University of Virginia Library

SCENE II.

—A Wood.
Enter Torribal and Darina, L.
Tor.
'Tis madness to persist!—Mother, turn back.

Dar.
I would not, were a lion in my path!

Tor.
There's peril in the camp.

Dar.
There's torture out on't,
While my son's a slave. The shaft of Heaven
Alone shall stay me! Inconsiderate boys!
Too kind to me, too cruel to yourselves—
One of my sons basely to sell the other!

Tor.
Famine
Wrung you, mother;—'twas done to save your life.
But return, I beseech you!

Dar.
I will not!
If they have made my Selico a slave—
And if the conqueror—

Tor.
He'll not hear you.

Dar.
Will not hear me! All Africans have hearts:
And surely, they who've drain'd their mother's milk,
Imbibe some pity for a mother's feelings.
Oh! when at the conqueror's feet I bend,
And cry, “Restore to me my child!—a gift,
To you a trifle, but to me a world!”
If he reject my prayer, his infancy
Has spurned human breasts, to suckle with a tiger.

Tor.
I was to blame to breathe one word of this.

Dar.
You!
I drew it from you. Few can conceive
A mother's quickness for her absent child.
If she inquire of one who saw him last,
How 'tis he fares, a look—nay, half a look,
Alarms her; and a hesitating speech
Is almost confirmation somewhat's wrong.
Go onward, son!—If you refuse to guard me,
So let it be.—I'm a poor weak woman;
But still maternal love will give me strength
To crawl into the camp, and save my boy.

Tor.
Wherever you go, I go!—Rush madly down
The cataract, you'll find me by your side!
Stand back! here's some one coming—screen yourself!

Enter Madiboo, carrying the gold, R.
Mad.
Who's there?

Tor.
Friends.

Mad.
Torribal! can it be you?

Tor.
Yes.

Mad.
And my mother, too! How happens this?

Tor.
She will go the camp.

Mad.
[Shuddering.]
Oh! you must not go!

Dar.
I will go thither!

Mad.
[Aside.]
What a scene of horror—

Dar.
No power shall prevent me! What is that
You bear about you?

Mad.
Gold, dear mother—gold,—
Enough to give you affluence for ever.

Dar.
Then to prolong my life a scanty term,
Which nature soon must end, you sold my boy.

Mad.
I wish I had.

Dar.
You wish you had!—What's done?

Tor.
[Taking Madiboo apart.]
I do not understand you, Madiboo.
What has been done?

Mad.
[Wildly.]
Oh, do not ask me!

Tor.
You have gold there?

Mad.
Ay, four hundred ounces!

Tor.
Not for the purchase of one poor slave? Tell
Me, how came you by it?

Mad.
Do not question me.
But if you can, devise some means to keep
Her from the camp.

Tor.
You are agitated.

Mad.
Distracted, brother—almost heart-broken!
Another time I'll tell you all; at present,
My heart's too full. Keep her away—Torribal,
Keep her away! I'm too weak, I cannot.

Tor.
Dear mother, let us return.

Dar.
No, never!

Mad.
You know not what you'd go to see.

Dar.
My child!
In sickness—health—in slavery—in death—

Mad.
[Shuddering.]
Death!

Dar.
Ay, e'en in the agonies of death,
A mother fondly clings around her child.

Mad.
[Aside.]
Oh, heavens! 'tis so she will cling round him.

Dar.
Quick! forward to the camp!—I am resolved!

[She rushes off, R., Madiboo and Torribal follows her.