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Battlements, with a Sea Prospect.
A Storm, with Thunder and Lightningo

Enter ZANGA.
Zan. Whether first nature, or long want of peace
Has wrought my mind to this, I cannot teil;
But horrors now are not displeasing to me: [Thunder:
I like this rocking of the battlements.

Rage on, ye winds, burst, clouds, and waters roar!
You bear a just resemblance of my fortune,
And suit the gloomy habit of my soul..
Who's there? My love !

Isu. Why have you left my bed?
Your absence more affrights me than the storm.

Zan. The dead alone in such a night can rest,
And I indulge my meditation here.
Woman, away. I chuse to be alone.
Isu. I know you do, and therefore will not leave


Excuse me, Zanga, therefore dare not leave you.

Is this a night for walks of contemplation ?
Something unusual hangs upon your heart,
And I will know it; by our loves I will.
To you I sacrificed my virgin fame;
Ask I too much to share in your distress ?
Zan. In tears? Thou fool! then hear me, and be

In hell's abyss, if ever it escape thee.
To strike thee with astonishment at once,
I hate Alonzo. First recover that,
And then thou shalt hear farther.

Isa. Hate Alonzo !
I own, I thought Alonzo most your friend,
And that he lost the master in that name.
Zan. Hear then. 'Tis twice three years since that

great man (Great let me call him, for he conquer'd me) Made me the captive of his arm in right. He slew my father, and threw chains o'er me, While I, with pious rage, pursued revenge. I then was young, he placed me near his person, And thought me not dishonour'd by his service. One day, (may that returning day be night, The stain, the curse, of each succeeding year!) For something, or for nothing, in his pride He struck me. (While I tell it, do i live?) He smote me on the cheek I did not stab him, For that were poor revenge- E'er since, his folly Has strove to bury it beneath a heap Of kindnesses, and thinks it is forgot. Insolent thought! and like a second blow! Affronts are innocent, where men are worthless ; And such alone can wisely drop revenge.

Isa. But with more temper, Żanga, tell your story; To see your strong emotions startles me.

Zan. Yes, woman, with the temper that befits it.

Has the dark adder venom? So have I,
When trod upon. Proud Spaniard, thou shalt feel me!
For from that day, that day of my dishonour,
I from that day have cursed the rising sun,
Which never fail'd to tell me of my shame.
I from that day have bless'd the coming night,
Which promised to conceal it ! but in vain;
The blow return'd for ever in my dream.
Yet on I toil'u, and groan'd for an occasion
Of ample vengeance ; none is yet arrived.
Howe'er, at present I conceive warm hopes
Of what may wound him sore in his ambition,
Life of his life, and dearer than his soul.
By nightly march he purposed to surprise
The Moorish camp; but I have taken care
They shall be ready to receive his favour.
Failing in this, a cast of utmost moment,
Would darken all the conquests he has won.

Isa. Just as I enter'd, an express arrived.
Zan. To whom?
Isa. His friend, Don Carlos.

Zan. Be propitious,
O, Mahomet, on this important hour,
And give at length my famish'd soul revenge !
What is revenge, but courage to call in
Our honour's debts, and wisdom to convert
Others' self-love into our own protection?
But see, the morning ray breaks in upon us ;
I'll seek Don Carlos, and enquire my fate. (Exeunt.

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