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But whence that shout? Good heavens! Amazement all!"

See yonder tower just nodding to the fall:

Behold, an army covers all the ground,

'Tis Cyrus here that pours destruction round: -And now behold the battlements recline

O God of hosts, the victory is thine!

CHORUS OF CAPTIVES.

Down with them, Lord, to lick the dust;

Thy vengeance be begun;

Serve them as they have served the just,
And let thy will be done.

FIRST PRIEST.

RECITATIVE.

All, all is lost. The Syrian army fails;
Cyrus, the conqueror of the world, prevails.
The ruin smokes, the torrent pours along,-
How low the proud, how feeble are the strong!
Save us, O Lord! to Thee, though late, we pray;
And give repentance but an hour's delay.

FIRST AND SECOND PRIEST.

AIR.

O happy, who in happy hour,
To God their praise bestow,
And own his all-consuming power,
Before they feel the blow!

SECOND PROPHET.

RECITATIVE.

Now, now's our time! ye wretches bold and blind, Brave but to God, and cowards to mankind,

Ye seek in vain the Lord unsought before,

Your wealth, your lives, your kingdom, are no more.

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Such be her fate. But hark! how from afar
The clarion's note proclaims the finish'd war!
Our great restorer, Cyrus, is at hand,
And this way leads his formidable band.
Give, give your songs of Sion to the wind,
And hail the benefactor of mankind:

He comes pursuant to divine decree,

To chain the strong, and set the captive free.
CHORUS OF YOUTHS.

Rise to transports past expressing,
Sweeter by remember'd woes;
Cyrus comes our wrongs redressing,
Comes to give the world repose.

CHORUS OF VIRGINS.

Cyrus comes, the world redressing,
Love and pleasure in his train;
Comes to heighten every blessing,
Comes to soften every pain.

SEMI-CHORUS.

Hail to him with mercy reigning,
Skilled in every peaceful art;
Who from bonds our limbs unchaining
Only binds the willing heart.

THE LAST CHORUS.

But chief to Thee, our God, defender, friend,
Let praise be given to all eternity;

O Thou, without beginning, without end,
Let us and all begin and end in Thee.

DRAMA S.

THE GOOD-NATURED MAN;

A COMEDY:

AS PERFORMED AT THE THEATRE ROYAL, COVENT GARDEN.

[1768.]

PREFACE.

When I undertook to write a comedy, I confess I was strongly prepossessed in favour of the poets of the last age, and strove to imitate them. The term "genteel comedy" was then unknown amongst us, and little more was desired by an audience than nature and humour, in whatever walks of life they were most conspicuous. The author of the following scenes never imagined that more would be expected of him, and therefore to delineate character has been his principal aim. Those who know anything of composition, are sensible that, in pursuing humour, it will sometimes lead us into the recesses of the mean; I was even tempted to look for it in the master of a spunging-house; but in deference to the public taste, grown of late, perhaps, too delicate, the scene of the bailiffs was retrenched in the representation. In deference also to the judgment of a few friends, who think in a particular way, the scene is here restored. The author submits it to the reader in his closet; and hopes that too much refinement will not banish humour and character from ours, as it has already done from the French theatre. Indeed the French comedy is now become so very elevated and sentimental, that it has not only banished humour and Moliere from the stage, but it has banished all spectators too.

Upon the whole, the author returns his thanks to the public for the favourable reception which "The Good-Natured Man" has met with; and to Mr. Colman in particular, for his kindness to it. It may not also be improper to assure any who shall hereafter write for the theatre, that merit, or supposed merit, will ever be a sufficient passport to his protection.

PROLOGUE.

WRITTEN BY DR. JOHNSON; SPOKEN BY MR. BENSLEY.

PRESS'D by the load of life, the weary mind

Surveys the general toil of human kind;

With cool submission joins the lab'ring train,

And social sorrow loses half its pain:

Our anxious bard, without complaint, may share
This bustling season's epidemic care,

Like Cæsar's pilot, dignified by fate,

Tost in one common storm with all the great ;

Distrest alike, the statesman and the wit,

When one a borough courts, and one the pit,

The busy candidates for power and fame

Have hopes, and fears, and wishes, just the same;
Disabled both to combat, or to fly,

Must hear all taunts, and hear without reply.

Uncheck'd on both loud rabbles vent their rage,
As mongrels bay the lion in a cage.

RR

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