you.

Gov. Why! what's the matter?

Char. Nay, nothing extraordinary. But one good action draws on another. You have given the prince his freedom: now we come a begging for his wife: you won't refuse us?

Gov. Refuse you? No, no, what have I to do to refuse you?

Wid. You won't refuse to send her to him, she means.

Gov. I send her to him!

Wid. We have promised him to bring her. Gov. You do very well; 'tis kindly done of you: ev'n carry her to him, with all my heart. Lucy. You must tell us where she is. Gov. I tell you! why, don't you know? Blan. Your servants say she's in the house. Gov. No, no, I brought her home at first indeed; but I thought it would not look well to keep her here: I removed her in the hurry, only to take care of her. What! she belongs to you: I have nothing to do with her.

Char. But where is she now, sir?

God. Why, faith, I can't say certainly: you'll hear of her at Parham House, I suppose: there, or thereabouts: I think I sent her there. Blan. I'll have an eye on him.

[Aside. [Exeunt all but the Governor. Gov. I have lied myself into a little time, And must employ it: they'll be here again; But I must be before 'em.

[Going out, he meets IMOINDA, and seizes her. Are you come?

I'll court no longer for a happiness That is in mine own keeping: you may still Refuse to grant, so I have power to take. The man that asks deserves to be denied. [She disengages one hand, and draws his sword from his side upon him. Governor starts and retires, BLANDFORD enters behind him. Imo. He does indeed, that asks unworthily. 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 fasten upon you. Blan. I must defend myself. Imo. Help, murder, help! [IMOINDA retreats towards the door, favoured by BLANDFORD; when they are closed, she throws down the sword, and runs out. Governor takes up his sword, they fight close, and fall, BLANDFORD upon him. Servants enter, and part

them.

Gov. She shall not 'scape me so. I've gone too far,

Not to go farther. Curse on my delay!
But yet she is, and shall be in my power.
Blan. Nay then it is the war of honesty ;
I know you, and will save you from yourself.
Gov. All come along with me. [Excunt.

SCENE-The Last.

Enter OROONOKO.

Oro. To honour bound! and yet a slave to love! I am distracted by their rival powers, And both will be obey'd. O 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 never felt A woman's power, or tried the force of love: All tempers yield, and soften in those fires: Our honours, interests, resolving down, Run in the gentle current of our joys; But not to sink, and drown our memory; We mount again to action, like the sun, That rises from the bosom of the sea, To run his glorious race of light anew, And carry on the world. Love, love will be My first ambition, and my fame the next.

Enter ABOAN, bloody.

My eyes are turn'd against me, and combine
With my sworn enemies, to represent
This spectacle of horror. Aboan!
My ever faithful friend!

Abo. I have no name,

That can distinguish me from the vile earth,
To which 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 used me: But believe
The hangman's hand would have been merciful.
Do not yet 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 prepared for you.
This was the duty that I had to pay;
'Tis done, and now I beg to be discharged.
Oro. What shall I do for thee?
Abo. My body tires,
And will not bear me off to liberty:
I shall again be taken, made a slave.
A sword, a dagger, yet would rescue me.
I have not strength to go to find out death,
You must direct him to me,

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 barbarous rage
That worried him, only for being mine.
Why, why, you gods! why am I so accurst,
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:
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 will not be.
Thou art disordered, 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, and 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 power.
Oro. He could not use it!
Imo. What can't such men do?
Oro. But did he? durst he?
Imo. What he could, he dared.

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

No punishment for such unheard-of crime.

Imo. This monster, cunning in his flatteries, When he had wearied all his useless arts, Leap'd out, fierce as a beast of prey, to seize me. I trembled, feared.

Oro. I fear, and tremble now.

What could preserve thee? What deliver thee? Imo. That worthy man, you used to call your

friend

Oro. Blandford.

Ino. Came in, and saved me from his rage. Oro. He was a friend indeed to rescue thee!

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 determined, and will latest doom.
Yet this I know of fate, this is most certain,
I cannot, as I would, 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. Heaven 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 them take 'em back: The hopes of empire, which they gave my youth, By making me a prince, I here resign.

Let them quench in me all those glorious fires, Which kindled at their beams: that lust of fame,

That fever of ambition, restless still,
And burning with the sacred thirst of sway,
Which they inspired, to qualify my fate,
And make me fit to govern under them,
Let them extinguish. I submit myself
To their high pleasure, and devoted bow
Yet lower, to continue still a slave;
Hopeless of liberty: and if I could

Are not to be entreated or believed:

O! think on that, and be no more deceived. Oro. What can we do?

Imo. Can I do any thing!

Oro. But we were born to suffer.

Imo. Suffer both.

Both die, and so prevent them.

Oro. By thy death!

O! let me hunt my travell'd thoughts again;
Range the wide waste of desolate despair;
Start any hope. Alas! I lose myself,
'Tis pathless, dark, and barren all to me.
Thou art my only guide, my light of life,
And thou art leaving me.-Send out thy beams
Upon the wing; let them fly all around,
Discover every way: is there a dawn,

A glimmering of comfort? The great God,
That rises on the world, must shine on us.
Imo. And see us set before him.
Oro. Thou bespeak'st,

And goest before me.

Imo. So I would in love,

In the dear unsuspected part of life,

In death for love. Alas! what hopes for me? I was preserved but to acquit myself,

To beg to die with you.

Oro. And can'st thou ask it?

I never durst inquire into myself
About thy fate, and thou resolv'st it all.

Imo. Alas! my lord! my fate's resolv'd in

strength,

And could 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: for though I am
Resigned, and ready to obey my doom,
Methinks it should not be pronounc'd by you.
Oro. O! that was all the labour of my grief.
My heart and tongue forsook me in the strife:
I never could pronounce it.

Imo. I have for you, for both of us.
Oro. Alas! for me! my death

I could regard as the last scene of life,
And act it through with joy, to have it done.
But then to part with thee!-

Imo. '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! thrown thee off!

Imo. But 'tis a pleasure more than life can give,

That with unconquer'd passion to the last, You struggle still, and fain would hold me to you.

Oro. Ever, ever! and let those stars, which are my enemies,

Witness against me in the other world,
If I would leave this mansion of my bliss,
To be the brightest ruler of their skies.
O! that we could incorporate, be one,

[Embracing her.

One body, as we have been long one mind;
That blended so, we might together mix,
And losing thus our being to the world,
Be only found to one another's joys!
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
Of parting: think on them.

Oro. Why dost thou wake me?
Imo. O! no more of love!

For if I listen to you, I shall quite

Forget my dangers, and desire to live.
I can't live yours.

[Takes up the dagger.
Oro. There all the stings of death
Are shot into my heart:--What shall I do?
Imo. This dagger will instruct you.

Oro. Ha! this dagger!

[Gives it him.

Nor envy poor Imoinda's doating blindness, Who thought her husband kill'd her out of kind

ness.

Death with a husband ne'er had shewn such charms,

Had she once dy'd within a lover's arms.
Her error was from ignorance proceeding:
Poor soul! she wanted some of our town-breed-
ing.

Forgive this Indian's fondness of her spouse;
Their law no Christian liberty allows:
Alas! they make a conscience of their vows!)
If virtue in a heathen be a fault,
Then damn the heathen school, where she was
taught.

She might have learn'd to cuckold, jilt, and sham,
Had Covent-Garden been in Surinam,