ALONZO. And is there need Of words? Behold a wonder! See my tears! ZANGA, I feel them too: Heav'n grant my senses fail me! ALONZO. Go, take a round through all things in thy thought, Which could extort my tears; find that, and tell ZANGA. Sorrow can think but ill-I am bewilder'd; ALONZO. Think, think no more; It ne'er can enter in an honest heart. I'll tell thee then-I cannot-Yet I do, By wanting force to give it utterance. ZANGA. Speak: ease your heart; its throbs will break your bo som. ALONZO. I am most happy; mine is victory, Mine the king's favour, mine the nation's shout, O curse of curses! in the lap of blessing ZANGA. Then heav'n has lost its image here on earth. [While Zanga reads the letter, he trembles, and shews the utmost concern. ALONZO. Good-natur'd man! He makes my pains his own. In thy concern. ZANGA. Did you not read it then? ALONZO. Mine eye just touch'd it, and could bear no more. Thus perish all that gives Alonzo pain. Why didst thou tear it? ALONZO. ZANGA. Think of it no more: 'Twas your mistake, and groundless are your fears. ALONZO. And didst thou tremble then for my mistake? ZANGA. Is this Alonzo's language to his Zanga? But what good-natur'd tenderness for you That will be damn'd, though all the world should know it. ALONZO. Then my worst fears are true, and life is past. ZANGA What has the rashness of my passion utter'd? For heav'n's sweet sake, my lord, lift up your heart: ALONZO. So heav'n look on me, As I can't find the man I have offended. ZANGA. Indeed! [Aside.]-Our innocence is not our shield: And death is often ambush'd in our smiles. We know not whom we have to fear. '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- ALONZO. O that it were! ZANGA. It is; For who would credit that, which, credited, ALONZO. O Zanga! It is that confounds me most, No ZANGA. more, my lord; for you condemn yourself. What is absurdity, but to believe Against appearance ?-You can't yet, I find, And, truth to tell, it does not much displease me: ALONZO. What indiscretion? ZANGA. 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 villainy. ALONZO. I sent him not. ZANGA. Not send him!-Ha!-That strikes me. I thought he came on message to the king: His shunning danger, and the promis'd fight? So long an absence, and impatient love ALONZO. • In my confusion, that had quite escap'd me: Inhuman, by the loss of his own honour, To buy the ruin of his friend! Indeed he knew not of my treacherous love— Which calls for judgments on distinguish'd guilt, |