For she was his, my friend's, and he (O horror!)

Confided all in me.

O sacred faith!

How dearly I abide thy violation!

ZANGA.

Were then their loves far gone?

ALONZO.

The father's will

There bore a total sway: and he, as soon
As news arriv'd that Carlos' fleet was seen
From off our coast, fir'd with the love of gold,
Determin'd that the very sun which saw
Carlos' return, should see his daughter wed.

ZANGA.

Indeed, my lord! Then you must pardon me,
If I presume to mitigate the crime:
Consider, strong illurements soften guilt;
Long was his absence, ardent was his love,
At midnight his return, the next day destin'd
For his espousals. -'Twas a strong temptation.

Temptation!

ALONZO.

ZANGA.

'Twas but gaining of one night.

ALONZO.

One night!

ZANGA.

That crime could ne'er return again.

ALONZO.

Again! By heav'n, thou dost insult thy lord.

Temptation! One night gain'd! O stings and death! And am I then undone? Alas, my Zanga!

And dost thou own it too? Deny it still,

And rescue me one moment from distraction.

ZANGA.

My lord, I hope the best.

ALONZO.

False, foolish hope,

And insolent to me! Thou know'st it false;
It is as glaring as the noon-tide sun.
Devil! this morning, after three years coldness,
To rush at once into a passion for me!

'Twas time to feign; 'twas time to get another,
When her first fool was sated with her beauties.

ZANGA.

What says my lord? Did Leonora then

Never before disclose her passion for you?

Never

ALONZO.

ZANGA.

Throughout the whole three years?

ALONZO.

O never! never!

Why Zanga, should'st thou strive? 'Tis all in vain ;
Though thy soul labours, it can find no reed
For hope to catch at. Ah! I'm plunging down
Ten thousand thousand fathoms in despair,

ZANGA.

Hold, Sir; I'll break your fall-Wave ev'ry fear,
And be a man again-Had he enjoy'd her,
Be most assur'd, he had resign'd her to you
With less reluctance.

ALONZO.

Ha! resign her to me!

Resign her! Who resign'd her?-Double death! How could I doubt so long? My heart is broke: First love her to distraction; then resign her!

ZANGA.

But was it not with utmost agony?

ALONZO.

Grant that, he still resign'd her; that's enough.
Would he pluck out his eye to give it me?
Tear out his heart?-She was his heart no more-
Nor was it with reluctance he resign'd her.
By heav'n he ask'd, he courted me, to wed:
I thought it strange; 'tis now no longer so.

ZANGA.

Was't his request? Are you right sure of that ?I fear the letter was not all a tale.

ALONZO.

A tale ! there's proof equivalent to sight.

ZANGA.

I should distrust my sight on this occasion.

ALONZO.

And so should I; by heav'n, I think I should.
What! Leonora the divine, by whom
We guess'd at angels? O! I'm all confusion.

ZANGA.

You now are too much ruffled to think clearly. Since bliss and horror, life and death, hang on it,

Go to your chamber; there maturely weigh
Each circumstance; consider, above all,
That it is jealousy's peculiar nature

To swell small things to great; nay, out of nought
To conjure much; and then to lose its reason
Amid the hideous phantoms it has form'd.

ALONZO.

Had I ten thousand lives, I'd give them all
To be deceiv'd: I fear 'tis doomsday with me;
And yet she seem'd so pure, that I thought heav'n
Borrow'd her form for Virtue's self to swear,

To gain her lovers with the sons of men. [Exit Alon.

Enter ISABElla.

ZANGA.

Thus far it works auspiciously. My patient
Thrives, underneath my hand, in misery:
He's gone to think; that is, to be distracted.

ISABELLA.

I overheard your conference, and saw you,
To my amazement, tear the letter.

ZANGA.

There,

There, Isabella, I outdid myself:
For tearing it, I not secure it only

In its first force, but superadd a new:
For who can now the character examine

To cause a doubt, much less detect the fraud?

And, after tearing it, as loth to shew

The foul contents, if I should swear it now

A forgery, my lord would disbelieve me ;

Nay, more would disbelieve, the more I swore:
But is the picture happily dispos'd of?

It is.

ISABELLA.

ZANGA.

That's well-Ah! what is well? O pang to think;
O dire necessity! is this my province ?

Whither, my soul, ah! Whither, art thou sunk
Beneath thy sphere ? E'er while, far, far above
Such little arts, dissemblings, falshoods, frauds,
The trash of villainy itself, which falls

To cowards, and poor wretches wanting bread:
Does this become a soldier? This become
Whom armies follow'd, and a people lov'd?
My martial glory withers at the thought:
But great my end; and since there are no other,
These means are just; they shine with borrow'd light,
Illustrious from the purpose they pursue.

And greater sure my merit, who, to gain
A point sublime, can such a task sustain;
To wade through ways obscene, my honour bend,
And shock my nature to attain my end:
Late time shall wonder; that my joys will raise;
For wonder is involuntary praise.