University of Virginia Library

SCENE I.

Enter Alonzo.
Alon.
O pitiful! O Terrible to Sight!
Poor mangled Shade, all cover'd o'er with Wounds,
And so disguis'd with Blood! Who murder'd Thee?
Tell thy sad Tale, and Thou shalt be reveng'd.
Ha! Carlos!—Horror! Carlos?—Oh away!
Go to thy Grave, or let me sink to mine.
I cannot bear the Sight.—What Sight?—Where am I?
There's nothing here—If this was Fancy's Work,
She draws a Picture strongly.—

Enter Zanga.
Zan.
Ha!—Yo're Pale.

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.
O Zanga! Zanga!—
But I'll not think; for I must act, and thinking
Would ruin me for Action. O the Medley
Of Right and Wrong! the Chaos in my Brain!
He should, and should not dye—You should Obey,
And not Obey.—It is a Day of Darkness,
Of Contradictions, and of many Deaths.
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 Surprize, 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 satisfy'd.

Alon.
'Twas well she was. In our late Interview,
My Passion so far threw me from my Guard;
Methinks 'tis strange, that, conscious of her Guilt,
She saw not thro' its thin Disguise my Heart.

Zan.
But what design you, Sir, and how?

Alon.
I'll tell thee.
Thus I've ordain'd it. In the Jess'min 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 publick 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 in;
And tell them that I sent you to salute them.
Profane the Ground, and for th'Ambrosial Rose,
And Breath of Jessamin, let Hemlock blacken,
And deadly Nightshade poyson all the Air.
For the sweet Nightingale may Ravens croak,
Toads pant, and Adders rustle thro' the Leaves;
May Serpents winding up the Trees, let fall
Their hissing Necks upon them from above,
And mingle Kisses—such as I should give them.

[Exit.