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The impulse of his nature may be read,
But thou, so beautiful, so proud, so noble,
Oh, what a wretch art thou! Oh! can a term
In all the various tongues of man be found
To match thy infamy?

Mal. 41. Go on, go on ;

"T is but a little while to hear thee, Saladin,
And, bursting at thy feet, this heart will
Its penitence at least.

Sal. That were an end

Too noble for a traitor; the bowstring is

prove

A more appropriate finish-thou shalt die!

Mal. Ad. And death were welcome at another's mandate
What, what have I to live for?
Be it sɔ,

If that in all thy armies can be found
An executing hand.

Sal. Oh, doubt it not?

They 're eager for the office. Perfidy,

So black as thine, effaces from their minds

All memory of thy former excellence.

Mal. Ad. Defer not then their wishes. Saladin,

If e'er this form was joyful to thy sight,

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This voice seemed grateful to thine ear, accede
To my last prayer — Oh, lengthen not this scene,
To which the agonies of death were pleasing —
Let me die speedily.

Sal. This very hour!

(Aside.) For ho! the more I look upon that face,
The more I hear the accents of that voice.
The monarch softens, and the jaagt i s
In all the brother's weakness; vet such guilt
Such vile ingratitude, it % for vengeance,
And vengeance it shall have!

What ho! who waits there? (Enter Attendant.)

Att. Did your highness call?
Sal. Assemble quickly

My forces in the court! tell them they come
To view the death of yonder bosom-traitor :
And bid them mark, that he who will not spare
His brother when he errs, expects obedience
Silent obedience from his

Mal. Ad. New. Sala

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The word is given — I have nothing more
To fear from thee, my brother — I am not
About to crave a miserable life-

Exit Attendant.)

Without thy love, thy honor, thy esteem,
Life were a burthen to me think not, either,
The justice of thy sentence I would question :
But one request now trembles on my tongue,
One wish still clinging round the heart, which soon
Not even that shall torture - - will it then,
Thinkest thou, thy slumbers render quieter,
Thy waking thoughts more pleasing, to reflect,
That when thy voice had doomed a brother's death,
The last request which e'er was his to utter,
Thy harshness made him carry to the grave?

Sal. Speak, then; but ask thyself if thou hast reason
To look for much indulgence here.

Mal. Ad. I have not!

Yet will I ask for it. We part for ever;

This is our last farewell; the king is satisfied;
The judge has spoken the irrevocable sentence:
None sees, none hears, save that omniscent power,
Which, trust me, will not frown to look upon
Two brothers part like such. When in the face
Of forces once my own, I'm led to death,
Then be thine eye unmoistened; let thy voice
Then speak my doom untrembling; then,
Unmoved behold this stiff and blackened corse
But now I ask
- nay, turn not, Saladin

I ask one single pressure of thy hand,

From that stern eye one solitary tear

Oh, torturing recollection! one kind word

From the loved tongue which once breathed naught but kindness Still silent? Brother! - friend — beloved companion

Of all my youthful sports are they forgotten?

Strike me with deafness, make me blind, Oh heaven!
Let me not see this unforgiving man

Smile at my agonies nor hear that voice

Pronounce my doom, which would not say one word,
One little word, which cherished memory
Would sooth the struggles of departing life-

Yet, yet thou wilt — Oh, turn thee Saladin !

Look on my face, thou canst not spurn me then :
Look on the once-loved face of Malek Adhel

For the last time, and call him

Sal. (Seizing his hand.) Brother! brother!
Mal. Ad. (Breaking away.) Now call thy followers.
Death has not now

A single pang in store.

Proceed! I'm rady.

Sal. Oh, art thou ready to forgive, my brother,-
To pardon him who found one single error,
One little failing 'mid a splendid throng
Of glorious qualities-

Mal. Ad. Oh stay thee, Saladin !
I did not ask for life I only wished
To carry thy forgiveness to the grave.
No, emperor, the loss of Cesarea

Cries loudly for the blood of Malek Adhel.
Thy soldiers, too, demand that he who lost
What cost them many a weary hour to gain,
Should expiate his offenses with his life.
Lo, even now they crowd to view my death,
Thy just impartiality. I go

Pleased by my fate to add one other leaf
To thy proud wreath of glory.

Sal. Thou shalt not.

(Going.)

(Enter Attendant.)

Att. My lord, the troops assembled by your order

Tumultuous throng the courts -the prince's death
Not one of them but vows he will not suffer-

The mutes have fled the very guards rebel
Nor think I in this city's spacious round,

Can e'er be found a hand to do the office.

Mal. Ad. Oh, faithful friends! (To Atten.) Thine shalt. Att. Mine? Never!

The other first shall lop it from the body.

Sal. They teach the emperor his duty well.

Tell them he thanks them for it tell them, too,

That ere their opposition reached our ears,
Saladin had forgiven Malek Adhel.

Att. Oh joyful news!

I haste to gladden many a gallant heart,
And dry the tear on many a hardy cheek
Unused to such a visitor.

Sal. These men, the meanest in society,
The outcasts of the earth, by war, by nature
Hardened, and rendered callous - these, who claim
No kindred with thee who have never heard
The accents of affection from thy lips - -
Oh, these can cast aside their vowed allegiance,
Throw off their long obedience, risk their lives,
To save thee from destruction. While I,

I, who cannot in all my memory

Call back one danger which thou hast not shared.
One day of grief, one night of revelry,

(Exit.)

"Brother!"

Which thy resistless kindness hath not soothed,
Or thy gay smile and converse rendered sweeter;
I, who have thrice in the ensanguined field,
When death seemed certain, only uttered
And seen that form like lightning rush between
Saladin and his foes and that brave breast
Dauntless exposed to many a furious blow
Intended for my own I could forget

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That 't was to thee I owed the very breath
Which sentenced thee to perish. Oh, 't is shameful!
Thou canst not pardon me.

Mal. Ad. By these tears I can

Oh, brother! from this very hour, a new,
A glorious life commences — I am all thine.
Again the day of gladness or of anguish
Shall Malek Adhel share, and oft again

May this sword fence thee in the bloody field.
Henceforth, Saladin,

My heart, my soul, my sword, are thine for ever.

ANONYMOUS,

HOW TO TELL BAD NEWS.

MR. H. STEWARD.

Mr. H. Ha! Steward, how are you, my old boy? How do things go on at home?

Stew. Bad enough, your honor; the magpie's dead.

Mr. H. Poor mag! so he's gone. How came he to die?
Stew. Over-ate himself, sir.

Mr. H. Did he, faith? a greedy dog; why, what did he get he liked so well?

Stew. Horse-flesh, sir; he died of eating horse-flesh.

Mr. H. How came he to get so much horse-flesh ?

Stew. All your father's horses, sir.

Mr. H. What are they dead, too?

Stew. Ay, sir; they died of over-work.

Mr. H. And why were they over-worked, pray?

Stew. To carry water, sir.

Mr. H. To carry water! and what were they carrying water for?

Stew. Sure sir, to put out the fire.

M. H. Fire! what fire?

Stew, Oh, sir, your father's house is burned down to the ground.

Mr. H. My father's house burned down! and how came it set on fire ?

Stew. I think, sir, it must have been the torches.

Mr. H. Torches ! what torches ?

Stew. At your mother's funeral.
Mr. II. My mother dead!

Stew. Ah, poor lady, she never looked up after it.
Mr. H. After what?

Stew. The loss of your father.

Mr. H. My father gone too?

Stew. Yes, poor gentleman, he took to his bed as soon as he heard of it.

Mr. H. Heard of what?

Stew. The bad news, sir, and please your honor.

Mr. H. What! more miseries! more bad news?

Stew. Yes, sir, your bank has failed, and your credit is lost and you are not worth a shilling in the world. I made bold, sir, to come to wait on you about it, for I thought you would like to hear the news.

ANONYMOUS

INDIGESTION.

DR. GREGORY PATIENT.

(Scene.

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Dr. Gregory's study.

Enter a plump Glasgow merchant.)

Pa. Good morning, Dr. Gregory! I'm just come into Edinburgh about some law business, and I thought when I was here, at any rate, I might just as weel take your advice, sir, about my trouble.

Dr. Pray, sir, sit down. And now, my good sir, what may your trouble be?

Pa. Indeed, doctor, I'm not very sure; but I'm thinking it's a kind of weakness that makes me dizzy at times, and a kind of pinkling about my stomach;- I'm just na right.

Dr. You are from the west country, I should suppose, sir? Pa. Yes, sir, from Glasgow.

Dr. Ay; pray, sir, are you a glutton?

Pa. God forbid, sir; I'm one of the plainest men living in all the west country.

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