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The REVENGE.
35
Isab.I overheard your Conference, and saw you,
To my Amazement, tear the Letter.
To my Amazement, tear the Letter.
Zan.There,
There Isabella, I out did-my self.
For tearing it, I not secure it only
In it's first Force; but superadd a new.
For who can now the Character examine
To cause a Doubt, much less detect the Fraud?
And after tearing it, as loth to shew
The foul Contents, if I should swear it now
A Forgery, my Lord would disbelieve me,
Nay more would disbelieve, the more I swore.
But is the Picture happily dispos'd of?
There Isabella, I out did-my self.
For tearing it, I not secure it only
In it's first Force; but superadd a new.
For who can now the Character examine
To cause a Doubt, much less detect the Fraud?
And after tearing it, as loth to shew
The foul Contents, if I should swear it now
A Forgery, my Lord would disbelieve me,
Nay more would disbelieve, the more I swore.
But is the Picture happily dispos'd of?
Isab.It is.
Zan.That's well———Ah! what is well? O Pang to think!
O dire Necessity! is this my Province?
Whither, my Soul! ah! whither art thou sunk
Beneath thy Sphere? E'er while, far, far above
Such little Arts, Dissemblings, Falshoods, Frauds,
The Trash of Villany it self, which falls
To Cowards and poor Wretches wanting Bread.
Does this become a Soldier? this become
Whom Armies follow'd, and a People lov'd?
My Martial Glory withers at the Thought.
But Great my End; and since there are no other,
These Means are just, they shine with borrow'd Light
Illustrious from the Purpose they pursue.
And greater sure my Merit, who to gain
A Point Sublime, can such a Task sustain,
To wade thro' Ways obscene, my Honour bend,
And shock my Nature, to attain my End.
Late Time shall wonder; That my Joys will raise;
For Wonder is involuntary Praise.
O dire Necessity! is this my Province?
Whither, my Soul! ah! whither art thou sunk
Beneath thy Sphere? E'er while, far, far above
Such little Arts, Dissemblings, Falshoods, Frauds,
The Trash of Villany it self, which falls
To Cowards and poor Wretches wanting Bread.
Does this become a Soldier? this become
Whom Armies follow'd, and a People lov'd?
My Martial Glory withers at the Thought.
But Great my End; and since there are no other,
These Means are just, they shine with borrow'd Light
Illustrious from the Purpose they pursue.
And greater sure my Merit, who to gain
A Point Sublime, can such a Task sustain,
To wade thro' Ways obscene, my Honour bend,
And shock my Nature, to attain my End.
Late Time shall wonder; That my Joys will raise;
For Wonder is involuntary Praise.
The End of the Third ACT.
ACT