[] RAMAH DROOG.

SCENE I.— A Court-yard adjoining to the RA⯑JAH's Palace, into which there are ſeveral en⯑trances from a Priſon: On one ſide is a Tower forming a part of the Priſon: In the Tower is a window, and alſo a door which communicates with the Court-yard.

WHAT a ſet of diſcontented rogues ye are! What is it you want? Have you not had the honor of being taken captive by the moſt valiant troops in all India; the ſoldiers of the great prince, [2] the Mahah Rajah Surooj Seing? Have you not the further honor of being impriſoned within the very walls of his Highneſs's palace, in the famed fortreſs of Ramah Droog? Have you not a ſump⯑tuous allowance of rice and water once in four-and-twenty hours? Are you not allowed half an hour every day to leave your dungeon, and take the freſh air? What wou'd ye have?

Is our worthy commander well treated,—the gallant Captain Sidney?

Well treated! How dare ye aſk the queſtion? Is he not my priſoner? Do ye doubt my humanity? I'll have ye rack'd, flead alive, and dipp'd in boil⯑ing oil, if ye dare doubt my humanity.

At leaſt, good worthy Chellingoe, grant us one boon.

Ay; that is ever the cry. Grant us this favor, and grant us that. And what acknowledgment do you make for my kindneſs?

You may retire.

I know ſome of you have watches, and rings, and ſnuff boxes, and ſilver ſleeve buttons.

Indeed, good Chellingoe, we have already given them all up to you.

'Tis falſe—You conceal your riches, ungrateful wretches as ye are, after my kindneſs to you. You [3] would all have been ſtrangled yeſterday, if I had not ſuſpected you had concealed wealth about you.

We acknowledge your goodneſs in getting us a reſpite.

Oh, ye do, do ye? Yes; I intereſted the cle⯑mency of his highneſs the Rajah—He has graciouſly permitted you to live, to make a full diſcloſure of your property. But what will all your wealth avail ye to-morrow, when you go to execution? Why not commit it to the care of me, your beſt friend? Go, go—I am aſhamed of your avarice.

Grant us but this favor—let us have one laſt look of our valiant commander, our brother, our friend, and—

And what—What have you to grant in return?

Here is a ſilver-hafted knife, the gift of my poor father.

O heavens! a ſilver-hafted knife!—A dangerous weapon for a priſoner. Fie! fie! I wonder that was not taken from you before.

Here is a lucky ſixpence which my poor Kate gave me as a keep ſake, when we parted; and I promiſed, ſhould I ever return—

But you know you never will return, and ſo can't keep your promiſe. Give it to me.

Here are a gold mohur, two pagodas, and ſome rupees, which I found in my cell, among the ſtraw.

A good fellow! a good fellow! Go look among the ſtraw again—I dare ſay you'll find more.

A tolerable morning's work.

Come, I like to ſee theſe generous ſentiments revive in ye: and as your reward, you ſhall ſee your commander preſently.—

This is the hour when the Princeſs Alminah uſually walks this way.

She has had interviews with my priſoner, the young Engliſh officer, and is certainly in love with him. If ſo, I muſt ſhew him favour. [5] Now, how to turn this to my own advantage.

Send hither that female priſoner, in male attire, whom they call Margaret,—that virago, who is confined apart from the reſt. She may give me the information I want.

Where is Chellingoe? Shew the way, ſirrah! Ordinary time—march!

There is no taming that vixen.

To the left—Countermarch—quick! march!

I'll have no riots here.

Attention! Hark ye, Sir! What do you mean by keeping me in cloſe captivity after I have de⯑manded my parole? Am not I a priſoner of war? Was I not honorably fighting the battles of my country? How dare you treat a female Britiſh volunteer in this manner, taken fighting by the ſide of her huſband?

And is there really any poor fellow in exiſtence ſo unfortunate as to be your huſband?

Sir, I have the honor to be a ſerjeant's lady—Nay, more, he is a ſerjeant of grenadiers, and an Iriſh⯑man—Need I add, that he is a man of courage?

No you need not—his courage cannot be doubted if he has been bold enough to venture on you.

I followed the example of my dear miſtreſs, the wife of your priſoner, Captain Sidney. In con⯑tempt of every danger ſhe accompanied him on this expedition. For convenience we aſſumed male attire. My miſtreſs, indeed, choſe to be habited like an Indian ſervant; but for my part I always had a partiality for wearing the breeches.

Retire—the Princeſs is here.

Orſana, are we obſerved?

No madam—Chellingoe underſtands how to take a hint. There is Sidney's window.

How provoking that he does not appear!

Madam, here is Chellingoe who guards the captives.

Bid him approach.—

The Engliſh captives are ſtill in your care?

Yes, madam.

I hope you treat the brave men with humanity?

With the utmoſt tenderneſs.

The honor of our nation requires that we ſhou'd reſpect the virtues of an enemy.

Very true, madam; ſo I have ſaid.

Eſpecially when unfortunate—poor wretches, how I pity them! At a diſtance from their na⯑tive country—ſeparated from all they hold dear in friendſhip, in love.

Alas, madam! theſe conſiderations have but too painfully touch'd my heart.

I hope ſo; for remember, your life muſt anſwer for their ill treatment. Mark me, Chellingoe!—if any one ſhould die while in your keeping, a moſt ſtrict account of the cauſe will be required.

I live but to obey your illuſtrious family.

Her Highneſs is curious to converſe with their commander.

I will prepare him for the honor.

I will ſtill conceal my rank from this captive, that awe may not reſtrain him from gratifying my inquiries: let him attend me on the terrace.

How my heart beats! Govinda, your friendſhip muſt aſſiſt me in this interview.

Illuſtrious princeſs?

Oh Govinda! this illuſtrious princeſs, as you call her, the favorite daughter of a powerful mo⯑narch; ſurrounded by her guards, in a palace where her word is fate—this mighty princeſs is in love; and no more than a poor, timid woman, trembling with apprehenſion at an interview with a captive ſtranger.

Yes, Alminah! I will fulfil your commands at the riſk of my life. You have claims on my gra⯑titude which muſt be obeyed.

You are permitted to walk on this terrace—I have no orders to this effect; but the indulgence is mine; entirely my grace and favour, and I hope you will be grateful.

Behold the angels of pity, who have ſo kindly ſought to ſoothe my grief.

Gallant ſtranger! the hour approaches when your chains ſhall be removed.

Aſtoniſhment! my chains removed! by whom?

By me:—oft have I liſtened to the melancholy ſounds which gave vent to your ſorrows, till my heart vibrated in uniſon

Charming creature! But how is it poſſible—

Be content to know the extent of my power, without queſtioning the means: enquire no further. At midnight Govinda ſhall come to you in your priſon—he can remove every obſtacle to your re⯑leaſe—follow him in ſilence—he will conduct you to me, and we will fly together.

This flirtation of the princeſs may be turned to good account. 'Tis fortunate to be in office when our ſuperiors fall in love—a wiſe man may always profit by it.

Why don't you retire? Go back to your priſon.

Be calm—be contented—I will not go back to my priſon till I think proper.

What! am I to be braved thus? Retire in⯑ſtantly, or—

You had better not—I may poſſibly be hurt in the ſcuffle, perhaps mortally hurt—and if I ſhou'd die—

Well?

Why then you know, as the Princeſs told you, your life muſt anſwer for it.

How unfortunate that ſhe ſhould overhear the converſation.

Don't provoke me, or I will certainly attempt ſomething dangerous.—How do you know that a mine is not now ready to ſpring under you?

Will you pleaſe to retire?

For aught you know you may have taken poiſon at your laſt meal.

I wiſh ſhe was out of the priſon with all my ſoul.

Or ſhould that fail, I might poiſon myſelf and ſwear you did it.

I ſhall not think myſelf ſafe till this vixen is diſpoſed of. A thought ſtrikes me—

I tell you what—you are a brave wench, and ought not to remain in confinement.

I agree with you for the firſt time.

Have you a mind to eſcape?

You wiſh to get rid of me?

I ſhould have no objection.

And ſuppoſe I ſhould be inclined to indulge you ſo far, what do you offer me?

Why, I offer you your freedom. What more would you have?

I would have the rupees you ſtole—my property.

How unconſcionable! When I give you liberty.

True; but liberty and property ſhould not be ſeparated;—ſo, if you refuſe

—

Huſh! the Princeſs may overhear us.

I mean it. I will proclaim your villanies and demand juſtice.

Don't talk ſo loud. You ſhall eſcape on your own terms, if you will but go quietly. Zemaun!

I commit this priſoner to your care.

That Zemaun is a proud ferocious fel⯑low, the terror of all the priſoners, and famed for his implacable hatred to Europeans. Yet ſurely Chellingoe dares not play me a trick.

If deſtroyed beyond the bounds of the priſon, you know it is no fault of mine.—

Adieu, my friend! Ze⯑maun will take care of you. Early in the morning follow him in ſilence.

Lead on—I'll follow you.

But, firſt, my friend Chellingoe, I muſt have my money.

SCENE II.— A Plain, with a diſtant View of the RAJAH's Hill-Fort.

Oh Liffey! Barney Liffey! What an unhappy ſerjeant of grenadiers art thou? An Iriſhman by birth, and a ſoldier by choice! I, who never turned my back upon an enemy—no, nor a friend, whether man or woman—that it ſhou'd be my fate to play at bo-peep in a thicket, like a hunted ty⯑ger! But how can I help it? With ſuch a charge committed to my care, ſuch an innocent ſweet creature, whom I have pledged my honor to pro⯑tect—And then, to leave my wife, my dear Mar⯑garet behind me—there is another misfortunate! for though we conſtantly quarrel when we meet, I always find a violent affection for her when ſhe is abſent. Indeed I think we agree beſt at a diſtance. The moment the parſon made us one we became two, and, indeed, we have not been much together ſince we were united.

Liffey! Where are you?

Here, my good Lady. This way, Madam, you may venture to peep out of your hiding⯑place.

After paſſing two tedious days in that gloomy foreſt, how delightful is the open air! This change of proſpect—Oh, Liffey! can that be the priſon of my huſband?

It is; that is Ramah Droog Fortreſs; that is my maſter Captain Sidney's priſon. Oh! I ſhall never forget this valley. Here our detachment was ſurrounded—here ſome brave fellows fell, and all the reſt were taken priſoners—except myſelf—No, no—I was not amongſt the ſlain; nor was I taken priſoner. Oh! I ſhall never forget how the black raſcals came pouring down upon us on every ſide, when my maſter turned to me ſud⯑denly: ‘"Liffey,"’ ſaid he, ‘"all is loſt—Make your eſcape as faſt as poſſible—Run away with my wife, I entreat you."’ And then you know, ma'am—

I know not what paſſed! At the ſight of my Sid⯑ney's danger, my boaſted courage forſook me.

‘"Run away, Sir!"’ cried I. ‘"Alas! poor Liffey never diſobeyed your orders before; but it is impoſſible to run away—Upon my ſoul, I can't turn my back upon an enemy—I can't muſter up courage to do it."’

But you could not diſobey your maſter—?

That is my only conſolation for behaving like a coward. ‘"Leave me, my good fellow, if you have any friendſhip for me,"’ ſaid he. By my honor, thought I, that ſeems to be an odd way of ſhewing friendſhip, (though not unuſual,) to deſert a friend when he ſtands moſt in need of aſſiſtance.

Who are thoſe men armed with ſpears and javelins?

Tiger hunters, madam, beating among the jungle in ſearch of the game—A thought ſtrikes me; and yet—

Your fidelity entitles you to my attention. What would you propoſe?

Why, look ye, madam! We are two hundred miles from the Britiſh ſettlement; and our whole ſtock of proviſions is one poor little ſolitary potatoe, in the corner of my knapſack.

Good heavens! Liffey, did you not tell me that you had rice enough for a week?

So I thought till I looked into the bag juſt now; and i'faith, I find, inſtead of a bag of rice, I had in my hurry carried off a full ſuit of clothes belong⯑ing to old Sampan, our commiſſary's clerk.

Well, proceed.

That is what I cannot do. I cannot proceed, and therefore I think the wiſeſt way is to ſtay where we are, and yield ourſelves priſoners to theſe tiger hunters.

If you are known to be a ſoldier, you will be either impriſoned or obliged to enliſt in their ſer⯑vice. What is to be done? Can you paſs for a muſician?

Madam!—to be ſure I can ſing a little; but I could never turn a tune in my life, even on the jew's harp.

Is there no ſituation in which you could be uſeful to an Indian Prince?

Why, yes; I think I cou'd take care of his wives; but I'm afraid they won't truſt me to do that.

I have heard that the character moſt reſpected throughout the Eaſt, is that of an European phy⯑ſician.

And would you have me pretend to be a doctor?

We can think of no better ſcheme; and I ſhall be ſecure in paſſing for your ſervant. You may eaſily conceal your ignorance. I dare ſay they never had an European phyſician among them.

Moſt likely not; for they ſeem to be a hale, hearty ſet of people.

But then theſe regimentals—

Suppoſe, madam, I change them for old Sam⯑pan's ſuit of clothes?

A lucky thought!

And by my ſoul I ſhall then be a curioſity worth your ſeeing.

Yes, my beloved Sidney! I ſhall once more re⯑join thee, and ſhare thy fate—perhaps effect thy reſcue.

Here I am, madam!—What d'ye think of me?

Hark! the hunters approach. Now remember, I am to paſs for your ſervant.

Then, in token of ſervitude, carry the knapſack—you'll not find it very heavy. There is nothing in it but the poor little potatoe that has travelled with us ſo far.

Now be very careful how you anſwer their queſ⯑tions. They are here. Why do you loiter thus, Liffey?

I was only admiring myſelf, madam. How lucky it is that I blundered upon this ſuit of clothes!—I could not have made a more fortunate miſtake, had it even been on purpoſe.

SCENE IV.— A View in the Fort, the ſame as the firſt Scene.

His Highneſs the great Rajah taken ill, ſud⯑denly ill—violently ill—and a ſuſpicion of poiſon! His doctors diſagree as uſual; ſo between the ma⯑lady and the medicine he'll give us the ſlip. What a blow to my hopes! what a check to my riſing ambition! My former diſgrace forgot—worming myſelf into favour further and further every day! and now to loſe the fruits of my toils!

Some more European priſoners are brought in. Will you pleaſe to examine them?

No.—I'm not in a humour to examine priſoners.—The Rajah will certainly die. What with the doc⯑tors and the diſeaſe, his conſtitution will be knock'd about like a ſhuttlecock between battledores, till the parties grow tired of the contention, and he falls to the ground.

Will you pleaſe to have the Europeans cloſely confined in the dungeon, or in the caſtle?

Are they rich?

I don't know—we have not examined them.

Right. Always leave that to me.

One of them ſays he is a phyſician.

A phyſician, and from Europe! I'll ſend him to the Rajah.—Bring him in directly.

If his Highneſs ſhould be cured by a doctor of my recommendation, what a brilliant career of honors and dignities will open to me!—Then, if the Eu⯑ropean ſhou'd kill him!—But I'll make it his in⯑tereſt not to kill him. Aye, but if he ſhould give too ſtrong a doſe by miſtake. No matter; I dare ſay the doctor knows enough of his profeſſion to keep that a ſecret from everybody.

My huſband yet living, and a priſoner in the tower! Oh! Liffey, my heart beats high with expectation.

Oh! madam, and my heart ſinks low with diſ⯑appointment. No intelligence to be gained of poor Margaret, whether living or dead. It wou'd be a comfort to be aſcertained of the fact either way. But ſhe is certainly no more: were ſhe alive, her tongue wou'd proclaim the circumſtance to the whole priſon.

This muſt be the doctor. Looſen his chains, never fetter the hands of genius.—You are luckily arrived and in good time.

I hope it will prove ſo, your Honor.

I am told you are a phyſician.

I am glad you are told ſo, for I am not fond of ſpeaking of myſelf.

How did it happen that you came into the terri⯑tories of the great Rajah?

I have always been partial to travelling—tra⯑velling for improvement. Hearing you had a battle in the neighbourhood, I came to offer my aſſiſtance.

Well and diſcreetly anſwered. May I aſk if you are eminent in your profeſſion?

You may aſk it; but my modeſty won't let me give you an anſwer.

You ſeem to enjoy ſtrong health yourſelf; a hopeful object for a ſick perſon to look on.

Enjoy my health—no wonder—I never taſted a drop of phyſic in my life.

Give me your hand—now I know you are a true doctor—they are never ſo ſelfiſh as to deprive their patients of medicines by taking it themſelves.—

Remember that all poſſible reſpect muſt be ſhewn to this learned man and his follower. May I crave your name?

My name is Liffey—Doctor O'Liffey.—

I ſhall tack the O to it now—it will give me more conſequence.

Doctor O'Liffey, your fortune is made. I will patronize you—I have wonderful influence at the court of the illuſtrious Rajah. He is a great prince. Did you ever hear his titles?

No, your Honor—I ſhou'd like to remember them.

He is the mighty Monarch, the Mahah Rajah, Surooj Seing; that is, the ſon of the lion, brother to the ſun and moon, and couſin to all the ſtars in the firmament.

Then what bleſſed weather you muſt have in this country, if he and his relations are on good terms together. I ſuppoſe a foggy day, or a dark night, is a ſure ſign of a quarrel in the family.

He is the immortal and all-powerful Rajah, who, when he has dined, gives leave to all the princes of the earth to go to dinner.

How gracious and condeſcending! If they are as hungry as I am, they muſt feel it to be a ſingu⯑lar favor.

Now, as I told you, I am a favorite at court—I can introduce you to be one of the ſtate phyſi⯑cians.

Is his Highneſs indiſpoſed?

Yes; the immortal Rajah—

Is going to die, I ſuppoſe?

I hope not. But this all-powerful potentate—

Is in a very weak condition?

You ſhall attend his Highneſs, and judge of his malady by the ſymptoms.

That is totally unneceſſary, Sir. My maſter can preſcribe juſt as well without ſeeing the patient. He has one ſovereign remedy upon which he de⯑pends.

A noſtrum. He is a deſperate fellow—kill or cure, I perceive.

I ſay, madam—Who the devil do you mean? What have I to preſcribe?

Anything will anſwer the purpoſe.

Will it?

Yes; provided the remedy is not known here.

Then what ſay you to the little potatoe in my knapſack? 'Tis a ſovereign remedy that ſaves the lives of thouſands every day in my country.

An excellent idea, Liffey!

The princeſs Alminah is gone to offer her de⯑votions at the moſque for the recovery of his High⯑neſs—ſhe will return this way, and muſt not find us here. Let us be alert, and ſhew our zeal—Doctor, we have no time to loſe.

I am with you—I'll prepare this famous medi⯑cine.

Employ your beſt ſkill, Doctor. Alla forbid that we ſhould fail in the amiable duties of hu⯑manity! Come, Doctor.

What do you mean, my friend? Are you going to take me in cuſtody.

It is our duty—I preſume you know the terms upon which you undertake this cure?

Oh! don't talk about it. I am not mercenary—a few diamonds and a dozen bags of your pagodas, as you call them.

If you ſucceed, you may name your reward; but I don't mean that.

No;—why then, what does your Honor mean?

I mean—if you ſhould fail.

Fail! ha! ha! ha! my dear, the thing is im⯑poſſible.

I am glad to ſee you ſo confident.

Oh! you'll never have reaſon to complain of my want of confidence. Beſides, the worſt come to the worſt, I ſuppoſe it is, ‘"No cure no pay."’

No—that is not the worſt; for if his Highneſs ſhould unfortunately die under your care, his de⯑ceaſe will be imputed to the medicine, and you will be trampled to death by elephants, agreeably to the cuſtom in theſe caſes.

Oh, miſerable ſoul that I am!

But ſee, my dear Sidney appears.

Yes; your deliverer is the Princeſs Alminah.

Diſtraction! a fearful light breaks in upon me.

She will no longer conceal her rank from you; and I ſhall have the felicity of giving liberty to a brave ſoldier.

Oh, my Eliza!

SCENE I.— The Battlements near SIDNEY's Priſon.

Zemaun, what means this myſterious ſilence? Whither would you lead me? Surely we muſt have aſcended very high on the rock; ſo high that the ſounds from the plain below are almoſt loſt ere they reach us. Speak, Zemaun! your eyes roll as if you revolved ſome fatal purpoſe. Speak, Zemaun!

Oh! I am loſt! Chellingoe has deceived me. Yet, has he forgotten Alminah's commands? Does he not remember that a priſoner found dead within theſe walls—

Alas! for pity!

Generous Zemaun! I ſhall ever remember my life is your gift; and I will hold it in truſt for your ſervice.

Then you are not Chellingoe's ſlave?

A prince!

There is a companion to that volume which, I ſuppoſe, you did not forget—the heart of woman.

Zelma! I have heard the guards ſing ditties in her praiſe. She was the daughter of the late Rajah. Alas! I know the fatal ſtory—The unfortunate monarch was deſtroyed, and not one of his family ſurvived to claim the throne.

Yes, one remains—The lovely Zelma.

The princeſs living!

Go on.

Heaven nerv'd my arm—inſtant he fell before me.

And you ſaved her.

Then Zelma lives in concealment.

Zemaun!

I hear a voice.

It is Zelma's faithful ſervant.

Zemaun!

What ſounds are theſe?

SCENE II.— The Entrance of the Priſon.

A pretty ſpot of work I have made of it. Come here to get another man out of priſon, and have got into it myſelf.—

Pray, my lad, how long am I be kept here in jail?

Till his Highneſs the great Rajah ſhall either die or recover.

Miſerable ſoul that I am! O that I was in little Kilkenny again, digging my own potatoes and feaſting on buttermilk.

You have but a bad chance. The ſtate phyſicians have examined the medicine you preſcribed for the great Rajah, and declare it to be a deadly poiſon.

A deadly poiſon! A potatoe a deadly poiſon! Why, I have lived on it myſelf for a week together.

News of the Rajah.

Now, what is the news I wonder, and what the deuce are they preparing thoſe chains for?

I have orders to confine you more cloſely. You muſt be chained in the next apartment. The Rajah is much worſe; the ſtate phyſicians have declared it.

The devil relieve 'em! they'll kill the poor old gentleman in order to deſtroy me. Ah! two of a trade can never agree. The cowardly dogs! if they would but let him alone, and attack me in my own proper perſon!—I have a fine conſtitution. Let 'em preſcribe what they will, I dare ſay I ſhould ſurvive all their remedies. I am ſtrong enough to baffle all the powers of the healing art.

Is it poſſible! do I underſtand you? Does not your heart own Alminah as its ſovereign?

Am I indeed the unworthy object of Alminah's love?

Yes; of a paſſion ſo unbounded, that for you ſhe quits the pleaſures, the ſovereignty of a court.

Unhappy Sidney! I cannot impoſe on the ge⯑neroſity of your miſtreſs.

Then you muſt reſume your chains.

Bring him forward.

Bring the Doctor this way—take off his chains.

By my ſoul I had rather keep them. This looks too much like an execution.

My dear friend, give me your hand.

Oh, botheration! to call yourſelf my friend, and get me into ſuch a hobble! and this is the way you take me by the hand, juſt as I am going to be hang'd.

What does the man mean? Did not I promiſe to place you in an exalted ſituation?

Yes; and I am afraid you will now keep your word.

Why, my dear Doctor, are you beſide yourſelf? I have brought you a Khelaut, a dreſs of ceremony.

And does it ſignify in what dreſs a man goes through the ceremony I muſt perform.—

Oh, curſe your bowing and cringing! Is the old black gentleman dead?

His Highneſs the Rajah is not dead—he has commanded you to be brought before him.

I ſuppoſe he never ſaw an European hanged, and I am to gratify his curioſity?

All the court are aſtoniſhed at your ſkill.

I don't wonder at it.

The ſtate phyſicians are all diſgrac'd and order'd to priſon.

Oh! bleſſed St. Patrick! and is this true? Now are you humbugging me?

Dr. O'Liffey, what do you mean by hum⯑bugging? You ſhall certainly witneſs the truth yourſelf. The Rajah is riſen, and now going to give audience. You are to be introduced, and to receive his thanks. Oh, my friend! how you are to be envied! Honors, riches, pleaſures await you.

By my ſoul they ſhan't wait long—let us begone.

You won't forget your poor friend Chellingoe when you are a great man.

What do you take me for? Forget a friend when I'm in proſperity! why that is the very time to remember him.

To ſay the truth, gratitude is a plant ſo often blighted by the air of a court—

Why, Mr. Chellingoe, that may eaſily happen when the plant is ſickly; but, rooted in an honeſt Iriſhman's heart, gratitude will flouriſh under any climate in the globe.

The firſt employments in the ſtate are open to you. You have nothing to do but to take the turban.

Take what?

The turban.

I'll take anything you pleaſe. My maxim always was, to take whatever I can get; and I believe that is no bad maxim to go to court with.

Keep to that, my good Doctor, and you'll cer⯑tainly ſucceed.

This fellow will moſt likely be appointed to ſome great office of truſt and emolument. He will know nothing of the buſineſs, and apply to me for advice. If his meaſures ſucceed, I claim the credit of them—if they fail, the fault ſhall be all his own. But in either caſe my pockets muſt be filled.

SCENE III.— An Apartment in the Palace.

Enough—enough—I ſhall now give a private audience to my preſerver. to this moſt ſkilful European phyſician. Bid him hither.

Moſt mighty and renowned prince, may we preſume—?

Ay, you may preſume—ſo ſpeak out.

This foreigner, the humbleſt of your ſlaves—

A ſlave!—what d'ye mean by that, Mr. Chel⯑lingoe?

Ha, ha, ha! You ſpeak like a bold fellow, you look like one.—I am pleaſed with your counte⯑nance; it is open and honeſt, and I was never yet miſtaken in my judgment of phyſiognomy.

What a favorite will Doctor O'Liffey be!

And although an unknown ſtranger, you have conferr'd upon me the greateſt of obligations in ſaving my life.

I tell you what, your Honor; I am a ſad dog at a ſet ſpeech; but upon my conſcience I am heartily glad to ſee you ſo well again.

It is time you ſhould be rewarded for the ſervice you have render'd me. In the firſt place I appoint you my chief phyſician.

I humbly thank your Honor.

Man, don't thank me for that—'tis for my own advantage. Your ſkill is aſtoniſhing—your ſuc⯑ceſs ſurpriſes me.

I'faith, it ſurpriſes me too.

I alſo appoint you commander of my armies—grand judge in my civil and criminal courts—chief of my elephants—purveyor of buffaloes, and prin⯑cipal hunter of tigers.

Sir!

All theſe offices you may perform by deputy.

Now, my dear friend, appoint me your deputy; I'll take ſpecial care of the fees.

I alſo nominate you admiral of my fleet.

Your fleet!—why, your Honor, I'm told you have no ſhips.

But his Highneſs intends to build ſome, and there's nothing like fixing on an eſtabliſhment in time.—

We can draw the pay and allowances in the meanwhile.

And to ſhew you the extent of my gratitude, I mean to inveſt you with the office of vizier.

Then my fortune is made. Doctor, I'll go and get the commiſſion ready to ſign, while he is in the humour.

Well, my friend, have you anything more to aſk?

Nothing for myſelf, your Honor; but if I might ſay ſomething for my friends—

Speak boldly.

I aſk the liberty of my dear countrymen.

You mean our Engliſh priſoners?—You are an Engliſhman, I think?

I am an Iriſhman, which is the ſame thing.

The ſame thing! How is that?

An Iriſhman is an Engliſhman with another name. Why now, for inſtance, there is my brother Tady; his name is Tady, and I am Barney; my name is Barney; but then our intereſts are the ſame; and we are like my two arms, when one needs defence, the other naturally comes to his aſſiſtance.

Hold! there is one thing I had forgot. Where are thoſe articles which were found among the ſtores of the Engliſh officers? Bring in one of the caſes containing the bottles of liquor.

Liquor!

Yes; a ſort of red liquor, which no one here had ever ſeen before—I want your opinion of it.

Red wine! excellent claret! and a whole ham⯑per of it!

Well, what is your report of it?

Why ſurely, is it poſſible your highneſs does not know what this is?

Neither myſelf, nor any of my attendants.

That is lucky!

Oh, this liquor! this fatal liquor!

What's the matter? You alarm me.

This is the moſt deadly of all European poiſons. Let no man preſume to taſte it.

But I have taſted it; aye, and drank ſome of it.

I knew that—I could tell at once you had been poiſoned by it. I'll convince you. I'll deſcribe your ſymptoms. You found the flavour ſo agree⯑able, you were tempted to taſte it again.

So I was.

It raiſed your ſpirits?

Wonderfully.

Your eyes were ſoon affected—You ſaw double?

Double! aye, and treble too.

Everything went round?

It did—in a general dance.

You ſoon fell aſleep?

So I did.

Awaked rather thirſty?

I did.

And rather qualmiſh?

Exactly ſo; but your wonderful medicine cured me. Learned and extraordinary man, let me em⯑brace you! But what ſhall we do with this horri⯑ble liquor?

Let it be carefully taken to my apartment; for it is uſeful in medicine—and I ſhould like to try ſome experiments with it in this climate.

I'll ſecure a bottle, it may be uſeful to us. A good mode of removing a private enemy—And as we are favorites at court, we ſhall have enemies enough. Will your Highneſs pleaſe to affix your ſeal?

Yes: his requeſts ſhall be granted, his wiſhes anticipated. Let a Zenana be provided for him.

A Zenana! what is that?

Yes, a Zenana—You ſhall have a dozen wives.

A dozen wives! heaven bleſs his Honor! a do⯑zen wives! what an eſtabliſhment for an Iriſh vizier! If my dear wife Margery were here, I'd place [50] her at the head of them all: I wiſh ſhe were here, if it were only to ſee me in my new ſuit of regi⯑mentals. I ſhall never forget the firſt day I ſaw her.

SCENE.— The Top of the Battlements.

Well, Zemaun! any news of our ſecond de⯑tachment?

Yes—I have this moment received intelligence of their approach—On their ſucceſs depends my hope—but, without my counſel, they will inevita⯑bly fall a ſacrifice. You ſhall bear my meſſage to your countrymen.

Delightful! What an enterprize!

Oh! that it may be reſerved for the protectors of freedom, the Britiſh arms, to reſcue our nation from their tyrants; and ſeat a beloved ſovereign on the throne.

Well, Agra; my dear Agra!

Horſes are provided in yonder wood. There you'll find a bow and quiver. On your return come to the foot of the rock, where you will now deſcend; and let an arrow bring us a note to ſignify your arrival. I will watch the fall of the welcome ſhaft on this terrace.

Adieu, kind Agra! The public attention is ſo engroſſed by the Rajah's return from his favorite tyger hunt, that full ſafety is allowed to all our wiſh'd deſigns.

Oh, that her ſucceſs may obtain Zelma's li⯑berty!

SCENE.— The Entrance of the Palace.

SCENE I.— A Room in the Palace.

Ungrateful Sidney! reject my love?

Yes; nor will he accept his proffer'd liberty.

Haſten to the Engliſh priſoner, the traitor Sid⯑ney—Let him be cloſely guarded till further orders. Has that foreigner, the new Vizier, been ordered to attend me?

His ſervant is already here.

Oh, pity—pity—ſpare the unhappy Sidney, my deareſt friend, and once honored maſter.

His ſervant and attached friend!—

Preſumptuous youth, doſt thou perceive thy dan⯑ger in becoming thus the advocate of a traitor?

I fear no danger when Sidney's life is at ſtake.

Wilt thou dare liſten to a fatal ſecret, which if betrayed, thy life becomes the forfeit?

I dare encounter all you dare propoſe.

Know then, I love this Sidney.

Does he return your love?

My pride ſtruggles againſt the anſwer. No; he diſdained my love—I offered to fly with him.

And he refuſed the offer?

He diſgrac'd me by a refuſal. But he ſhall never live to triumph in my diſgrace. Perhaps your perſuaſions—

My perſuaſions ſhall be exerted with fervency.

If you ſucceed—

Doubt not my ſucceſs—Sidney regards me—he will liſten to my advice—I will be the companion of your flight.

But I have a rival.

Fear her not—She is at this moment a wretched wanderer, as uncertain of his deſtiny as of her own.

Then go to Sidney's priſon. This ring will be your paſſport everywhere. No ſubject in theſe dominions will be hardy enough to queſtion its authority.

Then I ſhall ſave my beloved.

You are tardy in obeying my commands—but no matter, I am now fully informed.

Then your Highneſs has ſeen my ſervant?

I have; and cannot but admire ſo warm an at⯑tachment to an unfortunate friend.

You admire the attachment! Oh joy, Oh bleſſed St. Patrick, what a day is this! Oh, your High⯑neſs, you have done a good action—you have made two lovers happy. Though my ſervant, as you call her, has told you more than you would have heard from me.

How?

Why, do you think that I would have informed you that her name is Miſs Eliza Ardley, that ſhe is now the wife of Captain Sidney, and that under the diſguiſe of my ſervant ſhe has riſk'd her life to releaſe her huſband?

And is all this true?

True!—why, can you doubt the dear girl's ve⯑racity? But if ſhe had not told you the ſtory her⯑ſelf, racks and tortures ſhould never have forced it from me. I was always remarkable for keeping a ſecret.

Senſeleſs wretch! But I ought to pardon your ſimplicity, ſince it yields me the pleaſure of re⯑venge.

Revenge!

Their hateful paſſion ſhall be extinguiſhed in the grave. Let what has paſſed be ſealed within your lips. Reveal it, and you die!

What the devil! condemn'd without a trial?

Dare not queſtion the orders of Alminah; her command is our law.

The orders of the Princeſs your laws? Ah, Sir, there is the difference. In my country the mo⯑narch and the meaneſt ſubject are bound and pro⯑tected by the ſame laws.

Be ſilent, and remember where you are.

Faith! I wiſh I were anywhere elſe. It ſeems very odd that we ſhould find the value of the bleſ⯑ſings of home, by looking for them abroad, where they are not to be found. But it is very true; and well may they ſay in our little kingdoms, that a man ſhould travel to know the worth of his own country and its conſtitution.

Unhappy Alminah!

SCENE II.— An Apartment in the Priſon.

A generous taſk!—Worthy the ſons of freedom!

Where is my Sidney?

Hold! ſome unuſual viſit to the priſon excites alarm.

My Eliza!—how is this miracle?

Oh, my Sidney! I would fain relate the event⯑ful ſtory; but overwhelming joy—let us begone—the night will carry us beyond purſuit. Mark me!

You know this ring?

I do; and reſpect whatever command it is to enforce.

Let the gates be inſtantly unbarred.

Preſumptuous ſlaves!—Drag them to inſtant death.

SCENE III.— A Gallery.

This red poiſon of Doctor O'Liffey's has a moſt delicious ſcent; it tempts one ſo to try the flavor. If the Doctor ſhould ſucceed in his experiments to render it harmleſs, what a bleſſing it will be!

More treachery, Chellingoe.

What have you got there?

Another proof of Zemaun's treaſon. An arrow juſt now ſhot into the fort by an unknown hand—it fell on the terrace before me, near Zemaun's apartment.

On the terrace near Zemaun's apartment? Let me ſee the arrow.

Here is a note faſtened to it.

And addreſſed to Zemaun!—

‘"Your faithful friend is punctual to her appointment."’ Her appointment! A female friend. Ha, ha, ha! treaſon indeed! Ah, your poor head! to miſtake an aſſignation for a treaſonable billet.—

‘"She waits at the foot of the rock."’

I know the place.

So do I—a retired ſituation, fitting for the vows of lovers. There is a ſubterranous paſſage to it, communicating with the priſon, and known only to myſelf.—‘"She waits at the foot of the rock."’ 'Tis a pity ſhe ſhould wait in vain. Suppoſe I go to her myſelf; as her lover is in priſon and cannot keep his appointment, it will be charitable and polite to make his apologies for him—I'll go— [64] upon my ſoul I'll go. I hope ſhe's a young wo⯑man—I've been long enough plagued with an old one.

SCENE— The Foot of the Rock upon which the Fort is ſituated.

The noiſe is ceaſed—That gloomy light which tinges the high battlements marks Zelma's dun⯑geon! I ſink with fatigue. It is fortunate I ſent my meſſage while I had ſtrength to direct the meſ⯑ſenger—And the arrow was well aimed—It cer⯑tainly fell on the terrace. I faint with thirſt and wearineſs—Oh, Liffey! ſhall I ever ſee you again?

All is huſh'd—not a leaf ſtirring—What an evening for an aſſignation! So delightfully ſilent and dark.

No ſignal yet.

She ſpeaks. What an inviting languor in her voice! but query, is it from fatigue or tenderneſs?

Oh! Zemaun, where are you?

In priſon, bright angel of light! But, inſtead of Zemaun, I am here.

Chellingoe!

She knows my name.

Oh! ſupport my fainting ſteps.

In my arms, moſt lovely and adorable!—

Margaret! is it you? How could you ſurvive your fall?—Are you really alive or not?

You tremble—Is it with love or fear?

Bleſs me!—I am ſo aſtoniſhed—I'll ſtep into the fort and procure you aſſiſtance.

No, Chellingoe, you ſhall not quit me

The ſame tigreſs as ever.

I faint with thirſt.

The luckieſt thought in the world! Liffey's poiſon will ſettle the buſineſs.—

How for⯑tunate that I ſhou'd have a bottle of cordial in my pocket—I'm ſure it can't be better applied

That's right—don't be afraid of it.—

Now I think all is ſafe—How are you now?

Better

Better! How can that be?

Quite recovered, Chellingoe; you have ſaved my life.

Saved your life!—What, by a doſe of poiſon?

Oh, my unlucky tongue!

Indeed!

She does not know what it is; that's lucky!

And pray, honeſt Chellingoe, who gave you this excellent cordial?

Our new vizier, who is a great Iriſh phyſician—Doctor O'Liffey.

Doctor Liffey!

It is my dear, brazen Barney.

Now the poiſon takes effect.

Do you know the vizier?

Know him! why, he is—but no matter what he is—you muſt ſhew me to him inſtantly.

Mad! furious mad!

I'll ſtep and ac⯑quaint him.

No, Sir:—Halt! Front!

You muſt return with me into the fort. Come, Sir—I ſhall keep cloſe in the rear—I muſt ſhew you the lock-ſtep.

You are very good.

I hope I ſhall in return ſhew you the lock-up ſtep preſently.

SCENE I.— The ſame Gallery as before.

Where are we now, Chellingoe?

At the door of the vizier's apartment—I'll take care he ſhall receive you properly.

A [69] ſilly wench! little does ſhe think that the Doctor will order her for immediate execution.

Oh! If I ſhould have the happineſs of giving poor Liffey his liberty.

Botheration, Mr. Chellingoe! What is it you mean?

My huſband! then I fear nothing.

Here, my lord, is the tigreſs.

Eh! What! No—it is not—Yes it is!

Barney!

Margaret!

The ſame—preſent arms!

That I will—And ſalute my commanding officer. So, come to my embrace, long-loſt ſultana of my heart!

Well, that is the ſtrangeſt lock-up ſtep I ever ſaw.

Oh, Margaret! I am in ſuch a botheration of joy!

My dear Liffey, let us think of eſcaping.

What, run away again?

Our brave detachment is arrived, and waiting in yonder wood to ſtorm the fort.

Waiting to ſtorm the fort! Oh! I'm a lucky dog, to live to ſee this day—No—I'm an unlucky dog—I had forgot the priſoners—my poor maſter!

And my poor miſtreſs.

I am a lucky dog again. I forgot that I have her priſon under my command, aye, and Zemaun's priſon too—

Zemaun ſhall head our army, and then huzza for glory.

SCENE.— ZELMA's Priſon.

Oh, madam! the garriſon are alarmed. Did you hear their drums beating to arms?

May heaven watch over my Zemaun, and pro⯑tect the defenders of a juſt cauſe!

Fear not. The noiſe comes from the diſtant part of the fort, where the Britiſh ſoldiers make a falſe attack—All is ſilent here—See, madam, our gallant friends on this ſide have nearly reach'd the ſummit of the rock undiſcovered.

Hark! Again!

SCENE the laſt.— The outſide of the Fortreſs.

Here pauſe awhile—A faithful ſlave to whom I have given liberty, will fire the ſignal when all is ready for our attack.