g.

Serina Miss Platt Miss Boyce.
Florella Mrs. Johnston Mrs. Seymour.
Monimia Miss Younge Miss O'Neil.

SCENE--Bohemia.

THE ORPHAN.

ACT THE FIRST.

SCENE I. A GARDEN.

_Enter Castalio, Polydore, and Page._

_Cas._ Polydore, our sport
Has been to-day much better for the danger:
When on the brink the foaming boar I met,
And in his side thought to have lodg'd my spear,
The desperate savage rush'd within my force,
And bore me headlong with him down the rock.

_Pol._ But then----

_Cas._ Ay, then, my brother, my friend, Polydore,
Like Perseus mounted on his winged steed,
Came on, and down the dang'rous precipice leap'd
To save Castilio.--'Twas a godlike act!

_Pol._ But when I came, I found you conqueror.
Oh! my heart danc'd, to see your danger past!
The heat and fury of the chase was cold,
And I had nothing in my mind but joy.

_Cas._ So, Polydore, methinks, we might in war
Rush on together; thou shouldst be my guard,
And I be thine. What is't could hurt us then?
Now half the youth of Europe are in arms,
How fulsome must it be to stay behind,
And die of rank diseases here at home!

_Pol._ No, let me purchase in my youth renown,
To make me lov'd and valu'd when I'm old;
I would be busy in the world, and learn,
Not like a coarse and useless dunghill weed,
Fix'd to one spot, and rot just as I grow.

_Cas._ Our father
Has ta'en himself a surfeit of the world,
And cries, it is not safe that we should taste it.
I own, I have duty very pow'rful in me:
And though I'd hazard all to raise my name,
Yet he's so tender, and so good a father,
I could not do a thing to cross his will.

_Pol._ Castalio, I have doubts within my heart,
Which you, and only you, can satisfy.
Will you be free and candid to your friend?

_Cas._ Have I a thought my Polydore should not know?
What can this mean?

_Pol._ Nay, I'll conjure you too,
By all the strictest bonds of faithful friendship,
To show your heart as naked in this point,
As you would purge you of your sins to heav'n.
And should I chance to touch it near, bear it
With all the suff'rance of a tender friend.

_Cas._ As calmly as the wounded patient bears
The artist's hand, that ministers his cure.

_Pol._ That's kindly said.----You know our father's ward,
The fair Monimia:--is your heart at peace?
Is it so guarded, that you could not love her?

_Cas._ Suppose I should?

_Pol._ Suppose you sho