University of Virginia Library

SCENE II.

—A Room.
Zamor,
Solus.
My soul is black with fury; oh I burn
With all the fires of hell; my heart is torn
By every passion—love, rage, despair,
Hatred and jealousy, they rack my breast
With tortures worse than death: to be disgrac'd,
Struck from the list of warriors, where I shone
With such a splendour, love and be detested
By her I love, and see a Spanish pris'ner
Preferr'd to me; O! can I bear all this?
No, never, never; now my spirits burn
With deathly rancour; I would plunge my dagger
A thousand times in proud Abdallah's heart;
I'd tear it from his breast and see it quiver
With eyes of rapture; Oh! 'twould give me joy
To see the dogs feed on his mangled carcass.
What! in the sight of all his armies, break
My sword in twain and tell me to retire?
Oh then I gnaw'd my lips with fury, burn'd
With fiery rage, and swore I'd never, never,
Ev'n if a thousand years should intervene,
Forget my hatred till I was reveng'd.
I'd pass through fire to indulge my deathly hate;
I'd tear his heart, I'd wash these hands in blood,
Rather that not revenge. Zamor can never
Forgive, that is a mark of woman's weakness.
Shall Zamor, he who prides him in his bold
And daring fury, sink so low as woman?
Shall I be merciful? shall I forgive?
I'd die by torture first, I'd see the flames
Burn me by piecemeal, ere I'd sink so low.
Zamor, didst thou not see the meanest soldiers
Point at thee with their fingers, and insult
And laugh at thy misfortunes? they exclaim'd,
“He, who was proud and felt himself a god,
Is now as low as we; yes, haughty Zamor
Has lost his greatness”. Did I then not burn
Fierce as the flames that sweep the summer forest?
And shall I now forgive? No, never, never;
I'll be reveng'd on all my enemies,
I'll stop not till I triumph o'er Abdallah,
I'll see Alzira's beauties wrapp'd in clay,
And free Alonzo from his gloomy dungeon
To hide him in the dungeon of the grave.