[]

OROONOKO. A TRAGEDY.

[]

OROONOKO: OR THE ROYAL SLAVE. A TRAGEDY.

ALTERED FROM SOUTHERNE, BY FRANCIS GENTLEMAN.

As it was Performed at the THEATRE in EDINBURGH, with univerſal Applauſe.

GLASGOW: PRINTED BY ROBERT AND ANDREW FOULIS M.DCC.LX.

TO JAMES BOSWELL, ESQ.[]HOW can the muſe with burthen'd pinions ſoar?
No flow'rs appear among the winter's ſtore.
Remov'd from FORTUNE'S vivifying heat,
Almoſt within the Frigid Zone of fate.
Can ſhiv'ring fancy fondly hope to riſe,
Through the rough regions of tempeſtuous ſkies?
'Tis madneſs to attempt—yet REASON, proud,
With God-like energy thus cries aloud:
' Let fools the deity of FORTUNE own;
' I view alike a cottage or a throne.
' Intrinſic worth, alone, has charms for me;
' The worth of virtue, and of liberty.
' Rouze, then, nor let an apathy of ſoul,
' Thy active free-born faculties controul:
' Behold aright the attributes of ſtate;
' They are not always happy, who are great.
' Invoke CONTENT to ſoothe thy troubled mind,
' CONTENT, the opulence of human kind,
' That like the tuneful herald of the morn,
' When roſy-tinctur'd beams the Eaſt adorn,
' From his graſs pallat mounts on cow'ring wings,
' And from his height ſerene—looks down on kings:
[6]' Then, pleas'd, returns into his humble bed,
' And reſts, while ſleep from grandeur's couch is fled:
' Such is CONTENT—her ſacred aid invoke.—
Sweet, as Orphean lyre, the voice that ſpoke;
As that could lull the ſavage herds to reſt,
So this can calm the troubles of my breaſt:
'Tis done—care's  [...]urrow'd brow is render'd even,
The call of REASON is the call of Heav'n;
And, now, to juſtly dedicate thoſe lays,
Which, through the parent-ſtock, muſt hope for praiſe;
From SOUTHERNE'S muſe exiſtence muſt derive,
Muſt live through him, if they ſhould chance to live.
Shall I for ſome exalted title ſeek,
And cringe to fortune, not to merit ſpeak?
No—ſhe diſdains a taſk ſo meanly low,
In ev'ry ſhape to flattery a foe:
But where with honeſt pleaſure ſhe can find,
Senſe, taſte, politeneſs with good-nature join'd;
There, gladly, will ſhe raiſe her humble voice,
Nor fears to tell that BOSWELL is her choice.
FRANCIS GENTLEMAN.
GLASGOW, February 1760.

PROLOGUE.

[]

HOW difficult the taſk of thoſe who aim,
By lays dramatic, to arrive at ſame;
Who fondly hope 'twill prove a work of eaſe,
The appetites of all their gueſts to pleaſe?
This vain attempt eludes the niceſt care;
For taſte's as different as our faces are.

SOUTHERNE, whoſe tender muſe could well impart,
The nobleſt feelings to each melting heart;
And raiſe, by force divine, for the diſtreſs'd,
Grief's tend'reſt ſympathy in ev'ry breaſt;
Who wanted but attention to command,
The ſubject paſſions with a maſter hand,
Was forc'd, when he adventur'd on the ſtage,
To proſtitute his genius to the Age;
An Age, remarkable for wit and vice,
When pleaſure muſt be had at any price;
When wounded virtue hung her languid head,
And ev'ry ſenſe of public ſhame was fled;
When hapleſs poets, if they wiſh'd to eat,
Muſt furniſh—tho' regret—a luſcious treat.
This ſad neceſſity, even DRYDEN'S muſe,
With ſuch immoral pieces could abuſe;
In their deformity, his beauties fade,
And all his laurels wither in their ſhade.

[8]

But now, when chaſter judgment holds the ſcales,

And taſte, with delicacy join'd, prevails,

From ribaldry to reſcue virtuous lays,

Muſt plead ſome favour, though it reach not praiſe.

Ye CALEDONIAN fair, in whom we find,
Each charm of perſon, and each grace of mind;
For Virtue's ſake, a feeble genius ſpare,
The cauſe of Virtue's your peculiar care;
In you it lies to cenſure, or to ſave;
To your protection take the ROYAL SLAVE.

ADVERTISEMENT.

[]

THOUGH the Prologue ſhews the motive of this altera⯑tion, it may not be improper to mention, that it was firſt hinted to the Author by a Noble Perſonage, who has eminent⯑ly diſtinguiſhed himſelf in the literary world; and who recol⯑lected to have heard Mr. SOUTHERNE declare, in his latter days, that he moſt heartily regretted his complying with licen⯑tious taſte, by writing any thing ſo offenſive to modeſty, as the comic part of his works; eſpecially that which was ſo unna⯑turally joined to the tragedy of this play.

The Author thinks himſelf obliged, in gratitude, to acknow⯑ledge the very candid reception his part of it met with from the polite and judicious audience of EDINBURGH, without one per⯑ſon to recommend it, as he choſe to lie concealed; and this ap⯑probation is the more extraordinary, as the piece laboured un⯑der ſome lamentable deficiencies in the repreſentation.

Such lines as have been added, to gratify curioſity, are marked thus (').

Dramatis Perſonae.

[]

OROONOKO.
ABOAN.
GOVERNOR.
BLANDFORD.
MASSINGANO.
ZINZO.
CAPT. DRIVER.
PLANTERS and SLAVES.

IMOINDA.

[]OROONOKO.

ACT THE FIRST.

GOVERNOR and BLANDFORD.

GOVERNOR.

' BLANDFORD, your partial fortune ever ſmiles,

' Like a kind miſtreſs, laviſh of her grace,

' She beams indulgent upon every wiſh;

' Yet this time, tho' a prince becomes your ſlave,

' I envy not; but, in the former ſale,

' Chance croſs'd the ſtrongeſt purpoſe of my heart;

' Your lovely prize, the fair Clemene's charms

' Aſſail'd, and won my ſoul.

Blan.

' You love her then.

Gov.

' Too ſure I love her, more than words can ſpeak;

' Each day the paſſion more enflames my breaſt,

' And, tho' ſhe wears the ſable veil of grief,

' Tho' floods of tears o'erwhelm her ſtarry eyes,

' Such native beauteous innocence appears,

' That thought can find no other theme but her.

Blan.

' Have you reveal'd your paſſion, told your love?

' Unleſs ſome ſorrow of unknown import,

' Some mighty woe lies heavy on her heart,

[12]' Her abject ſtate may win her to your will;

' And then, by ſhewing how you wiſh to pleaſe,

' Creating gratitude, you'll gain her love.

Gov.

' My tongue, unpractiſed in the ſoothing art,

' But ill befits the tenderneſs of love:

' My ſtubborn temper with reluctance bends

' To ſuch ſoft feelings; and I ſtrive in vain

' To deck perſuaſion in attractive phraſe;

' Beſides, I fear ſome ſettled care within—

' But, be it as it may, ſhe ſhall be mine;

' I will luxuriouſly poſſeſs her charms,

' And cure this raging fever of my ſoul.

Blan.

You've my conſent to try all gentle means;

Humanity obliges me to ſtand

Her guardian againſt violence—

' But ſee, here comes the ſordid Buccaneer,

' With a malicious joy upon his brow,

' To boaſt the merit of his ſavage trade:

' A wretch as ruthleſs as the prowling wolf,

' Without one human feeling in his breaſt;

' Yet vaunts, that, as a Chriſtian, he has right

' To make the moſt of infidels—he's here.

CAPTAIN DRIVER and PLANTERS.

Driv.

‘' Well, Lieutenant-Governor, I believe I have done my part this trip; I have brought my full number of ſlaves, and ſome ſuch as don't come every day; I was hard drove to bring the matter to bear; but Dick Dri⯑ver don't go without his errand; ſo here they are. I [13] ' have delivered them; and now, my lads, it is your bu⯑ſineſs to make the moſt of them in your way, as I have done in mine.’

Gov.

‘' Your active ſpirit has ſerv'd the colony, Cap⯑tain, and deſerves our thanks.’

Driv.

‘' Nay, do you ſee, for that matter, Governor, I want no complementeering; I ſerve the colony and myſelf; I am not one of your what d'ye callum's, that love their country better than themſelves; no, no, I plow the deep, my maſters, and give chaſe to Fortune with all the ſail I can make; when I clap her aboard, ſhe'll ſoon ſtrike.’

Blan.

‘' There you are right, Captain; Fortune, wo⯑man-like, muſt be cloſe purſu'd, and ſeldom can reſiſt the brave.’

Driv.

‘' True, ſpring my bowſprit; and ſo I often told Jack Handſpike; he and I were fellow-prentices and meſs-mates; as honeſt a fellow Jack was, as ever knock'd off a can of ſlip; but he had a damn'd trouble⯑ſome companion call'd Conſcience; I bid him ſhake hands, and part: but I don't know how he wou'd row againſt wind and tide; and now he plies before the maſt, while I command the Charming Peggy—as good a ſea-boat as ever ſwam: but no matter for that, he has his conſcience, he! he! he!’

Gov.

But, Captain, where are the ſlaves?—they are long a-coming.

Blan.

And who is this prince that's fall'n to my lot for our lord Governor?

Driv.

[14]

He's the devil of a fellow, that I can tell you; a prince every inch of him: you have paid dear enough for him, for all the good he'll do you: I was forc'd to clap him in irons, and did not think the ſhip ſafe neither. You are in hoſtility with the Indians, they ſay; they threaten you daily: you had beſt have an eye upon him.

Blan.

But who is he?

Driv.

Why, he is ſon and heir to the great King of An⯑gola, a miſchievous monarch in thoſe parts; who, by his good will, would never let any of his neighbours be quiet. This ſon was his General, a plaguy ſighting fellow: I have formerly had dealings with him for ſlaves, which he took priſoners, and have got pretty roundly by him. But the war being at an end, and nothing more to be got by the trade of the country—I made bold to bring the prince along with me.

Gov.

How could you do that?

Blan.

What! ſteal a prince out of his own country? Impoſſible!

Driv.

'Twas hard indeed—However I did it—You muſt know this Oroonoko—

Blan.

Is that his name?

Driv.

Ay, Oroonoko.

Gov.

Oroonoko.

Driv.

He's naturally inquiſitive about the men and manners of the white nations; ſo, becauſe I cou'd give him ſome accounts of thoſe parts of the world, I grew very much into his favour—‘'When I made my laſt voyage, he had quarrell'd with his father about ſome [15] woman, and grew ſo damn'd ſurly, that he wou'd ſcarce ſpeak to any body; ſo they deſir'd I wou'd get him on board my ſhip, and try to make him merry;'’ on this I invited him; I could do no leſs, you know, as he had been a friend to me: I prepar'd my entertainment; ſo he came in the evening, and brought about twenty friends with him; the punch flew about, and as many of his companions, as I thought would be dangerous, I ſent dead drunk on ſhore—the reſt we ſecur'd; and ſo you have the Prince Oroonoko.

2 Plant.

Gad a-mercy, Captain; there you was with him, i'faith.—Such men as you are fit to be employ'd in public affairs: the plantation will thrive by you.

2 Plant.

Ay, ay, induſtry ought to be encourag'd.

Driv.

There's nothing to be done without it, boys; I have made my fortune this way.

Gov.

But, Captain, methinks you have taken a great deal of pains about this Prince Oroonoko; why did you part with him at the rate of common ſlaves?

Driv.

Why, Lieutenant-Governor, I'll tell you, I did intend to have carried him to England, and to have ſhewn him there; but I found him troubleſome upon my hands; and I am glad to be rid of him at any rate.—I think I hear them coming—

Blan.

Many of theſe here doom'd to drag a life of ſlavery, know nothing better; they were born ſlaves, and only change their maſters; but a prince, taught on⯑ly to command, betray'd, and ſold, my heart drops blood for him!

Driv.

[16]

Now, Governor, here he comes; pray, obſerve him—‘'I did not ſtrip him and his favourite of their finery, becauſe it ſets 'em off to the beſt advantage.’

Slaves paſs over two and two.

Enter OROONOKO and ABOAN.

Oro.

So, Sir, you have kept your word with me.

Driv.

I am better Chriſtian, I thank you, than to keep my word with a heathen.

Oro.

You are a Chriſtian; be a Chriſtian ſtill.

If you have any God that teaches you

To break your word, I need not curſe you more;

Let him cheat you, as you are falſe to me.

Ye faithful followers of my better fortune,

We have been fellow-ſoldiers in the field;

Now we are fellow-ſlaves. This laſt farewel.

Be ſure of one thing that will comfort us;

Whatever world we next are thrown upon,

Cannot be worſe than this.

[Exeunt Slaves.

Driv.

You ſee, Governor, what a bloody Pagan he is; but I took care none of his followers ſhould be in the ſame lot with him, for fear they ſhou'd undertake ſome deſperate action to the danger of the colony.

Oro.

Live ſtill in fear; it is the villain's curſe,

And will revenge my chains: fear even me,

Who have no power to hurt thee. Nature abhors,

And drives thee out from the ſociety

And commerce of mankind, for breach of faith.

Men live and proſper but in mutual truſt,

[17]A confidence of one another's truth:

That thou haſt violated. I have done,

I know my fortune, and ſubmit to it.

Gov.

Sir, I am ſorry for your fortune, and would help it if I could.

Blan.

Take off his chains—You know your condi⯑tion; but you are fallen into honourable hands: you are the Lord Governor's ſlave, who will uſe you nobly: in his abſence it ſhall be my care to ſerve you.

Oro.

I hear you, but I can believe no more:

' 'Tis not the Chriſtian lure of fair-faced ſmiles,

' Where lurks deceit in friendſhip's borrow'd guiſe,

' Can now enſnare my deep experienc'd heart;

' That ſhame of nature, and the human form,

' Who barter'd honeſty, and me, for gold;

' Profeſs'd as fair, and much, as you can do,

' Whilſt I, determin'd to be juſt myſelf,

' Thought others ſo; and thus became a ſlave.

Gov.

Captain, I am afraid the world wont ſpeak ſo honourably of this action of yours as you would wiſh.

Driv.

Look ye, Lieutenant-Governor, I don't wiſh a⯑bout the matter—I have the money—let the world talk, and be damn'd—I care not.

Oro.

I would forget myſelf—Be ſatisfy'd,

[To Blandford, after talking with him aſide.

I am above the rank of common ſlaves.

Let that content you.—The Chriſtian there who knows me,

For his own ſake, will not diſcover more.

Driv.

[18]

I have other matters to mind. You have him, ſo much good may do you with your Prince Oroonoko.

Exit Driver.

[To the Planters who ſtare at Oroonoko.

Blan.

What wou'd you have there? You ſtare as if you never ſaw a man before—Stand farther off.

Oro.

Let them ſtare on.

I am unfortunate, but not aſham'd

Of being ſo. No, let the guilty bluſh,

The white man who betray'd me: honeſt black—

Diſdains to change its colour—I am ready,

Where muſt I go? Diſpoſe me as you pleaſe:

I am not well acquainted with my fortune,

But muſt learn to know it better—ſo I know, you ſay:

Degrees make all things eaſy.

Blan.

All things ſhall be eaſy.

Oro.

Tear off this pomp, and let me know myſelf:

The ſlaviſh habit beſt becomes me now.

Hard fare, and chains, and whips may overpow'r

The frailer fleſh, and bow my body down:

But there's another, nobler part of me

Out of your reach, which you can never tame.

Blan.

You ſhall find nothing of this miſery

You apprehend. We are not monſters all;

' Some here the touch of melting pity know,

' Our eyes have tears for merit in diſtreſs;

' Our hearts are form'd to ſympathize in woe:

' And tho' your wrongs may fix a gen'ral charge,

[19]' An undiſtinguiſh'd infamy on all;

' 'Tis Chriſtian virtue to delight in good,

' Tho' Chriſtian av'rice breaks each ſocial tie.

Oro.

' What is your government, your boaſted laws,

' Compiled to form and civilize your ſtates,

' If breach of faith is let, unpuniſh'd, paſs?

' The needy wretch, who ſteals a piece of oar,

' Repays the injury with loſs of life;

' While the ſucceſsful ſubjects of deceit,

' Who wound our natures in each vital part,

' Receive applauſe, and triumph in their guilt.

' Yet ſtill with ſelfiſh arrogance, on climes

' Where ſimple honeſty and nature reigns,

' You caſt the name of ſavage with contempt:

' But know, proud boaſters, thoſe unletter'd ſhores,

' Claim brighter virtues far than art e'er taught;

' Learning and fraud are equally unknown.

Blan.

We hear with pleaſure, Sir, and muſt admire

' Thoſe ſentiments which ſpeak a noble mind;

' But hope your future treatment may remove

' This too juſt prejudice, and gain eſteem—

You ſeem unwilling to diſcloſe yourſelf:

Therefore, thro' fear the mentioning your name,

Shou'd give you new diſquiet, I preſume

To call you Caeſar.

Oro.

I am myſelf—but call me what you pleaſe.

Gov.

A very good name, and fit for your character.

Oro.

Was Caeſar then a ſlave?

Gov.

[20]

I think he was to pirates too—he was a great conqueror, but unfortunate in his friends.

Oro.

His friends were Chriſtians then?

Blan.

No.

Oro.

No! that's ſtrange.

Gov.

And murder'd by them.

Oro.

I would be Caeſar there. Yet I will live.

Blan.

Live to be happier.

Oro.

' No! let me manifeſt a greater ſoul,

' Than to confide in that deluder, Hope,

' At whoſe falſe ſhrine the wretched ſeek relief:

' The weakeſt mind, with happineſs in view,

' Tho' diſtant far, can bear the pangs of woe:

But when, upon the weary wing of thought,

We range the waſte of deſolate deſpair,

Nor ſtart a gleam of hope; 'then the tryal comes;

' And nature, pleading for exiſtence here,

' Applauds the wretched, who can dare to live.

Blan.

' Your mind's diſturb'd; I will intrude no more,

' But wait upon, attend, and ſerve you.

Oro.

' Do with me what you will—'Tis equal all:

' I am a ſlave—yet ſtill a greater curſe

' Renders the torments of that ſtation worſe;

' But wherefore touch upon my private grief?

' Tho' you ſhou'd feel, you cannot bring relief.

[Exeunt.

MASSINGANO ſolus.

' Thou nurſe of diſcontent, lov'd ſolitude;

[21]' To thy deſerted ſhrine my wiſhes bend;

' In thy lone walks, on meditation's wing

' I ſoar above captivity and chains:

' Again I viſit Africk's golden ſhores,

' And fancied freedom balms my wounded mind,

' In the lov'd ſemblance of rejoicing friends;

' With all the awful charms of martial fame,

' And milder beauties of domeſtic bliſs—

' But oh, how ſhort this viſionary joy?

' Tranſient, and like the lightning's ſubtle beam,

' When flaſhing thro' the ſable gloom of night;

' So ſwift the air-built column of my joy

' Diſſolves, and leaves me in the gulph of woe.—

' Sure I muſt dream—my eyes muſt play me falſe,

' Or in my view a well known figure comes;

' With folded arms, and down-caſt look, he moves,

' Wrapp'd in deep melancholy—it muſt, it muſt,

' It cannot but be him I call'd my friend.

Enter ZINZO.

Zinzo!

Zin.

' That is my name—but what art thou,

' That know'ſt ſo well, what I would fain forget?

Maſſ.

' What thought preſag'd, thy dubious words 'confirm;

' I muſt be chang'd indeed when thou forget'ſt;

' Captivity has graſp'd with iron hand,

' And thus deform'd the image of thy friend.

' Return five years—ſad period of my woes!

[22]' When laſt thou ſaw'ſt me in the front of war,

' With fame, and fortune waiting on my nod,

' Then view theſe ſad remains of Maſſingano.

Zin.

' Illuſtrious God of day, to whom we bend!

' Can it be poſſible?

Maſſ.

' Too certain ſure;

' But why do I delay to claſp the man

' Whom fate, once kind, has ſent to eaſe my care;

' Has ſent—there friendſhip feels a pang—to ſhare it too.

Zin.

' I blame not Fortune, but muſt thank her now,

' E'er ſince that dreadful day of blood and death,

' In which thy brother and our country fell.

' Juſt tribute was allow'd thy honour'd ſhade

' In ceaſeleſs ſorrow—and a great revenge

' Was deeply plann'd by thy illuſtrious fire:

' Fierce was the conflict, fatal was the event;

' In conſequence of which thou ſee'ſt me here.

Maſſ.

' Too fatal ſure—oh! thou haſt rous'd to view

' Thoſe horrid ſcenes which tempeſt ſhake my ſoul;

' Lull'd by a ſlaviſh indolence of thought,

' My ſlumb'ring heart has long forgot its ſphere,

' But now it wakes, and catches the alarm;

' Impatience ſtrongly beats in ev'ry pulſe,

' Each lab'ring faculty cries out revenge,

' And all is raging anarchy within—

' But 'tis in vain—a lion in the toil,

' May roar, and boldly ſtruggle to be free,

' While the dull peaſant, from his fangs ſecure,

[23]' In ſafety bold—laughs at his idle rage.

Zin.

' Yet hear, my friend, tho' tyrant fortune frowns

' One gleam of comfort ſtill remains behind;

' Know, that thy deadly, and victorious foe,

' By whoſe fell arm thy valiant brother died,

' Is hither brought, and ſold a common ſlave.

Maſſ.

' Ha! Oroonoko!

Zin.

' The ſame my friend:

' Tho' ever yet invincible in war,

' To fair-faced treachery he fell a prey:

' The manner how—

Maſſ.

' No matter for the means:

' That he is here a ſlave, let me rejoice:

' Oh glorious ruler of the earth and ſkies!

' With brighter beams illume this happy day,

' Since the proud enemy of peace is fall'n;

' Eternal juſtice! fall'n within my reach;

' And if I not repay, with great revenge,

' The native kindred blood which he has ſhed,

' The deſolative ruin of my country;

' May I ne'er ſee thoſe honour'd climes again,

' But, after death, my exil'd ſhade be doom'd

' To wander ever in the Chriſtian hell.

Zin.

' Such be the lot of mine, if all my pow'r

' Waits not attendant on your boldeſt views:

' But ſay, my friend, for much I wiſh to know,

' After we parted in the field of blood,

' By what dire chance you fell the victor's prey?

Maſſ.

[24]

' Remembrance ſickens at the dire event;

' Yet I will torture thought to tell thee all:

' When hoſtile nations, like contending clouds,

' In dreadful thunder 'gainſt each other ruſh'd,

' The tide of battle drove us far apart;

' Onward I flew, and dealt deſtruction round,

' 'Till I beheld the rival of my fame,

' At whom I bent the torrent of my rage.

' Long held the conflict doubtful, till, at length,

' With force collected, and vindictive arm,

' I threw a poiſon'd javelin at his heart;

' Nor ſtrength, nor aim betray'd my great intent;

' But, to preſerve his life, and check revenge,

' The well-known white, his guide, and arm of war,

' Receiv'd the wound, and periſh'd in his arms.

Zin.

Tho' diſappointed, fortune here was kind.

Maſſ.

' Tis true, by ſympathy, his heart was ſtabb'd,

' And I poſſeſs'd a momentary joy;

' But ſoon, on every ſide, by crouds aſſail'd,

' Cover'd with wounds, and faint with loſs of blood,

' I ſunk beneath the haughty victor's feet;

' 'Tis true, he ſav'd me from uplifted ſwords;

' But ſav'd! for what? for ſomething worſe than death;

' To bear the rack of ſlav'ry and chains.

Zin.

' Propoſe, at once, the method of revenge,

' I'll lead or follow in the glorious task,

' Tho' death, in all its terrors, ſhou'd oppoſe.

Maſſ.

' Have I not prov'd thee oft in danger's front?

[25]' But here, I ſhall not need thy honeſt aid;

' I muſt become a Chriſtian in my ſcheme,

' Invert my nature, bend my ſtubborn heart,

' And work, by ſtratagem, to gain my end.

' Thy fraudleſs boſom knows not arts like theſe;

' But here, 'tis common, to betray with ſmiles,

' And pierce the heart, that meets thee as a friend.

' But let me hence, and view this deadly foe,

' With tranſport view, and hear his galling chains,

' Their clink more ſweet than muſic to my ears;

' Then lay the baſis of my great deſign,

' And, in due ſeaſon, ſpring the fatal mine.

[Exeunt.

END OF THE FIRST ACT.

ACT THE SECOND.

OROONOKO and BLANDFORD.

OROONOKO.

YOU know my ſtory, and you ſay you are

A friend to my misfortunes; that's a name

Will teach you what you owe yourſelf and me.

Blan.

I'll ſtudy to deſerve to be your friend;

When once our noble Governor arrives,

With him you will not need my intereſt.

[26]He is too generous not to feel your wrongs;

But, be aſſur'd, I will employ my pow'r,

And find the means to ſend you home again.

Oro.

I thank you, Sir,—my honeſt, wretched friends!

[Sighing.

Their chains are heavy: they have hardly found

So kind a maſter. May I aſk you, Sir,

What is become of them? Perhaps I ſhould not;

You will forgive a ſtranger.

Blan.

I'll enquire,

And uſe my beſt endeavours, where they are,

To have 'em gently us'd.

Oro.

Once more I thank you;

You offer ev'ry cordial that can keep

My hopes alive, to wait a better day;

What friendly care can do, you have apply'd:

But oh! I have a grief admits no cure.

Blan.

You do not know, Sir—

Oro.

Can you raiſe the dead?

Purſue and overtake the wings of time,

And bring about again the hours, the days,

The years that made me happy?

Blan.

That is not to be done.

Oro.

No, there is nothing to be done for me.

[Kneeling, and kiſſing the earth.

Thou God ador'd! thou ever glorious ſun!

If ſhe be yet on earth, ſend me a beam

Of thy all-ſeeing pow'r to light me to her;

[27]Or if thy ſiſter goddeſs has preferr'd

Her beauty to the ſkies to be a ſtar;

O tell me where ſhe ſhines, that I may ſtand

Whole nights, and gaze upon her.

Blan.

I am rude, and interrupt you.

Oro.

I am troubleſome:

But pray give me your pardon. My ſwoll'n heart

Burſts out its paſſage, and I muſt complain:

O! can you think of nothing dearer to me?

Dearer than liberty, my country, friends,

Much dearer than my life, that I have loſt?

The tend'reſt, beſt belov'd, and loving wife.

Blan.

Alas! I pity you.

Oro.

Do, pity me:

Pity's a-kin to love; and every thought

Of that ſoft kind is welcome to my ſoul.

I would be pity'd here.

Blan.

I dare not aſk

More than you pleaſe to tell me: but if you

Think it convenient to let me know

Your ſtory, I dare promiſe you to bear

A part in your diſtreſs, if not aſſiſt you.

Oro.

Thou honeſt-hearted man! I wanted ſuch,

Juſt ſuch a friend as thou art, that would ſit

Still as the night, and let me talk whole days

Of my Imoinda. O! I'll tell thee all

From firſt to laſt; and pray obſerve me well.

Blan.

I will moſt heedfully.

Oro.

[28]

There was a ſtranger in my father's court,

Valu'd and honour'd much: he was a white,

The firſt I ever ſaw of your complexion:

He chang'd his God for ours, and ſo grew great;

Of many virtues, and ſo fam'd in arms,

He ſtill commanded all my father's wars.

I was bred under him. One fatal day,

The armies joining, he before me ſtept,

Receiving in his breaſt a poiſon'd dart

Levell'd at me; he dy'd within my arms.

I've tir'd you already.

Blan.

Pray go on.

Oro.

He left an only daughter, whom he brought

An infant to Angola. When I came

Back to the court, a happy conqueror,

Humanity oblig'd me to condole

With this ſad virgin for a father's loſs,

Loſt for my ſafety. I preſented her

With all the ſlaves of battle, to atone

Her father's ghoſt. But when I ſaw her face,

And heard her ſpeak, I offer'd up myſelf

To be the ſacrifice. She bow'd, and bluſh'd;

I wonder'd and ador'd. The ſacred pow'r

That had ſubdu'd me, then inſpir'd my tongue,

Inclin'd her heart, and all our talk was love.

Blan.

Then you were happy.

Oro.

O! I was too happy.

I marry'd her: and though my country's cuſtom

[29]Indulg'd the privilege of many wives,

I ſwore myſelf never to know but her.

She grew with child, and I grew happier ſtill.

O my Imoinda! But it could not laſt.

Her fatal beauty reach'd my father's ears:

He ſent for her to court, where curſed court!

No woman comes, but for his am'rous uſe.

He raging to poſſeſs her, ſhe was forc'd

To own herſelf my wife. The furious king

Started at inceſt: but grown deſperate,

Not daring to enjoy what he deſir'd,

In mad revenge, which I could never learn;

He poiſon'd her, or ſent her far, far off,

Far from my hopes ever to ſee her more.

Blan.

Moſt barbarous of fathers! the ſad tale

Has ſtruck me dumb with wonder.

Oro.

I have done.

I'll trouble you no farther: now and then,

A ſigh will have its way; that ſhall be all.

FIRST PLANTER.

1 Plant.

Blandford, the Lieutenant-Governor is gone to your plantation. He deſires you wou'd bring the royal ſlave with you. The ſight of his fair miſtreſs, he ſays, is an entertainment for a prince; he would have his opi⯑nion of her.

Oro.

Is he a lover?

Blan.

So he ſays himſelf: he flatters a beautiful ſlave that I have, and calls her miſtreſs.

Oro.

[30]

Muſt he then flatter her, to call her miſtreſs?

I pity the proud man, who thinks himſelf

Above being in love: what, tho' ſhe be a ſlave,

She may deſerve him.

Blan.

You ſhall judge of that, when you ſee her, Sir.

Oro.

I go with you.

[Exeunt.

IMOINDA ſola.

' Tis all in vain—I cannot ſooth my woe,

' Nor place, nor proſpect, can afford relief,

' Tho' jocund nature ſmiles in ev'ry part:

' All ſtudied arts, to heal th' unquiet mind,

' But more perplex, and miniſter freſh pain.

' Tho' pity's hand has kindly loos'd my chains,

' Smooth'd ſtern captivity to gentle ſmiles,

' And try'd all means to flatter female pride,

' My widow'd heart, that mourns its abſent mate,

' Shuns the fond ſervice of officious care—

' When martyr'd love lies bleeding in the breaſt,

' Each faculty muſt feel the pangs of grief;

' Ev'n churliſh reaſon yields its tyrant ſway,

' And melts in ſtreams of pity from the eyes:

' Such hopeleſs woe is mine—yet nature ſtill

' Inflexibly denies my only wiſh

' To find a peaceful refuge in the grave.

Enter GOVERNOR.

Gov.

I have diſturb'd you, I confeſs my fault,

My fair Clemene—but begin again,

And I will liſten to your mournful plaint,

[31]Sweet as the ſoft complaining nightingale's:

While every word calls out my raptur'd ſoul,

And leaves me ſilent as the midnight groves.

Speak, ſpeak again, and let me wonder at

The matchleſs power you have to charm me.

Imo.

' If ſighs and tears can find the way to pleaſe,

' This heart, theſe eyes, may prove the ſource of joy.

' But wherefore ſeek you from a wretch like me,

' What only can be found in minds at eaſe?

' If ought but ſorrow you expect to meet,

' Your cheated ſenſes have miſtook their way:

' Within this breaſt, in melancholy ſtate,

' Deſpair and ſadneſs hold their gloomy reign,

' And exil'd pleaſure flies the dreary waſte.

Gov.

You muſt not weep: I come to dry your tears,

And raiſe you from your ſorrow. Look upon me:

Look with the eyes of kind indulging love,

That I may have full cauſe for what I ſay:

I come to offer you your liberty,

And be myſelf your ſlave—'My fortune, pow'r,

' All ſhall be made ſubſervient to your will;

' What nature can produce, or art deviſe,

' To rouze you from this lethargy of woe,

' Now waits on your acceptance.

Imo.

' 'Tis vain to aſk

' What I have not, alas! the pow'r to give;

' Yet gratitude requires to pay my thanks

' For proffer'd kindneſs and experienc'd care;

[32]' But ev'ry ſtate is now alike to me:

' The ſenſes, wrapp'd in moping melancholy,

' Remain unmov'd at pleaſure's ſprightly call.

' Deſiſt then, timely, from ſuch fruitleſs pains,

' And, if the friendleſs may demand a boon,

' To ſome lone place, as gloomy as my thoughts,

' Where barren nature wears eternal frowns,

' And wintry tempeſts howl—direct my ſteps;

' There more at eaſe, than in the ſhine of life,

' Let grief-worn thought in ſilence reach the grave.

Gov.

' Yet hear the voice of pity, and of love:

' No more my fair admit the tyrant grief,

' To prey upon the roſes of thy cheeks,

' Like eaſtern blaſts upon the flow'rs of ſpring:

' Dry up the fountain of thy ceaſeleſs tears,

' And let thoſe eyes in native luſtre ſhine;

' Give me thy hand, and, with enliv'ning touch,

' Convey ſoft rapture to my wiſhing ſoul—

' You turn away, and are unkindly coy.

' But I have urg'd too far to be denied,

' And to relieve your modeſty from pain,

' Muſt gently force you to comply.

Imo.

' Oh! Sir,

' Let me conjure you, by each ſocial tie,

' By whatſoever Deity you ſerve,

' And all you hold moſt dear in earth or heav'n,

' Wound not my nature in its tendereſt part:

' Behold me thrown thus proſtrate at your feet;

[33]' And, if my tears have any pow'r to move,

' Oh! let them plead the reſcue of my fame;

' Or if you cannot purchaſe peace on cheaper terms,

' Here kill me, and remove the cauſe of pain.

Gov.

' Nay, 'tis ungrateful to avoid my love:

' But have a care, leſt paſſion turn'd to hate,

' Should change the kind indulgence you have met

' To treatment better fitted to a ſlave.

Imo.

' Oh! let it come, I cannot fear it now:

' Thoſe feeble limbs in ſlaviſh garments wrapp'd,

' Shall gladly toil beneath the ſcorching ſun,

' Or freeze beneath the winter's piercing ſky:

' Then, when the labour of the day is paſs'd,

' And weary nature ſickens for repoſe,

' Contented, reſt upon th' uncover'd ground,

' Still free in mind, in ſpotleſs virtue rich.

Gov.

' 'Tis idle all; the virtue which you preach,

' That foe to ev'ry true enjoyment here,

' Is but a phantom of unfeeling minds.

' Once more I take your hand—your modeſty

' Wou'd draw it back—but you wou'd take it ill

' If I ſhould let it go—I know you would—

' I ſee you muſt be forc'd to pleaſe yourſelf;

' Nay, if you ſtruggle with me, I muſt take—

Imo.

You may my life, that I can part with freely;

But with my virtue never.

[Exit.

Gov.

She's gone—

[34]' Curſe on the pride that ſwells her fooliſh heart,

' And ſtands the bar between me and enjoyment.

Enter BLANDFORD and OROONOKO.

Blan.

Governor, we don't diſturb, I hope:

How has Clemene liſten'd to your ſuit?

She's thankful for the honour, I ſuppoſe.

Gov.

Deaf as the winds to ev'ry thing I ſay:

Still when I ſpeak to her ſhe ſighs and weeps

Something more near than bondage ſhe laments.

Blan.

What do her fellow ſlaves ſay of her: they per⯑haps

May find the cauſe.

Gov.

'Tis ſecret ſtill from all:

Some who pretend more wiſdom than the reſt,

And hate, 'tis like, as ſhe is better us'd,

Aſſert ſhe is with child.

Blan.

Perhaps 'tis true;

And if't be ſo, poor wretch, I pity her;

She has loſt a huſband that, perchance, was dear;

And in a caſe like that you cannot blame her.

Oro.

If it be ſo, indeed you cannot blame her.

Gov.

No, no, it is not ſo, or if it were—

I ſtill muſt love her; and, deſiring ſtill,

I muſt poſſeſs her.

Blan.

By fair means, Governor.

Gov.

I'll give ten ſlaves for her.

Blan.

She is not mine;

For the Lord Governor I drew her lot;

But were ſhe mine, I wou'd not part with her,

[35]Eſpecially to you.

Gov.

Why not to me?

Blan.

I mean againſt her will. You are in love;

And we all know what your deſires wou'd have;

Were ſhe within your pow'r, you do not know

How ſoon you might be tempted to forget

The nature of the deed; and may be act

A violence you after wou'd repent.

Oro.

'Tis God-like in you to protect the weak.

Gov.

Fie, fie; I wou'd not force—tho' ſhe be

A ſlave, her mind is free, and ſhould conſent.

Oro.

Such honour will engage her to conſent;

And then, if you're in love, 'tis juſt amends.

Shall we not ſee this wonder?

Gov.

Have a care;

You have a heart, and ſhe has conq'ring eyes.

Oro.

I have a heart; but if it cou'd be falſe

To my firſt vows, ever to love again,

Theſe honeſt hands ſhou'd tear it from my breaſt,

And throw the traitor from me: Oh Imoinda!

Living or dead, I can be only thine.

Blan.

Imoinda was his wife—ſhe's either dead,

Or living, dead to him, forc'd from his arms

By an inhuman father—another time

I'll tell you all.

[Alarum Bell rings.

[36]Enter DRIVER and PLANTERS.

Driv.

Where are you, Governor? make what haſte you can to ſave yourſelf and th [...] whole colony—I bid 'em ring the bell.

Gov.

What's the matter?

Driv.

Why, the Indians are bearing down upon us.—they'll clap us a-long-ſide preſently; they have plun⯑der'd ſome of the plantations already.

Gov.

What can we do againſt 'em?

Blan.

We ſhall be able to make a ſtand till more planters come in.

Driv.

There are more without, Governor; if you'd appear, and put them in trim.

Gov.

There's no danger of the white ſlaves; they'll not ſtir; Blandford, come you with me; ſome of you ſtay here, and look after the black ſlaves.

[Exeunt Governor and Blandford.

Driv.

In the firſt place, we ſecure you, Sir, as an ene⯑my to the government.

Oro.

Are you there? you are my conſtant friend.

Driv.

None of your palaver; you'll be able to do a great deal of miſchief; but we'll prevent you: bring the irons hither; he has the malice of a ſlave in his infernal phiz, and wou'd be glad to have an opportunity of cut⯑ting his maſter's throat: I know him; chain his hands and feet, that he may not run over to them; if they have him, they ſhall carry him on their backs; that I can tell them.

[37]Enter BLANDFORD.

Blan.

What are you doing there?

Driv.

Securing the main chance—this fellow here is a boſom enemy.

Blan.

Away, you brutes; I'll anſwer with my life for his behaviour; ſo tell the Governor.

Driv.

So we will.

Oro.

Give me a ſword,

And I'll deſerve your truſt.

[Exeunt Drivers and Planters.

Enter GOVERNOR and PARTY.

Blan.

See Governor, they drive away our ſlaves before our faces; can you ſtand tamely by, and ſuffer this? Clemene, Sir, your miſtreſs is amongſt them.

Gov.

We throw ourſelves away in the attempt to re⯑ſcue them.

Oro.

A lover cannot fall more glorious

Than in the cauſe of love—he that deſerves

His miſtreſs' favour, wonnot ſtay behind;

I'll lead you on; be bold, and follow me.

[Exeunt. Shout.

IMOINDA.

I'm toſs'd about by my tempeſtuous fate,

And no where muſt have reſt; Indians or Engliſh,

Whoever has me, I am ſtill a ſlave:

No matter whoſe I am, ſince I'm no more

My royal maſter's; ſince I am his no more.

' Tumultuous war, with all its terrors crown'd,

[38]' I view as calmly as the ſmiles of peace,

' Loſt to all ſenſe of ev'ry female fear.

[Shouts.

' Theſe ſeem the ſhouts of a triumphant joy;

' They move this way; let me avoid the throng,

' And ſhun what cannot comfort bring to me.

[Retires.

GOVERNOR, OROONOKO, BLANDFORD, DRIVER, and PLANTERS.

Gov.

Thou glorious man! thou ſomething greater ſure

Than Caeſar ever was! that ſingle arm

Has ſav'd us all; accept our general thanks,

And what we can do more to recompence

Such noble ſervices; you ſhall command;

Clemene, too, ſhall thank you; ſhe is ſafe;

Look up, and bleſs your brave deliverer.

[Brings Imoinda forward.

Oro.

Bleſs me indeed! oh all you mighty Gods,

Who govern the great world, and bring about

Things ſtrange and unexpected—can it be?

Gov.

What is't you ſtare at?

Oro.

Anſwer ſome of you,

You who have pow'r, and have your ſenſes free,

Or are you all ſtruck thro' with wonder too.

Blan.

What would you know!

Oro.

My ſoul ſteals from my body, thro' my eyes,

All that is left of life; I'll gaze away,

And die upon the pleaſure—

[39]If you but mock me with her image here,

If ſhe be not Imoinda—ha! ſhe faints!

[Imoinda faints.

Nay, then it muſt be ſhe—it is Imoinda;

My heart confeſſes her, and leaps for joy,

To welcome her to her own empire here;

I feel her all, in ev'ry part of me:

Oh! let me preſs her in my eager arms,

Wake her to life, and, with the kindling kiſs,

Give back that ſoul ſhe only lent to me.

Imoinda! oh! thy Oroonoko calls.

Imo.

My Oroonoko! I ſcarce can b'lieve

What any man can ſay—but if I am

To be deceiv'd, there's ſomething in that name,

That voice, that face—

Oh! if I know myſelf, I cannot be miſtaken.

Oro.

Never here—you cannot be miſtaken;

I am yours—your Oroonoko, all

That you would have, your tender loving huſband.

Imo.

All indeed that I cou'd wiſh to have;

I am alive, nor is't a dream of bliſs;

I wake to more than utterable joys;

They were ſo great, I could not think 'em true;

But ev'ry thing I believe that you can ſay,

For truth itſelf, and everlaſting love,

Dwells in that breaſt, and pleaſure in theſe arms.

Oro.

Take, take me all, enquire into my heart,

(You know the way to ev'ry ſecret there;)

[40]My heart the ſacred treaſury of love:

And, if in abſence, I have miſemploy'd

A mite from the rich ſtore; if I have ſpent

A wiſh, a ſigh, but what I ſent to you,

May I be doom'd to wiſh and ſigh in vain,

And you not pity me.

Imo.

Oh! I believe,

And know you by myſelf: if theſe ſad eyes,

Since laſt we parted have beheld the face

Of any comfort, or once wiſh'd to ſee

The light of any other heav'n but you,

May I this moment loſe the joys I feel,

Loſe thy lov'd ſight never to find you more.

Oro.

Imoinda! Oh! this ſeparation

Has made you dearer, if it can be ſo

Than you were ever to me—you appear

Like a kind ſtar to my benighted ſteps,

To guide me on my way to happineſs;

I cannot miſs it now: Governor, friend,

You think me mad; but let me bleſs you all

Who any way have been the inſtruments

Of finding her again: Imoinda's found,

And ev'ry thing that I wou'd have in her.

Blan.

Sir, we congratulate your happineſs,

I do moſt heartily, and feel your joy;

But how it comes to paſs—

Oro.

That will require

More precious time than I can ſpare you now:

[41]I have a thouſand things to aſk of her,

And ſhe as many more to know of me:

But you have made me happier, I confeſs,

Acknowledge it, much happier, than I

Have words or pow'r to tell you—Captain, you,

Ev'n you, who moſt have wrong'd me, I forgive;

I wonnot ſay you have betray'd me now;

I'll think you but the miniſter of fate,

To bring me to my lov'd Imoinda here.

Imo.

How, how ſhall I receive you? how be worthy

Such matchleſs tenderneſs, ſuch ſoft endearments?

Theſe are the tranſports of proſperity,

When fortune ſmiles upon us.

Oro.

Let the fools,

Who follow fortune, live upon her ſmiles;

All our proſperity is plac'd in love;

We have enough of that to make us happy.

This little ſpot of earth you ſtand upon,

Is more to me than the extended plains

Of my great father's kingdom: here I reign

In full delights; in joys to pow'r unknown,

Your love my empire, and your heart my throne.

END OF THE SECOND ACT.

ACT THE THIRD.

[42]

MASSINGANO ſolus.

' THRO' care's nocturnal gloom, the ſun of joy

' Darts beams of comfort on my woe-worn heart;

' Reviv'd, I riſe, upon the wing of hope,

' And ſoar above the caverns of deſpair;

' Where, long depreſs'd, my languid ſpirits lay.

' Ye venerable ſhades of thoſe I lov'd,

' Whoſe bodies fell a prey to hungry war;

' Where-e'er in boundleſs liberty ye ſtray,

' On my juſt vengeance caſt propitious ſmiles;

' And ye fell demons of the Chriſtian world,

' That taint, with ev'ry vice, the human heart,

' Flame-wrapp'd in ſulph'rous majeſty, ariſe;

' Drive native honeſty, an exile, forth,

' And, with her borrow'd ſemblance, deck deceit;

' Still hover o'er me with infernal wings,

' And ſhield me from myſelf.—

ZINZO.

Zin.

' My friend, well found.

Maſſ.

' Well, Zinzo, art thou come? my eager ſoul

' Wanted to make thee partner of that joy

' Which now I feel.—I have beheld my foe;

' Seen the proud victim of a partial fate,

[43]' With all the horrors of his wretched lot,

' In deep dejection ſtamp'd upon his brow.

Zin.

' Forgive, my friend, that I ſhould check your joy:

' But know, th' ambitious rival of your fame

' Has met with happineſs: his utmoſt wiſh;

' A ſlave here, call'd Clemene, proves his wife,

' Whoſe loſs, far more than liberty, he mourn'd.

Maſſ.

' Say'ſt thou! 'tis well—I thank thee for the news:

' Let him enjoy this glimpſe of paradiſe,

' 'Twill ſerve to plunge him in a blacker hell.

' Behold! his fav'rite comes this way; I've touch'd,

' And found him fitted to my deep deſign;

' By my appointment, now, he meets me here,

' To plan the means of liberty—haſte thou

' To ſcatter diſcontent amongſt the ſlaves,

' And rouze their drooping ſpirits to revolt;

' For, on that ground, I'll build my great revenge.

[Exit Zinzo.

ABOAN.

' Welcome, thou ſharer of that common woe,

' Which glooms around—you've kept th' appointed hour.

Abo.

' I were unworthy of the glorious cauſe

' Which former converſe open'd to our view,

' Could precious time paſs by me unobſerv'd.

' No, let dull negligence, o'er minds at eaſe,

' Fix her lethargic ſway—but where rankling care,

' Like a fell vulture, gnaws the tortur'd heart,

' Thought, as a watchful centinel, alarms,

[44]' Till ev'ry ſenſe and faculty is rouz'd—

' But words are womaniſh, let action ſpeak,

' And tell the world, at leaſt, that we deſerve,

' If not obtain, the liberty we ſeek.

Maſſ.

' Such are the ſentiments which fill my breaſt;

' E'er ſince my feet have trod this tyrant ſhore,

' Where ſtern captivity ſpurns nature's laws;

' My buſtling ſoul has labour'd for the means,

' To ſhake off ſlavery: nor could indulgence,

' Such as our ſtation ſeldom meets with here,

' Abate the ſettled purpoſe of my heart;

' But, 'till this hour, occaſion never ſmil'd;

' The glorious time, at length, is near at hand,

' When reſolution muſt looſe all our chains:

' Your Prince's countenance, to aid our cauſe,

' Will give a ſpirit, and ſecure ſucceſs.

Abo.

' Then doubt it not—my royal maſter feels,

' With ſoul ſuperior, more indignant woe,

' Than dwells in vulgar breaſts: he will rejoice

' To wield, for public good, the ſword of freedom.

Maſſ.

' Be it your care to win him to our cauſe;

' Let him give breath, and ſtrait the flames conceal'd,

' Will burſt with fury forth—nor can we fail,

Tho' mountains, rivers, woods, oppoſe our march;

To reſolution theſe muſt ſoon ſubmit;

That, we ſhall carry with us—that is ours.

Abo.

Towards the ſea we'll bend our dauntleſs march,

There plant a colony, in native innocence,

[45]And keep at diſtance the ſurrounding foe,

'Till ſtreſs of weather, or ſome accident

Provide a ſhip for us—

Maſſ.

An accident;

The luckieſt accident preſents itſelf;

'Twas fortune furniſh'd us the happy thought;

The very ſhip, that brought you here a ſlave,

Swims in the river ſtill; I ſee no cauſe

But we may ſeize on that.

Abo.

' By thoſe bright beams,

' Which glad the low'r world, 'tis truly great;

' There is a juſtice in it that muſt pleaſe

' And give to liberty more ſtriking charms.

Maſſ.

' When once the ſtorm is rais'd, we muſt proceed,

' Nor faulter in our courſe—for ſhould we fail,

' We can expect no mercy—but muſt ſtand prepar'd

' For all that can befal us.

Abo.

Death is all,

In moſt conditions of humanity

To be deſir'd; but to be ſhunn'd in none;

The remedy of many, wiſh of ſome,

And certain end of all—'What daſtard ſoul

' Could ſhrink from death, appearing like a friend,

' As in this cauſe of honour death muſt be;

' If ſuch a wretch exiſts—let abject life,

' The paultry idol of his coward heart,

' Drag thro' a joyleſs age of ceaſeleſs fears.

Maſſ.

' No more—for ſee the Chriſtian comes this way,

' To whom your prince is ſlave.

[46]BLANDFORD.

Blan.

If I err not, Sir,

You did belong to Oroonoko.

Abo.

I did belong to him—Aboan my name.

Blan.

You are the man I ſeek; pray, come with me.

[Exit Blandford.

Abo.

' Ere the cloſe of eve here let us meet again.

[Exit Aboan.

Maſſ.

' I will not fail—the unſeen nets are ſpread,

' And my fell foe will ruſh into the toil—

' Unknown in this obſcurity of ſtate;

' I make this fav'rite tool of my revenge;

' His unſuſpecting nature ſuits my aim,

' To draw his Prince, unthinking, to the ſnare.

' But if, contented with his new found love,

' And tender treatment, he declines the ſcheme,

' How then? the Governor, I know, with eager eyes,

' And love's ſoft wiſhes, views Clemene's charms—

' Enflame him to poſſeſſion—that were good—

' Already he eſteems me well, gain him this point,

' And 'twill command his confidence—it ſhall be ſo—

' If the conſpiracy dare ſhew itſelf; with ſeeming love,

' And honeſty repentant; I'll reveal,

' And join theſe Chriſtians, to ſuppreſs its pow'r▪

' Betray my hated rival to the rack,

' View him with joy, when fainting weary life,

' Purſued by torture o'er the verge of being,

' Expires in hell-ſprung agonies of fate—

' Then riſe confuſion, with o'erwhelming wave,

[47]' Spread devaſtation round; array'd in blood,

' Fell horror ſtalk, thro' all the paths of peace;

' And if amidſt the common wreck I fall,

' 'Tis truly great; 'tis worthy of revenge.

[Exit.

OROONOKO and IMOINDA.

Oro.

I do not blame my father for his love;

(Tho' that had been enough to ruin me;)

'Twas nature's fault, which made you, like the ſun,

The reaſonable worſhip of mankind;

He could not help his adoration:

Age had not lock'd his ſenſes up ſo cloſe,

But he had eyes that open'd to his ſoul,

And took your beauties in; he felt your pow'r;

And therefore I forgive his loving you:

But when I think on his barbarity,

That could expoſe you to ſo many wrongs,

Driving you out to wretched ſlavery,

Only for being mine—then I confeſs,

I wiſh I could forget the name of ſon,

That I might curſe the tyrant.

Imo.

I will bleſs him;

For I have found you here; Heav'n only knows

What is reſerv'd for us; but if we may gueſs

The future by the paſt, our fortune muſt

Be wonderful, above the common ſize

Of good or ill; it muſt be in extremes,

Extremely happy, or extremely wretched.

Oro.

'Tis in our pow'r to make it happy now.

Imo.

But not to keep it ſo.

[48]BLANDFORD and ABOAN.

Blan.

My royal lord!

I have a preſent for you.

Oro.

Aboan!

Abo.

Your loweſt ſlave.

Oro.

My try'd and valu'd friend.

This worthy man always prevents my wants:

I only wiſh'd, and he has brought thee to me.

Thou art ſurpriz'd: carry thy duty there.

[Aboan goes to Imoinda, and falls at her feet.

While I acknowledge mine, how ſhall I thank you?

Blan.

Believe me honeſt to your intereſt,

And I am more than paid. I have ſecur'd,

That all your followers ſhall be gently us'd,

This gentleman, your chiefeſt favourite,

Shall wait upon your perſon, while you ſtay

Among us.

Oro.

I owe every thing to you.

Blan.

You muſt not think you are in ſlavery.

Oro.

I do not find I am.

Blan.

Kind heav'n has miraculouſly ſent

Thoſe comforts, that may teach you to expect

Its farther care in your deliverance.

Oro.

I ſometimes think myſelf Heav'n is concern'd

For my deliverance.

Blan.

It will be ſoon;

You may expect it. Pray, in the mean time,

Appear as chearful as you can among us.

You have ſome enemies, that repreſent

[49]You dangerous, and would be glad to find

A reaſon, in your diſcontent to fear;

They watch your looks: but there are honeſt men,

Who are your friends: you are ſecured in them.

Oro.

I thank you for your caution.

Blan.

I will leave you:

And be aſſur'd, I wiſh your liberty.

[Exit Blandford.

Abo.

He ſpeaks you very fair.

Oro.

He means me fair.

Abo.

If he ſhould not, my Lord?

Oro.

If he ſhould not?

I'll not ſuſpect his truth: but if I did,

What ſhall I get by doubting?

Abo.

You ſecure

Not to be diſappointed: but, beſides,

There's this advantage in ſuſpecting him:

When you put off the hopes of other men,

You will rely upon your God-like ſelf,

And then you may be ſure of liberty.

Oro.

Be ſure of liberty! what doſt thou mean,

Adviſing to rely upon myſelf?

I think I may be ſure on't: we muſt wait:

'Tis worth a little patience.

[Turning to Imoinda.

Abo.

O my lord!

Oro.

What doſt thou drive at?

Abo.

Sir, another time

You would have found it ſooner: but I ſee

Love has your heart, and takes up all your thoughts.

Oro.

[50]

And can'ſt thou blame me?

Abo.

Sir, I muſt not blame you.

But, as our fortune ſtands, there is a paſſion

(Your pardon, royal Miſtreſs, I muſt ſpeak)

That would become you better than your love;

A brave reſentment, which, inſpir'd by you,

Might kindle and diffuſe a gen'rous rage

Among the ſlaves, to rouze and ſhake our chains,

And ſtruggle to be free.

Oro.

How can we help ourſelves?

Abo.

I knew you when you wou'd have found a way.

How, help ourſelves! the very Indians teach us.

We need but to attempt our liberty,

And we carry it. We have hands ſufficient,

Double the number of our maſter's force,

Ready to be employ'd. What hinders us

To ſet 'em then at work? We want but you

To head our enterprize, and bid us ſtrike.

Oro.

What would you do?

Abo.

Cut our oppreſſors throats.

Oro.

And you wou'd have me join in your deſign

Of murder?

Abo.

It deſerves a better name:

But, be it what it will, 'tis juſtify'd

By ſelf-defence, and natural liberty.

Oro.

I'll hear no more on't.

Abo.

I am ſorry for't.

Oro.

Nor ſhall you think of it!

Abo.

[51]

Not think of it!

Oro.

No, I command you not.

Abo.

Remember, Sir,

You are a ſlave yourſelf, and to command

Is now another's right: not think of it!

Since the firſt moment they put on my chains,

I have thought of nothing but the weight of 'em,

And how to throw 'em off: can yours ſit eaſy?

Oro.

I have a ſenſe of my condition,

As painful, and as quick, as yours can be.

I feel for my Imoinda and myſelf;

Imoinda! much the tendereſt part of me.

But tho' I languiſh for my liberty,

I would not buy it at the Chriſtian price

Of black ingratitude: they ſha'not ſay,

That we deſerv'd our fortune by our crimes.

Murder the innocent!

Abo.

The innocent!

Oro.

Theſe men are ſo, whom you would riſe againſt;

If we are ſlaves, they did not make us ſlaves,

But bought us in an honeſt way of trade,

As we have done before 'em, bought and ſold

Many a wretch, and never thought it wrong.

They paid our price for us, and we are now

Their property, a part of their eſtate,

To manage as they pleaſe. Miſtake me not;

I do not tamely ſay, that we ſhould bear

All that they could lay upon us: but we find

[52]The load ſo light, ſo little to be felt,

(Conſidering they have us in their pow'r,

And may inflict what grievances they pleaſe)

We ought not to complain.

Abo.

My royal Lord!

You do not know the heavy grievances

The toils, the labours, weary drudgeries,

Which they impoſe; burdens more ſit for beaſts,

For ſenſeleſs beaſts to bear than thinking men.

Then if you ſaw the bloody cruelties

They execute on every ſlight offence;

Nay, ſometimes, in their proud inſulting ſport,

How worſe than dogs they laſh their fellow-creatures;

Your heart wou'd bleed for 'em. Oh! could you know

How many wretches lift their hands and eyes

To you for their relief!

Oro.

I pity 'em,

And wiſh I could with honeſty do more.

Abo.

You muſt do more, and may, with honeſty,

O royal Sir, remember who you are;

A Prince, born for the good of other men:

Whoſe God-like office is to draw the ſword

Againſt oppreſſion, and ſet free mankind:

And this, I'm ſure, you think oppreſſion now.

What tho' you have not felt their miſeries,

Never believe you are oblig'd to them;

They have their ſelfiſh reaſons, may be, now,

For uſing of you well: but there will come

[53]A time, when you muſt have your ſhare of 'em.

Oro.

You ſee how little cauſe I have to think ſo:

Favour'd in my own perſon, in my friends;

Indulg'd in all that can concern my care,

In my Imoinda's ſoft ſociety.

[Embracing her.

Abo.

And therefore you wou'd lie contented down,

In the forgetfulneſs, and arms of love,

To get young Princes for 'em.

Oro.

Say'ſt thou! ha!

Abo.

Princes, the heirs of empire, and the laſt

Of your illuſtrious lineage, to be born

To pamper up their pride, and be their ſlaves.

Oro.

Imoinda! ſave me, ſave me from that thought!

Imo.

There is no ſafety from it: I have long

Suffer'd it with a mother's labouring pains,

And can no longer. Kill me, kill me now,

While I am bleſt, and happy in your love;

Rather than let me live to ſee you hate me;

As you muſt hate me; me, the only cauſe,

The fountain of theſe flowing miſeries.

Oro.

Shall the dear babe, the eldeſt of my hopes,

Whom I begot, a Prince be born a ſlave?

The treaſure of this temple was deſign'd—

T' enrich a kingdom's fortune. Shall it here

Be ſeiz'd upon by vile unhallow'd hands,

To be employ'd in uſes moſt profane?

Abo.

In moſt unworthy uſes, think of that;

And while you may prevent it. O, my Lord,

[54]Rely on nothing that they promiſe you.

They ſpeak you fair, I know, and bid you wait;

But think what 'tis to wait on promiſes,

And promiſes of men, who know no tie

Upon their words againſt their intereſt.

And where's their intereſt in freeing you?

Imo.

O! where, indeed, to loſe ſo many ſlaves?

Abo.

Nay, grant this man, you think ſo much your friend,

Be honeſt, and intends all that he ſays;

He is but one; and in a government,

Where, he confeſſes, you have enemies,

That watch your looks. What looks can you put on,

To pleaſe thoſe men, who are before reſolv'd

To read 'em their own way? Alas! my Lord,

If they incline to think you dangerous,

They have their knaviſh arts to make you ſo:

And then who knows how far their cruelty

May carry their revenge?

Imo.

To every thing

That does belong to you, your friends, and me;

I ſhall be torn from you, forced away,

Helpleſs and miſerable: ſhall I live

To ſee that day again?

Oro.

That day ſhall never come.

Abo.

I know you are perſuaded to believe

The Governor's arrival will prevent

Theſe miſchiefs, and beſtow your liberty:

But who is ſure of that? I rather fear

[55]More miſchiefs from his coming; he is young,

Luxurious, paſſionate, and amorous:

Such a complexion, when made bold by pow'r,

To count'nance all that he is prone to do,

Will know no bounds, no law againſt his luſts.

If, in a fit of his intemperance,

With a ſtrong hand he ſhall reſolve to ſeize,

And force my royal Miſtreſs from your arms,

How can you help yourſelf?

Oro.

Ha! thou haſt rous'd

The lion in his den; he ſtalks abroad,

And the wide foreſt trembles at his roar.

I find the danger now: my ſpirits ſtart

At the alarm, and from all quarters come

To man my heart, the citadel of love.

Is there a pow'r on earth to force you from me?

And ſhall I not reſiſt it? nor ſtrike firſt,

To keep, to ſave you, to prevent that curſe!

This is your cauſe, and ſhall it not prevail?

Oh! you were born always to conquer me.

Now, I am faſhion'd to thy purpoſe: ſpeak,

What combination, what conſpiracy,

Would'ſt thou engage me in? I'll undertake

All thou would'ſt have me now for liberty,

For the great cauſe of love and liberty.

Abo.

Now, my great maſter, you appear yourſelf:

And ſince we have you join'd in our deſign,

It cannot fail us. I have muſter'd up

[56]The choiceſt ſlaves, men who are ſenſible

Of their condition, and ſeem moſt reſolv'd:

' Men whom a train of injuries have rouſed

' To any act that may reſtore their freedom,

' Or give a fair occaſion of revenge.

' We have unboſom'd mutually our griefs,

' And ſworn, if you approve, a ſolemn league.

Oro.

' When liberty points out the glorious way,

' Thy Prince's heart can never lag behind:

' Let freedom martial her intrepid ſons,

' And to the verge, or through the gulph of fate,

' I will conduct their animated courſe;

' Yet do not wiſh to ſhed ev'n Chriſtian blood.

Abo.

' Nor I, if other means can ſerve our ends;

' If not, 'tis done in ſelf-defence, and then

' Severeſt juſtice ſanctifies the deed.

' Even fortune, hitherto ſo much our foe,

' Seems to relent—that ſhip in whoſe dark womb

' The cave of ſlavery, we hither came,

' Lies in our reach, within the river's mouth:

' And ſome of thoſe who join in our deſign,

' Uſed by their Chriſtian tyrants in the trade,

' Know how to ſteer her through the wat'ry world.

Oro.

' How ſhall I thank thee for thy honeſt pains,

' Which have deviſed and laid ſo bold a plan?

' Summon thy friends, and ſoon as riſing morn

' Shall gild the ſummit of yon eaſtern hills,

' Let them aſſemble weſtward of the grove

[57]' That ſkirts along the river ſide; there I will appear,

' And join to put the wiſh'd event to proof:

' If we ſucceed, I ſhall poſſeſs the means

' To give my valiant friends a juſt reward,

' To place my loved Imoinda on a throne,

' And gild our greatneſs with domeſtic bliſs.

' But if an adverſe fate ſhould ſtill attend,

' Death, laurel-crown'd, will come a welcome friend,

' And kindly waft us to that honeſt ſhore,

' Where Chriſtian frauds ſhall never reach us more;

' At leaſt this maxim ſhould poſſeſs the brave,

' 'Tis better not to be, than be a ſlave.

END OF THE THIRD ACT.

ACT THE FOURTH.

MASSINGANO and ZINZO.

MASSINGANO.

' SEE Zinzo, how the ſun, with jocund eye,

' Smiles through the curtain of departing night,

' As if well pleaſed to view my great deſign:

' Methinks his riſing beams, with genial warmth,

' Cheriſh the dire reſolves that dwell within,

[58]' And give a treble vigour to revenge.

Zin.

' 'Tis ſurely near the hour propoſed to meet;

' They will not fail I hope.

Maſſ.

' Oh! doubt them not;

' The unſuſpecting ſubject of my hate,

' Fir'd with the pleaſing hopes of liberty,

' And undiſturb'd poſſeſſion of his love,

' Precipitately ruſhes to the ſnare;

' He ſtands upon the very brink of fate;

' And if I fail to plunge him in the gulph,

' May all the tortures which revenge could wiſh,

' With ten-fold horror, light upon my head.

Zin.

' Is he to fall the victim of ſurprize,

' Or open force of arms?

Maſſ.

' There policy hath ta'en its utmoſt ſtretch;

' For that they may become the ſurer prey,

' The fav'rite Aboan, with a choſen band,

' Wheels round the wood, to gain the river's ſide

' And ſeize the ſhip; for theſe I have prepar'd

' An ambuſh, from whence they cannot 'ſcape,

' While the main body takes the open plain.

' In which I have inroll'd our ſtauncheſt friends,

' Who, at a given ſign, will quit their arms,

' And leave my foe to ſtand the ſhock alone:

' Then, Zinzo, as the ſummit of revenge,

' Through the thick veil of dark obſcurity,

' Like unexpected light, I'll flaſh upon him,

' Shake off the ſlave, and be at once myſelf.

Zin.

[59]

' The great deſign is worthy of my Prince,

' And ev'n from Chriſtians muſt ſecure reſpect.

Maſſ.

' My friend, I want it not: this tow'ring ſoul

' Soars far above ſo limited a pride.

' Think'ſt thou I've groan'd ſo many years a ſlave,

' To reſt at laſt contented with my lot?

' Hopes of revenge have ſooth'd my tortur'd mind,

' Though diſtant far, in them alone I liv'd;

' That once fulfill'd, I have no farther care,

' But how to caſt this worthleſs being off.

Zin.

' Though I could wiſh you many years of life,

' If ought in life was worthy your regard;

' Though duty, friendſhip, and each tender tie,

' Cry out aloud againſt tyrannic fate,

' I cannot but applaud the juſt reſolve.

Maſſ.

' Spoke like the faithful guardian of my fame,

' And thou ſhalt find me worthy of thy love.

' But come, let's haſte; the call of fleeting time

' Summons us hence; and yonder clouds of duſt

' Give warning, that we take our poſts with ſpeed.

' Now, Fate, but give aſſiſtance to revenge;

' Then, if thy rage demands a nobler prey,

' Exhauſt its utmoſt force on Maſſingano.

[Exeunt.

OROONOKO, IMOINDA, and SLAVES.

Oro.

The women with their children fall behind;

Imoinda, you muſt not expoſe yourſelf;

Retire, my love—I almoſt fear for you.

Imo.

I fear no danger; life or death I will

[60]Enjoy with you; you ſhould not ſo much

Wrong the virtue of us women, to believe

There is a wife amongſt us would refuſe

To ſhare her huſband's fortune.

Oro.

' Matchleſs excellence!

' We are embark'd on fortune's boiſt'rous wave,

' Too rough for limbs ſo delicate to ſtem:

' Man's ſterner nature ſuits the ſtorm of war;

' But thy ſoft charms were firſt by Heav'n deſign'd,

' Sun-like, to gild the gentle calms of life,

' And kindly lull each jarring ſenſe to peace:

' But now, ſince fate that happineſs denies,

' Stand forth the guardian genius of our cauſe,

' With looks inſpiring courage beam around,

' Fire ev'ry heart, and trebly nerve each arm.

' Methinks I could not fear a world oppos'd,

' While thou art by to animate and charm.

Imo.

' Think not the ſoftneſs of my tender ſex,

' Or that timidity which women own,

' Can triumph o'er the fortitude of love:

' Let danger, ſitting on the front of war,

' Collect his blood-ſtain'd horrors to appale;

' Let labour, famine, and their meagre train,

' Chill reſolution in the fainting heart;

' One tender look from thee, one kind embrace,

' The ſov'reign balm to heal my wounded mind,

' Will baniſh ev'ry fear, and tune my ſoul.

Oro.

' I thank ye, Gods, for this exceſs of bliſs:

[61]' What are your ſubſtituted thrones on earth,

' The rule of nations, and imperial crowns,

' With all the gaudy attributes of pow'r,

' To ſuch a matchleſs treaſure as my love?

' Behold, reſplendent Ruler of the earth,

' By Chriſtians counted but a lamp of light,

' Behold, with pleaſure, this thy faireſt child:

' Oh! ſave her from the hov'ring ſtorm of fate;

' Or if thoſe eyes, the rivals of thy beams,

' Muſt yield their brightneſs to the veil of death,

' Reſtore her beauties to thy parent orb,

' And on the world with added luſtre ſhine.

[Shout at a diſtance.

Imo.

' Hark! from afar, upon the dying breeze,

' The ſound of tumult comes.

Oro.

' They've caught th' alarm,

' And Aboan's enterprize, I fear, will fail—

' But come, let's haſte to give him timely aid;

' Perchance, our force collected, may obtain

' What his ſlight number muſt in conteſt loſe;

' Were the ſhip ours, we might defy the foe;

' And a few minutes may deſtroy our hopes.

Imo.

' They are already loſt, and cruel fate

' Has yet a hoard of miſeries in ſtore;

' For, ſee the man, that ever faithful friend

' You nam'd, acroſs the plain with haſty ſtep,

' And eyes that ſpeak diſtraction, hither comes.

[62]ABOAN.

Abo.

' Prepare, my Lord, [...]it welcome for the foe;

' With rage, inſatiate, they purſue my ſteps,

' And thirſt to glut their fell revenge in blood.

Oro.

' Why, let them come—it matters not how ſoon;

' Our hands and hearts are ready to engage

' In honour's cauſe—but ſay, my valiant friend,

' What fatal error, or what baſe deſign,

' Check'd our bold hopes, and baffled the ſurprize,

' So wiſely plann'd, and truſted to thy care?

Abo.

' 'Twas ſmiling treachery, in friendſhip's garb,

' Which ſubtly ſnar'd our ill-plac'd confidence.

' Succeſs had ſurely crown'd the bold attempt,

' And liberty—the glorious prize—been ours;

' Had not the traitor, whoſe diſſembled zeal

' Firſt rouz'd the ſecret feelings of my heart,

' Betray'd th' heroic purpoſe he had form'd.

Oro.

' Matchleſs villain!

Abo.

' When with the truſty band

' Committed to my charge, in ſilent march,

' I ſwiftly ſkirted by the citron grove,

' And gain'd, me thought, unſeen, the river's ſide;

' A neighb'ring brake pour'd forth the lurking foe,

' Their number more than ours, tho' ten times told.

' Swiftly they clos'd us in on ev'ry ſide;

' The traitor, Maſſingano, who propos'd

' To watch their ſteps, and warn us from ſurprize,

' Now led them on, and cry'd aloud, Revenge!

[63]' Theſe ſeiz'd, their Prince will ſoon become our prey.

Oro.

' Oh! worſe, if poſſible, than Chriſtian traitor—

' Let my vindictive ſword, indulgent heav'n!

' But reach his coward heart, and I forgive

' This frown of fate.

Abo.

' That joyful taſk was mine.

' Behold his life ſtill reeks upon my ſword,

' Whoſe truſty blade diſpatch'd his treach'rous ſoul,

' To feel the torments of eternal woe.

' Nor ſtopt Heav'n's juſtice here; the Chriſtian dog,

' Who made us ſlaves, in the ſharp conflict fell.

' The truſty few o'er whom I had command,

' Fearleſs, as lions hunted to a bay,

' Like them too, fought, and crown'd with honour, died,

' While I, alone, eſcap'd the barb'rous foe;

' For the firſt time, regardleſs of my fame,

' On wing of loyalty the combat fled,

' Reſolv'd to die, or conquer by your ſide.

Oro.

' And thou ſhalt have thy wiſh, my ſhield of war;

' Thy zeal, unſhaken by the ſtorms of fate,

' Which clepe me round, deſerves a better lot:

' But nature, which beſtow'd an honeſt heart,

' In conſcious virtue, that ſupremeſt bliſs,

' Gave ample recompence for fortune's frowns.

Abo.

' It is enough, my Prince approves my zeal.—

' But ſee they come, and now our only choice

' Is life and torture, liberty or death.

Oro.

' Think, my brave friends, what tyrants ye en⯑gage;

[64]' Should we, now captiv'd, fall into their hands,

' Could tyranny refine on murd'rous cruelty,

' We may be ſure to feel its utmoſt force.

GOVERNOR, ZINZO, PLANTERS &c.

Gov.

This is the very thing we could have wiſh'd;

Your honeſt ſervice to the government

Shall be rewarded with your liberty.

Abo.

His honeſt ſervice, call it what it is;

His villany, the ſervice of his fear:

If he pretends to honeſt ſervice,

Let him ſtand forth, and meet me like a man.

[Advancing.

Oro.

Hold you, and you who come againſt us, hold;

I charge you, in a general good to all,

And wiſh I cou'd command you, to prevent

The bloody havoc of the murd'ring ſword.

I would not urge deſtruction uncompell'd;

But if you follow fate, you find it here;

The bounds are ſet, the limits of our lives;

Between us lies the gaping gulph of death,

Ready to ſwallow thoſe who dare advance.

Gov.

We come not, Sir, upon the terms of war,

As enemies, and thirſting for your blood,

But wiſh, by gentle means, to give you peace,

If we deſir'd your ruin, revenge

For this conſpiracy had puſh'd it on;

Revenge for ſlain acquaintances and friends;

But that we overlook, in a regard

[65]To common ſafety, and the public good.

Oro.

Regard that public good, draw off your men,

And leave us to our fortunes; we are reſolv'd.

Gov.

Reſolv'd! on what? your reſolutions

Are broken, overturn'd, prevented, loſt;

What fortune now can raiſe you out of them?

Nay, grant we ſhould draw off, what can you do?

Where can you move? what more can you reſolve,

Unleſs it be to throw yourſelves away?

Famine muſt eat you up, if you go on.

You ſee our numbers could with eaſe compel

What we requeſt: and what do we requeſt,

Only to ſave yourſelves?

Abo.

' To ſave ourſelves—for what?

' To drag a life of ſlavery and chains?

' To toil the wretched inſtruments of power,

' And groan beneath the laſh of Chriſtian tyranny?

' Think you we ſtand ſo much in awe of death,

' That we would ſhun him, crown'd with all his terrors,

' And headlong plunge into ſuperior woe?

' No, let the coward ſhrink, whoſe bloodleſs heart,

' Fear-ſtruck at ſhadows, trembles with diſmay;

' We are reſolv'd to think, to feel, and act like men.

Gov.

Yet hold, it is not courage to contend,

Without a gleam of poſſible ſucceſs:

Therefore deſiſt in time.

Oro.

We'll hear no more.

Gov.

To thoſe poor wretches who have been ſeduced,

[66]And led away, to all and ev'ry one,

We offer a full pardon.

Oro.

Then fall on.

Gov.

Lay hold upon't before it be too late,

Pardon and mercy.

[Slaves leave Oroonoko.

Oro.

Let them go all; now, Governor, I ſee,

I own the folly of my enterprize;

The raſhneſs of this action, and muſt bluſh

Quite thro' this vale of night, a whitely ſhame,

To think I could deſign to make thoſe free,

Who are by nature ſlaves; wretches deſign'd

To be their maſters dogs, and lick their feet.

I would not live on the ſame earth, with creatures

Who only have the faces of their kind.

Why ſhould they look like men who are not ſo?

When they put off their natures for

The grov'ling qualities of down-caſt beaſts,

They ſhould reſemble them in outward form.

Abo.

Then we might know, and ſhun the ſordid crew.

Oro.

Deſerted as we are, we'll prove our fate:

We were too few before for victory;

We are ſtill enow to die.

BLANDFORD.

Gov.

Live, royal Sir;

Live, and be happy long, on your own terms;

Only conſent to yield, and you ſhall have

What terms you can propoſe, for you and yours.

Oro.

Conſent to yield! ſhall I betray myſelf?

Gov.

[67]

Alas! we cannot fear that your ſmall force,

The force of two, with a weak woman's arm,

Should conquer us—I ſpeak in the regard

And honour of your worth—in my deſire

And forwardneſs to ſave ſo great a man:

I would not have it lie upon my thoughts,

That I was the occaſion of the fall

Of ſuch a Prince; whoſe courage, carried on

In a more noble cauſe, would well deſerve

The empire of the world.

Oro.

You can ſpeak fair.

Gov.

Your undertaking, tho' it would have brought

So great a loſs to us, we all muſt ſay

Was generous and noble; and ſhall be

Regarded only as the fire of youth,

That will break out ſometimes in gallant ſouls;

We'll think it but a natural impulſe,

A raſh impatience of liberty:

No otherwiſe.

Oro.

Call or think it what you will;

I was not born to render an account

Of what I do to any but myſelf.

Blan.

I'm glad you have proceeded by fair means.

[To the Governor.

I come to be a mediator.

Gov.

Try what you can work upon him.

Oro.

Are you come againſt me?

Blan.

Is this to come againſt you?

[68]Unarm'd to put myſelf into your hands?

I come, I hope, to ſerve you.

Oro.

You have ſerv'd me,

I thank you for it; and am pleas'd to think

You were my friend while I had need of one;

But 'tis paſt, this farewel, and be gone.

Blan.

It is not paſt; and I muſt ſerve you ſtill;

I would make up theſe breaches which the ſword

Will widen more, and cloſe us all in love.

Oro.

I know what I have done, and I ſhould be

A child to think they ever can forgive:

Forgive! were there but that, I would not live

To be forgiven; is there a power on earth

That I ſhall ever need forgiveneſs from?

Blan.

You ſhall not need it.

Oro.

No, I wo'not need it.

Blan.

You ſee he offers you your own conditions

For you and yours.

Oro.

Muſt I capitulate?

Precariouſly compound, on ſtinted terms

To ſave my life?

Blan.

Sir, he impoſes none,

You make 'em for your own ſecurity:

If your great heart cannot deſcend to treat

In adverſe fortune with an enemy;

Yet ſure your honour's ſafe, you may accept

Offers of peace and ſafety from a friend.

Gov.

He will rely on what you ſay to him,

[69]Offer him what you can, I will confirm

And make all good, be you my pledge of truſt.

Blan.

I'll anſwer with my life for what he ſays.

Gov.

Ay, do, and pay the forfeit if you pleaſe.

[Aſide.

Blan.

Conſider, Sir, can you conſent to throw

That bleſſing from you, you ſo hardly found,

And ſo much valu'd once?

Oro.

Imoinda, oh!

'Tis ſhe that holds me on this argument

Of tedious life; I could reſolve it ſoon,

Were this curs'd being only in debate;

But my Imoinda ſtruggles in my ſoul,

She makes a coward of me, I confeſs;

I am afraid to part with her in death,

And more afraid of life to loſe her here.

Blan.

This way you muſt loſe her; think upon

The weakneſs of her ſex, made ſtill more weak

With her condition, requiring reſt

And ſoft indulging eaſe, to nurſe your hopes,

And make you a glad father.

Oro.

There I feel

A father's fondneſs, and a huſband's love;

They ſeize upon my heart, ſtrain all its ſtrings

To pull me to 'em from my ſtern reſolve;

Huſband and father! all the melting art

Of eloquence lives in thoſe ſoft'ning names:

Methinks I ſee the babe, with infant hands,

Begging for life, and pleading to be born;

[70]Shall I forbid the birth? deny him light?

The heav'nly comfort of all-cheering light?

Theſe are the calls of nature; they cry loud;

They will be heard, and conquer in their cauſe:

He muſt not be a man who can reſiſt them.

No, my Imoinda, I will venture all

To ſave thee, and that little innocent;

The world may prove a better friend to him

Than I have found it—now I yield myſelf;

The conflict's paſt, and we are in your hands.

[Planters ſeize Oroonoko and Imoinda, and hurry off Aboan.

Gov.

So you ſhall find you are; diſpoſe of them

As I commanded you.

Blan.

Good Heav'n forbid—you cannot mean—

Gov.

This is not your concern; bear her hence.

Imo.

I'm at the end of all my care;

Here will I die with him.

Oro.

You ſhall not force her from me.

Gov.

Then I muſt try other means, and conquer—

Force by force—break, cut off his hold—away.

Imo.

I do not aſk to live; kill me but here.

Oro.

Oh bloody dogs! inhuman murderers—

[Oroonoko and Imoinda borne off ſeparately.

Blan.

Have you no reverence of future fame?

No awe upon your actions from the tongues,

The cens'ring tongues of men, that will be free?

If you confeſs humanity, believe

[71]There is a God or devil, to reward

Our actions here: do not provoke your fate.

Gov.

' Sir, you ſhould know that I'm commander here;

' And what the public ſafety may require,

' Upon my judgment reſts.

Blan.

' The public ſafety!

' Can tyranny be found in patriot views?

' Can duty authorize a breach of truth?

Conſider, Sir, he yielded on your word,

And I am made the cautionary pledge,

The gage and hoſtage of your keeping it.

Your word, which honeſt men, with juſtice, think

The laſt reſort of truth and truſt on earth.

Let me entreat you to try gentle means,

If he is kept a priſoner, he will ſoon

Find out ſome deſp'rate way to liberty,

Or ſtab himſelf, or daſh out his mad brains:

I will be ſurety for him.

Gov.

Be it ſo;

Since you will urge the ſuit, do what you pleaſe,

Juſt what you will with him, I give you leave.

Blan.

I thank you, Sir, this goodneſs binds me yours.

[Exit Blandford.

Gov.

' This tender-hearted fool ſtill thwarts my views:

' Yet ſpite of him I'll have the ſtubborn fair—

' But then her huſband—he ſhall be taken off—

' If not by bare-faced pow'r, by ſecret means.

' This Blandford, too, with whom I muſt keep fair,

[70] [...][71] [...]

[72]' Should he ſtill ſtand a bar to croſs my love,

' Muſt ſhare the huſband's fate, it ſhall be ſo—

' Then, uncontroll'd, I will poſſeſs her charms,

' Revel in matchleſs beauty and delight:

' The raptur'd hours on love's ſoft pinions borne,

' Will ſmoothly glide; nor ſhall intruſive care

' Caſt its nocturnal veil upon my joy.

' Let fortune now indulge my eager hopes,

' And all my future life I yield to chance.

[Exit.

END OF THE FOURTH ACT.

ACT THE FIFTH.

OROONOKO chain'd to the Floor.

BLANDFORD and PLANTERS.

BLANDFORD.

OH miſerable ſight! help every one,

Aſſiſt me all to free him from his chains.

Moſt injur'd Prince, how ſhall we clear ourſelves?

We cannot hope you will vouchſafe to hear,

Or credit what we ſay in our defence:

But is there any thing which can atone,

[73]Ought in our power that may be ſome amends?

Oro.

If you would have me think you are not all

Confederates, all acceſſary to

The baſe injuſtice of your Governor;

If you would have me live, as you appear

Concern'd for me; if you would have me live

To thank and bleſs you—there is yet a way

To tie me ever to your honeſt love:

Bring my Imoinda here, give me her

To charm my ſorrows, and if poſſible

I'll ſit down with my wrongs; never to riſe

Againſt my fate, or think of vengeance more.

Blan.

Be ſatisfied; you may depend upon us;

We'll bring her ſafe to you, and ſuddenly:

In the mean time, let me adviſe you, Sir,

Endeavour to forget, and to forgive,

And hope a better fortune.

[Exeunt.

OROONOKO ſolus.

Forget! forgive! I muſt indeed forget

When I forgive; but while I am a man

In fleſh, that bears the living marks of ſhame,

The print of theſe diſhonourable chains,

My memory ſtill rouzing up my wrongs,

I never can forgive this governor;

This villain—the diſgrace of truſt and place,

And juſt contempt of delegated power.

What ſhall I do? if I declare myſelf,

I know him, he will ſneak behind his guard

[74]Of followers, and brave me in his fears;

Elſe, lion-like, with my devouring rage,

I would ruſh on him; faſten on his throat;

Tear a wide paſſage to his treacherous heart;

And that way lay him open to the world.—

What if I turn his Chriſtian arts upon him?

Promiſe him, ſpeak him fair, flatter and creep,

With fawning ſteps, to get within his faith?

I could betray him, then, as he has me;

But am I ſure, by that, to right myſelf?

Lying's a certain mark of cowardice;

And when the tongue forgets its honeſty,

The heart and hand may drop their functions too,

And nothing worthy to be reſolv'd or done:

Revenge, with loſs of honour, is too dear:

Therefore this cannot be—let me but find

An honeſt remedy, I have a hand,

A miniſtring hand—that will apply it home.

[Exit.

IMOINDA ſola.

' Still more undone, I bend my weary ſteps

' In ſearch of peace, but know not where ſhe dwells.

' Horror, diſtraction, and unnumber'd fears,

' Uſurp her gentle ſway, and rend my heart.

' Bluſh, tyrant fortune, to exert thy power

' Againſt ſo weak a ſubject for thy rage:

' And thou, reſplendent God, that rul'ſt the world,

' Who ſeeſt me wand'ring in the gloom of woe,

' On pity's beam dart down a ray of hope:

[75]' Or if my death is deſtin'd by the ſtars,

' Oh! ſwift convey me to my mourning lord,

' That I may take an everlaſting leave,

' And yield my ſpirit in his faithful arms.

GOVERNOR.

Gov.

' You ſtart, and turn away at my approach,

' As if I were a ſerpent in your view.

Imo.

' Thou art yet worſe, a ſerpent to my heart:

' Thy pois'nous malice preys upon my ſoul,

' And, by a ling'ring torment, more than kills;

' But why ſhould grief, alone, expreſs my wrongs?

' No, let weak nature, with reſentment rouze,

' And pierce, if poſſible, thy ſavage breaſt.

' Where, tyrant, haſt thou plac'd my hapleſs lord?

' In what ſad dungeon doth he breathe his groans?

' Or haſt thou crown'd the horror of thy guilt,

' And ſtrain'd him on the rack? If ſo, ſpeak, ſpeak—

' And let thy words, like peſtilential air,

' Blaſt me at once.

Gov.

No more, 'tis madneſs all;

I talk and loſe the opportunities

Which love and you expect I ſhou'd employ:

I'll court no longer for a happineſs

That is in my own keeping—you may ſtill

Refuſe to grant, ſo I have pow'r to take;

The man that aſks deſerves to be denied.

Imo.

He does indeed that aſks unworthily.

[76]BLANDFORD.

Blan.

You hear her, Sir, that aſks unworthily.

Gov.

You are no judge.

Blan.

I am of my own ſlave.

Gov.

Be gone and leave us.

Blan.

When you let her go.

Gov.

To turn my rage on you.

[Exit Imoinda.

Blan.

I ſhall defend myſelf.

Gov.

'Tis well; another time may call you to account;

She ſhall not eſcape me thro' ill-tim'd delay,

For ſtill ſhe is, and ſhall be in my power.

[Exit.

Blan.

Nay, then, it is the war of honeſty;

I know him, and will ſave him from himſelf.

[Exit.

OROONOKO ſolus.

To honour bound, and yet a ſlave to love;

I am diſtracted by their rival pow'rs,

And both will be obey'd: Oh! great revenge,

Thou raiſer and reſtorer of fall'n fame;

Let me not be unworthy of thy aid,

For ſtopping in thy courſe—I ſtill am thine,

But can't forget I am Imoinda's too:

She calls me from my wrongs to reſcue her—

No man condemn me, who has ever felt

A woman's pow'r, or try'd the force of love,

To which all nature yields; love, love will be

My firſt ambition, and my fame the next—

My eyes are turn'd againſt me, and combine

With my ſworn enemies, to repreſent

[77]This ſpectacle of horror—Aboan!

ABOAN bloody.

My ever faithful friend.

Abo.

I have no name

That can diſtinguiſh me from the vile earth

Where to I'm going; a poor abject worm,

That crawl'd a while upon a buſtling world,

And now am trampled to my duſt again.

Oro.

I ſee thee gaſh'd and mangled.

Abo.

Spare my ſhame

To tell how they have us'd me; but believe

The hangman's hand would have been merciful;

Do not you ſcorn me, Sir, to think I can

Intend to live under this infamy.

I do not come for pity, to complain;

I've ſpent an honourable life with you,

The earlieſt ſervant of your riſing fame,

And would attend it with my lateſt care:

My life was yours, and ſo ſhall be my death.

You muſt not live;

Bending and ſinking, I have dragg'd my ſteps

Thus far, to tell you that you cannot live;

To warn you of thoſe ignominious wrongs,

Whips, rods, and all the inſtruments of death,

Which I have felt, and are prepar'd for you;

This was the duty that I had to pay;

'Tis done, and now I beg to be diſcharg'd.

Oro.

What ſhall I do for thee?

Abo.

[78]

My body tires,

And wonnot bear me off to liberty:

I ſhall again be taken, made a ſlave.

A ſword, a dagger, yet wou'd reſcue me.

I have not ſtrength to go to find out death;

You muſt direct him to me.

Oro.

Here he is.

[Gives him a dagger.

The only preſent I can make thee now:

And, next the honourable means of life,

I would beſtow the honeſt means of death.

Abo.

I cannot ſtay to thank you. If there is

A being after this, I ſhall be yours

In the next world, your faithful ſlave again.

This is to try.

[Stabs himſelf.]

I had a living ſenſe

Of all your royal favours; but this laſt

Strikes thro' my heart. I wonnot ſay farewel;

For you muſt follow me.

[Dies.

Oro.

In life and death,

The guardian of my honour! follow thee!

I ſhould have gone before thee: then perhaps

Thy fate had been prevented. All his care

Was to preſerve me from the barb'rous rage

That worry'd him, only for being mine.

Why, why, ye Gods! why am I ſo accurs'd,

That it muſt be a reaſon of your wrath,

A guilt, a crime ſufficient to the fate

Of any one, but to belong to me?

My friend has found it, and my wife will ſoon▪

[79]My wife! the very fear's too much for life:

I can't ſupport it. where! Imoinda! oh!

[Going out, ſhe meets him, running into his arms.

Thou boſom ſoftneſs! down of all my cares!

I could recline my thoughts upon this breaſt,

To a forgetfulneſs of all my griefs,

And yet be happy: but it wonnot be;

Thou art diſorder'd, pale, and out of breath!

If fate purſues thee, find a ſhelter here.

What is it thou would'ſt tell me?

Imo.

'Tis in vain to call him villain.

Oro.

Call him Governor: is it not ſo?

Imo.

There's not another ſure.

Oro.

Villain's the common name of mankind here,

But his moſt properly. What! what of him?

I fear to be reſolv'd, yet muſt enquire:

He had thee in his power.

Imo.

I bluſh to think it.

Oro.

Bluſh! to think what?

Imo.

That I was in his pow'r.

Oro.

He cou'd not uſe it?

Imo.

What can't ſuch men do?

Oro.

But did he? durſt he?

Imo.

What he cou'd, he dar'd.

Oro.

His own gods damn him then! for ours have none,

No puniſhment for ſuch unheard-of crimes.

Imo.

This monſter, cunning in his flatteries,

[80]When he had weary'd all his uſeleſs arts,

Leap'd out, fierce as a beaſt of prey, to ſeize me.

I trembled, fear'd—

Oro.

I fear, and tremble now.

What cou'd preſerve thee? what deliver thee?

Imo.

That worthy man you us'd to call your friend—

Oro.

Blandford?

Imo.

Came in, and ſav'd me from his rage.

Oro.

He was a friend, indeed, to reſcue thee!

And, for his ſake, I'll think it poſſible

A Chriſtian may be yet an honeſt man.

Imo.

O! did you know what I have ſtruggl'd thro',

To ſave me yours, ſure you wou'd promiſe me

Never to ſee me forc'd from you again.

Oro.

To promiſe thee! O! do I need to promiſe?

But there is now no farther uſe of words.

Death is ſecurity for all our fears.

[Shews Aboan's body on the floor.

And yet I cannot truſt him.

Imo.

Aboan!

Oro.

Mangled and torn, reſolv'd to give me time

To fit myſelf for what I muſt expect,

Groan'd out a warning to me, and expir'd.

Imo.

For what you muſt expect?

Oro.

Would that were all!

Imo.

What! to be butcher'd thus?

Oro.

Juſt as thou ſeeſt.

Imo.

By barb'rous hands, to fall at laſt their prey▪

Oro.

[81]

I have run the race with honour, ſhall I now

Lag, and be overtaken at the goal?

Imo.

No.

Oro.

I muſt look back to thee.

Imo.

You ſhannot need.

I am always preſent to your purpoſe; ſay,

Which way wou'd you diſpoſe me?

Oro.

Have a care;

Thou'rt on a precipice, and doſt not ſee

Whither that queſtion leads thee. O! too ſoon

Thou doſt enquire what the aſſembled gods

Have not determin'd, and will lateſt doom:

Yet this I know of fate, this is moſt certain,

I cannot, as I wou'd, diſpoſe of thee;

And, as I ought, I dare not. Oh Imoinda!

Imo.

Alas! that ſigh! why do you tremble ſo?

Nay, then, 'tis bad indeed, if you can weep.

Oro.

My heart runs over; if my guſhing eyes

Betray a weakneſs which they never knew,

Believe, thou only, thou could'ſt cauſe theſe tears:

The gods themſelves conſpire with faithleſs men

To our deſtruction.

Imo.

Heav'n and earth our foes?

Oro.

It is not always granted to the great,

To be moſt happy: if the angry powers

Repent their favours, let 'em take 'em back:

The hopes of empire, which they gave my youth,

By making me a prince, I here reſign.

[82]Let 'em quench in me all thoſe glorious fires,

Which kindled at their beams: I ſubmit myſelf

To their high pleaſure, and, devoted, bow

Yet lower, to continue ſtill a ſlave,

Hopeleſs of liberty: and, if I could

Live after it, give up honour too,

To ſatisfy their vengeance, to avert

This only curſe, the curſe of loſing thee.

Imo.

If Heav'n cou'd be appeas'd, theſe cruel men

Are not to be entreated, or believ'd:

O! think of that, and be no more deceiv'd.

I muſt die: I know 'tis fit, and I can die with you.

Oro.

O! thou haſt baniſh'd hence a thouſand fears,

Which ſick'n'd at my heart, and quite unmann'd me.

Imo.

Your fear's for me; I know you fear'd my ſtrength,

And cou'd not overcome your tenderneſs,

To paſs this ſentence on me: and, indeed,

There you were kind, as I have always found you,

As you have ever been. 'Tis hard to part;

But parting thus, as the moſt happy muſt,

Parting in death, makes it the eaſier.

You might have thrown me off, forſaken me,

And my misfortunes: that had been a death

Indeed of terror, to have trembled at.

Oro.

Forſaken thee, my love, and thrown thee off!

Oh let thoſe cruel ſtars, which are my enemies,

Witneſs againſt me in the other world,

If I would leave this manſion of my bliſs,

[83]To be the brighteſt ruler of their ſkies.

[Embracing her.

Imo.

Is this the way to part?

Oro.

Which is the way?

Imo.

The god of love is blind, and cannot find it.

But, quick, make haſte; our enemies have eyes,

To find us out, and ſhew us the worſt way.

[Takes up the dagger.

Oro.

What ſhall I do?

Imo.

This dagger will inſtruct you.

[Gives it him.

Oro.

Ha! this dagger!

Like fate, it points me to the horrid deed.

Imo.

Strike, ſtrike it home, and bravely ſave us both.

There is no other ſafety.

Oro.

It muſt be ſo.—

But firſt a dying kiſs:

This laſt embrace.

And now—

Imo.

I'm ready.

Oro.

O! where ſhall I ſtrike?

Is there a ſmalleſt grain of that lov'd body,

That is not dearer to me than my eyes,

My boſom'd heart, and all the life-blood there?

Bid me cut off theſe limbs, hew off theſe hands,

Dig out theſe eyes, tho' I ſhou'd keep them laſt

To gaze upon thee: but to murder thee!

The joy, and charm of ev'ry raviſh'd ſenſe,

My wife! forbid it nature.

Imo.

[84]

'Tis your wife,

Who on her knees conjures you. O! in time

Prevent thoſe miſchiefs that are falling on us.

You may be hurry'd to a ſhameful death,

And I, too, dragg'd to the vile Governor;

Then I may cry aloud: when you are gone,

Where ſhall I find a friend again to ſave me?

Oro.

It will be ſo: thou unexampled virtue!

Thy reſolution has recover'd mine:

And now prepare thee.

Imo.

Thus, with open arms,

I welcome you and death.

[He drops his dagger, and throws himſelf on the ground.

Oro.

I cannot bear it.

O let me daſh againſt the rock of fate,

Dig up this earth, tear, tear her bowels out,

To make a grave, deep as the centre down,

To ſwallow wide, and bury us together.

It wonnot be. O! then ſome pitying god—

(If there be one a friend to innocence)

Find yet a way to lay her beauties down

Gently in death, and ſave me from her blood.

Imo.

O riſe! 'tis more than death to ſee you thus!

I'll eaſe your love, and do the deed myſelf—

[She takes up the dagger, he riſes in haſte to take it from her.

Oro.

O! hold; I charge thee, hold.

Imo.

Tho' I muſt own

[85]It would be nobler for us both from you.

Oro.

Oh! for a whirlwind's wing to hurry us

To yonder cliff, which frowns upon the flood;

That in embraces lock'd, we might plunge in,

And periſh thus in one another's arms.

[Shout.

Imo.

Alas! what ſhout is that?

Oro.

I ſee 'em coming.

They ſha'not overtake us: this laſt kiſs,

And now—farewel.

Imo.

Farewel—farewel 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 ſhou'd be employed in it.

Thus, thus, 'tis finiſh'd, and I bleſs my fate;

[Stabs herſelf.

That where I liv'd, I die in theſe lov'd 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!

But let me pay the tribute of my grief;

A few ſad tears to thy lov'd memory;

[86]And then I follow—

But I ſtay too long.

[A noiſe again.

The noiſe comes nearer: hold—before I go;

There's ſomething wou'd be done—it ſhall be ſo;

And, then, Imoinda, I'll come all to thee.

[Blandford and his party enter before the Governor and his party, ſwords drawn on both ſides.

Gov.

You ſtrive in vain to ſave him; he ſhall die.

Blan.

Not while I can defend him with my life.

Gov.

Where is he?

Oro.

Here's the wretch whom you wou'd have.

Put up your ſwords, and let not civil broils

Engage you in the curſed cauſe of one

Who cannot live, and now entreats to die.

This object will convince you.

[Points to Imoinda.

Blan.

'Tis his wife!

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,

The hands of juſtice—but I hold the ſword

For you, and for myſelf.

[Stabs the Governor and himſelf.

' 'Tis done at length, and vengeance ſmiles applauſe:

' Now, poor remains of all my ſoul held dear,

' While life affords perception to my eyes,

[87]' Let me gaze ſtedfaſt on thy faded form,

' And waſh, with ſacred drops of faithful love,

' The purple ſtreams that tinge that breaſt of ſnow.

' A chilly languor creeps through all my veins,

' A miſty cloud obſcures my darken'd view,

' And wraps me round—oh let me find her, gods—

' Behold her beauties in the future world—

' Or ever ceaſe to be—Oh! Imoinda—

[Dies.

Blan.

' In life, in death, his character maintain'd,

' He ſhone a great example to the world.

' If the bright fallies of a ſoul untaught

' Could caſt ſuch luſtre round—how ſhould we bluſh,

' With ſuch advantages in moral life,

' To grovel in the loathſome ſhade of vice?

' Humanely juſt in every thought and act,

' This Princely Pagan turn'd to keen reproach

' The tyranny and falſhood which he met.

' Nor can it be that any mode of faith,

' Debas'd by actions againſt Nature's laws,

' Can plead for favour in a future life:

' Wherefore, let Chriſtians Virtue's path purſue,

' Nor leave to Pagans to be juſt and true.

FINIS.

Distributed by the University of Oxford under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License

Citation Suggestion for this Object: TextGrid Repository (2020). TEI. 4113 Oroonoko or the royal slave A tragedy Altered from Southerne by Francis Gentleman. University of Oxford Text Archive. . https://hdl.handle.net/21.T11991/0000-001A-59BE-B