, when blest peace has filenc'd war’s alarms, Receives his full reward in beauty's arms.

P R O L OG U E,
SPOKEN by Mr. GARRICK, APRIL 5, 1750,

Before the MASQUE of COMUS.

Acted at DRURY-LANE THEATRE, for the Benefit of

MILTON'S Grand-Daughter *.

E patriot crowds, who burn for England's fame,

Yenymphs, whose bosoms beat at Milton's name,
Whose gen'rous zeal, unbought by Aatt'ring rhymes,
Shames the mean pensions of Augustan times,
Immortal patrons of succeeding days,
Attend this prelude of perpetual praise ;
Let wit, condemn'd the feeble war to wage
With close malevolence, or publick rage,
Let study, worn with virtue's fruitless lore,
Behold this theatre, and grieve no more.
This night, distinguish'd by your siniles, shall tell
That never Britain can in vain excel;
The flighted arts futurity shall trust,
And rising ages hasten to be just.

At length our mighty bard's victorious lays
Fill the loud voice of universal praise ;
And baffled spite, with hopeless anguish dumb,
Yields to renown the centuries to come;
With ardent haste each candidate of fame,
Ambitious, catches at his tow'ring name;
He sees, and pitying sees, vain wealth bestow
Those pageant honours which he scorn'd below,
While crowds aloft the laureat bust behold,
Or trace his form on circulating gold.