Lord Lyttel ton.

MERCURY.

I reftore it; but be orderly, and do as I bid you; otherwife worfe will befall you.

DUELLIST,

Mercury, leave him to me. I'll tutor him for you. Sirrah Savage, doft thou pretend to be afhamed of my company? Doft thou know that I have kept the best company in England?

SAVAGE.

I know thou art a Scoundrel.

Not pay thy Debts! Kill thy Friend who lent thee Money, for afking thee for it! Get out of my fight. I will drive thee into Styx.

MERCURY.

Stop. I command thee. No Violence. Talk to him calmly.

SAVAGE.

I must obey thee. Well, Sir, let me know what Merit you had, to introduce you into good company? What could you do?

DUELLIST.

Sir, I gamed, as I told you.

Befides, I

kept a good table. - I eat as well as any Man in

England or France,

SAVAGE.

Eat! did you ever eat the Chine of a Frenchman, or his Leg, or his Shoulder? There is fine

Eating! I have eat twenty.

Beisp. Samml. 6. B.

My table was al

ways

ton.

Lord Lyttel ways well-ferved. My Wife was the best Cook for the dreffing of Man's Flefh in all North-America. You will not pretend to compare your Eating with mine?

DUELLIST.

I danced very finely.

SAVAGE,

I can

I'll dance with thee for thy Ears. dance all day long. I can dance the War - Dance with more Spirit and Vigour than any Man of my Nation. Let us fee thee begin it. How thou ftandeft like a Poft! Has Mercury ftruck thee with his enfeebling Rod? Or art thou afhamed to let us fee how aukward thou art? If he would permit me, I would teach thee to dance in a way that thou haft not yet learnt. I'd make thee caper and leap like Buck. But what elfe canft thou do, thou bragging Rafcal?

a

DUELLIST.

O Heavens! muft I bear this! What can I do with this Fellow? I have neither Sword nor Pistol. And his fhade feems to be twice as ftrong as mine.

MERCURY.

You must anfwer his Queftions. It was your own Defire to have a converfation with him. He is not well bred; but he will tell you fome truths which you must hear in this Place. It would have been well for you, if you had heard them above. He afked you what you could do befides Eating and Dancing,

DUEL

DUELLIST.

I fung very agreeably.

SAVAGE,

Let me hear you fing your Death Song, or the War Whoop. I challenge you to fing.

fellow is mute.

The
He

Mercury, this is a Liar. tells us nothing but Lies. Let me pull out his Tongue.

DUELLIST.

The Lie given me!

fent it.

Oh what a Difgrace to the family of the

Pufhwells! This indeed is Damnation.

MERCURY.

Here, Charon, take these two Savages to your Care. How far the Barbarifm of the Mohawk will excufe his horrid Acts, I leave Minos to judge. But the Englishman, what Excufe can he plead? The Custom of Duelling? A bad Excufe at the best! but in his cafe it cannot avail. The Spirit that made him draw his Sword in this combat against his Friend, is not that of Honour; it is the Spirit of the Furies, of Alecto herfelf. To her he muft go; for fhe has long dwelt in his merciless bofom,

SAVAGE.

If he is to be punished, turn him over to me. I understand the art of tormenting, Sirrah; I begin with this kick on your Breech. Get you into the

1

Lord Lyttel or I'll give you another. I am impatient to have

ton.

you condemned.

DUELLIST.

Oh my Honour, my Honour, to what Infamy

art thou fallen!

Wieland.

Wiel an d.

1

Noch früher, als dieser große Schriftsteller Lucian's klassischer Ueberseker wurde, lieferte er selbst verschiedne treffliche und geiftvolle dialogische Etücke in dieses Griechen Manier. Ich wähle daraus nur folgenden, der im Teuts schen Merkur v. J. 1780, Th. II. S. 67 ff. den Anfang, oder eine Art von Prolog und Einleitung zu einigen an: dern Dialogen im Elysium machte; und gedenke noch eines schon im Julius 1773. eben dieser Monatsschrift befindlichen schönen Göttergesprächs: Nierkur, oder die Gastmahle, von Hrn. Prof. Jakobi.

Diokles. Lucian.

(Die Scene ist in Elysium)

Diokles (Noch allein). Wie ist mir? Wo bin ich? Ist dies Elysium? Die schöne Insel der Seliz gen, wo goldne Blumen glühn? Wo ein ewiger Frühling von Früchten aller Ars ten überfliesst? Wo sind die reinen Krys Fallbåche? Wo die immergrünen blumenvollen Wiesen, die mir von Dichtern und Weis sen versprochen wurden? Wo die Sonne, die Tas gen und Nächten immer gleich leuchtet? Nichts als Damrung und Dåmrung! und eine Stille, so still, so still, daß ich das wiegende Schwanken einer Lilie auf ihrem Stångel hören könnte. - Ein wahres Schattenland! Und bin ich denn auch ein Schat: ten? Ich? Was nennst Du Dich? Ich kenne Dich nicht mehr! - Ach! Welch ein seltsames Dråns gen und Winden und Schneiden und Absondern fühl ich in mir? — Mir dåucht, ich bin mir das nicht mehr bewusst was ich kaum noch wir bewusst war, und doch fühl ich noch, daß ich Diokles bin. - Wunderbar! Mir ift alle Augenblicke es falle was von mir ab, bald wie Schuppen, bald wie ein Nebel, den die Sonne nieders drückt. Ein seltsamer Zustand! So leer! so leicht! £ 3

Wieland.