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The REVENGE.
Ungenerous, groundless, weak, and insolent!
Why? Wherefore? On what shadow of Occasion?
'Tis Fascination, 'tis the Wrath of Heav'n
For the collected Crimes of all his Race.
Oh how the Great Man lessens to my Thought!
How could so mean a Vice as Jealousy,
Unnatural Child of Ignorance and Guilt,
Which tears, and feeds upon its Parent's Heart,
Live in a Throng of such exalted Virtues?
I scorn, and hate, yet love him, and adore.
I cannot, will not, dare not, think it true,
Till from himself I know it. [Exit.
Why? Wherefore? On what shadow of Occasion?
'Tis Fascination, 'tis the Wrath of Heav'n
For the collected Crimes of all his Race.
Oh how the Great Man lessens to my Thought!
How could so mean a Vice as Jealousy,
Unnatural Child of Ignorance and Guilt,
Which tears, and feeds upon its Parent's Heart,
Live in a Throng of such exalted Virtues?
I scorn, and hate, yet love him, and adore.
I cannot, will not, dare not, think it true,
Till from himself I know it. [Exit.
Zan.This succeeds
Just to my Wish. Now she with Violence
Upbraids him. He, well knowing she is guilty,
Rages no less, and if on either side
The Waves run high, there still lives Hope of Ruin.
Enter Alonzo.
My Lord.
Just to my Wish. Now she with Violence
Upbraids him. He, well knowing she is guilty,
Rages no less, and if on either side
The Waves run high, there still lives Hope of Ruin.
Enter Alonzo.
My Lord.
Alon.O Zanga! hold thy Peace, I am no Coward;
But Heav'n it self did hold my Hand; I felt it,
By the Well-being of my Soul, I did.
I'll think of Vengeance at another Season.
But Heav'n it self did hold my Hand; I felt it,
By the Well-being of my Soul, I did.
I'll think of Vengeance at another Season.
Zan.My Lord, her Guilt.
Alon.Perdition on thee, Moor,
For that one Word! Ah! do not rouse that Thought;
I have o'erwhelm'd it much as possible:
Away then, let us talk of other things.
I tell thee, Moor, I love her to Distraction.
If 'tis my Shame, why be it so—I love her;
Nor can I help it, 'tis impos'd upon me
By some superior and resistless Pow'r.
I could not hurt her to be Lord of Earth;
It shocks my Nature like a Stroke at Heav'n.
Angels defend her, as if innocent!
But see, my Leonora comes!—Begone. [Exit Zanga.
Enter Leonora.
O seen for ever! yet for ever new!
The Conquer'd thou dost Conquer o'er again,
Inflicting Wound on Wound.
For that one Word! Ah! do not rouse that Thought;
I have o'erwhelm'd it much as possible:
Away then, let us talk of other things.
I tell thee, Moor, I love her to Distraction.
If 'tis my Shame, why be it so—I love her;
Nor can I help it, 'tis impos'd upon me
By some superior and resistless Pow'r.
I could not hurt her to be Lord of Earth;
It shocks my Nature like a Stroke at Heav'n.
Angels defend her, as if innocent!
But see, my Leonora comes!—Begone. [Exit Zanga.
Enter Leonora.
O seen for ever! yet for ever new!
The Conquer'd thou dost Conquer o'er again,
Inflicting Wound on Wound.
Leon.