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Who might have mark'd her sudden turn of love :
These, and a thousand tokens more; and yet
(For which the saints absolve my soul!) did wed.

ZANGA. Where does this tend?

ALONZO.

To shed a woman's blood Would stain my sword, and make my wars inglorious ; But just resentment to myself, bears in it A stamp of greatness above vulgar minds: He who, superior to the checks of nature, Dares make his life the victim of his reason, Does in some sort that reason deify, And take a flight at heav'n.

ZANGA,

Alas! my lord,
'Tis not your reason, but her beauty, finds
Those arguments, and throws you on your sword:
You cannot close an eye that is so bright;
You cannot strike a breast that is so soft ;
That has ten thousand ecstasies in store-
For Carlos?—No, my lord; I mean for you.

ALONZO.

O! thro'

my

heart and marrow! Pr'ythee spare me;
Nor more upbraid the weakness of thy lord:
I own, I try'd, I quarrell’d, with my heart,
And push'd it on, and bid it give her death;
But, O! her eyes struck first, and murder'd me.

ZANGA
I know not what to answer to my lord,

Men are but men; we did not make ourselves :
Farewell then, my best lord, since you must die.
O that I were to share your monument,
And in eternal darkness close these

eyes
Against those scenes which I am doom'd to suffer!

ALONZO. What dost thou mean?

ZANGA.

And is it then unknown?
O grief of heart, to think that you should ask it!
Sure you distrust that ardent love I bear you,
Else could you doubt when you are laid in dust-
But it will cut my poor heart through and through
To see those revel on your sacred tomb,
Who brought you thither by their lawless loves :
For there they'll revel, and exult to find
Him sleep so fast, who else would mar their joys.

ALONZO.
Distraction!-But Don Carlos, well thou know'st,
Is sheath'd in steel, and bent on other thoughts.

ZANGA.
I'll work him to the murder of his friend.- [Aside
Yes, till the fever of his blood returns,
While her last kiss still glows upon his cheek.
But when he finds Alonzo is no more,
How will he rush, like lightning, to her arms !
There sigh, there languish, there pour out his soul;
But not in grief-sad obsequies to thee-
But thou wilt be at peace, nor see, nor hear,
The burning kiss, the sigh of ecstasy,

Their throbbing hearts that jostle one another:
Thank heav'n, these torments will be all my own.

ALONZO.

I'll ease thee of that pain : Let Carlos die;
O'ertake him on the road, and see it done.
'Tis my command.

[Gives his signet.

ZANGA.

I dare not disobey.

ALONZO.

Zanga, now I have thy leave to die.

ZANGA.

Ah, Sir, think, think again. Are all men buried
In Carlos' grave? You know not womankind :
When once the throbbing of the heart has broke
The modest zone, with which it first was ty'd,
Each man she meets will be a Carlos to her.

ALONZO.

That thought has more of hell than had the former;
Another, and another, and another!
And each shall cast a smile upon my tomb!
I arn convinc'd; I must not, will not, die.

ZANGA.

You cannot die ; nor can you murder her.
What then remains? In nature no third way, ,
But to forget, and so to love again,

ALONZO.

Oh!

ZANGA.

If you forgive, the world will call you Good;
If you forget, the world will call

you

Wise;

If you receive her to your grace again,
The world will call you very, very kind.

ALONZO.

Zanga, I understand thee well. She dies;
Tho' my arm tremble at the stroke, she dies.

ZANGA.

That's truly great. What think you 'twas set up
The Greek and Roman name in such a lustre,
But doing right in stern despite to nature,
Shutting their ears to all her little cries,
When great, august, and godlike justice calld?
At Aulis, one pour'd out a daughter's life,
And gain'd more glory than by all his wars;
Another slew a sister in just rage;
A third, the theme of all succeeding times,
Gave to the cruel axe a darling son:
Nay more, for justice some devote themselves,
As he at Carthage, an immortal name!
Yet there is one step left above 'em all,
Above their history, above their fable.
A wife, bride, mistress, unenjoy'd-Do That,
And tread upon the Greek and Roman glory.

ALONZO.

'Tis done-again new transports fire my

brain; I had forgot it; 'tis my

bridal night: Friend, give me joy; we must be gay together: See that the festival be duly honour'd.

And when with garlands the full bowl is crown'd, And music gives her elevating sound,

And golden carpets spread the sacred floor,
And a new day the blazing tapers pour,
Thou, Zanga, then my solemn friends invite,
From the dark realms of everlasting night;
Call vengeance, call the furies, call despair ;
And death, our chief invited guest, be there;
He, with pale hand, shall lead the bride, and spread
Eternal curtains round our nuptial-bed. [Exeunt.

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