Sul. Sir, you are summoned to receive our thanks, for the troops restored to health by your kind prescriptions.—Ask a reward adequate to your services.

Has. Sultan—the reward I ask, is to preserve more of your people still.

Sul. How more? my subjects are in health—no contagion reigns amongst them.

Has. The prisoner is your subject—there misery—more contagious than disease, preys on the lives of hundreds—sentenced but to confinement, their doom is death.—Immured in damp and dreary vaults, they daily perish—and who can tell but that amongst the many hapless sufferers, there may be hearts, bent down with penitence to Heaven and you, for every slight offence—there may be some amongst the wretched multitude, even innocent victims.—Let me seek them out—let me save them, and you.

Sul. Amazement! retract your application—curb this weak pity; and receive our thanks.

Has. Curb my pity?—and what can I receive in recompence for that soft bond, which links me to the wretched?—and while it sooths their sorrow repays me more, than all the gifts or homage of an empire.——But if repugnant to your plan of government—not in the name of pity—but of justice.

Sul. Justice!——

Has. The justice which forbids all but the worst of criminals to be denied that wholesome air the very brute creation freely takes; at least allow them that.

Sul. Consider, Sir, for whom you plead—for men, (if not base culprits) yet so misled, so depraved, they are offensive to our state, and deserve none of its blessings.

Has. If not upon the undeserving,—if not upon the hapless wanderer from the paths of rectitude,—where shall the sun diffuse his light, or the clouds distil their dew? Where shall spring breathe fragrance, or autumn pour its plenty?

Sul. Sir, your sentiments, but much more your character, excite my curiosity. They tell me, in our camps, you visited each sick man's bed,—administered yourself the healing draught,—encouraged our savages with the hope of life, or pointed out their better hope in death.——The widow speaks your charities—the orphan lisps your bounties—and the rough Indian melts in tears to bless you.——I wish to ask why you have done all this?—What is it prompts you thus to befriend the wretched and forlorn?

Has. In vain for me to explain—the time it wou'd take to tell you why I act thus——

Sul. Send it in writing then.

Has. Nay, if you will read, I'll send a book, in which is already written why I act thus.

Sul. What book?—What is it called?

Has. "The Christian Doctrine." [Haswell bows here with the utmost reverence.] There you will find all I have done was but my duty.

Sul. [To the Guards.] Retire, and leave me alone with the stranger. [All retire except Haswell and the Sultan. They come forward.]

Sul. Your words recall reflections that distract me; nor can I bear the pressure on my mind without confessing—I am a Christian.

Has. A Christian!—What makes you thus assume the apostate?

Sul. Misery, and despair.

Has. What made you a Christian?

Sul. My Arabella,—a lovely European, sent hither in her youth, by her mercenary parents, to sell herself to the prince of all these territories. But 'twas my happy lot, in humble life, to win her love, snatch her from his expecting arms, and bear her far away—where, in peaceful solitude we lived, till, in the heat of the rebellion against the late Sultan, I was forced from my happy home to bear a part.—I chose the imputed rebels side, and fought for the young aspirer.—An arrow, in the midst of the engagement, pierced his heart; and his officers, alarmed at the terror this stroke of fate might cause amongst their troops, urged me (as I bore his likeness) to counterfeit it farther, and shew myself to the soldiers as their king recovered. I yielded to their suit, because it gave me ample power to avenge the loss of my Arabella, who had been taken from her home by the merciless foe, and barbarously murdered.

Has. Murdered!

Sul. I learnt so—and my fruitless search to find her since has confirmed the intelligence.—Frantic for her loss, I joyfully embraced a scheme which promised vengeance on the enemy—it prospered,—and I revenged my wrongs and her's, with such unsparing justice on the foe, that even the men who made me what I was, trembled to reveal their imposition; and they find it still their interest to continue it.

Has. Amazement!

Sul. Nay, they fill my prisons every day with wretches, that dare whisper I am not the real Sultan, but a stranger. The secret, therefore, I myself safely relate in private: the danger is to him who speaks it again; and, with this caution, I trust, it is safe with you.

Has. It was, without that caution.—Now hear me.——Involved in deeds, in cruelties, which your better thoughts revolt at, the meanest wretch your camps or prisons hold, claims not half the compassion you have excited. Permit me, then, to be your comforter, as I have been theirs.

Sul. Impossible!

Has. In the most fatal symptoms I have undertaken the body's cure. The mind's disease, perhaps, I'm not less a stranger to—Oh! trust the noble patient to my care.

Sul. How will you begin?

Has. Lead you to behold the wretched in their misery, and then shew you yourself in their deliverer.——I have your promise for a boon—'tis this.—Give me the liberty of six that I shall name, now in confinement, and be yourself a witness of their enlargement.—See joy lighted in the countenance where sorrow still has left its rough remains.—Behold the tear of rapture chase away that of anguish—hear the faultering voice, long used to lamentation, in broken accents, utter thanks and blessings.—Behold this scene, and if you find the medicine ineffectual, dishonour your physician.

Sul. I will behold it.

Has. Come, then, to the governor's house this very night—into that council room so often perverted to the use of the torture; and there, unknown to them as their king, you shall be witness to all the grateful heart can dictate, and enjoy all that benevolence can taste.

Sul. I will meet you there.

Has. In the evening?

Sul. At ten precisely.—Guards, conduct the stranger from the palace. [Exit Sultan.

Has. Thus far advanced, what changes may not be hoped for? [Exit.

END OF THE THIRD ACT.

ACT IV.

Elvirus. Oh my Aurelia! since the time I first saw you—since you left the pleasant spot, where I first beheld you; what distress, what anguish have we known?

Aur. Your family?

Elv. Yes—and that caused the silence which I hope you have lamented.—I could not wound you with the recital of our misfortunes—and now, only with the sad idea that I shall never see you more, I am come to take my leave.

Aur. Is there a chance that we may never meet again?

Elv. There is—and I hope it too—sincerely hope and request it—to see you again, wou'd be again to behold my father pining in misery.

Aur. Explain— [A loud rapping at the door.] that is, Sir Luke, and Lady Tremor—what shall I say, shou'd they come hither? they suspect I correspond with some person in the country—who shall I say you are? upon what business can I say you are come?

Elv. To avoid all suspicion of my real situation, and to be sure to gain admittance, I put on this habit, and told the servant, when I inquired for you, I was just arrived from England—[She starts.] nay, it was but necessary I should conceal who I was in this suspicious place, or I might plunge a whole family in the imputed guilt of mine.

Aur. Good Heaven!

Elv. I feared, besides, there was no other means; no likelihood to gain admission—and what, what wou'd I not have sacrificed, rather than left you for ever without a last farewell? think on these weighty causes, and pardon the deception.

Aur. But if they should ask me—

Elv. Say, as I have done—my stay must be so short, it is impossible they shou'd detect me—for I must be back—

Aur. Where?

Elv. No matter where—I must be back before the evening—and would almost wish never to see you more—I love you, Aurelia—O, how truly! and yet there is a love more dear, more sacred still.

Aur. You torture me with suspense—Sir Luke is coming this way—what name shall I say, if he asks me?

Elv. Glanmore—I announced that name to the servant.

Aur. You tremble.

Elv. The imposition hurts me—and I feel as if I dreaded a detection, though 'tis scarce possible—Sorrows have made a coward of me—even the servant, I thought, looked at me with suspicion—and I was both confounded and enraged.

Aur. Go into this apartment; I'll follow you—there we may be safe—and do not hide the smallest circumstance which I may have to apprehend.

[Elvirus exit at a door.

Sir Luke. [Without.] Abominable! provoking! impertinent! not to be borne!

Aur. [Listening.] Thank Heaven, Sir Luke is so perplexed with some affairs of his own, he may not think of mine.—

[Exit to Elvirus.

Sir Luke. I am out of all patience—and all temper—did you ever hear of such a compleat impertinent coxcomb? Talk, talk, talk, continually! and referring to me on all occasions! "Such a man was a brave General—another a great Admiral," and then he must tell a long story about a siege, and ask me if it did not make my bosom glow!

Lady. It had not that effect upon your face, for you were as white as ashes.

Sir Luke. Aye, you did not see yourself, while he was talking of grandfathers and great grandfathers—if you had—

Lady. I was not white, I protest.

Sir Luke. No—but you were as red as scarlet.

Lady. And you ought to have resented the insult, if you saw me affected by it—Oh! some men wou'd have given him such a dressing—

Sir Luke. Yes, my dear, if your uncle the frisseur had been alive, he wou'd have given him a dressing, I dare say.

Lady. Sir Luke, none of your impertinence; you know I can't nor won't bear it—neither will I wait for Lord Flint's resentment on Mr. Twineall—No, I desire you will tell him to quit this roof immediately.

Sir Luke. No, my dear—no, no—you must excuse me—I can't think of quarrelling with a gentleman in my own house.

Lady. Was it your own house to day at dinner when he insulted us? and would quarrel then?

Sir Luke. No—that was a friend's house—and I make it a rule never to quarrel in my own house—a friend's house—in a tavern—or in the streets.

Lady. Well, then, I would quarrel in my own house—a friend's house—a tavern—or in the streets—if any one offended me.

Sir Luke. O, my dear, I have no doubt of it—no doubt, in the least.

Lady. But, at present, it shall be in my own house,—and I will tell the gentleman to quit it immediately.

Sir Luke. Very well, my dear—pray do.

Lady. I suppose, however, I may tell him I have your authority to bid him go?

Sir Luke. Tell him I have no authority—none in the world over you—but that you will do as you like.

Lady. I can't tell him so—he won't believe it.

Sir Luke. Why not? you often tell me so, and make me believe it too.

Lady. Here the gentleman comes—go away for a moment.

Sir Luke. With all my heart, my dear.

[Going in a hurry.

Lady. I'll give him a few hints, that he must either change his mode of behaviour, or leave us.

Sir Luke. That's right—but don't be too warm—or if he should be very impertinent, or insolent—(I hear Aurelia's voice in the next room) call her, and I dare say she'll come and take your part.

[Exit Sir Luke.

Twi. I positively could pass a whole day upon that stair-case—those reverend faces—I presume they are the portraits of some of your Ladyship's illustrious ancestors.

Lady. Sir! Mr. Twineall—give me leave to tell you—

[In a violent passion.

Twi. The word illustrious, I find, displeases you—pardon me—I did not mean to make use of so forcible an epithet—I know the delicacy of sentiment, which cannot bear the reflection that a few centuries only shou'd reduce from royalty, one, whose dignified deportment seems to have been formed for that resplendent station.

Lady. The man is certainly mad!——Mr. Twineall—

Twi. Pardon me, Madam—I own I am an enthusiast on these occasions—the dignity of blood—

Lady. You have too much, I am sure—do, have a little taken from you.

Twi. Gladly wou'd I lose every drop that fills these plebeian veins, to be enobled by the smallest——

Lady. Pray, Sir, take up your abode in some other place.

Twi. Madam! [Surprised.

Lady. Your behaviour, Sir—

Twi. If my friend had not given me the hint, damn me if I shou'd not think her down right angry. [Aside.

Lady. I can scarce contain my rage at being so laugh'd at. [Aside.

Twi. I'll mention the wig——this is the time—[Aside.] Perhaps you may resent it, Madam—but there is a favour—

Lady. A favour, Sir! is this a time to ask a favour?

Twi. To an admirer of antiquity, as I am.

Lady. Antiquity again!

Twi. I beg pardon——but——a wig, Ma'am—

Lady. A what? [Petrified.

Twi. A wig. [Bowing.

Lady. Oh! oh! oh! [Choaking.] this is not to be borne—this is too much—ah! ah! [Sitting down, and going into fits.] a direct, plain, palpable, and unequivocal attack upon my family—without evasion or palliative.—I can't bear it any longer.—Oh! oh!— [Shrieking.

Twi. Bless my soul, what shall I do? what's the matter?

Sir Luke. [Without.] Maids! maids! go to your mistress—that good-for-nothing fellow is doing her a mischief.

Aur. Dear Madam, what is the matter?

Lady. Oh! oh! [Crying.

Sir Luke. How do you do now, my dear?

Twi. Upon my word, Sir Luke—

Sir Luke. O, Sir, no apology—it does not signify—never mind it—I beg you won't put yourself to the trouble of an apology—it is of no kind of consequence.

Lady. What do you mean, Sir Luke? [Recovered.

Sir Luke. To shew proper philosophy, my dear, under the affliction I feel for your distress.

Lady. [To Aurelia.] Take Twineall out of the room.

Aur. Mr. Twineall, her Ladyship begs you'll leave the room, till she is a little recovered.

Twi. Certainly. [Bows respectfully to her Ladyship, and exit with Aurelia.

Sir Luke. I thought what you wou'd get by quarrelling—fits—and tears.

Lady. And you know, Sir Luke, if you had quarrelled, you wou'd have been in the same situation. [Rising from her seat.] But, Sir Luke, my dear, Sir Luke, show yourself a man of courage but on this occasion.—

Sir Luke. My dear, I wou'd do as much for you as I wou'd for my own life—but damn me if I think I could fight to save that.

Lord. Lady Tremor, did the servant say you were very well, or very ill?

Lady. Oh, my Lord, that insolent coxcomb, the honourable Mr. Twineall—

Lord. Oh, I am very glad you put me in mind of it—I dare say I shou'd have forgot it else, notwithstanding I came on purpose.

Lady. Forgot what?

Lord. A little piece of paper here, [Pulling out a parchment.] but it will do a great deal—has he offended you?

Lady. Beyond bearing.

Lord. I am glad of it, because it gives double pleasure to my vengeance—he is a disaffected person, Madam—boldly told me he doubted the Sultan's right to the throne—I have informed against him, and his punishment is at my option—I may have him imprisoned; shot; sent to the gallies; or his head cut off—but which does your Ladyship chuse?—Which ever you please is at your service. [Bowing.

Lady. [Rising and curtsying.] O, they are all alike to me; which ever you please, my Lord.

Sir Luke. What a deal of ceremony!—how cool they are about it.

Lord. And why not cool, Sir; why not cool?

Sir Luke. O, very true—I am sure it has froze me.

Lord. I will go instantly, for fear it shou'd slip my memory, and put this paper into the hands of proper officers—in the mean time, Sir Luke, if you can talk with your visitor, Mr. Twineall, do—inquire his opinion of the Sultan's rights—ask his thoughts, as if you were commissioned by me—and, while he is revealing them to you, the officers shall be in ambush, surprise him in the midst of his sentiments, and bear him away to—

[Twineall looking in.

Twi. May I presume to inquire how your Ladyship does?

Lady. O, yes—and pray walk in—I am quite recovered.

Lord. Lady Tremor, I bid you good day for the present.

Sir Luke. [Following him to the door.] Your Lordship won't forget?

Lord. No—depend upon it, I shall remember.

Sir Luke. Yes—and make some other people remember too.

[Exit Lord Flint.

Twi. Is his Lordship gone? I am very sorry.

Sir Luke. No—don't be uneasy, he'll soon be back.

Sir Luke. Mr. Haswell, I am glad to see you.

Has. I told her Ladyship I would call in the evening, Sir Luke; and so I have kept my word—I wanted too to speak with my Lord Flint, but he was in such a hurry as he passed me, he wou'd hardly let me ask him how he did.—I hope your Ladyship is well this afternoon.

[Bows to Twineall—Sir Luke exit at the door to Aurelia and Elvirus.

Twi. Pardon me, Mr. Haswell, but I almost suspect you heard of her Ladyship's indisposition, and therefore paid this visit; for I am not to learn your care and attention to all under affliction.

Has. [Bows gravely.] Has your Ladyship been indisposed then?

Lady. A little—but I am much better.

Twi. Surely, of all virtues, charity is the first! it so protects our neighbour!

Has. Do not you think, Sir, patience frequently protects him as much?

Twi. Dear Sir—pity for the poor miserable—

Has. Is oftener excited than the poor and miserable are aware of.

[Looking significantly at him.

Sir Luke. [From the room where Aurelia and Elvirus are.] Nay, Sir, I beg you will walk into this apartment—Aurelia, introduce the gentleman to Lady Tremor.

Lady. Who has she with her?

Has. Aurelia!—O! I have not seen her I know not when—and besides my acquaintance with her relations in England, there is a frank simplicity about her that—

Sir Luke. You shou'd have introduced the gentleman before—I assure you, Sir, [To Elvirus.] I did not know, nor shou'd I have known, if I had not accidentally come into the room.

[Haswell starts, on seeing Elvirus.

Sir Luke. [To Lady Tremor.] A relation of Aurelia's—a Mr. Glanmore, my dear, just arrived from England; who call'd to pass a few minutes with us, before he sets off to the part of India he is to reside in. [Elvirus and Aurelia appear in the utmost embarrassment and confusion.

Lady. I hope, Sir, your stay with us will not be so short as Sir Luke has mentioned?

Elv. Pardon me, Madam, it must—the caravan, with which I travel, goes off this evening, and I must accompany it.

Has. [Aside.] I doubted before; but the voice confirms me.

[Looking on Elvirus.

Lady. Why, you only arrived this morning, did you, Mr. Glanmore? you came passenger in the same ship, then, with Mr. Twineall?

Twi. No, Madam—Sir, I am very sorry we had not the pleasure of your company on board of us. [To Elvirus.

Sir Luke. You had;—Mr. Glanmore came over in the Mercury—did not you tell me so, Sir?

[Elvirus bows.

Twi. Bless my soul, Sir! I beg your pardon—but surely that cannot be—I got acquainted with every soul on board of us—every creature—all their connections—and I can scarcely suppose you were of the number.

Sir Luke. [Aside.] How impertinent he is to this gentleman too! O! that I had but courage to knock him down.

Elv. [To Twineall.] Perhaps, Sir—

Aur. Yes, I dare say, that was the case.

Twi. What was the case, Madam?

Sir Luke. Wha—wha—wha—[Mimicks.] that is not good breeding.

Has. Why do you blush, Aurelia?

Aur. Because [Hesitating.] this gentleman——came over in the same ship with Mr. Twineall.

Sir Luke. And I can't say I wonder at your blushing.

Twi. Why then positively, Sir, I thought I had known every passenger——and surely—

Lady. Mr. Twineall, your behaviour puts me out of all patience—did you not hear the gentleman say he came in the same vessel; and is not that sufficient?

Twi. Perfectly, Madam—perfectly—but I thought there might be some mistake.

Elv. And there is, Sir—you find you are mistaken.

Lady. I thought so.——

Has. [To Elvirus.] And you did come in the same vessel?

Elv. Sir, do you doubt it?

Has. Doubt it?

Elv. Dare not doubt it.—[Trembling and confused.

Has. Dare not?

Elv. No, Sir, dare not. [Violently.

Aur. Oh, heavens!

Sir Luke. [To Aurelia.] Come, my dear, you and I will get out of the way.

[Retiring with her.

Lady. O, dear!—for heaven's sake!—Mr. Twineall, this is your doing.

Twi. Me, Madam!——

Has. I beg the company's pardon—but [To Elvirus.] a single word with you, Sir, if you please.

Lady. Dear Mr. Haswell——

Has. Trust my prudence and forbearance, Madam—I will but speak a word in private to this gentleman.—[Haswell takes Elvirus down to the bottom of the stage; the rest retire.

Has. Are you, or are you not, an impostor?

Elv. I am—I am—but do not you repeat my words—Do not you say it. [Threatening.

Has. What am I to fear?

Elv. Fear me—I cannot lie with fortitude; but I can——Beware of me.

Has. I will beware of you, and so shall all my friends.

Elv. Insolent, insulting man.—[With the utmost contempt.

Lady. Come, come, gentlemen, I hope you are now perfectly satisfied about this little nonsense.—Let us change the subject.—Mr. Haswell, have you been successful before the Sultan for any of those poor prisoners you visited this morning?

Sir Luke. Aye; Meanright told me he saw you coming from them with your long cloak; and said he shou'd not have known you, if somebody had not said it was you.

Lady. But what success with the Sultan?

Has. He has granted me the pardon and freedom of any six I shall present as objects of his mercy.

Lady. I sincerely rejoice.—Then the youth and his father, whom you felt so much for, I am sure, will be in the number of those who share your clemency.

Elv. [With the most supplicatory tone and manner.] Sir—Mr. Haswell—O, heavens!

Sir Luke. Come, Mr. Haswell, this young man seems sorry he has offended you—forgive him.

Lady. Aye, do, Mr. Haswell—are you sorry, Sir?

Elv. O! wounded to the heart—and, without his pardon, see nothing but despair.

Lady. Good heavens!

Has. Sir Luke, my Lord Flint told me he was coming back directly—pray inform him I had business elsewhere, and cou'd wait no longer. [Exit.

Elv. O! I'm undone.

Lady. Follow him, if you have any thing to say?

Elv. I dare not—I feel the terror of his just reproach.

Lady. Did you know him in England?

Aur. Dear Madam, will you suffer me to speak a few words——

[Aside to Lady Tremor.

Sir Luke. Aye; leave her and her relation together, and let us take a turn in the garden with Mr. Twineall.—I'm afraid his Lordship will be back before we have drawn him to say more on the subject, for which he will be arrested.

Lady. You are right.

Sir Luke. Mr. Twineall, will you walk this way?—That young lady and gentleman wish to have a little conversation.

Twi. O, certainly, Sir Luke, by all means.

[Exeunt Sir Luke and Lady.

[To Elvirus.] I am extremely sorry, Sir, you kept your bed during the voyage: I shou'd else have been most prodigiously happy in such good company. [Exit.

Aur. Why are you thus agitated? It was wrong to be so impetuous—but such regret as this——

Elv. Hear the secret I refused before—my father is a prisoner for life.

Aur. Oh, heavens! then Mr. Haswell was the only man——

Elv. And he had promised me—promised me, with benevolence, his patronage—but the disguise he wore when I first saw him, led me to mistake him now—made me expose my falsehood, my infamy, and treat his honour'd person with abuse.

Aur. Aye; let his virtues make you thus repent; but let them also make you hope forgiveness.

Elv. Nay, he is just, as well as compassionate—and for detected falsehood——

Aur. You make me tremble.

Elv. Yet he shall hear my story—I'll follow him, and obtain his pity, if not his pardon.

Aur. Nay, supplicate for that too—and you need not blush, or feel yourself degraded, to kneel to him, for he wou'd scorn the pride that triumphs over the humbled. [Exeunt.

Twi. Why, really, Sir Luke, as my Lord has given you charge to sound my principles, I must own they are just such as I delivered to him.

Sir Luke. Well, Mr. Twineall, I only wish you to be a little more clear—we will suppose the present Sultan no impostor—yet what pretensions do you think the other family——

Twi. That I'll make clear to you at once—or if my reasons are not very clear, they are at least very positive, and that you know is the same thing.—This family—no—that family—the family that reigned before this—this came after that—they came before. Now every one agrees that this family was always—so and so—[whispering.]—and that the other was always—so and so—[whispering.]—in short, every body knows that one of them had always a very suspicious—you know what——

Sir Luke. No, I don't.

Twi. Pshaw—pshaw—every body conjectures what—and though it was never said in so many words, yet it was always supposed—and though there never has been any proof, yet there have been things much more strong—and for that very reason, Sir William—(Sir Luke, I mean—I beg your pardon)—for that very reason—(I can't think what made me call you Sir William)—for that very reason—(Oh, I was thinking of Sir William Tiffany)—for that very reason, say people what they will—that, that must be their opinion—but then where is the man who will speak his thoughts freely as I have done?