Are not to be entreated or believed: O! think on that, and be no more deceived. Oro. What can we do? Imo. Can I do any thing! Oro. But we were born to suffer. Imo. Suffer both. Both die, and so prevent them. Oro. By thy death! O! let me hunt my travell'd thoughts again; And goest before me. Imo. So I would in love, In the dear unsuspected part of life, In death for love. Alas! what hopes for me? I was preserved but to acquit myself, To beg to die with you. Oro. And can'st thou ask it? I never durst inquire into myself Imo. Alas! my lord! my fate's resolv'd in yours. Oro. O keep thee there: let not thy virtue shrink From my support, and I will gather strength, Imo. I must die: you, As you Imo. I have for you, for both of us. I could regard as the last scene of life, Imo. 'Tis hard to part. But parting thus, as the most happy must, Parting in death, makes it the easier. Oro. Forsaken! thrown thee off! Imo. But 'tis a pleasure more than life can give, That with unconquer'd passion to the last, you. But quick, make haste, our enemies have eyes Oro. Why dost thou wake me? [Takes up the dagger. Oro. Ha! this dagger! [Gives it him, Like fate, it points me to the horrid deed. us both, There is no other safety. Oro. It must beBut first a dying kissThis last embraceAnd now Imo. I'm ready. [Kisses her. [Embracing her. Oro. O! where shall I strike? To gaze upon thee: But to murder thee! Imo. 'Tis your wife, Who on her knees conjures you. O! in time Thy resolution has recovered mine: Imo. Thus with open arms, And now prepare thee. I welcome you, and death. But let me pay the tribute of my grief, A few sad tears to thy loved memory, And then I follow But I stay too long. [He drops his dagger as he looks on her, and The noise comes nearer. throws himself on the ground. Oro. I cannot bear it. O let me dash against this rock of fate, I'll ease your love, and do the deed myself— Oro. O! hold, I charge thee, hold. It would be nobler for us both from you. Oro. O for a whirlwind's wing to hurry us They shall not overtake us. This last kiss, Imo. Farewell, farewell for ever! Oro. I'll turn my face away, and do it so. Now, are you ready? Imo. Now. But do not grudge me The pleasure in my death of a last look: Pray look upon me-Now I'm satisfied. Oro. So fate must be by this. [Going to stab her, he stops short; she lays her hand on his, in order to give the blow. Imo. Nay, then I must assist you; And since it is the common cause of both, 'Tis just that both should be employ'd in it. Thus, thus 'tis finish'd, and I bless my fate, [Stabs herself. That where I lived, I die, in these loved arms. [Dies. Oro. She's gone. And now all's at an end with me. Soft, lay her down; O we will part no more. [Throws himself by her. [Weeps over her. [A noise again. Hold, before I go, There's something would be done. It shall [They gather about the body. Alas! there was no other remedy. Gov. Who did the bloody deed? Oro. The deed was mine: Bloody I know it is, and I expect Your laws should tell me so. Thus self-condemn'd, I do resign myself into your hands, [Stabs the Governor, and himself, then throws himself by IMOINDA's body. Stan. He has kill'd the governor, and stabb'd EPILOGUE. WRITTEN BY CONGREVE, AND SPOKEN BY MRS VERBRUGGEN. You see we try all shapes, and shifts, and arts, Your different tastes divide our poet's cares: One foot the sock, t'other the buskin wears. Thus while he strives to please, he's forced to do't, Like Volscius, hip-hop, in a single boot. Critics, he knows, for this may damn his books: We damsels fly, to save our reputation: But save us from a spouse of Oroonoko's nations! Then bless your stars, you happy London wives, Who love at large, each day, yet keep your lives! | Nor envy poor Imoinda's doating blindness, Who thought her husband kill'd her out of kind ness. Death with a husband ne'er had shewn such charms, Had she once dy'd within a lover's arms. Forgive this Indian's fondness of her spouse; Then damn the heathen school, where she was taught. She might have learn'd to cuckold, jilt, and sham, Had Covent-Garden been in Surinam. THE MOURNING BRIDE. BY CONGREVE. PROLOGUE. THE time has been when plays were not so plenty, And a less number, new, would well content ye. Still they proceed, and, at our charge, write worse; 'Twere some amends, if they could reimburse. But there's the devil, though their cause is lost, As one thief 'scapes, that executes another. Then freely judge the scenes that shall ensue; SCENE I. ACT I. A Room of State. The curtain rising slowly to soft music, discovers ALMERIA in mourning, LEONORA waiting in mourning. After the music, ALMERIA rises from her chair, and comes forward. Alm. Music has charms to sooth a savage breast, To soften rocks, or bend a knotted oak. I've read, that things inanimate have moved, And, as with living souls, have been informed By magic numbers and persuasive sound. What then am I? Am I more senseless grown Than trees or flint? O, force of constant woe! 'Tis not in harmony to calm my griefs. Anselmo sleeps, and is at peace; last night The silent tomb received the good old king. He and his sorrows now are safely lodged Within its cold, but hospitable bosom. Why am not I at peace? Leon. Dear madam, cease, Or moderate your grief; there is no cause-Alm. No cause! Peace, peace; there is eternal cause, And misery eternal will succeed. Thou canst not tell-thou hast indeed no cause. ture, That thus could melt to see a stranger's wrongs. Oh, Leonora! hadst thou known Anselmo, How would thy heart have bled to see his sufferings! Thou hadst no cause, but general compassion. Leon. Love of my royal mistress gave me cause; My love of you begot my grief for him: For I had heard, that when the chance of war Had blessed Anselmo's arms with victory, And the rich spoil of all the field, and you, The glory of the whole, were made the prey Of his success; that then, in spite of hate, Revenge, and that hereditary feud Between Valentia's and Granada's kings, He did endear himself to your affection, By all the worthy and indulgent ways His most industrious goodness could invent; Proposing, by a match between Alphonso, His son, the brave Valentian prince, and you, To end the long dissention, and unite The jarring crowns. Alm. Alphonso! O Alphonso! Thou too art quiet-long hast been at peace→ Both, both! father and son are now no more. Then why am I? Oh, when shall I have rest? Why do I live to say you are no more? Why are all these things thus? Is it of force? Is there necessity I must be miserable? Is it of moment to the peace of heaven, That I should be afflicted thus? If not, Why is it thus contrived? Why are things laid By some unseen hand, so as of sure consequence, They must to me bring curses, grief of heart, The last distress of life, and sure despair? Leon. Alas! you search too far, and think too deeply. Alm. Why was I carried to Anselmo's court? Devouring seas have washed thee from my sight- Alm. Alas! what have I said? My grief has hurried me beyond all thought. Alm. Oh, no, thou know'st not half, Know'st nothing of my sorrows-if thou didstIf I should tell thee, wouldst thou pity me? Tell me; I know thou wouldst; thou art compassionate. Leon. Witness these tears Alm. I thank thee, Leonora- His worth, his truth, and tenderness of love. |