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had left plouty-I looked east, west, north, and south, and saw neither bold nor oeph, shed-nor shelter; so I o'en pulled the bonnet o'er my brow, buckled the broad-sword to my side, took to the mountain and the glen, and became a broken man. But why do I speak of this? Tis of my children, of my poor bairns I have thought, and the thought will not leave me.

Francis. Might they not, with some assistance, find an honourable resource in foreign service? If such be your wish, depend on its being grati

fled.

Rob. (Stretching one hand to him and passing the other across kis eyes) I thank you, I thank you. I could not have believed that mortal man would agalu have seen a tear in MacGregor's eye. Well speak of this hereafter we'll talk of it to Helenbut I cannot well spare my boys yet. The heather is on fire.

Francis. Heather cn fire? I do not understand

you.

Rob. Rashleigh has set the torch-let them that Ah! cau pervert the blaze. (bagpipes without) they come-then all's well. Francis. I comprehend.

HELEN and the HIGHLANDERS enter, HAMISH and ROBERT directing their movements.

Rob. Have you seen Diana and Sir Frederick on their way.

Helen. I have. Stranger, you came to our un happy country when our bloods were chafed, and our hands were red. Excuse the rudeness that gave so rough a welcome, and lay it on the evil times, not upon us.

Rob. Helen, our friend has spoken kindly, and proffered nobly-our boys, our children

Helen. I understand but no, no, this is not the time besides, I no, no, I will not- cannot part from them.

Francis. Your separation is not required-leave the country with them.

Helen. Quit the land of my sires-never! Wild as we live, and hopeless, the world has not a scene that could console me for the loss of these rude rocks and glens, where the remembrance of our wrongs is ever sweetened by the recollection of our

revenge.

Francis. MacGregor?

Rob. She says truly-'twas a vain project. We cannot follow them-we cannot part with the last ties that render life endurable. Were I to lose sight of my native hills, my heart would sink, and my arin would shrink like fern i' the winter's frost. No, Helen, no the heather we have trode on while living, shall sweetly bloom over us when dead

(Helen throws herself into his arms.)

France. I grieve that my opportunity of serving those who have so greatly befriended me is incomatible with their prospects and desires.

Rob. Farewell- the best wish MacGregor can give his friend is, that he may see him no

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Rob. No more. Strike!

(March.-The HIGHLANDERS file through the mouth of the cure, ROBERT and HAMISH stretch forth their hands to FRANCIS as they pass in the march.HELEN and ROB ROY each take leave of him with cordiality and regret, and excu through the cave.

Francis. What a wayward way is mine! My father's peace of mind is happily restored Lut wine, with Diana, is lost for ever.

RASHLEIGH OSBALDISTONE appears at th back of the care, and seeing FRANCIS, conect himself.

What noise? Surely I heard-no, they ha e left me. (The boats are seen passing the Loch the Highlanders.) They are passing the Loch-hail

see them no more.

Enter SIR FREDERICK and DIANA VERNON, greatly alarmed.

Diana. Gone! MacGregor-Helen-our friends gone! Sir F. Embarked already! Then my course is ended.

Francis. Amazement! Diana Vernon andDiana. Her father-her unhappy, her wretched father. Oh, Frank! we are beset by enemies on every side-the only path by which we could escape is guarded.

Francis. No danger shall befall you here.

Sir F. Do not involve yourself in my fate-proteet my child, but leave me to suffer. I am familiar with danger, and prepared to meet it. Kash. (Advances.) Meet it then, here! All. Rashleigh!

(Diana turns from him to her father.) Rush. Ah, I come to repay the various obligations conferred on me by my friends. (He beckons to Soldiers, who enter.) Apprehend Sir Frederick Vernon, an attainted traitor-Diana Vernon, and Francis Osbaldistone, aiders and abettors of treason!

Francis. Rashleigh, thou art too great a villain for words to speak thee.

Rash. I can forgive your spleen, my gentle cousin it is hard to lose an estate and a mistress in one night. Take charge of your prisoners. if my conduct displeases you, lady, you may thank your

minion there.

Francis. I never gave you cause.

Rash. is false: In love, in ambition, in the paths of interest, you have crossed and blighted me at every turn. I was born to be the honour of my father's house-I have been its destruction and disgrace my very patrimony has been yours-but if you ever live to possess it, the death curse of him you have thus injured shall stick to it. Rob. (without) Grogarach! Rush. (starts) Ah!

ROB ROY darts in and confronts RASHLEIGH. HIGHLANDERS, led by DOUGAL, appear at the mouth of the cave, and overpower the SOLDIERS. Rob. Now ask for mercy for your soul's sake. Rash. Never!

(Standing on his guard.) Rob. Claymore, then! (Short and rapid combat.

Rashleigh falls, and is caught by Dougal.) Die, traitor.
in your treason!
(Rashleigh is carried off by Dougal.)
Highland march. Enter HELEN MACGREGOR,
and the Clan, male and female. BAILIE runs on
confused.

we may not share in it. If, in such moments, you
ever think upon MacGregor, think kindly of him;
and when you cast a look towards poor old Scot-
land, do not forget Rob Roy.

FINALE.-Air,-"Duncan Gray cam' here to

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Sir F. Brave Highlander! you have saved more than my life-you have preserved my honour. You, young man, (to Francis) have proved yourself worthy of my child, and to you 1 give her. But whence this unexpected aid? I surely saw the boats depart. (To Rob.)

Rob. With half my band, no more. Dougal overheard, and fortunately apprised me of Rashleigh's intentions, and I kept up the appearance which decoyed the villain to his own snare.

Helen. By Sir Frederick Vernon's means, your father's house has been preserved; that consideration must induce his honourable mind to confirm the gift you prize, and endeavour to obtain from the government a remission of the law in favour of a noble enemy.

Francis.

Chorus.

Diana.

Rob. We shall rejoice in your happiness, though Chorus.

Woo.

Pardon now the bold Outlar,
Rob Roy MacGregor, () !
Grant him mercy, gentles a',

Rob Roy MacGregor, O!
Let your hands and hearts agree,
Set the Highland Laddie free;
Mak' us sing wi muckle glee,
Rob Roy MacGregor, O!
Long the State has doom'd his fa'
Rob Roy MacGregor, O!
Still he spurn'd the hatefu' law,

Rob Roy MacGregor, O!

Scots can for their country die,

Ne'er from Britain's foes they flee -
A' that's past forget, forgie,

Rob Roy MacGregor, O!

Let your hands, &c.

Scotland's fear, and Sectland's pride,

Bob Roy MacGregor, O!
Your award must now abide,

Rob Roy MacGre.or, O

Long your favonrs hae beer mine,
Favours 1 will ne'er resign-
Welcome then, for auld lang syne,
Rob Roy MacGregor, O!

Let your hands, &c.

A TRAGEDY, IN FIVE ACTS.-BY JOSEPH ADDISON.

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ACT I.

Persons Represented.

MARCUS. DECIUS. JUBA.

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SEMPRONIUS. SYPHAX. JUNIUS.

TITUS. MARCIA. LUCIA.

Ye gods, what havock does ambition make
Among your works!

Mar. Thy steady temper, Porcius.
Can look on guilt, rebellion, fraud, and Cæser,
In the calm lights of mild philosophy:
I'm tortur'd, even to madness, when I think
On the proud victor: every time he's nann'd,
Pharsalia rises to my view; I see

The insulting tyrant prancing o'er the field
Strew'd with Rome's citizens, and drenched in
slaughter.

O Porcius, is there not some chosen curse,
Some hidden thunder in the stores of heaven,
Red with uncommon wrath, to blast the man
Who owes his greatness to his country's ruin?
Por. Believe me, Marcus, 'tis an impious great-

ness!

And mix'd with too much horror to be envied. How does the lustre of our father's actions, Through the dark cloud of ills that cover him, Break out, and burn with more triumphant brightness!

His suff'rings shine, and spread a glory round hin:

Greatly unfortunate, he fights the cause

Of honour, virtue, liberty, and Rome.

Mar. Who knows not this? But what can Cato do

Against a world, a base, degenerate world,

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Sem. Conspiracies no sooner should be form'd That courts the yoke, and bows the neck to Than executed. (Aside.) What means Porcius

Cesar?

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Distract my very soul: our father's fortune

here?

I like not that cold youth. I must dissemble,
And speak a language foreign to my heart.
Good morrow, Porcius!
Let us once cin-

brace,

Onco more embrace, whilst yet we both are

free:

To-morrow, should we thus express our friend

ship,

Would almost tempt us to renounce his pre- Fach might receive a slave into his arms.

cepts.

Par. Remember what our father oft has told us;

The ways of heaven are dark and intricate;
Our understanding traces them in vain;
Lost and bewilder'd in the fruitless search,
Nor sees with how much art the windings run,
Nor where the regular confusion ends.

Mar. These are suggestions of a mind at ease:
O Porcius, didst thou taste but half the griefs
That wring my soul, thou couldst not talk thus
calmly.

Passion cnpitied and successless love

Plant daggers in my heart, and aggravate
My other griefs. Were but my Lucia kind,-

This sun, perhaps, this morning's sun's the

Jast

That e'er shall rise on Roman liberty.

Por. My father has this morning call'd together

His little Roman senate,

The leavings of Pharsalia.-to consult

If yet he can oppose the mighty torrent

That bears down Rome and all her gods before it;

Or must, at length, give up the world to Cæsar. Sem. Not all the pomp and majesty of Rome Can raise her senate more than Cato's pre-sence:

His virtues render her assembly awful;

Por. (Aside.) Thou seest not that thy brother is They strike with something like religious fear,

thy rival:

But I must hide it; for I know thy temper.-
Now, Marcus, now thy virtue's on the proof:

Put forth thy utmost strength, work every

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Love is not to be reason'd down, or lost
In high ambition, and a thirst of greatness!
'Tis second life, that grows into the soul,
Warms every vein, and beats in every pulse:
I feel it here: my resolution melts-
Por. Behold young Juba, the Numidian prince:
He loves our sister Marcia, greatly loves her:
But still the smother'd fondness burns within
him:

The sense of honour and desire of fame
Drive the big passion back into his heart.
What! shall an African, shall Juba's heir,
Reproach great Cato's son, and shew the world
A virtue wanting in a Roman soul?

Mar. No more, no more! your words leave stings behind 'em.

Whene'er did Juba, or did Porcius, shew
A virtue that has cast me at a distance,
And thrown me out in the pursuits of honour!
Por. O Marcus! did I know the way to

ease

Thy troubled heart, and mitigate thy pains

And make even Casar tremble at the head
Of armies flush'd with conquest. O my Por
cius!

Could I but call that wondrous man my father,
Would but thy sister Marcia be propitious

To thy friend's vows, I might be bless'd indeed.

Por. Alas! Sempronius, wouldst thou talk of love

To Marcia, whilst her father's life's in danger? Thou might'st as well court the pale trembling vestal,

When she beholds the holy flame expiring.

Sem. The more I see the wonders of thy race, The more I'm charm'd. Thou must take heed, my Porcius;

The world has all its eyes on Cato's son:
Thy father's merit sets thee up to view,
And shows thee in the fairest point of light,
To make thy virtues, or thy faults conspi-

cuous.

Por. Well dost thou seem to check my lingering here

On this important hour. I'll straight away,
To animate the soldiers' drooping courage
With love of freedom, and contempt of life,
And try to rouse up all that's Roman in

'em.

Tis not in mortals to command success; But we'll do more, Sempronius, we'll deserve it. [Exit

Sem. Curse on the stripling! How he apes his sire:

Ambitiously sententious!-But I wonder,
Old Syphax comes not; his Numidian genius

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He's lost, Sempronius; all his thoughts are full

Of Cato's virtues. But I'll try once more,
For every instant 1 expect him here.
If yet I can subdue those stubborn principles
Of faith, of honour. and I know not what,
That have corrupted his Numidian temper,
And struck the infection into all his soul.

Sem Be sure to press upon him every
tive:

mo

Juba's surrender, since his father's death,
Would give up Afric into Cæsar's hands,
And make him lord of half the burning zone.
Syph. But is it true, Sempronius, that your sɔ-
nate

Is call'd together? Gods, thou must be cautious:
Cato has piercing eyes, and will discern
Our frauds, unless they're covered thick with art.
Sem. Let me alone, good Syphax: I'll conceal,
My thoughts in passion: 'tis the surest way:
I'll bellow out for Rome and for my country,
And mouth at Cæsar, till I shake the senate.
Your cold hypocrisy's a stale device,

A worn-out trick: would'st thou be thought in earnest,

Clothe thy feign'd zeal in rage, in fire, in fury. Syph. In troth, thou'rt able to instruct grey bairs,

And teach the wily African deceit.

Sem. Once more, be sure to try thy skill on
Juba.

Meanwhile, I'll hasten to my Roman soldiers,
Inflame the mutiny, ar d, underhand,

Blow up their discontents, till the break out,
Unlook'd for, and discharge themselves on Cato.
Remember, Syphax, we must work in haste.
O think, what anxious moments pass between
The birth of plots, and their last fatal periods;
It is a dreadful interval of time,

Fill'd up with horror all, and big with death;
Destruction hangs on every word we speak,
On every thought, till the concluding stroke
Determines all, and closes our design.

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This headstrong youth, and make him spurn as Cato.

The time is short; Cæsar comes rushing on us ;— But hold!-young Juba sees me, and approaches. Enter JUBA.

Juba. Syphax, I joy to meet thee thus alone.
I have observ'd of late thy looks are fallen,
O'ercast with gloomy cares and discontent:
Then tell me, Syphax, I conjure thee, tell me,
What are the thoughts that knit thy brow in
frowns,

And turn thine eye thus coldly on thy prince?
Syph. 'Tis not my talent to conceal my thoughts,
Nor carry smiles and sunshine in my face,
When discontent sits heavy at my heart;

I have not yet so much the Roman in me.
Juba. Why dost thou cast out such ungenerous

terms

Against these wondrous sovereigns of the world? Dost thou not see mankind fall down before 'cm,

And own the force of their superior virtue?

Syph. Gods! where's the worth that sets this people up

Above your own Numidia's tawny sons?
Do they with tougher sinews bend the bow?
Or flies the javelin swifter to its mark,
Launch'd from the vigour of a Roman arm?
Who, like our active African, instructs
The fiery steed, and trains him to his hand?
Or guides in troops the embattled elephant,
Loaden with war? These, these are arts, y

priuce,

In which your Zama does not stoop to Rome. Juba. These all are virtues of a

rank,

meaner

Perfections that are placed in bones and nerves:
A Roman soul is bent on higher views.
To make man mild and sociable to man,
To cultivate the wild, licentious savage,
With wisdom, discipline, and liberal arts,
The embellishments of life; virtues like these
Make human nature shine, reform the soul,
And break our fierce barbarians into men.
Syph. Patience, kind heavens! Excuse an old

man's warmth:-
What are these wondrous civilizing arts,
This Roman polish, and this smooth behaviour,
That render men thus tractable and tame?
Are they not only to disguise our passions,
To set our looks at variance with our thoughts?
In short, to change us into other creatures
Than what our nature and the gods design'd
us?

Juba. To strike thee dumb, turn up thy eyes to

Cato!

There may'st thou see to what a gollike height

The Roman virtues lift up mortal man: Renouncing sleep, and rest, and food, and

ease,

He strives with thirst and hunger, toil and heat;

And, when his fortune sets before him all The pomps and pleasures that our souls can wish,

His rigid virtue will accept of none.

Suph. Believe me, prince, there's not an African That traverses our vast Numidian deserts

in quest of prey, and lives upon his bow,
But better practises these boasted virtues:
Coarse are his meals, the fortune of the chase;

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