A SCENE

      BEFORE THE WALLS OF

                      ACRE.

BONAPARTE, with General Officers.

                        General Kleber.

I FEAR, my General, we must ſoon RETIRE ;
This ſtubborn Engliſhman, whom they call SIDNEY,
Has, WITH A SHIP'S CREW, baffled all our hopes ;
'Tis Nine long Weeks, ſince firſt the Trenches open'd ;
More than TWO THOUSAND of our Braveſt Troops
Are kill'd outright—Seven hundred VALIANT MEN
Lie wounded in the Tents—Nothing remains
But to RETREAT!

                        Bonaparte.

                 As ſoon as Night ſets in,
We will begin our March—

                        Kleber.

But, for our WOUNDED COMRADES—How diſpoſe
Of THEM?

                        Bonaparte.

Why let Them lie and rot! No—I've bethought me,
Send hither the Phyſician MUSTAPHA—
And prepare quickly for our ſaſe Retreat ;
I will be ready —
            Generals withdraw—Enters MUSTAPHA.

                        Bonaparte.

Mustapha ! Your Skill and Science I have long admired,
And now I wiſh to put them to the teſt —
REASONS OF STATE now urge us to retire ;
The Army will be ſoon in motion ; but
We have no means, or Waggons, to ſecure
Our SICK AND WOUNDED SOLDIERS —What can be done?

                        Muſtapha.

Leave them, Sir, to me — I will attend them ;
My care, aſſiſted by the GENEROUS AID
Of the BRAVE ENGLISHMAN, will ſoon relieve
The greater Part —SIDNEY IS MOST BRAVE,
And therefore GENEROUS, e'en to an Enemy. —

                        Bonaparte.

Oh ! name him not — MY SOUL SICKENS AT HIM ;
He is the Firſt, who ſtopt me in my March —
Till I met HIM, I was INVINCIBLE —
I cannot bear the thought of being oblig'd
To a ſworn Foe — Beſides, my Muſtapha,
Theſe wounded Soldiers know too much — Remember,
" DEAD MEN TELL NO TALES"—Are there no Means
To ſilence theſe ? — Is it not poſſible
To mix ſome deadly Potion with their Meals,
Which may produce, e'er morn, the wiſh'd Effect ?

                        Muſtapha.

What! POISON, Sir! POISON OUR VALIANT FRIENDS,
And DEAREST COMRADES ! I cannot do it------

                        Bonaparte.

Come, come, theſe are the Scruples of a Chriſtian ;
The Laws of Mahomet do not forbid you —
Beſides, my Muſtapha, here's Money for you —
And if you do this Buſineſs well, believe me,
I will give you more —But YOU MUST NOT LEAVE
A MAN BEHIND !

                        Muſtapha.

           (A ſide.) I fear I muſt comply—
But Sir, mark this—THEIR BLOOD RESTS ON YOUR HEAD—

                        Bonaparte.

Be it ſo then — I CAN BEAR THIS AND MORE —
My ſteps from Paris to this Spot are all
Deep trac'd in Blood—FRANCE, ITALY, and EGYPT
Bear witneſs to the Terrors of my Arms —
RAPE, RAPINE, MURTHER, follow'd me by Day,
FLAMES from the COTTAGE-THATCH lit me by Night —
I was not bred i'th' School of ROBESPIERRE,
That I ſhould tremble at a Woman's fears.
What ſhould appal me? What keeps Men in awe?
RELIGION ?—I have none————HONOUR? a mere
Empty word !—HUMANITY ? a ſoſter Name
For COWARDICE—Had I been held by THESE,
AND SUCH-LIKE TRIFLES—I had ſtill remain'd
Amongſt the Vulgar Herd ; nor would my Name
Have been, as now, IMMORTALIZ'D IN HISTORY—
Therefore, my honeſt Muſtapha, proceed,
Let not a FOOLISH CONSCIENCE ſtop your Hand,
But RID ME OF THESE FELLOWS!

                        Muſtapha-

It ſhall be done—and e'er To-morrow's dawn,
Your ampleſt Wiſhes ſhall be gratified—
                                                                     [Exit. Bonap.
MERCILESS VILLAIN ! BUT I MUST OBEY,
LEST HIS REVENGEFUL HAND SHOULD FALL ON ME.

         Luke Hanſard, Printer, Great Turnſtile, Lincoln's-Inn Fields.