University of Virginia Library

SCENE VI.

SCENE, Prospect of the Grotto.
Carlos; Zorayda, weeping.
Carl.
Oh, spare that precious, pearly Dew,
Misfortune is too richly graced
With such a Pomp of Sorrow.—
My Heart weeps Blood for ev'ry falling Tear.
Teach not disastrous Fate
To grow in Love with Beauty in Distress.

Zoray.
I stand as on a Rock:
The foaming Waves, with emulous Strife,
Mount up on ev'ry Side
To sink me in the horrid Deep.

Carl.
Fright not thy tender Soul. These
Arms of Love,
Strong in thy Aid, shall snatch thee thence,
And bear thee o'er th'imagin'd Flood.

Zoray.
Alas! To-morrow—
Morat—I dye beneath that Thought.

Carl.
This Night is ours: We'll seize the Time,
And be before-hand with the Fates.
A Band of chosen Friends are ready
By Force to bear thee off secure,
Should Opposition cross our purpos'd Flight.

Zoray.
Tax not my Fondness, if I seek
Protection in thy Arms:
Here all my Cares are lull'd to Peace.