The Orphan; Or, The Unhappy Marriage. A Tragedy, in Five ActsOtway, Thomas
General
The Orphan; Or, The Unhappy Marriage. A Tragedy, in Five Acts
Otway, Thomas
English drama -- Restoration, 1660-1700; Tragedies (Drama)
Where pow'r is wanting, will usurp a little,
And make us (rather than be thought behind hand)
Pay over price.
Acas. I cannot guess your drift;
Distrust you me?
Cham. No, but I fear her weakness
May make her pay her debt at any rate:
And, to deal freely with your lordship's goodness,
I've heard a story lately much disturbs me.
Acas. Then first charge her; and if th' offence be found
Within my reach, though it should touch my nature,
In my own offspring, by the dear remembrance
Of thy brave father, whom my heart rejoic'd in,
I'd prosecute it with severest vengeance.[exit.
Cham. I thank you, from my soul.
Mon. Alas, my brother! what have I done?
My heart quakes in me; in your settled face,
And clouded brow, methinks I see my fate.
You will not kill me?
Cham. Pr'ythee, why dost thou talk so?
Mon. Look kindly on me then; I cannot bear
Severity; it daunts, and does amaze, me;
My heart's so tender, should you charge me rough,
I should but weep, and answer you with sobbing;
But use me gently, like a loving brother,
And search through all the secrets of my soul.
Cham. Fear nothing, I will show myself a brother,
A tender, honest, and a loving, brother.
You've not forgot our father?
Mon. I never shall.
Cham. Then you'll remember too he was a man
That liv'd up to the standard of his honour,
And priz'd that jewel more than mines of wealth:
He'd not have done a shameful thing but once:
Though kept in darkness from the world, and hidden,
He could not have forgiv'n it to himself.
This was the only portion that he left us;
And I more glory in't than if possess'd
Of all that ever fortune threw on fools.
'Twas a large trust, and must be manag'd nicely;
Now, if by any chance, Monimia,
You have soil'd this gem, and taken from its value,
How will you account with me?
Mon. I challenge envy,
Malice, and all the practices of hell,
To censure all the actions of my past
Unhappy life, and taint me if they can!
Cham. I'll tell thee, then; three nights ago, as I
Lay musing on my bed, all darkness round me,
A sudden damp struck to my heart, cold sweat
Dew'd all my face, and trembling seiz'd my limbs:
My bed shook under me, the curtains started,
And to my tortur'd fancy there appear'd
The form of thee, thus beauteous as thou art;
Thy garments flowing loose, and in each hand
A wanton lover, who by turns caress'd thee
With all the freedom of unbounded pleasure.
I snatch'd my sword, and in the very moment
Darted it at the phantom; straight it left me;
Then rose, and call'd for lights, when, O dire omen!
I found my weapon had the arras pierc'd,
Just where that famous tale was interwoven,
How the unhappy Theban slew his father.
Mon. And for this cause my virtue is suspected!
Because in dreams your fancy has been ridden,
I must be tortur'd waking!
Cham. Have a care;
Labour not to be justify'd too fast:
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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