 | Injured Virtue : or The Virgin Martyr |  |
SCENE II.
A Prison, Men in Chains Begging.Enter Dorothea and Hellena.
Dor.
My Friend, is this the Prison,
Whose needy sorrowful Inhabitants
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Hell.
Madam, it is.
Dor.
Alas, poor Souls!
1 Pris.
Pray your Charity, for Heavens sake.
Dor.
Saw you the Place within?
Hell.
I did,
Which made me interceed for their Relief.
When first I entred, the offensive Stench
Was so extreamly Noysom to the Sense,
That with the dismal Horror of the Place,
And dreadful Cries and Howlings of the Tortur'd,
My Senses were almost depriv'd and gone.
Indeed 'twas very piteous to behold
The many Poor, Naked, unhappy starving Souls,
That lay just ready to expire through Pain,
Through bitterest Want, Thirst, Cold and Hunger,
And not one Charitable Friend to help them.
1 Pris.
Pray your Charity.
Dor.
Take what my mean and slender Fortune grants,
And from this loathsom Prison free your selves.
Dear bought Experience is the surest way
To Knowledge of the World and base Mankind.
If Crimes confine you, done against the Laws,
Amend, and let Repentance make Attonement;
But if for your Religion you are chain'd,
I pity you indeed.
1 Pris.
Heaven ever bless you.
2 Pris.
May the good Gods protect you.
Dor.
That which Necessity of Life can spare,
If from the Prisoner, Friendless, and the Orphan,
The Widow, or the aged poor Man's Wants,
For any baser Use we should perloin,
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Entail a Curse on us and on our Children.
But now my Friend, our Charity thus given,
Let our Devotion next employ our Time.
[Exeunt.
| Injured Virtue : or The Virgin Martyr | |