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" In all the terrors of their cruelty?
" Hot. What will become of us ?.
" Oro. Observe him now. [To Abo. concerning Hot. " I could die, altogether like a man, “ As you, and you, and all of us must do; " But who can answer for his bravery “ Upon the rack, where fainting, weary life, “ Hunted thro' every limb, is forc'd to feel “ An agonizing death of all its parts ? “ Who can bear this? Resolve to be impald, « His skin fea'd off, and roasted yet alive; “ The quiv'ring flesh torn from his broken bones “ By burning pincers ? Who can bear these pains ? “ Hot. They are not to be borne.
[Discovering all the confusion of fear. « Oro. You see him now, this man of mighty
us words !
- Oro. He cannot hide his fear.
" Abo. I could not have believ'd it. Such a blaze, " And not a spark of fire !
" Oro. His violence
66 Abo. What shall we do with him?
“ Just what he is; to live and die a slave,
“ Oro. We are not safe with him.
“ Abo. That he shan't :
« Oro. What way?
“ [Going to stab Hotman, Oroonoko holds him. “ Oro. Thou art not mad ? “ Abo. I would secure ourselves.
" Oro. It sha'not be this way; nay, cannot be : « His murder will alarum all the rest, “ Make them suspect us of barbarity. “ And, may be, fall away from our design. “ We'll not set out in blood. We have, my friends, “ This night to furnish what we can provide “ For our security and just defence. " If there be one amongst us, we suspect « Of baseness, or vile fear, it will become “ Our common care to have an eye on him. " I wo'not name the man.
“ Abo. You guess at him. . [To Hotman.
« Oro. To-morrow early as the breaking day, “ We rendezvous behind the citron-grove. « That ship secur'd, we may transport ourselves
« To our respective homes. My father's kingdom “ Shall open her wide arms to take you in, “ And nurse you for her own, adopt you all, « All who will follow me.
« Omnes. All, all follow you.
"Oro. There I can give you all your liberty; “ Bestow its blessings, and secure them yours. “ There you shall live with honour, as becomes “ My fellow-sufferers and worthy friends. “ Thus, if we do succeed: but if we fall “ In our attempt, 'tis nobler still to die, “ Than drag the galling yoke of slavery. (Exeunt.
ACT IV. SCENE I.
Enter WELLDON “ and JACK STANMORE.
" Welldon. " You see, honest Jack, I have been industrious « for you; you must take some pains now to serve “ yourself.
7. Stan. Gad, Mr. Welldon, I have taken a “ great deal of pains; and, if the widow speak ho“ nestly, faith and troth, she'll tell you what a pains" taker I am.
“ Well. Fie, fie! not me. I am her husband, you “ know. She won't tell me what pains you have “ taken with her: besides, she takes you for me.
" . Stan. That's true; I forgot you had married “ her. But if you knew all
« Well. 'Tis no matter for my knowing all, if she “ does.
“ 7. Stan. Ay, ay, she does know, and more than “ ever she knew since she was a woman, for the time, “ I will be bold to say; for I have done
“ Well. The devil take you ; for you'll never have * done.
« 7. Stan. As old as she is, she has a wrinkle be. “ hind more than she had, I believe ; for I have “ taught her what she never knew in her life before.
" Well. What care I what wrinkles she has, or “ what you have taught her; if you'll let me advise “ you, you may; if not, you may prate on, and ruin 16 the whole design.
« 7. Stan. Well, well, I have done.
“ Well. Nobody but your cousin, and you, and I, " know any thing of this matter. I have married “ Mrs. Lackitt, and put you to bed to her, which " she knows nothing of, to serve you. In two or ir three days I'll bring it about so, to resign up my " claim, and with her consent, quietly to you.
“. Stan. But how will you do it? ..
“ Well. That must be my business. In the mean “ time, if you should make any noise, 'twill come “ to her ears, and be impossible to reconcile her.
" F. Stan. Nay, as for that, I know the way to " reconcile her, I warrant you.
“ Well. But how will you get her money? I am “ married to her.
“ 7. Stan. That I don't know, indeed.
“ Well. You must leave it to me, you find. All " the pains I shall put you to, will be to be silent. “ You can hold your tongue for two or three days?
" 7. Stan. Truly, not well in a matter of this na“ ture. I should be very unwilling to lose the repu. « tạtion of this night's work, and the pleasure of tell« ing it.
« Well. You must mortify that vanity a little. You “ will have time enough to brag and lie of your “ manhood, when you have her in a bare-fac'd con“ dition to disprove you. . “ 7. Stan. Well, I'll try what I can do ; the hopes 66 of her money must do it.
“ Well. You'll come at night again ? 'Tis your own « business.
" J. Stan. But you have the credit on't.
66 Well. 'Twill be your own another day, as the " widow says. Send your cousin to me: I want his « advice.
“ J. Stan. I want to be recruited, I am sure. A “ good breakfast, and to bed. She has rock'd my “ cradle sufficiently.
[Exit. « Well. She would have a husband; and if all be « as he says, she has no reason to complain ; but " there is no relying on what men say upon these “ occasions: they have the benefit of their bragging, « by recommending their abilities to other women: