Cast thy black veil upon my shame, O night! [thus? Shore. Why dost thou turn away?-Why tremble) Why thus indulge thy fears? And, in despair, Abandon thy distracted soul to horror? Forget all guilt 'gainst me, cast it behind thee, And let it never vex thy quiet more. My arms, my heart, are open to receive thee, To bring thee back to thy forsaken home, With tender joy, and fond forgiving love. J. Sho. No, arm thy brow with vengeance; The Minister of Heaven's inquiring justice. Array thyself all-terrible for judgment, Wrath in thy eyes, and thunder in thy voice; Pronounce my sentence; and, if yet there be A woe I have not felt, inflict it on me. ap and 'Shore. Thy sorrows fain I'd hope are now completed; And I am come to snatch thee from injustice. 'The hand of power no more shall crush thy weakness, 'Nor proud oppression grind thy humble soul. J. Sho. Hast thou, my lost, much injur'd, lawful 'Restor❜d thyself to me, and art thou come [husband 'The messenger of grace and goodness to me, To seal my peace, and bless me ere I go? Oh! let me, then, fall down beneath thy feet, And weep my gratitude for ever there; Give me your drops, ye soft descending rains, 'Give me your streams, ye never-ceasing springs, That my sad eyes may still supply my duty, And feed an everlasting flood of sorrow.+ 'Shore. Waste not thy feeble spirits--I have long 'Beheld, unknown, thy mourning and repentance; 'My heart has set aside all inj'ry past, * And the kings of the earth," &c. "bid themselves in the dens, "and in the rocks of the mountains; and said to the mountains "and rocks, Fall on us, and hide us" &c. Revel. vI. 15, 16. See also Isaiah 11. 21. Hosea x. 8. Luke XXIII. 30. +"Oh that my head were waters, and mine eyes a fountain of "tears, that I might weep day and night for the slain of the daughter "of my people.' Jerem. 12. k. To me thou'rt white, as unoffending innocence:* J. Sho. Alas! I'm wond'rous faint: But that's not strange, I have not eat these three days. J. Sho. How can you be so good? 'But you were ever thus. I well remember • With what fond care, what diligence of love, < Preventing every wish: have you forgot The costly string of pearl you brought me home, And tied about my neck?-How could I leave you? 'Shore. Taste some of this, or this 'J. Sho. You're strangely alter'd Say, gentle Belmour, is he not? How pale 'Your visage is become? Your eyes are hollow; Nay, you are wrinkled, too-Alas the day? My wretchedness has cost you many a tear, And many a bitter pang, since last we parted. [eat.' 'Shore. No more of that-thou talk'st, but dost not J. Sho. My feeble jaws forget their common office, 'My tasteless tongue cleaves to the clammy roof, And now a general loathing grows upon me.' Oh! I am sick at heart! Shore. Thou murd'rous sorrow! Wo't thou still drink her blood, pursue her still? "Though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow." Isaiah 1. 18. Enter Sir William CATESBY, with a guard. Cate. Seize on them both, as traitors to the stateBel. What means this violence! [Guards lay hold on Shore and Belmour. Cate. Have we not found you, In scorn of the Protector's strict command, Shore. Nay, say not infamy! When vice has ceas'd, pow'r should not persecute. An engine of high pow'r, thou but fulfill'st Thine office. Cate. Elsewhere this -Away with them. Shore. Is charity grown treason to your court? I am content that we should die together Cate. Convey the men to prison; but for her, Leave her to hunt her fortune as she may. J. Sho. I will not part with him-for me!-for me! Oh! must he die for me? [Following him as he is carried off-She falls. Shore. Unhand, unhand me! [Breaks from the guard. Stand off! the agonies of death are on her She pulls, she gripes me hard with her cold hand. J. Sho. Was this blow wanting to complete my ruin! Oh! let him go, ye ministers of terror. He shall offend no more, for I will die, And yield obedience to your cruel master. Alas! alas! to see this bitter moment, J. Sho. Forgive me!-but forgive me! Shore. Such mercy and such pardon as my soul Accords to thee, and begs of Heaven to show thee; And make my portion bless'd or curs'd for ever. J. Sho. Then all is well, and I shall sleep in peace— 'Tis very dark, and I have lost you now Was there not something I would have bequeath'd you? 'But I have nothing left me to bestow, 'Nothing but one sad sigh.' Oh mercy, Heaven! [Dies. Bel. There fled the soul, And left her load of misery behind. Shore. Oh, my heart's treasure! Is this pale sad visage All that remains of thee? are these dead eyes The light that cheer'd my soul?' O heavy hour! Till I am cold and senseless quite, as thou art. Fare thee well. [To the guards taking him away. [Kissing her: Now execute your tyrant's will, and lead me To bonds, or death, 'tis equally indifferent. Bel. Let those, who view this sad example, know, What 'tis e'en here to break the marriage vow; And teach their children in succeeding times, What temporal evils follow on such crimes; When such severe repentance could not save From want, from shame, and an untimely grave. * Gives with his whole heart. THE END. THE LONDON MERCHANT; OR, THE HISTORY OF GEORGE BARNWELL A TRAGEDY. BY GEORGE LILLO. FIRST PERFORMED AT THE THEATRE ROYAL IN DRURY LANE, In the Year 1731. To deliver thee from the strange woman, even from the stranger which flattereth with her words; which forsaketh the guide of her youth, and forgetteth the covenant of her God. For her house inclineth unto death, and her paths unto the dead. None that go unto her return again, neither take they hold of the paths of life. PROVERBS 11. 16-19. |