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The REVENGE.
31
Zan.What has the Rashness of my Passion utter'd?
I know not what; but Rage is our Distraction,
And all it's 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 Heaven's sweet sake, my Lord, lift up your Heart.
Some Foe to your Repose———
I know not what; but Rage is our Distraction,
And all it's 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 Heaven's sweet sake, my Lord, lift up your Heart.
Some Foe to your Repose———
Alon.So, Heav'n look on me,
As I can't find the Man I have offended.
As I can't find the Man I have offended.
Zan. [Aside.]Indeed!—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.
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———
Think, have you any other Cause to doubt her?———
Away, you can find none. Resume your Spirit,
All's well again.
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.
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———
Think, have you any other Cause to doubt her?———
Away, you can find none. Resume your Spirit,
All's well again.
Alon.O that it were!
Zan.It is;
For who would 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?
For who would 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———
That full in Opposition to Appearance———
Zan.No more, my Lord, for you condemn your self.
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.
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.