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diff --git a/30653.txt b/30653.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..0fbd14e --- /dev/null +++ b/30653.txt @@ -0,0 +1,2942 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Revenge, by Edward Young + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Revenge + A Tragedy + +Author: Edward Young + +Release Date: December 11, 2009 [EBook #30653] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE REVENGE *** + + + + +Produced by Delphine Lettau and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Canada Team at http://www.pgdpcanada.net + + + + + + + + + +[Illustration] + + + + +THE REVENGE. + +_A Tragedy_, +IN FIVE ACTS, + +BY DR. YOUNG. + +CORRECTLY GIVEN, +AS PERFORMED AT THE THEATRES ROYAL. + +_With Remarks._ + +[Illustration] + +_London_: +Printed by D. S. Maurice, Fenchurch-street; + +SOLD BY +T. HUGHES, 35, LUDGATE STREET, AND J. BYSH, +52, PATERNOSTER ROW. + + + + +REMARKS. + + +This tragedy is the dramatic master-piece of it's valuable author, but +at first was not so successful as Busiris and his other plays. Though +similar, in some degree, to the story of Shakspeare's _Othello_, the +motives for resentment in Zanga are of a more noble and consistent +nature, and the credulous object of his deadly hatred more excusable and +more pitied in yielding to it's subtlety. + +There is great scope for talent in the character of Zanga; but the +whining nonsense of Alonzo and Carlos would tire in any hands. + +We have inserted, on page 59, a narrative said to have really happened +in Spain a few years before this piece was written;--it is so nearly +followed by Dr. Young in his admirable _Revenge_, as to leave no doubt +of having formed it's ground-work. + + + + +DRAMATIS PERSONAE. + + Covent Garden, 1814. + Don Alonzo Mr. Conway. + Don Carlos Mr. Hamerton. + Don Alvarez Mr. Murray. + Don Manuel Mr. Creswell. + Zanga Mr. Young. + Officers Messrs. Brown, Grant, &c. + + Leonora Mrs. Egerton. + Isabella Miss Logan. + + SCENE--Spain. + + + + +THE REVENGE. + + + + +ACT THE FIRST. + + +SCENE I. BATTLEMENTS, WITH A SEA PROSPECT. + +_Enter Zanga._ + +_Zan._ Whether first nature, or long want of peace, +Has wrought my mind to this, I cannot tell; +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. + +_Enter Isabella._ + +Who's there? My love! + +_Isa._ 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 choose to be alone. + +_Isa._ I know you do, and therefore will not leave you; +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. +Ask I too much to share in your distress? + +_Zan._ In tears? thou fool! then hear me, and be plung'd +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 further. + +_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 fight. +He slew my father, and threw chains o'er me, +While I with pious rage pursu'd revenge. +I then was young; he plac'd 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, Zanga, 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, +From that day have I curs'd the rising sun, +Which never fail'd to tell me of my shame. +From that day have I bless'd the coming night, +Which promis'd to conceal it; but in vain; +The blow return'd for ever in my dream. +Yet on I toil'd, and groan'd for an occasion +Of ample vengeance; none has yet arriv'd. +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 purpos'd 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 arriv'd. + +_Zan._ To whom? + +_Isa._ His friend, don Carlos. + +_Zan._ Be propitious, +Oh! 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 dawn breaks in upon us; +I'll seek don Carlos, and inquire my fate. [_exeunt._ + + +SCENE II. THE PALACE. + +_Enter Don Manuel and Don Carlos._ + +_Man._ My lord don Carlos, what brings your express? + +_Car._ Alonzo's glory, and the Moor's defeat. +The field is strew'd with twice ten thousand slain, +Though he suspects his measures were betray'd, +He'll soon arrive. Oh, how I long t' embrace +The first of heroes, and the best of friends! +I lov'd fair Leonora long before +The chance of battle gave me to the Moors, +From whom so late Alonzo set me free; +And while I groan'd in bondage, I deputed +This great Alonzo, whom her father honours, +To be my gentle advocate in love, +To stir her heart, and fan its fires for me. + +_Man._ And what success? + +_Car._ Alas, the cruel maid-- +Indeed her father, who, though high in court, +And pow'rful with the king, has wealth at heart +To heal his devastations from the Moors, +Knowing I'm richly freighted from the east, +My fleet now sailing in the sight of Spain, +(Heav'n guard it safe through such a dreadful storm!) +Caresses me, and urges her to wed. + +_Man._ Her aged father, see, +Leads her this way. + +_Car._ She looks like radiant truth, +Brought forward by the hand of hoary time-- +You to the port with speed; 'tis possible +Some vessel is arriv'd. Heav'n grant it bring +Tidings which Carlos may receive with joy! [_exit D. M._ + +_Enter Don Alvarez and Leonora._ + +_Alv._ Don Carlos, I am lab'ring in your favour +With all a parent's soft authority, +And earnest counsel. + +_Car._ Angels second you! +For all my bliss or mis'ry hangs on it. + +_Alv._ Daughter, the happiness of life depends +On our discretion, and a prudent choice. +Look into those they call unfortunate, +And, closer view'd, you'll find they are unwise: +Some flaw in their own conduct lies beneath. +Don Carlos is of ancient, noble blood, +And then his wealth might mend a prince's fortune. +For him the sun is lab'ring in the mines, +A faithful slave, and turning earth to gold: +His keels are freighted with that sacred pow'r, +By which e'en kings and emperors are made. +Sir, you have my good wishes, and I hope +My daughter is not indispos'd to hear you. [_exit._ + +_Car._ Oh, Leonora! why art thou in tears? +Because I am less wretched than I was? +Before your father gave me leave to woo you, +Hush'd was your bosom, and your eye serene. + +_Leon._ Think you my father too indulgent to me, +That he claims no dominion o'er my tears? +A daughter sure may be right dutiful, +Whose tears alone are free from a restraint. + +_Car._ Had I known this before it had been well: +I had not then solicited your father +To add to my distress; +Have I not languish'd prostrate at thy feet? +Have I not liv'd whole days upon thy sight? +Have I not seen thee where thou hast not been? +And, mad with the idea, clasp'd the wind, +And doated upon nothing? + +_Leon._ Court me not, +Good Carlos, by recounting of my faults, +And telling how ungrateful I have been. +Alas, my lord, if talking would prevail, +I could suggest much better arguments +Than those regards you threw away on me; +Your valour, honour, wisdom, prais'd by all. +But bid physicians talk our veins to temper, +And with an argument new-set a pulse; +Then think, my lord, of reas'ning into love. + +_Car._ Must I despair then? do not shake me thus: +My temper-beaten heart is cold to death. +Ah, turn, and let me warm me in thy beauties. +Heav'ns! what a proof I gave, but two nights past, +Of matchless love! To fling me at thy feet, +I slighted friendship, and I flew from fame; +Nor heard the summons of the next day's battle: +But darting headlong to thy arms, I left +The promis'd fight, I left Alonzo too, +To stand the war, and quell a world alone. [_trumpets._ + +_Leon._ The victor comes. My lord, I must withdraw. [_exit._ + +_Enter Don Alonzo._ + +_Car._ Alonzo! + +_Alon._ Carlos!--I am whole again; +Clasp'd in thy arms, it makes my heart entire. + +_Car._ Whom dare I thus embrace? The conqueror +Of Afric. + +_Alon._ Yes, much more--Don Carlos' friend. +The conquest of the world would cost me dear, +Should it beget one thought of distance in thee. +I rise in virtues to come nearer to thee. +I conquer with Don Carlos in mine eye, +And thus I claim my victory's reward. [_embraces him._ + +_Car._ A victory indeed! your godlike arm +Has made one spot the grave of Africa; +Such numbers fell! and the survivors fled +As frighted passengers from off the strand, +When the tempestuous sea comes roaring on them. + +_Alon._ 'Twas Carlos conquer'd, 'twas his cruel chains +Inflam'd me to a rage unknown before, +And threw my former actions far behind. + +_Car._ I love fair Leonora. How I love her! +Yet still I find (I know not how it is) +Another heart, another soul, for thee. + +_Enter Zanga._ + +_Zan._ Manuel, my lord, returning from the port, +On business both of moment and of haste, +Humbly begs leave to speak in private with you. + +_Car._ In private!--Ha!--Alonzo, I'll return; +No business can detain me long from thee. [_exit._ + +_Zan._ My lord Alonzo, I obey'd your orders. + +_Alon._ Will the fair Leonora pass this way? + +_Zan._ She will, my lord, and soon. + +_Alon._ Come near me, Zanga; +For I dare open all my heart to thee. +Never was such a day of triumph known!-- +There's not a wounded captive in my train, +That slowly follow'd my proud chariot wheels, +With half a life, and beggary, and chains. +But is a god to me: I am most wretched.-- +In his captivity, thou know'st, don Carlos, +My friend (and never was a friend more dear) +Deputed me his advocate in love, +To talk to Leonora's heart, and make +A tender party in her thoughts for him. +What did I do?--I lov'd myself. Indeed, +One thing there is might lessen my offence +(If such offence admits of being lessen'd); +I thought him dead; for (by what fate I know not) +His letters never reach'd me. + +_Zan._ Thanks to Zanga, [_aside._ +Who thence contriv'd that evil which has happen'd. + +_Alon._ Yes, curs'd of heav'n! I lov'd myself, and now, +In a late action, rescu'd from the Moors, +I have brought home my rival in my friend. + +_Zan._ We hear, my lord, that in that action too, +Your interposing arm preserv'd his life. + +_Alon._ It did--with more than the expense of mine: +For, oh, this day is mention'd for their nuptials. +But see, she comes; I'll take my leave, and die. [_retires._ + +_Zan._ Hadst thou a thousand lives, thy death would please me. +Unhappy fate! my country overcome! +My six years' hope of vengeance quite expir'd!-- +Would nature were--I will not fall alone: +But others' groans shall tell the world my death. [_exit._ + +_Enter Leonora._ + +_Alon._ When nature ends with anguish like to this, +Sinners shall take their last leave of the sun, +And bid his light adieu. + +_Leon._ The mighty conqueror +Dismay'd! I thought you gave the foe your sorrows. + +_Alon._ Oh, cruel insult! are those tears your sport, +Which nothing but a love for you could draw? +Afric I quell'd, in hope by that to purchase +Your leave to sigh unscorn'd; but I complain not; +'Twas but a world, and you are--Leonora. + +_Leon._ That passion which you boast of is your guilt, +A treason to your friend. You think mean of me, +To plead your crimes as motives of my love. + +_Alon._ You, madam, ought to thank those crimes you blame! +'Tis they permit you to be thus inhuman, +Without the censure both of earth and heav'n-- +I fondly thought a last look might be kind. +Farewell for ever.--This severe behaviour +Has, to my comfort, made it sweet to die. + +_Leon._ Farewell for ever! Sweet to die! Oh, heav'n! +Alonzo, stay; you must not thus escape me; +But hear your guilt at large. + +_Alon._ Oh, Leonora! +What could I do?--In duty to my friend, +I saw you; and to see is to admire. +For Carlos did I plead, and most sincerely. +Witness the thousand agonies it cost me. +You know I did; I sought but your esteem; +If that is guilt, an angel had been guilty. + +_Leon._ If from your guilt none suffer'd but yourself, +It might be so--Farewell. [_going._ + +_Alon._ Who suffers with me? + +_Leon._ Enjoy your ignorance, and let me go. + +_Alon._ What mean these tears? + +_Leon._ I weep by chance; nor have my tears a meaning. +But, oh, when first I saw Alonzo's tears, +I knew their meaning well! + +[_Alonzo falls on his knees, and takes her hand._ + +_Alon._ Heav'ns! what is this? that excellence, for which +Desire was planted in the heart of man; +Virtue's supreme reward on this side heav'n; +The cordial of my soul--and this destroys me-- +Indeed, I flatter'd me that thou didst hate. + +_Leon._ Alonzo, pardon me the injury +Of loving you. I struggled with my passion, +And struggled long: let that be some excuse. + +_Alon._ Unkind! you know I think your love a blessing +Beyond all human blessings! 'tis the price +Of sighs and groans, and a whole year of dying. +But, oh, the curse of curses!--Oh, my friend!-- + +_Leon._ Alas! + +_Alon._ What says my love? speak, Leonora. + +_Leon._ Was it for you, my lord, to be so quick +In finding out objections to our love? +Think you so strong my love, or weak my virtue, +It was unsafe to leave that part to me? + +_Alon._ Is not the day then fix'd for your espousals? + +_Leon._ Indeed, my father once had thought that way; +But marking how the marriage pain'd my heart, +Long he stood doubtful; but at last resolv'd +Your counsel, which determines him in all, +Should finish the debate. + +_Alon._ Oh, agony! +Must I not only lose her, but be made +Myself the instrument? not only die, +But plunge the dagger in my heart myself? +This is refining on calamity. + +_Leon._ What, do you tremble lest you should be mine? +For what else can you tremble? not for that +My father places in your power to alter. + +_Alon._ What's in my pow'r? oh, yes, to stab my friend! + +_Leon._ To stab your friend were barbarous indeed! +Spare him--and murder me. + +_Alon._ First perish all! +No, Leonora, I am thine for ever. [_embraces her._ + +_Leon._ Hold, Alonzo, +And hear a maid whom doubly thou hast conquer'd. +I love thy virtue as I love thy person, +And I adore thee for the pains it gave me; +But as I felt the pains, I'll reap the fruit; +I'll shine out in my turn, and show the world +Thy great example was not lost upon me. +Nay, never shrink; take back the bright example +You lately lent; Oh, take it while you may, +While I can give it you, and be immortal! [_exit._ + +_Alon._ She's gone, and I shall see that face no more; +But pine in absence, and till death adore. +When with cold dew my fainting brow is hung, +And my eyes darken, from my falt'ring tongue +Her name will tremble in a feeble moan, +And love with fate divide my dying groan. [_exit._ + + + + +ACT THE SECOND. + + +SCENE I. THE SAME. + +_Enter Don Manuel and Zanga._ + +_Zan._ If this be true, I cannot blame your pain +For wretched Carlos; 'tis but humane in you. +But when arriv'd your dismal news? + +_Man._ This hour. + +_Zan._ What, not a vessel sav'd? + +_Man._ All, all, the storm +Devour'd; and now o'er his late envy'd fortune +The dolphins bound, and wat'ry mountains roar, +Triumphant in his ruin. + +_Zan._ Is Alvarez +Determin'd to deny his daughter to him. +That treasure was on shore; must that too join +The common wreck? + +_Man._ Alvarez pleads, indeed, +That Leonora's heart is disinclin'd, +And pleads that only; so it was this morning, +When he coucurr'd: the tempest broke the match; +And sunk his favour, when it sunk the gold. +The love of gold is double in his heart; +The vice of age, and of Alvarez too. + +_Zan._ How does don Carlos bear it? + +_Man._ Like a man +Whose heart feels most a human heart can feel, +And reasons best a human head can reason. + +_Zan._ But is he then in absolute despair? + +_Man._ Never to see his Leonora more. +And, quite to quench all future hope, Alvarez +Urges Alonzo to espouse his daughter +This very day; for he has learn'd their loves. + +_Zan._ Ha! was not that receiv'd with ecstasy +By don Alonzo? + +_Man._ Yes, at first; but soon +A damp came o'er him, it would kill his friend. + +_Zan._ Not if his friend consented: and since now +He can't himself espouse her-- + +_Man._ Yet, to ask it +Has something shocking to a gen'rous mind; +At least, Alonzo's spirit startles at it. +Wide is the distance between our despair, +And giving up a mistress to another. +But I must leave you. Carlos wants support +In his severe affliction. [_exit._ + +_Zan._ Ha, it dawns!-- +It rises to me, like a new-found world +To mariners long time distress'd at sea, +Sore from a storm, and all their viands spent; +Or like the sun just rising out of chaos, +Some dregs of ancient night not quite purg'd off. +But shall I finish it?--Hoa, Isabella! + +_Enter Isabella._ + +I thought of dying; better things come forward; +Vengeance is still alive! from her dark covert, +With all her snakes erect upon her crest, +She stalks in view, and fires me with her charms. +When, Isabella, arriv'd don Carlos here? + +_Isa._ Two nights ago. + +_Zan._ That was the very night +Before the battle--Mem'ry, set down that; +It has the essence of a crocodile, +Though yet but in the shell--I'll give it birth-- +What time did he return? + +_Isa._ At midnight. + +_Zan._ So-- +Say, did he see that night his Leonora? + +_Isa._ No, my good lord. + +_Zan._ No matter--tell me, woman, +Is not Alonzo rather brave than cautious, +Honest than subtle, above fraud himself, +Slow, therefore, to suspect it in another? + +_Isa._ You best can judge; but so the world thinks of him. + +_Zan._ Why, that was well--go, fetch my tablets hither. + [_exit Isabella._ +Two nights ago my father's sacred shade +Thrice stalk'd around my bed, and smil'd upon me: +He smil'd, a joy then little understood-- +It must be so--and if so, it is vengeance +Worth waking of the dead for. + +_Re-enter Isabella, with the tablets; Zanga writes, +then reads as to himself._ + +Thus it stands-- +The father's fix'd--Don Carlos cannot wed-- +Alonzo may--but that will hurt his friend-- +Nor can he ask his leave--or, if he did, +He might not gain it--It is hard to give +Our own consent to ills, though we must bear them. +Were it not then a master-piece worth all +The wisdom I can boast, first to persuade +Alonzo to request it of his friend, +His friend to grant--then from that very grant, +The strongest proof of friendship man can give +(And other motives), to work out a cause +Of jealousy, to rack Alonzo's peace? +I have turn'd o'er the catalogue of human woes, +Which sting the heart of man, and find none equal. +It is the hydra of calamities, +The sev'nfold death; the jealous are the damn'd. +Oh, jealousy, each other passion's calm +To thee, thou conflagration of the soul! +Thou king of torments, thou grand counterpoise +For all the transports beauty can inspire! + +_Isa._ Alonzo comes this way. + +_Zan._ Most opportunely.-- +Withdraw. [_exit Isabella._ + +_Enter Don Alonzo._ + +My lord, I give you joy. + +_Alon._ Of what, good Zanga? + +_Zan._ Is not the lovely Leonora yours? + +_Alon._ What will become of Carlos? + +_Zan._ He's your friend; +And since he can't espouse the fair himself, +Will take some comfort from Alonzo's fortune. + +_Alon._ Alas, thou little know'st the force of love! +Love reigns a sultan with unrival'd sway; +Puts all relations, friendship's self to death, +If once he's jealous of it. I love Carlos; +Yet well I know what pangs I felt this morning +At his intended nuptials. For myself +I then felt pains, which now for him I feel. + +_Zan._ You will not wed her then? + +_Alon._ Not instantly. +Insult his broken heart the very moment! + +_Zan._ I understand you: but you'll wed hereafter, +When your friend's gone, and his first pain assuag'd. + +_Alon._ Am I to blame in that? + +_Zan._ My lord, I love +Your very errors; they are born from virtue. +Your friendship (and what nobler passion claims +The heart?) does lead you blindfold to your ruin. +Consider, wherefore did Alvarez break +Don Carlos' match, and wherefore urge Alonzo's? +'Twas the same cause, the love of wealth. To-morrow +May see Alonzo in don Carlos' fortune; +A higher bidder is a better friend, +And there are princes sigh for Leonora. +When your friend's gone, you'll wed; why, then the cause +Which gives you Leonora now, will cease. +Carlos has lost her; should you lose her too, +Why, then you heap new torments on your friend, +By that respect which labour'd to relieve him-- +'Tis well, he is disturb'd; it makes him pause. [_aside._ + +_Alon._ Think'st thou, my Zanga, should I ask don Carlos, +His goodness would consent that I should wed her? + +_Zan._ I know, it would. + +_Alon._ But then the cruelty +To ask it, and for me to ask it of him! + +_Zan._ Methinks, you are severe upon your friend. +Who was it gave him liberty and life? + +_Alon._ That is the very reason which forbids it. +Were I a stranger I could freely speak: +In me it so resembles a demand, +Exacting of a debt, it shocks my nature. + +_Zan._ My lord, you know the sad alternative. +Is Leonora worth one pang or not? +It hurts not me, my lord, but as I love you: +Warmly as you I wish don Carlos well; +But I am likewise don Alonzo's friend: +There all the diff'rence lies between us two. +In me, my lord, you hear another self; +And, give me leave to add, a better too, +Clear'd from those errors, which, though caus'd by virtue, +Are such as may hereafter give you pain-- +Don Lopez of Castile would not demur thus. + +_Alon._ Perish the name! What, sacrifice the fair +To age and ugliness, because set in gold? +I'll to don Carlos, if my heart will let me. +I have not seen him since his sore affliction; +But shunn'd it, as too terrible to bear. +How shall I bear it now? I'm struck already. [_exit._ + +_Zan._ Half of my work is done. I must secure +Don Carlos, ere Alonzo speak with him. + +[_he gives a message to a Servant, then returns._ + +Proud, hated Spain, oft drench'd in Moorish blood! +Dost thou not feel a deadly foe within thee? +Shake not the tow'rs where'er I pass along, +Conscious of ruin, and their great destroyer? +Shake to the centre, if Alonzo's dear. +Look down, oh, holy prophet! see me torture +This Christian dog, this infidel, who dares +To smite thy votaries, and spurn thy law; +And yet hopes pleasure from two radiant eyes, +Which look as they were lighted up for thee! +Shall he enjoy thy paradise below? +Blast the bold thought, and curse him with her charms! +But see, the melancholy lover comes. + +_Enter Don Carlos._ + +_Car._ Hope, thou hast told me lies from day to day, +For more than twenty years; vile promiser! +None here are happy, but the very fool, +Or very wise: I am not fool enough +To smile in vanities, and hug a shadow; +Nor have I wisdom to elaborate +An artificial happiness from pains: +Ev'n joys are pains, because they cannot last. [_sighs._ +How many lift the head, look gay and smile, +Against their consciences? And this we know, +Yet, knowing, disbelieve, and try again +What we have try'd, and struggle with conviction. +Each new experience gives the former credit; +And rev'rend grey threescore is but a voucher, +That thirty told us true. + +_Zan._ My noble lord, +I mourn your fate: but are no hopes surviving? + +_Car._ No hopes. Alvarez has a heart of steel. +'Tis fix'd--'tis past--'tis absolute despair! + +_Zan._ You wanted not to have your heart made tender, +By your own pains, to feel a friend's distress. + +_Car._ I understand you well. Alonzo loves; +I pity him. + +_Zan._ I dare be sworn you do. +Yet he has other thoughts. + +_Car._ What canst thou mean? + +_Zan._ Indeed he has; and fears to ask a favour +A stranger from a stranger might request; +What costs you nothing, yet is all to him: +Nay, what indeed will to your glory add, +For nothing more than wishing your friend well. + +_Car._ I pray be plain; his happiness is mine. + +_Zan._ He loves to death; but so reveres his friend, +He can't persuade his heart to wed the maid +Without your leave, and that he fears to ask. +In perfect tenderness I urg'd him to it. +Knowing the deadly sickness of his heart, +Your overflowing goodness to your friend, +Your wisdom, and despair yourself to wed her, +I wrung a promise from him he would try: +And now I come, a mutual friend to both, +Without his privacy, to let you know it, +And to prepare you kindly to receive him. + +_Car._ Ha! if he weds, I am undone indeed; +Not don Alvarez' self can then relieve me. + +_Zan._ Alas, my lord, you know his heart is steel: +"'Tis fixed, 'tis past, 'tis absolute despair." + +_Car._ Oh, cruel heav'n! and is it not enough +That I must never, never see her more? +Say, is it not enough that I must die; +But I must be tormented in the grave?-- +Ask my consent!--Must I then give her to him? +Lead to his nuptial sheets the blushing maid? +Oh!--Leonora! never, never, never! + +_Zan._ A storm of plagues upon him! he refuses. [_aside._ + +_Car._ What, wed her--and to-day? + +_Zan._ To-day, or never. +To-morrow may some wealthier lover bring, +And then Alonzo is thrown out like you: +Then whom shall he condemn for his misfortune? +Carlos is an Alvarez to his love. + +_Car._ Oh, torment! whither shall I turn? + +_Zan._ To peace. + +_Car._ Which is the way? + +_Zan._ His happiness is yours---- +I dare not disbelieve you. + +_Car._ Kill my friend! +Or worse--Alas! and can there be a worse? +A worse there is: nor can my nature bear it. + +_Zan._ You have convinc'd me 'tis a dreadful task. +I find Alonzo's quitting her this morning +For Carlos' sake, in tenderness to you, +Betray'd me to believe it less severe +Than I perceive it is. + +_Car._ Thou dost upbraid me. + +_Zan._ No, my good lord; but since you can't comply, +'Tis my misfortune that I mention'd it; +For had I not, Alonzo would indeed +Have died, as now, but not by your decree. + +_Car._ By my decree! Do I decree his death? +I do--Shall I then lead her to his arms? +Oh, which side shall I take? Be stabb'd, or--stab? +'Tis equal death! a choice of agonies!---- +Ah, no!--all other agonies are ease +To one--O Leonora!--never, never! +Go, Zanga, go, defer the dreadful trial, +Though but a day; something, perchance, may happen +To soften all to friendship and to love. +Go, stop my friend, let me not see him now; +But save us from an interview of death. + +_Zan._ My lord, I'm bound in duty to obey you---- +If I not bring him, may Alonzo prosper! [_aside, exit._ + +_Car._ What is this world?--Thy school, oh, misery! +Our only lesson is to learn to suffer; +And he who knows not that was born for nothing. +But put it most severely--should I live-- +Live long--alas, there is no length in time! +Nor in thy time, oh, man!--What's fourscore years +Nay, what, indeed, the age of time itself, +Since cut from out eternity's wide round? +Yet Leonora--she can make time long, +Its nature alter, as she alter'd mine. + + While in the lustre of her charms I lay, + Whole summer suns roll'd unperceiv'd away; + I years for days, and days for moments, told, + And was surpris'd to hear that I grew old. + Now fate does rigidly its dues regain, + And ev'ry moment is an age of pain. + +_Enter Zanga and Don Alonzo; Zanga stops Don Carlos._ + +_Zan._ Is this don Carlos? this the boasted friend? +How can you turn your back upon his sadness? +Look on him, and then leave him if you can. + +_Car._ I cannot yield; nor can I bear his griefs. +Alonzo! [_goes to him, and takes his hand._ + +_Alon._ Oh, Carlos! + +_Car._ Pray, forbear. + +_Alon._ Art thou undone, and shall Alonzo smile? +Alonzo, who, perhaps, in some degree +Contributed to cause thy dreadful fate? +I was deputed guardian of thy love; +But, oh! I lov'd myself! Pour down, afflictions! +On this devoted head; make me your mark; +And be the world by my example taught, +How sacred it should hold the name of friend. + +_Car._ You charge yourself unjustly: well I know +The only cause of my severe affliction. +Alvarez, curs'd Alvarez!--So much anguish +Felt for so small a failure, is one merit +Which faultless virtue wants. The crime was mine, +Who plac'd thee there, where only thou couldst fail; +Though well I knew that dreadful post of honour +I gave thee to maintain. Ah! who could bear +Those eyes unhurt? The wounds myself have felt +(Which wounds alone should cause me to condemn thee,) +They plead in thy excuse; for I too strove +To shun those fires, and found 'twas not in man. + +_Alon._ You cast in shades the failure of a friend, +And soften all; but think not you deceive me; +I know my guilt, and I implore your pardon, +As the sole glimpse I can obtain of peace. + +_Car._ Pardon for him, who but this morning threw +Fair Leonora from his heart, all bath'd +In ceaseless tears, and blushing for her love! +Who, like a rose-leaf wet with morning dew, +Would have stuck close, and clung for ever there! +But 'twas in thee, through fondness for thy friend, +To shut thy bosom against ecstacies; +For which, while this pulse beats, it beats to thee; +While this blood flows, it flows for my Alonzo, +And every wish is levell'd at thy joy. + +_Zan._ [_to Alon._] My lord, my lord, this is your time to speak. + +_Alon._ [_to Zan._] Because he's kind? It therefore is the worst; +Do I not see him quite possess'd with anguish, +And shall I pour in new? No, fond desire; +No, love: one pang at parting, and farewell, +I have no other love but Carlos now. + +_Car._ Alas! my friend, why with such eager grasp +Dost press my hand, and weep upon my cheek? + +_Alon._ If, after death, our forms (as some believe) +Shall be transparent, naked every thought, +And friends meet friends, and read each other's hearts, +Thou'lt know one day that thou wast held most dear, +Farewell. + +_Car._ Alonzo, stop--he cannot speak-- [_holds him._ +Lest it should grieve me--Shall I be outdone? +And lose in glory, as I lose in love? [_aside._ +I take it much unkindly, my Alonzo, +You think so meanly of me not to speak, +When well I know your heart is near to bursting. +Have you forgot how you have bound me to you? +Your smallest friendship's liberty and life. + +_Alon._ There, there it is, my friend; it cuts me there. +How dreadful is it to a generous mind +To ask, when sure it cannot be deny'd! + +_Car._ How greatly thought! In all he towers above me. [_aside._ +Then you confess you would ask something of me? + +_Alon._ No, on my soul. + +_Zan._ [_to Alon._] Then lose her. + +_Car._ Glorious spirit! +Why, what a pang has he run through for this! +By heaven, I envy him his agonies. [_aside._ +My Alonzo! +Since thy great soul disdains to make request, +Receive with favour that I make to thee. + +_Alon._ What means my Carlos? + +_Car._ Pray observe me well. +Fate and Alvarez tore her from my heart, +And, plucking up my love, they had well nigh +Pluck'd up life too, for they were twin'd together. +Of that no more--What now does reason bid? +I cannot wed--Farewell, my happiness! +But, O my soul, with care provide for hers! +In life, how weak, how helpless, is a woman! +Take then my heart in dowry with the fair, +Be thou her guardian, and thou must be mine; +Shut out the thousand pressing ills of life +With thy surrounding arms--Do this, and then +Set down the liberty and life thou gav'st me, +As little things, as essays of thy goodness, +And rudiments of friendship so divine. + +_Alon._ There is a grandeur in thy goodness to me, +Which with thy foes would render thee ador'd. + +_Car._ I do not part with her, I give her thee. + +_Alon._ O, Carlos! +But think not words were ever made +For such occasions. Silence, tears, embraces, +Are languid eloquence; I'll seek relief +In absence from the pain of so much goodness, +There, thank the blest above, thy sole superiors, +Adore, and raise my thoughts of them by thee. [_exit._ + +_Zan._ Thus far success has crown'd my boldest hope. +My next care is to hasten these new nuptials, +And then my master-works begin to play. [_aside._ +Why that was greatly done, without one sigh [_to Car._ +To carry such a glory to its period. + +_Car._ Too soon thou praisest me. He's gone, and now +I must unsluice my over-burden'd heart, +And let it flow. I would not grieve my friend +With tears; nor interrupt my great design; +Great, sure, as ever human breast durst think of. +But now my sorrows, long with pain supprest, + Burst their confinement with impetuous sway, + O'er-swell all bounds, and bear e'en life away: + So till the day was won, the Greek renown'd + With anguish wore the arrow in his wound, + Then drew the shaft from out his tortur'd side, + Let gush the torrent of his blood, and dy'd. [_exeunt._ + + + + +ACT THE THIRD. + + +SCENE I. + +_Enter Zanga._ + +_Zan._ O joy, thou welcome stranger! twice three years +I have not felt thy vital beam; but now +It warms my veins, and plays around my heart: +A fiery instinct lifts me from the ground, +And I could mount!--the spirits numberless +Of my dear countrymen, which yesterday +Left their poor bleeding bodies on the field, +Are all assembled here, and o'er-inform me.-- +O, bridegroom! great indeed thy present bliss; +Yet even by me unenvy'd! for be sure +It is thy last, thy last smile, that which now +Sits on thy cheek; enjoy it while thou may'st; +Anguish, and groans, and death, bespeak to-morrow. + +_Enter Isabella._ + +My Isabella! + +_Isa._ What commands my Moor? + +_Zan._ My fair ally! my lovely minister! +'Twas well, Alvarez, by my arts impell'd +(To plunge don Carlos in the last despair, +And so prevent all future molestation), +Finish'd the nuptials soon as he resolv'd them; +This conduct ripen'd all for me and ruin. +Scarce had the priest the holy rites perform'd, +When I, by sacred inspiration, forg'd +That letter which I trusted to thy hand; +That letter, which in glowing terms conveys, +From happy Carlos to fair Leonora, +The most profound acknowledgement of heart, +For wondrous transports which he never knew. +This is a good subservient artifice, +To aid the nobler workings of my brain. + +_Isa._ I quickly dropp'd it in the bride's apartment, +As you commanded. + +_Zan._ With a lucky hand; +For soon Alonzo found it; I observ'd him +From out my secret stand. He took it up; +But scarce was it unfolded to his sight, +When he, as if an arrow pierc'd his eye, +Started, and trembling dropp'd it on the ground. +Pale and aghast awhile my victim stood, +Disguis'd a sigh or two, and puff'd them from him; +Then rubb'd his brow and took it up again. +At first he look'd as if he meant to read it; +But check'd by rising fears he crush'd it thus, +And thrust it, like an adder, in his bosom. + +_Isa._ But if he read it not, it cannot sting him, +At least not mortally. + +_Zan._ At first I thought so; +But farther thought informs me otherwise, +And turns this disappointment to account. +This, Isabella, is don Carlos' picture; +Take it, and so dispose of it, that found, +It may raise up a witness of her love; +Under her pillow, in her cabinet, +Or elsewhere, as shall best promote our end. + +_Isa._ I'll weigh it as its consequence requires, +Then do my utmost to deserve your smile. [_exit._ + +_Zan._ Is that Alonzo prostrate on the ground?-- +Now he starts up like flame from sleeping embers, +And wild distraction glares from either eye. +If thus a slight surmise can work his soul, +How will the fulness of the tempest tear him? + +_Enter Don Alonzo._ + +_Alon._ And yet it cannot be--I am deceiv'd-- +I injure her: she wears the face of heaven. + +_Zan._ He doubts. [_aside._ + +_Alon._ I dare not look on this again. +If the first glance, which gave suspicion only, +Had such effect, so smote my heart and brain, +The certainty would dash me all in pieces. +It cannot--Ha! it must, it must be true. [_starts._ + +_Zan._ Hold there, and we succeed. He has descry'd me. +And (for he thinks I love him) will unfold +His aching heart, and rest it on my counsel. +I'll seem to go, to make my stay more sure. [_aside._ + +_Alon._ Hold, Zanga, turn. + +_Zan._ My lord. + +_Alon._ Shut close the doors, +That not a spirit find an entrance here. + +_Zan._ My lord's obey'd. + +_Alon._ I see that thou art frighted. +If thou dost love me, I shall fill thy heart +With scorpions' stings. + +_Zan._ If I do love, my lord? + +_Alon._ Come near me, let me rest upon thy bosom; +(What pillow like the bosom of a friend?) +For I am sick at heart. + +_Zan._ Speak, sir, O, speak, +And take me from the rack. + +_Alon._ I am most happy: mine is victory, +Mine the king's favour, mine the nation's shout, +And great men make their fortunes of my smiles. +O curse of curses! in the lap of blessing +To be most curst!--My Leonora's false! + +_Zan._ Save me, my lord! + +_Alon._ My Leonora's false! [_gives him the letter._ + +_Zan._ Then heaven has lost its image here on earth. + +[_while Zanga reads the letter, he trembles, and +shows the utmost concern._ + +_Alon._ Good-natur'd man! he makes my pains his own. +I durst not read it; but I read it now +In thy concern. + +_Zan._ Did you not read it then? + +_Alon._ Mine eye just touch'd it, and could bear no more. + +_Zan._ Thus perish all that gives Alonzo pain! [_tears the letter._ + +_Alon._ Why didst thou tear it? + +_Zan._ Think of it no more. +'Twas your mistake, and groundless are your fears. + +_Alon._ And didst thou tremble then for my mistake? +Or give the whole contents, or by the pangs +That feed upon my heart, thy life's in danger. + +_Zan._ Is this Alonzo's language to his Zanga? +Draw forth your sword, and find the secret here. +For whose sake is it, think you, I conceal it? +Wherefore this rage? Because I seek your peace? +I have no interest in suppressing it, +But what good-natur'd tenderness for you +Obliges me to have. Not mine the heart +That will be rent in two. Not mine the fame +That will be damn'd, though all the world should know it. + +_Alon._ Then my worst fears are true, and life is past. + +_Zan._ What has the rashness of my passion utter'd? +I know not what; but rage is our destruction, +And all its words are wind--Yet sure, I think, +I nothing own'd--but grant I did confess, +What is a letter? letters may be forg'd. +For heav'n's sweet sake, my lord, lift up your heart. +Some foe to your repose-- + +_Alon._ So, heaven look on me, +As I can't find the man I have offended. + +_Zan._ Indeed! [_aside_]--Our innocence is not our shield. +They take offence, who have not been offended; +They seek our ruin too, who speak us fair, +And death is often ambush'd in their smiles. +'Tis certain +A letter may be forg'd, and in a point +Of such a dreadful consequence as this, +One would rely on nought that might be false-- +Think, have you any other cause to doubt her? +Away, you can find none. Resume your spirit; +All's well again. + +_Alon._ Oh that it were! + +_Zan._ It is; +For who could credit that, which, credited, +Makes hell superfluous by superior pains, +Without such proofs as cannot be withstood? +Has she not ever been to virtue train'd? +Is not her fame as spotless as the sun, +Her sex's envy, and the boast of Spain? + +_Alon._ O, Zanga! it is that confounds me most, +That, full in opposition to appearance-- + +_Zan._ No more, my lord, for you condemn yourself. +What is absurdity, but to believe +Against appearance!--You can't yet, I find, +Subdue your passion to your better sense;-- +And, truth to tell, it does not much displease me. +'Tis fit our indiscretions should be check'd +With some degree of pain. + +_Alon._ What indiscretion? + +_Zan._ Come, you must bear to hear your faults from me. +Had you not sent don Carlos to the court +The night before the battle, that foul slave, +Who forg'd the senseless scroll which gives you pain, +Had wanted footing for his villany. + +_Alon._ I sent him not. + +_Zan._ Not send him!--Ha!--That strikes me. +I thought he came on message to the king. +Is there another cause could justify +His shunning danger, and the promis'd fight? +But I perhaps may think too rigidly; +So long an absence, and impatient love-- + +_Alon._ In my confusion, that had quite escap'd me. +By heaven, my wounded soul does bleed afresh; +'Tis clear as day--for Carlos is so brave, +He lives not but on fame, he hunts for danger, +And is enamour'd of the face of death. +How then could he decline the next day's battle, +But for the transports?--Oh, it must be so-- +Inhuman! by the loss of his own honour, +To buy the ruin of his friend! + +_Zan._ You wrong him; +He knew not of your love. + +_Alon._ Ha!-- + +_Zan._ That stings home. [_aside._ + +_Alon._ Indeed, he knew not of my treacherous love-- +Proofs rise on proofs, and still the last the strongest. +Love is my torture, love was first my crime; +For she was his, my friend's, and he (O horror!) +Confided all in me. O sacred faith! +How dearly I abide thy violation! + +_Zan._ Were then their loves far gone? + +_Alon._ 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. + +_Zan._ Indeed, my lord; then you must pardon me, +If I presume to mitigate the crime. +Consider, strong allurements 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. + +_Alon._ Temptation! + +_Zan._ 'Twas but gaining of one night. + +_Alon._ One night! + +_Zan._ That crime could ne'er return again. + +_Alon._ Again! By heaven, 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. + +_Zan._ My lord, I hope the best. + +_Alon._ False, foolish hope, 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. + +_Zan._ What says my lord? Did Leonora then +Never before disclose her passion for you? + +_Alon._ Never. + +_Zan._ Throughout the whole three years? + +_Alon._ O never! never! +Why, Zanga, shouldst 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. + +_Zan._ 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. + +_Alon._ Ha! Resign'd 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! + +_Zan._ But was it not with utmost agony? + +_Alon._ 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. + +_Zan._ Was't his request? Are you right sure of that? +I fear the letter was not all a tale. + +_Alon._ A tale! There's proof equivalent to sight. + +_Zan._ I should distrust my sight on this occasion. + +_Alon._ And so should I; by heav'n, I think I should. +What, Leonora! the divine, by whom +We guess'd at angels! Oh! I'm all confusion. + +_Zan._ 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. + +_Alon._ Had I ten thousand lives, I'd give them all +To be deceiv'd. +And yet she seem'd so pure, that I thought heav'n +Borrow'd her form for virtue's self to wear, +To gain her lovers with the sons of men. +O, Leonora! Leonora! [_exit._ + +_Re-enter Isabella._ + +_Zan._ Thus far it works auspiciously. My patient +Thrives, underneath my hand, in misery. +He's gone to think; that is, to be distracted. + +_Isa._ I overheard your conference, and saw you, +To my amazement, tear the letter. + +_Zan._ There, +There, Isabella, I out-did 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 show +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? + +_Isa._ It is. + +_Zan._ 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? +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. [_exeunt._ + + + + +ACT THE FOURTH. + + +SCENE I. + +_Enter Don Alonzo and Zanga._ + +_Alon._ Oh, what a pain to think! when ev'ry thought, +Perplexing thought, in intricacies runs, +And reason knits th' inextricable toil, +In which herself is taken! +No more I'll bear this battle of the mind, +This inward anarchy; but find my wife +And, to her trembling heart presenting death, +Force all the secret from her. + +_Zan._ O, forbear! +You totter on the very brink of ruin. + +_Alon._ What dost thou mean? + +_Zan._ That will discover all, +And kill my hopes. What can I think or do? [_aside._ + +_Alon._ What, dost thou murmur? + +_Zan._ Force the secret from her! +What's perjury to such a crime as this? +Will she confess it then? O, groundless hope! +But rest assur'd, she'll make this accusation, +Or false or true, your ruin with the king; +Such is her father's pow'r. + +_Alon._ No more, I care not; +Rather than groan beneath this load, I'll die. + +_Zan._ But for what better will you change this load? +Grant you should know it, would not that be worse? + +_Alon._ No; it would cure me of my mortal pangs +By hatred and contempt: I should despise her, +And all my love-bred agonies would vanish. + +_Zan._ Ah! were I sure of that, my lord-- + +_Alon._ What then? + +_Zan._ You should not hazard life to gain the secret. + +_Alon._ What dost thou mean? thou know'st I'm on the rack. +I'll not be play'd with; speak, if thou hast aught, +Or I this instant fly to Leonora. + +_Zan._ That is, to death. My lord, I am not yet +Quite so far gone in guilt to suffer it; +Though gone too far, heav'n knows--'Tis I am guilty; +I have took pains, as you, I know, observ'd, +To hinder you from diving in the secret, +And turn'd aside your thoughts from the detection. + +_Alon._ Thou dost confound me. + +_Zan._ I confound myself; +And frankly own, though to my shame I own it, +Nought but your life in danger could have torn +The secret out, and made me own my crime. + +_Alon._ Speak quickly, Zanga, speak. + +_Zan._ Not yet, dread sir: +First, I must be assur'd, that if you find +The fair one guilty, scorn, as you assur'd me, +Shall conquer love and rage, and heal your soul. + +_Alon._ Oh! 't will, by heav'n. + +_Zan._ Alas! I fear it much, +And scarce can hope so far; but I of this +Exact your solemn oath, that you'll abstain +From all self-violence, and save my lord. + +_Alon._ I trebly swear. + +_Zan._ You'll bear it like a man? + +_Alon._ A god. + +_Zan._ Such have you been to me, these tears confess it; +And pour'd forth miracles of kindness on me: +And what amends is now within my pow'r, +But to confess, expose myself to justice, +And as a blessing claim my punishment? +Know then, don Carlos-- + +_Alon._ Oh! + +_Zan._ You cannot bear it. + +_Alon._ Go on, I'll have it, though it blast mankind; +I'll have it all, and instantly. Go on. + +_Zan._ Don Carlos did return at dead of night-- +That night, by chance (ill chance for me) did I +Command the watch that guards the palace gate. +He told me he had letters for the king, +Despatch'd from you. + +_Alon._ The villain lied! + +_Zan._ My lord, +I pray, forbear--Transported at his sight, +After so long a bondage, and your friend, +(Who could suspect him of an artifice?) +No farther I inquir'd, but let him pass, +False to my trust, at least imprudent in it. +Our watch reliev'd, I went into the garden, +As is my custom, when the night's serene, +And took a moon-light walk: when soon I heard +A rustling in an arbour that was near me. +I saw two lovers in each other's arms, +Embracing and embrac'd. Anon the man +Arose; and, falling back some paces from her, +Gaz'd ardently awhile, then rush'd at once, +And, throwing all himself into her bosom, +There softly sigh'd, "Oh, night of ecstasy! +When shall we meet again?"--Don Carlos then +Led Leonora forth. + +_Alon._ Oh, oh, my heart! [_he sinks into a chair._ + +_Zan._ Groan on, and with the sound refresh my soul! +'Tis through his heart; his knees smite one another: +'Tis through his brain; his eye-balls roll in anguish. [_aside._ +My lord, my lord, why will you rack my soul? + +_Alon._ Oh, she was all! +My fame, my friendship, and my love of arms, +All stoop'd to her; my blood was her possession. +Deep in the secret foldings of my heart +She liv'd with life, and far the dearer she: +To think on't is the torment of the damn'd, +And not to think on't is impossible. + +_Zan._ You said you'd bear it like a man. + +_Alon._ I do. +Am I not most distracted? + +_Zan._ Pray, be calm. + +_Alon._ As hurricanes:--be thou assur'd of that. + +_Zan._ Is this the wise Alonzo? + +_Alon._ Villain, no: +He died in the arbour--he was murder'd there!-- + +_Zan._ Alas! he weeps. + +_Alon._ Go, dig her grave! + +_Zan._ My lord! + +_Alon._ But that her blood's too hot, I would carouse it +Around my bridal board! + +_Zan._ And I would pledge thee. [_aside._ + +_Alon._ But I may talk too fast. Pray let me think, +And reason mildly.--Wedded and undone +Before one night descends.--Oh, hasty evil! +What friend to comfort me in my extreme! +Where's Carlos? why is Carlos absent from me? +Does he know what has happen'd? + +_Zan._ My lord! + +_Alon._ Oh, villain, villain, most accurst! +If thou didst know it, why didst let me wed? + +_Zan._ Hear me, my lord; your anger will abate. +I knew it not:--I saw them in the garden; +But saw no more than you might well expect +To see in lovers destin'd for each other. +By heav'n, I thought their meeting innocent. +Who could suspect fair Leonora's virtue, +'Till after-proofs conspir'd to blacken it? +Sad proofs, which came too late, which broke not out, +(Eternal curses on Alvarez' haste!) +'Till holy rites had made the wanton yours; +And then, I own, I labour'd to conceal it, +In duty and compassion to your peace. + +_Alon._ Live now, be damn'd hereafter--for I want thee. +Let me think-- +The jess'mine bower--'tis secret and remote: +Go, wait me there, and take thy dagger with thee. [_exit Zanga._ +How sweet the sound still sings within my ear! +When shall we meet again?--To-night, in hell. [_going._ + +_Enter Leonora._ + +Ha! I'm surprised! I stagger at her charms! +Oh, angel-devil!--Shall I stab her now? +No--It shall be as I at first determin'd. +To kill her now were half my vengeance lost. +Then I must now dissemble--if I can. + +_Leon._ My lord, excuse me; see, a second time +I come in embassy from all your friends, +Whose joys are languid, uninspir'd by you. + +_Alon._ This moment, Leonora, I was coming +To thee, and all--but sure, or I mistake, +Or thou canst well inspire my friends with joy. + +_Leon._ What says my lord? + +_Alon._ Thou art exceeding fair. + +_Leon._ Beauty alone is but of little worth; +But when the soul and body of a piece, +Both shine alike; then they obtain a price, +And are a fit reward for gallant actions, +Heaven's pay on earth for such great souls as yours;-- +If fair and innocent, I am your due. + +_Alon._ Innocent! [_aside._ + +_Leon._ How, my lord! I interrupt you. + +_Alon._ No, my best life! I must not part with thee-- +This hand is mine--Oh, what a hand is here! +So soft, souls sink into it, and are lost! + +_Leon._ In tears, my lord? + +_Alon._ What less can speak my joy? +Why, I could gaze upon thy looks for ever, +And drink in all my being from thine eyes; +And I could snatch a flaming thunderbolt, +And hurl destruction!-- + +_Leon._ My lord, you fright me. +Is this the fondness of your nuptial hour? +Why, when I woo your hand, is it deny'd me? +Your very eyes, why are they taught to shun me?-- +Nay, my good lord, I have a title here, [_takes his hand._ +And I will have it. Am I not your wife? +Have I not just authority to know +That heart which I have purchas'd with my own? +Tell me the secret; I conjure you, tell me. +Speak then, I charge you speak, or I expire, +And load you with my death. My lord, my lord! + +_Alon._ Ha, ha, ha! + +[_he breaks from her, and she sinks upon the floor._ + +_Leon._ Are these the joys which fondly I conceiv'd? +And is it thus a wedded life begins? +What did I part with, when I gave my heart? +I knew not that all happiness went with it. +Why did I leave my tender father's wing, +And venture into love? The maid that loves, +Goes out to sea upon a shatter'd plank, +And puts her trust in miracles for safety. +Where shall I sigh?--where pour out my complaint? +He that should hear, should succour, should redress, +He is the source of all. + +_Alon._ Go to thy chamber; +I soon will follow; that which now disturbs thee +Shall be clear'd up, and thou shalt not condemn me. [_exit Leonora._ +Oh, how like innocence she looks!--What, stab her! +And rush into her blood? +How then? why thus--no more; it is determin'd. + +_Re-enter Zanga._ + +_Zan._ I fear, his heart has fail'd him. She must die. +Can I not rouse the snake that's in his bosom, +To sting out human nature, and effect it? [_aside._ + +_Alon._ This vast and solid earth, that blazing sun, +Those skies, through which it rolls, must all have end. +What then is man? the smallest part of nothing. +Day buries day; month, month; and year, the year. +Our life is but a chain of many deaths; +Can then death's self be fear'd? our life much rather. +Life is the desert, life the solitude. +Death joins us to the great majority: +'Tis to be borne to Platos and to Caesars; +'Tis to be great for ever; +'Tis pleasure, 'tis ambition, then to die. + +_Zan._ I think, my lord, you talk'd of death. + +_Alon._ I did. + +_Zan._ I give you joy, then Leonora's dead. + +_Alon._ No, Zanga; to shed a woman's blood +Would stain my sword, and make my wars inglorious; +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 heaven. + +_Zan._ 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. + +_Alon._ Oh, through 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, oh, her eyes struck first and murder'd me. + +_Zan._ 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. +Oh, that I were to share your monument, +And in eternal darkness close these eyes +Against those scenes which I am doom'd to suffer! + +_Alon._ What dost thou mean? + +_Zan._ And is it then unknown? +Oh, 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 might mar their joys. + +_Alon._ Distraction! But don Carlos well thou know'st +Is sheath'd in steel, and bent on other thoughts. + +_Zan._ 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 heaven, these torments will be all my own. + +_Alon._ 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._ + +_Zan._ I dare not disobey. + +_Alon._ My Zanga, now I have thy leave to die. + +_Zan._ 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. + +_Alon._ 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 am convinc'd; I must not, will not, die. + +_Zan._ You cannot die; nor can you murder her. +What then remains? In nature no third way, +But to forget, and so to love again. + +_Alon._ Oh! + +_Zan._ 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. + +_Alon._ Zanga, I understand thee well. She dies; +Though my arm tremble at the stroke, she dies. + +_Zan._ 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 call'd? +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 them all, +Above their history, above their fable: +A wife, bride, mistress, unenjoy'd--do that, +And tread upon the Greek and Roman glory. + +_Alon._ '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._ + + + + +ACT THE FIFTH. + + +SCENE I. + +_Enter Alonzo, meeting Zanga._ + +_Alon._ Is Carlos murder'd? + +_Zan._ I obey'd your order. +Six ruffians overtook him on the road; +He fought as he was wont, and four he slew. +Then sunk beneath an hundred wounds to death. +His last breath blest Alonzo, and desir'd +His bones might rest near yours. + +_Alon._ Oh, Zanga! Zanga! +But I'll not think: for I must act, and thinking +Would ruin me for action. +Where's Leonora then? Quick, answer me: +I'm deep in horrors, I'll be deeper still. +I find thy artifice did take effect, +And she forgives my late deportment to her. + +_Zan._ I told her, from your childhood you was wont, +On any great surprise, but chiefly then +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 us'd, +And such her ardent wish it should be true, +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 jess'mine bow'r, +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. [_exit._ + +_Zan._ Why, get thee gone! horror and night go with thee. +Sisters of Acheron, go hand in hand, +Go dance around the bow'r, and close them; +And tell them, that I sent you to salute them +Profane the ground; and for th' ambrosial rose, +And breath of jess'mine, let hemlock blacken, +And deadly nightshade 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, +And mingle kisses--such as I would give them. [_exit._ + + +SCENE II. THE BOWER. + +_Enter Alonzo.--Leonora sleeping._ + +_Alon._ Ye amaranths! ye roses, like the morn! +Sweet myrtles, and ye golden orange groves! +Why do you smile? Why do you look so fair? +Are ye not blighted as I enter in? +Did ever midnight ghosts assemble here? +Have these sweet echoes ever learn'd to groan? +Joy-giving, love-inspiring, holy bow'r! +Know, in thy fragrant bosom thou receiv'st +A--murderer! Oh, I shall stain thy lilies, +And horror will usurp the seat of bliss. [_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? +Where shall I strike? who strikes her, strikes himself. +My own life-blood will issue at her wound. +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 pow'rs! with what an eye she mends the day! +While they were clos'd, I should have giv'n the blow. [_aside._ + +_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 heav'n's expedient to make mortals bear +The light, and cheat them of the peaceful grave. + +_Leon._ Alas, my lord! 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 say, +Thou brightest angel! I could gaze for ever. +But oh, those eyes! those murderers! Oh, whence, +Whence didst thou steal their burning orbs? from heaven? +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 hurry'd me away; +But I come home again--and now for justice-- +And now for death--It is impossible-- [_aside._ +I leave her to just heav'n. [_drops the dagger, goes off._ + +_Leon._ Ha, a dagger! +What dost thou say, thou minister of death? +What dreadful tale dost tell me?--Let me think-- + +_Enter Zanga._ + +_Zan._ Death to my tow'ring hope! Oh! fall from high! +My close, long-labour'd scheme at once is blasted, +That dagger, found, will cause her to inquire; +Inquiry will discover all; my hopes +Of vengeance perish; I myself am lost-- +Curse on the coward's heart; wither his hand, +Which held the steel in vain!--what can be done? +Where can I fix?--that's something still--'twill breed +Fell rage and bitterness betwixt their souls, +Which may, perchance, grow up to greater evil: +If not, 'tis all I can--It shall be so-- [_aside._ + +_Leon._ Oh, 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? 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? + +_Leon._ Heav'ns! +And yet a thousand things recur that swear it. +What villain could inspire him with that thought? +It is not of the growth of his own nature. + +_Zan._ Some villain; who, hell knows; but he is jealous; +And 'tis most fit a heart so pure as yours +Do itself justice, and assert its honour, +And make him conscious of his stab to virtue. + +_Leon._ Jealous! it sickens at my heart. Unkind, +Ungen'rous, groundless, weak, and insolent! +Why, wherefore? on what shadow of occasion? +Oh, how the great man lessens to my thought! +How could so mean a vice as jealousy +Live in a throng of such exalted virtues! +I scorn and hate, yet love him, and adore. +I cannot, will not, dare not, think it true, +'Till from himself I know it. [_exit._ + +_Zan._ This succeeds +Just to my wish. Now she, with violence, +Upbraids him; he, not doubting she is guilty, +Rages no less; and if on either side +The waves run high, there still lives hope of ruin. + +_Re-enter Alonzo._ + +My lord-- + +_Alon._ Oh, Zanga, hold thy peace! I am no coward; +But heav'n 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! Ah, do not rouse that thought! +I have o'erwhelm'd it much as possible: +I tell thee, Moor, I love her to distraction. +If 'tis my shame, why, be it so--I love her; +I could not hurt her to be lord of earth; +It shocks my nature like a stroke from heav'n. +But see, my Leonora comes--Be gone. [_exit Zanga._ + +_Re-enter Leonora._ + +Oh, seen for ever, yet for ever new! +The conquer'd thou dost conquer o'er again, +Inflicting wound on wound. + +_Leon._ Alas, my lord! +What need of this to me? + +_Alon._ Ha! dost thou weep? + +_Leon._ Have I no cause? + +_Alon._ If love is thy concern, +Thou hast no cause: none ever lov'd like me. +Oh, that this one embrace would last for ever! + +_Leon._ Could this man ever mean to wrong my virtue? +Could this man e'er design upon my life? +Impossible! I throw away the thought. [_aside._ +These tears declare how much I taste the joy +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._ Of death! + +_Alon._ As thou lov'st happiness-- + +_Leon._ Of murder! + +_Alon._ Rash, +Rash woman! yet forbear. +Alas, thou quite mistak'st my cause of pain! +Yet, yet dismiss me; I am all in flames. + +_Leon._ Who has most cause, you or myself? what act +Of my whole life encourag'd 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, ungen'rous error of your sex. +What could inspire the thought? We oft'nest judge +From our own hearts; and is yours then so frail, +It prompts you to conceive thus ill of me? +He that can stoop to harbour such a thought, +Deserves to find it true. [_holding him._ + +_Alon._ [_turning on her_] Ill-fated woman! +Why hast thou forc'd me back into the gulf +Of agonies I had block'd up from thought? +For, since thou hast replung'd me in my torture, +I will be satisfy'd. + +_Leon._ Be satisfy'd! + +_Alon._ Yes, thy own mouth shall witness it against thee; +I will be satisfy'd. + +_Leon._ Of what? + +_Alon._ Of what? +How dar'st thou ask that question? Woman, woman, +Weak and assur'd at once! thus 'tis for ever. +Who told thee that thy virtue was suspected? +Who told thee I design'd upon thy life? +You found the dagger; but that could not speak: +Nor did I tell thee; who did tell thee then? +Guilt, conscious guilt! + +_Leon._ This to my face! Oh, heaven! + +_Alon._ This to thy very soul. + +_Leon._ Thou'rt not in earnest? + +_Alon._ Serious as death. + +_Leon._ Then heav'n have mercy on thee. +Till now, I struggled not to think it true; +I sought conviction, and would not believe it. +And dost thou force me? this shall not be borne +Thou shalt repent this insult. [_going._ + +_Alon._ Madam, stay. +Your passion's wise; 'tis a disguise for guilt: +You and your thousand arts shall not escape me. + +_Leon._ Arts? + +_Alon._ Arts! Confess; for death is in my hand. + +_Leon._ 'Tis in your words. + +_Alon._ Confess, confess, confess! +Nor tear my veins with passion to compel thee. + +_Leon._ I scorn to answer thee, presumptuous man! + +_Alon._ Deny then, and incur a fouler shame. +Where did I find this picture? + +_Leon._ Ha, don Carlos! +By my best hopes, more welcome than thy own. + +_Alon._ I know it; but is vice so very rank, +That thou shouldst dare to dash it in my face? +Nature is sick of thee, abandon'd woman! + +_Leon._ Repent. + +_Alon._ Is that for me? + +_Leon._ Fall, ask my pardon. + +_Alon._ Astonishment! + +_Leon._ Dar'st thou persist to think I am dishonest? + +_Alon._ I know thee so. + +_Leon._ This blow then to thy heart-- + +[_she stabs herself; he endeavours to prevent her._ + +_Alon._ Ho, Zanga! Isabella! ho! she bleeds! +Descend, ye blessed angels, to assist her! + +_Leon._ This is the only way I would wound thee, +Though most unjust. Now think me guilty still. + +_Enter Isabella._ + +_Alon._ Bear her to instant help. The world to save her. + +_Leon._ Unhappy man! well may'st thou gaze and tremble. +But fix thy terror and amazement right; +Not on my blood, but on thy own distraction. +What hast thou done? whom censur'd--Leonora! +When thou hadst censur'd, thou wouldst save her life: +Oh, inconsistent! should I live in shame, +Or stoop to any other means but this +T' assert my virtue? no: she who disputes, +Admits it possible she might be guilty. +While aught but truth could be my inducement to it, +While it might look like an excuse to thee, +I scorn'd to vindicate my innocence: +But now, I let thy rashness know, the wound +Which least I feel, is that my dagger made. + +[_exit Isabella, leading out Leonora._ + +_Alon._ Ha! was this woman guilty?--And if not-- +How my thoughts darken that way! grant, kind heaven, +That she prove guilty; or my being end. +Is that my hope, then?--Sure, the sacred dust +Of her that bore me trembles in its urn. + Is it in man the sore distress to bear, + When hope itself is blacken'd to despair? + When all the bliss I pant for, is to gain + In hell, a refuge from severer pain? [_exit._ + +_Re-enter Zanga._ + +_Zan._ How stands the great account 'twixt me and vengeance? +Though much is paid, yet still it owes me much, +And I will not abate a single groan-- +Ha! that were well--but that were fatal too-- +Why, be it so--Revenge so truly great, +Would come too cheap, if bought with less than life. + +_Re-enter Isabella._ + +_Isa._ Ah, Zanga, see me tremble! has not yet +Thy cruel heart its fill?--Poor Leonora-- + +_Zan._ Welters in blood, and gasps for her last breath. +What then? we all must die. + +_Isa._ Alonzo raves, +And, in the tempest of his grief, has thrice +Attempted on his life. At length, disarm'd, +He calls his friends, that save him, his worst foes, +And importunes the skies for swift perdition. +Thus in his storm of sorrow: after pause, +He started up, and call'd aloud for Zanga, +For Zanga rav'd; and see, he seeks you here, +To learn the truth which most he dreads to know. + +_Zan._ Begone. Now, now, my soul, consummate all. [_exit Isabella._ + +_Re-enter Alonzo._ + +_Alon._ Oh, Zanga! + +_Zan._ Do not tremble so; but speak. + +_Alon._ I dare not. [_falls on him._ + +_Zan._ You will drown me with your tears. + +_Alon._ Have I not cause? + +_Zan._ As yet, you have no cause. + +_Alon._ Dost thou too rave? + +_Zan._ Your anguish is to come: +You much have been abus'd. + +_Alon._ Abus'd! by whom? + +_Zan._ To know, were little comfort. + +_Alon._ Oh, 'twere much! + +_Zan._ Indeed! + +_Alon._ By heaven! Oh, give him to my fury! + +_Zan._ Born for your use, I live but to oblige you. +Know, then, 'twas--I. + +_Alon._ Am I awake? + +_Zan._ For ever. +Thy wife is guiltless--that's one transport to me; +And I, I let thee know it--that's another. +I urg'd don Carlos to resign his mistress, +I forg'd the letter, I dispos'd the picture; +I hated, I despis'd, and I destroy! + +_Alon._ Oh! [_swoons._ + +_Zan._ Why, this is well--why, this is blow for blow! +Where are you? crown me, shadow me with laurels, +Ye spirits which delight in just revenge! +Let Europe and her pallid sons go weep; +Let Afric and her hundred thrones rejoice: +Oh, my dear countrymen, look down and see +How I bestride your prostrate conqueror! +I tread on haughty Spain, and all her kings. +But this is mercy, this is my indulgence; +'Tis peace, 'tis refuge from my indignation. +I must awake him into horrors. Hoa! +Alonzo, hoa! the Moor is at the gate! +Awake, invincible, omnipotent! +Thou who dost all subdue! + +_Alon._ Inhuman slave! + +_Zan._ Fall'n Christian, thou mistak'st my character. +Look on me. Who am I? I know, thou say'st +The Moor, a slave, an abject, beaten slave: +(Eternal woes to him that made me so!) +But look again. Has six years' cruel bondage +Extinguish'd majesty so far, that nought +Shines here to give an awe of one above thee? +When the great Moorish king, Abdallah, fell, +Fell by thy hand accurs'd, I fought fast by him, +His son, though, through his fondness, in disguise, +Less to expose me to th' ambitious foe.-- +Ha! does it wake thee?--O'er my father's corse +I stood astride till I had clove thy crest; +And then was made the captive of a squadron, +And sunk into thy servant--But, oh! what, +What were my wages? Hear not heaven, nor earth! +My wages were a blow! by heaven, a blow! +And from a mortal hand! + +_Alon._ Oh, villain, villain! + +_Zan._ All strife is vain. [_showing a dagger._ + +_Alon._ Is thus my love return'd? +Is this my recompense? Make friends of tigers! +Lay not your young, oh, mothers, on the breast, +For fear they turn to serpents as they lie, +And pay you for their nourishment with death!-- +Carlos is dead, and Leonora dying! +Both innocent, both murder'd, both by me. + +_Zan._ Must I despise thee too, as well as hate thee? +Complain of grief, complain thou art a man.-- +Priam from fortune's lofty summit fell; +Great Alexander 'midst his conquests mourn'd; +Heroes and demi-gods have known their sorrows; +Caesars have wept; and I have had--my blow: +But, 'tis reveng'd, and now my work is done. +Yet, ere I fall, be it one part of vengeance +To force thee to confess that I am just.-- +Thou seest a prince, whose father thou hast slain, +Whose native country thou hast laid in blood, +Whose sacred person (oh!) thou hast profan'd, +Whose reign extinguish'd--what was left to me, +So highly born? No kingdom, but revenge; +No treasure, but thy tortures and thy groans. +If men should ask who brought thee to thy end, +Tell them, the Moor, and they will not despise thee. +If cold white mortals censure this great deed, +Warn them, they judge not of superior beings, +Souls made of fire, and children of the sun, +With whom revenge is virtue. Fare thee well-- +Now, fully satisfied, I should take leave: +But one thing grieves me, since thy death is near, +I leave thee my example how to die. + +_As he is going to stab himself, Alonzo rushes upon him to prevent him. +In the mean time, enter Don Alvarez, attended. They disarm and seize +Zanga, Alonzo puts the dagger in his bosom._ + +_Alon._ No, monster, thou shalt not escape by death. +Oh, father! + +_Alv._ Oh, Alonzo!--Isabella, +Touch'd with remorse to see her mistress' pangs, +Told all the dreadful tale. + +_Alon._ What groan was that? + +_Zan._ As I have been a vulture to thy heart, +So will I be a raven to thine ear, +As true as ever snuff'd the scent of blood, +As ever flapp'd its heavy wing against +The window of the sick, and croak'd despair. +Thy wife is dead. [_Alvarez goes aside, and returns._ + +_Alv._ The dreadful news is true. + +_Alon._ Prepare the rack; invent new torments for him. + +_Zan._ This too is well. The fix'd and noble mind +Turns all occurrence to its own advantage; +And I'll make vengeance of calamity. +Were I not thus reduc'd, thou wouldst not know, +That, thus reduc'd, I dare defy thee still. +Torture thou may'st, but thou shall ne'er despise me. +The blood will follow where the knife is driven, +The flesh will quiver where the pincers tear, +And sighs and cries by nature grow on pain. +But these are foreign to the soul: not mine +The groans that issue, or the tears that fall; +They disobey me; on the rack I scorn thee, +As when my falchion clove thy helm in battle. + +_Alv._ Peace, villain! + +_Zan._ While I live, old man, I'll speak. +And, well I know, thou dar'st not kill me yet; +For that would rob thy blood-hounds of their prey. + +_Alon._ Who call'd Alonzo? + +_Alv._ No one call'd, my son. + +_Alon._ Again!--'Tis Carlos' voice, and I obey. +Oh, how I laugh at all that this can do! [_shows dagger._ +The wounds that pain'd, the wounds that murder'd me, +Were giv'n before; I am already dead; +This only marks my body for the grave. [_stabs himself._ +Afric, thou art reveng'd.--Oh, Leonora! [_dies._ + +_Zan._ Good ruffians, give me leave; my blood is yours, +The wheel's prepar'd, and you shall have it all. +Let me but look one moment on the dead, +And pay yourselves with gazing on my pangs. + [_he goes to Alonzo's body._ +Is this Alonzo? Where's the haughty mien? +Is that the hand which smote me? Heavens, how pale! +And art thou dead? So is my enmity. +I war not with the dust. The great, the proud, +The conqueror of Afric was my foe. +A lion preys not upon carcases. +This was thy only method to subdue me. +Terror and doubt fall on me: all thy good +Now blazes, all thy guilt is in the grave. +Never had man such funeral applause: +If I lament thee, sure thy worth was great. +Oh, vengeance, I have follow'd thee too far, +And to receive me, hell blows all her fires. [_exeunt._ + + +THE END. + + + + +Mr. Hughes, in his criticism on _Othello_, introduces the following +narrative, to which allusion is made in our remarks.--"The short story +I am going to tell is a just warning to those of jealous honour to look +about them, and begin to possess their souls as they ought; for no man +of spirit knows how terrible a creature he is, till he comes to be +provoked. + +"Don Alonzo, a Spanish nobleman, had a beautiful and virtuous wife, +with whom he had lived some years in great tranquillity. The gentleman, +however, was not free from the faults usually imputed to his nation; he +was proud, suspicious, and impetuous. He kept a Moor in his house, whom, +on a complaint from his lady, he had punished for a small offence with +the utmost severity. The slave vowed revenge, and communicated his +resolution to one of the lady's women, with whom he had lived in a +criminal way. This creature also hated her mistress, for she feared she +was observed by her; she therefore undertook to make Don Alonzo jealous, +by insinuating that the gardner was often admitted to his lady in private, +and promising to make him an eye witness of it. At a proper time, agreed +on between her and the Morisco, she sent a message to the gardner, that +his lady, having some hasty orders to give him, would have him come that +moment to her in her chamber. In the mean time she had placed Alonzo +privately in an outer room, that he might observe who passed that way. +It was not long before he saw the gardner appear. Alonzo had not patience, +but following him into the apartment, struck him at one blow with a dagger +to the heart; then dragging his lady by the hair, without inquiring +farther, he instantly killed her. + +"Here he paused, looking on the dead bodies with all the agitations +of a demon of revenge; when the wench who had occasioned these terrors, +distracted with remorse, threw herself at his feet, and in a voice of +lamentation, without sense of the consequence, repeated all her guilt. +Alonzo was overwhelmed with the violent passions at one instant, and +uttered the broken voices and motions of each of them for a moment; till +at last he recollected himself enough to end his agony of love, anger, +disdain, revenge, and remorse, by murdering the maid, the Moor, and +himself." + +_Maurice, +Fenchurch-street._ + + + * * * * * + +BOOKS +TO BE HAD AT +BAUDRY'S +_English, Italian, Spanish, Portuguese and German_ +LIBRARY, +No. 9, Rue du Coq-St. Honore, Paris. + + fr. c. +CAMPBELL's Poetical Works, consisting of the Pleasures of Hope, +Gertrude of Wyoming, and other Poems: 1822, +1 vol. in-12. pap. fin, jolie edition, 4 0 + +LORD BYRON's Works, new edition, +5 vol. in-12. broches, 12 0 + +SIR WALTER SCOTT's WORKS. +The Lady of the Lake, 1822, +1 vol. in-12. pap. velin, jolie edition, 4 50 + +The Lay of the Last Minstrel, 1 vol. in-12. +velin ordinaire, 3 0 +The same, beau pap. velin, 5 0 +The Poetical Works, complete, in 7 vol. +in-12. portrait, br. 32 0 +The Monastery, 3 vol. in-12. 7 0 +Kenilworth, 2 vol. in-12. br. 9 0 +The Abbot, 3 vol. in-12. 13 0 +Ivanhoe, 3 vol. in-12. 13 0 +The same, 2 vol. in-8. br. 10 0 +Waverley, 3 vol. in-12. 13 0 +The Pirate, 3 vol. in-12. 13 0 +Guy Mannering, 3 vol. in-12. 13 0 +The Antiquary, 3 vol. in-12. 13 0 +The Fortunes of Nigel, 3 vol. in-12. 13 0 + +MILTON's Poetical Works, 1822, 3 vol. +in-32. pap. velin satine, 10 0 + +POPE's Poetical Works, 1822, 3 vol. +in-32. pap. velin satine. 10 0 + +The BRITISH PROSE-WRITERS, with Biographical and Critical Prefaces, +in-32. pap. velin satine: containing, + +The Vicar of Wakefield, 1 vol. 3 0 +The Man of Feeling, 1 vol. 3 0 +Bacon's Essays, 1 vol. 3 0 +Sterne's Sentimental Journey, 1 vol. 3 0 +Montague's Letters, 1 vol. 3 0 +Gulliver's Travels, 2 vol. 6 0 +Junius's Letters, 2 vols. 6 0 + +LEVIZAC's Theoretical and Practical Grammar of the French Tongue. +8th edition, 1 vol. in-12. 4 0 + +BONIFACE's Learner's Guide to the English Tongue: +ou, Cours de Versions Anglaises, a l'Usage des Commencans, +1 vol. in-18. br. 1 80 + +POPPLETON's Guide Pratique pour traduire du Francais en bon Anglais, +au moyen d'une Traduction Interlineaire, 1820, +1 vol. in-8. br. 4 50 + + +JUST PUBLISHED, +The SCHOOL FOR SCANDAL, a Comedy by Sheridan. + + + + +TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE + +Contemporary spellings have been retained throughout, including three +instances of "it's" in place of "its" in the introductory "Remarks". + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Revenge, by Edward Young + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE REVENGE *** + +***** This file should be named 30653.txt or 30653.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/0/6/5/30653/ + +Produced by Delphine Lettau and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Canada Team at http://www.pgdpcanada.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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