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404 WILLIAM CONGREVE [ACT III
And love shall wing the tedious-wasting day:
Life without love is load; and time stands still:
What we refuse to him, to death we give;
And then, then only, when we love, we live.
[Exeunt.
ACT THE THIRD
SCENE I
The Inside of a Prison
DSMYN in chains, alone, with a paper.
DSM. But now and I was closed within the tomb
That holds my father's ashes; and but now,
Where he was prisoner, I am too imprisoned.
Sure 'tis the hand of Heaven that leads me thus,
And for some purpose points out these remembrances.
In a dark corner of my cell I found
This paper, what it is this light will show.
[Reads.} "If my Alphonso"—ha!
"If my Alphonso live, restore him, Heaven;
Give me more weight, crush my declining years
With bolts, with chains, imprisonment, and want;
But bless my son, visit not him for me."
It is his hand; this was his prayer—yet more:
[Reads.] "Let every hair, which sorrow by the roots
Tears from my hoary and devoted head,
Be doubled in thy mercies to my son:
Not for myself, but him, hear me, all gracious—"
Tis wanting what should follow—Heaven should follow,
But 'tis torn off—Why should that word alone
Be torn from his petition? 'Twas to Heaven,
But Heaven was deaf, Heaven heard him not; but thus,
Thus as the name of Heaven from this is torn,
So did it tear the ears of mercy from
His voice, shutting the gates of prayer against him.
If piety be thus debarred access
On high, and of good men the very best