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And man to cut him off, 'tis no injustice.
[The Colonel is disurmed. Cap. Truth never fails her servant, Sir, nor leaves him With the day's shame upon him.
1. Friend. Thou 'st redeem'd Thy worth to the same height 'twas first esteem’d.47
47 The insipid levelling morality to which the modern stage is tied down would not admit of such admirable passions as these scenes are filled with. A puritanical obtuseness of sentiment, a stupid infantile goodness, is creeping among us, instead of the vigorous passions, and virtues clad in flesh and blood, with which the old dramatists present us. Those noble and liberal casnists could discern in the differences, the quarrels, the animosities of man, a beauty and truth of moral feeling, no less than in the iterately inculcated duties of forgiveness and atonement. With us all is hypocritical meekness. A reconciliation scene (let the occasion be never so absurd or unnatural) is always sure of applause. Our audiences come to the theatre to be complimented on their goodness. They compare notes with the amiable characters in the play, and find a wonderful similarity of disposition between them. We have a common stock of dramatic : morality out of which a writer may be supplied without the trouble of copying it from originals within his own breast. To know the boundaries of honor, to be judiciously valiant, to have a temperance which shall beget a smoothness in the angry swellings of youth, to esteem life as nothing when the sacred reputation of a parent is to be defended, yet to shake and tremble under a pious cowardice when that ark of an honest confidence is found to be frail and tottering, to feel the true blows of a real disgrace blunting that sword which the imaginary strokes of a supposed false imputation had put so keen an edge upon but lately: to do, or to imagine this done in a feigned story, asks something more of a moral sense, somewhat a greater delicacy of perception in questions of right and wrong, than goes to the writing of two or three hackneyed sentences about the laws of honor as opposed to the laws of the land, or a common place against duelling. Yet such things would stand a writer now a days in far better stead than Captain Ager and his conscientious honor; and he would be considered as a far better teacher of morality than old Rowley or Middleton if they were living.
ALL's LOST BY LUST: A TRAGEDY. BY
Roderigo King of Spain, takes the opportunity to violate
the Daughter of Julianus, while that old General is fighting his Battles against the Moors. Jacinta seeks her Father in the Camp, at the moment of Victory.
Julianus. Servant. Ser. Sir, here's a Woman (forc'd by some tide of
Jul. If any Soldier has done violence to her,
Servant returns with Jacinta veiled.
Is this the creature ?
Jul. Above me! who's above a general ?
Jacin. What was Tarquin ?
Jacin. Such a sin
Jul. Prithee be plain.
Jul. If I have not, I am the wretched'st man
Jacin. O for your daughter's sake then hear my woes.
Jacin. No, let me kneel still :
Jul. And so they do;
Jacin. Say your Jacinta then, chaste as the rose
Jul. O'tis too hard a question to resolve,
Jacin. Say this were done by him that carried
Jul. We should fall out.
Jul. Impossible: th' act's ignoble. The Bee can breed No poison, though it suck the juice of hemlock.
Jacin. Say a king should do it; were the act less done, By the greater power? does majesty Extenuate a crime? Jul. Augment it rather. Jacin. Say then that Roderick, your king and master, To quit the honors you are bringing home, Had ravish'd your Jacinta.
Jul. Who has sent A Fury in this foul-fair shape to vex me? I ha' seen that face methinks yet know it not: How darest thou speak this treason 'gainst my king ? Durst any man in the world bring me this lye, By this, he had been in hell: Roderick a Tarquin ! Jacin. Yes, and thy daughter (had she done her
Jul. The king thy ravisher! oh unkingly sound.
Antonio, Alonzo, and other Officers, enter.
All. They are, Sir.
Jul. But Spain lias now begun a civil war,
She sounds the trumpet which draws forth my sword
Alon. On whom? speak loud your wrongs;
Jacin. Father, dear father.
Jul. To ask thee pardon that I did beget thee.
seas With a perpetual inundation, Can wash it ever out: leave me, I pray.
(Falls down: Alon. His fighting passions will be o'er anon, And all will be at peace.
Ant. Best in my judgment
Alon. Why, now there's hope of his recovery.
Jul. Jacinta welcome, thou art my child still :
Jacin. Dear father,