University of Virginia Library

SCENE V.

Enter PALÆSTRA, from among the Cliffs, at a distance.
The storied miseries of men's mishaps
(How sad soe'er relation sets them forth)
Are far less sharp than those we know and feel
Ourselves from sore experience.—Has it then
Pleas'd heav'n to cast me on this stranger shore,
With these drench'd garments, frighted and forlorn?
Shall I not cry,—“Why was I born to bear
This load of misery?”—Is this the meed
Of my distinguish'd piety?—With ease
I might endure this labour of affliction,
If I had borne me impious to the Gods,
Or to my parents.—But if studiously
I've sought to shun that trespass, then, ye Gods,
You've dealt with me unfittingly, unjustly.
How, how will you requite henceforth the impious,
If at this rate you prize the innocent?—
Were I but conscious that in any thing
My parents or myself had done amiss,
It less had griev'd me.—But my owner's crimes
Have wrought this woe; for his impiety
I'm punish'd.—He has lost his ship and all,
Wreck'd in the sea;—And I, the sad remains
Of all that he possess'd:—the damsel too,—
She that came with me in the boat,—is perish'd.—
At least had She been sav'd, her gentle aid
Had sooth'd and lighten'd my affliction.—Now
What hope, what help, what comfort can I find?
Here am I in this lonely desart; here
Stand rocks;—here roars the sea;—no living wight
Comes 'cross my way;—the cloaths that I have on
Are all my riches; and I'm mainly ignorant
How to get food, or where to find a shelter.—
Have I an Hope, that I should wish to live?—
I am a stranger, a new comer hither:—
Would I could meet with some one, that might shew me
A path or road:—my mind is all uncertain
Whither to make,—to this way or to that.—
No cultivated land I see before me.—
Ah, my poor parents! little do you know,
I'm now the wretch I am.—By birth I'm free:—
But what avails that freedom? Am I now
Less wretched than if born a slave?—Ah me!
I never was a comfort or an help
To those, who gave me birth and education.