Captives, The. A Tragedy - Act 1, Scene 7


Ara. I've done my duty, and I've done no more.
Why wear you that concern upon your brow?
It misbecomes you in this time of joy.
Strait let us to the King, and learn his pleasure.
Justice is ours, but mercy 's lodg'd in him.
Orba. I never can believe the Prince so vile
To mix with common murderers and assassins.
I think him virtuous, and I share his suff'rings.
All generous souls must strong reluctance find,
In heaping sorrows on th'afflicted mind.
Rate this poem: 


No reviews yet.