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When cause of sorrow bore it company, To have your passion shake the seat of reason; A momentary ill, which soon blew o'er. Then did I tell her of Don Carlos’ death, Wisely suppressing by what means he fell) And laid the blame on that. At first she doubted; But such the honest artifice I used, That she, at length, was fully satisfied. But what design you, sir, and how * Alon. I’ll tell thee. Thus I’ve ordain’d it. In the jasmine bower, The place which she dishonour'd with her guilt, There will I meet her; the appointment's made; And calmly spread (for I can do it now) The blackness of her crime before her sight, And then with all the cool solemnity Of public justice, give her to the grave. [Erit, Zan. Why get thee gone horror and night go with thee. Sisters of Acheron, go hand in hand; Go dance around the bower, and close them in; And tell them, that I sent you to salute them. Profane the ground, and for the ambrosial rose, And breath of jasmine, let hemlock blacken, And deadly pightshade poison all the air. For the sweet nightingale may ravens croak, Toads pant, and adders rustle through the leaves; May serpents, winding up the trees, let fall Their hissing necks upon them from above,
The Bower.—LHonorA sleeping.
Alon. Ye amaranths ye roses, like the morn 1
Sweet myrtles, and ye golden orange greves |
Are ye not blasted as I enter in ;
Joy-giving, love-inspiring, holy bowers
Know, in thy fragrant bosom thou receivest
A murderer!—[He advances.] Ha! she sleeps—
The day's uncommon heat has overcome her.
Then take, my longing eyes, your last full gaze.
Oh, what a sight is here ! how dreadful fair :
Who would not think that being innocent 2
Oh, my distracted heart!—Oh, cruel Heaven
To give such charms as these, and then call man,
Mere man, to be your executioner!
But see, she smiles | I never shall smile more.
It strongly tempts me to a parting kiss.
[Going, he starts back.
Ha! smile again : She dreams of him she loves.
Curse on her charms! I’ll stab her through them all.
[As he is going to strike, she wakes.
Leon. My lord, your stay was long, and yonder lull
Of falling waters tempted me to rest,
Dispirited with noon’s excessive heat.
Alon. Ye powers! with what an eye she mends the
While *. were closed I should have given the blow.
Leon. What says my lord * -
Alon. Why, this Alonzo says;
If love were endless, men were gods; ’tis that
Does counterbalance travel, danger, pain—
*Tis Heaven’s expedient to make mortals bear
The light, and cheat them of the peaceful grave.
Leon. Alas, my lords why talk you of the grave?
Your friend is dead : in friendship you sustain
A mighty loss; repair it with my love.
Alon. Thy love, thou piece of witchcraft! I would
Thou brightest angel ! I could gaze for ever,
Where hadst thou this 2 enchantress, tell me where,
Which with a touch works miracles, boils up
My blood to tumults, and turns round my brain?
But, Oh, those eyes! those murderers Oh, whence,
Whence didst thou steal their burning orbs? From
heaven 2 -
Thou didst : and ’tis religion to adore them.
Leon. My best Alonzo, moderate your thoughts.
Extremes still fright me, though of love itself.
Alon. Extremes indeed! it hurried me away;
But I come home again—and now for justice—
And now for death It is impossible—
[Draws his Dagger,
I leave her to just Heaven. |Drops the Dagger, and exil, Leon. Ha! a dagger
Zan. Wither his hand, that held the steel in vain! That dagger found will cause her to enquire, What can be done * That's something still. If not, *Tis all I can ; it shall be so. [Aside, Leon. O, Zanga, I am sinking in my fears! Alonzo dropp'd this dagger as he left me, And left me in a strange disorder too. What can this mean 2 Angels preserve his life! Zan. Yours, madam, yours. Leon. What, Zanga, dost thou say?
Zan. Carry you goodness, then, to such extremes,
So blinded to the faults of him you love,
That you perceive not he is jealous 2.
s: Leon. Heav’ns !
o And yet a thousand things recur that swear it.
: Jealous! it sickens at my heart. Unkind, Ungen’rous, groundless, weak, and insolent 1
r: Why? wherefore ? on what shadow of occasion
O how the great man lessens to my thought !
How could so mean a vice as jealousy
* Live in a throng of such exalted virtues 2
I scorn, and hate; yet love him, and adore.
o I cannot, will not, dare not, think it true,
... Till from himself I know it. - [Erit,
so Zan. This succeeds
t Just to my wish. Now she with violence Upbraids him; he, not doubting she is guilty,
o Rages no less; and if on either side
f The waves run high, there still lives hope of ruin. |
2. Enter ALONZO.
o My lord
Alon. O Zanga, hold thy peace | I am no coward,
But Heaven itself did hold my hand; I felt it,
By the well-being of my soul, I did.
I’ll think of vengeance at another season.
Zan. My lord, her guilt
Alon. Perdition on thee, Moor,
* For that one word
so 1 love her to distraction.
o If 'tis my shame, why be it so—I love her;
Nor can I help it; ’tis imposed upon me
By some superior and resistless power.
I could not hurt her to be lord of earth;
It shocks my nature like a stroke from Heaven.
But see, my Leonora comes—Begone.
O seen for ever, yet for ever new
The conquer'd thou dost conquer o’er again,
Inflicting wound on wound.
Leon. Alas, my lord 1
What need of this to me 2
Alon. Ha! dost thou weep 2
Leon. Have I no cause 2
Alon. If love is thy concern,
Thou hast no cause : none ever loved like me.
Oh, that this one embrace would last for ever!
Leon. These tears declare how much I taste the
Of being folded in your arms and heart;
My universe does lie within that space.
This dagger bore false witness.
Alon. Ha, my dagger
It rouses horrid images. Away,
Away with it; and let us talk of love.
Leon. It touches you.
Alon. Let’s talk of love.
Leon. Of death !
Alon. As thou lovest happiness—
Leon. Of murder
Alon. Then must I fly for thy sake and my own.
Leon. Nay, by my injuries, you first must hear me.
Alon. Yet, yet dismiss me; I am all in flames.
Leon, Who has most cause, you or myself? What
Of my whole life encouraged you to this?
Or of your own, what guilt has drawn it on you?
You find me kind, and think me kind to all;
The weak, ungenerous error of your sex.
He, that can stoop to harbour such a thought,
Deserves to find it true.
Alon. Oh, sex, sex, sex I
The language of you all, Ill-fated woman!