The orphan of China, a tragedy as it is perform'd at the Theatre-Royal in Drury-Lane

The orphan of China, a tragedy as it is perform'd at the Theatre-Royal in Drury-Lane

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This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1759 Excerpt: ...tears, those shrieks, that animated grief Defying danger, all declare th'effect Of nature's strugglings in a parent's heart. Then let me pay my filial duty here, Kneel to her native dignity, and pour In tears of joy the transport of a son. MANDANE. Thou art, thou art my son--thy father's face, His ev'ry feature, blooming in his boy. Oh! tell me, tell me all; how hast thou liv'd "With faithful Morat?--how did he support In dreary solitude thy tender years? How train thy growing mind?--oh! quickly tell me,.... Oh! tell me all, and charm me with thy tongue. HAMET.-Mysterious pow'rs! have I then liv'd to this, In th' hour of peril thus to find a parent, In virtue firm, majestic in distress, At length to feel'unutterable bliss In her dear circling arms--'They embrace. Enter Timurkan, Octar, &c. TIMURKA N. Where is this wild Outrageous woman, who with headlong grief-Suspends Suspends my dread cdmmand--tear 'em asunder,--Send her to some dark cell to rave and shriek And dwell with madness--and let instant death Leave that rash youth a headless trunk before me. M A N D A N E. Now by the ever-burning lamps that light Our holy shrines, by great Confucius' altar, By the prime source or life, and light, and being, That is my child, the blossom of my joys----Send for his cruel father,--he--'tis he Intends a fraud--he, for a stranger's life, Would yield his offspring to the cruel ax, And rend a wretched mother's brain with madness. Enter Zamti. Sure the sad accents of Mandane's voice Struck on my frighted sense. TIMURKAN. Once more, thou slave! Who is that stubborn youth? ZAMTI. Alas! what needs This iteration of my griefs? M A N D A N E. Oh! horror!--horror! Thou marble-hearted father!--'tis your child And would'st thou see him bleed? Z A M T I. On him! on him ...