Enter Zanga.
Enter Zanga.
Zan.O joy, thou welcome stranger! twice three yearsI have not felt thy vital beam; but nowIt warms my veins, and plays around my heart:A fiery instinct lifts me from the ground,And I could mount!—the spirits numberlessOf my dear countrymen, which yesterdayLeft their poor bleeding bodies on the field,Are all assembled here, and o'er-inform me.—O, bridegroom! great indeed thy present bliss;Yet even by me unenvy'd! for be sureIt is thy last, thy last smile, that which nowSits on thy cheek; enjoy it while thou may'st;Anguish, and groans, and death, bespeak to-morrow.Enter Isabella.My Isabella!Isa.What commands my Moor?Zan.My fair ally! my lovely minister!'Twas well, Alvarez, by my arts impell'd(To plunge don Carlos in the last despair,And so prevent all future molestation),Finish'd the nuptials soon as he resolv'd them;This conduct ripen'd all for me and ruin.Scarce had the priest the holy rites perform'd,When I, by sacred inspiration, forg'dThat letter which I trusted to thy hand;That letter, which in glowing terms conveys,From happy Carlos to fair Leonora,The most profound acknowledgement of heart,For wondrous transports which he never knew.This is a good subservient artifice,To aid the nobler workings of my brain.Isa.I quickly dropp'd it in the bride's apartment,As you commanded.Zan.With a lucky hand;For soon Alonzo found it; I observ'd himFrom out my secret stand. He took it up;But scarce was it unfolded to his sight,When he, as if an arrow pierc'd his eye,Started, and trembling dropp'd it on the ground.Pale and aghast awhile my victim stood,Disguis'd a sigh or two, and puff'd them from him;Then rubb'd his brow and took it up again.At first he look'd as if he meant to read it;But check'd by rising fears he crush'd it thus,And thrust it, like an adder, in his bosom.Isa.But if he read it not, it cannot sting him,At least not mortally.Zan.At first I thought so;But farther thought informs me otherwise,And turns this disappointment to account.This, Isabella, is don Carlos' picture;Take it, and so dispose of it, that found,It may raise up a witness of her love;Under her pillow, in her cabinet,Or elsewhere, as shall best promote our end.Isa.I'll weigh it as its consequence requires,Then do my utmost to deserve your smile.[exit.Zan.Is that Alonzo prostrate on the ground?—Now he starts up like flame from sleeping embers,And wild distraction glares from either eye.If thus a slight surmise can work his soul,How will the fulness of the tempest tear him?Enter Don Alonzo.Alon.And yet it cannot be—I am deceiv'd—I injure her: she wears the face of heaven.Zan.He doubts.[aside.Alon.I dare not look on this again.If the first glance, which gave suspicion only,Had such effect, so smote my heart and brain,The certainty would dash me all in pieces.It cannot—Ha! it must, it must be true.[starts.Zan.Hold there, and we succeed. He has descry'd me.And (for he thinks I love him) will unfoldHis aching heart, and rest it on my counsel.I'll seem to go, to make my stay more sure.[aside.Alon.Hold, Zanga, turn.Zan.My lord.Alon.Shut close the doors,That not a spirit find an entrance here.Zan.My lord's obey'd.Alon.I see that thou art frighted.If thou dost love me, I shall fill thy heartWith scorpions' stings.Zan.If I do love, my lord?Alon.Come near me, let me rest upon thy bosom;(What pillow like the bosom of a friend?)For I am sick at heart.Zan.Speak, sir, O, speak,And take me from the rack.Alon.I am most happy: mine is victory,Mine the king's favour, mine the nation's shout,And great men make their fortunes of my smiles.O curse of curses! in the lap of blessingTo be most curst!—My Leonora's false!Zan.Save me, my lord!Alon.My Leonora's false![gives him the letter.Zan.Then heaven has lost its image here on earth.[while Zanga reads the letter, he trembles, andshows the utmost concern.Alon.Good-natur'd man! he makes my pains his own.I durst not read it; but I read it nowIn thy concern.Zan.Did you not read it then?Alon.Mine eye just touch'd it, and could bear no more.Zan.Thus perish all that gives Alonzo pain![tears the letter.Alon.Why didst thou tear it?Zan.Think of it no more.'Twas your mistake, and groundless are your fears.Alon.And didst thou tremble then for my mistake?Or give the whole contents, or by the pangsThat feed upon my heart, thy life's in danger.Zan.Is this Alonzo's language to his Zanga?Draw forth your sword, and find the secret here.For whose sake is it, think you, I conceal it?Wherefore this rage? Because I seek your peace?I have no interest in suppressing it,But what good-natur'd tenderness for youObliges me to have. Not mine the heartThat will be rent in two. Not mine the fameThat will be damn'd, though all the world should know it.Alon.Then my worst fears are true, and life is past.Zan.What has the rashness of my passion utter'd?I know not what; but rage is our destruction,And all its 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 heav'n's sweet sake, my lord, lift up your heart.Some foe to your repose—Alon.So, heaven look on me,As I can't find the man I have offended.Zan.Indeed! [aside]—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.'Tis certainA letter may be forg'd, and in a pointOf 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.Oh that it were!Zan.It is;For who could 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—Zan.No more, my lord, for you condemn yourself.What is absurdity, but to believeAgainst 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'dWith some degree of pain.Alon.What indiscretion?Zan.Come, you must bear to hear your faults from me.Had you not sent don Carlos to the courtThe night before the battle, that foul slave,Who forg'd the senseless scroll which gives you pain,Had wanted footing for his villany.Alon.I sent him not.Zan.Not send him!—Ha!—That strikes me.I thought he came on message to the king.Is there another cause could justifyHis shunning danger, and the promis'd fight?But I perhaps may think too rigidly;So long an absence, and impatient love—Alon.In my confusion, that had quite escap'd me.By heaven, my wounded soul does bleed afresh;'Tis clear as day—for Carlos is so brave,He lives not but on fame, he hunts for danger,And is enamour'd of the face of death.How then could he decline the next day's battle,But for the transports?—Oh, it must be so—Inhuman! by the loss of his own honour,To buy the ruin of his friend!Zan.You wrong him;He knew not of your love.Alon.Ha!—Zan.That stings home.[aside.Alon.Indeed, he knew not of my treacherous love—Proofs rise on proofs, and still the last the strongest.Love is my torture, love was first my crime;For she was his, my friend's, and he (O horror!)Confided all in me. O sacred faith!How dearly I abide thy violation!Zan.Were then their loves far gone?Alon.The father's willThere bore a total sway; and he, as soonAs news arriv'd that Carlos' fleet was seenFrom off our coast, fir'd with the love of gold,Determin'd that the very sun which sawCarlos' return, should see his daughter wed.Zan.Indeed, my lord; then you must pardon me,If I presume to mitigate the crime.Consider, strong allurements soften guilt;Long was his absence, ardent was his love,At midnight his return, the next day destin'dFor his espousals—'twas a strong temptation.Alon.Temptation!Zan.'Twas but gaining of one night.Alon.One night!Zan.That crime could ne'er return again.Alon.Again! By heaven, thou dost insult thy lord.Temptation! One night gain'd! O stings and death!And am I then undone? Alas, my Zanga!And dost thou own it too? Deny it still,And rescue me one moment from distraction.Zan.My lord, I hope the best.Alon.False, foolish hope, thou know'st it false;It is as glaring as the noon-tide sun.Devil!—This morning, after three years' coldness,To rush at once into a passion for me!'Twas time to feign, 'twas time to get another,When her first fool was sated with her beauties.Zan.What says my lord? Did Leonora thenNever before disclose her passion for you?Alon.Never.Zan.Throughout the whole three years?Alon.O never! never!Why, Zanga, shouldst thou strive? 'Tis all in vain:Though thy soul labours, it can find no reedFor hope to catch at. Ah! I'm plunging downTen thousand thousand fathoms in despair.Zan.Hold, sir, I'll break your fall—wave ev'ry fear,And be a man again—Had he enjoy'd her,Be most assur'd, he had resign'd her to youWith less reluctance.Alon.Ha! Resign'd her to me!—Resign her!—Who resign'd her?—Double death!How could I doubt so long? My heart is broke.First love her to distraction! then resign her!Zan.But was it not with utmost agony?Alon.Grant that, he still resign'd her; that's enough.Would he pluck out his eye to give it me?Tear out his heart?—She was his heart no more—Nor was it with reluctance he resign'd her;By heav'n, he ask'd, he courted, me to wed.I thought it strange; 'tis now no longer so.Zan.Was't his request? Are you right sure of that?I fear the letter was not all a tale.Alon.A tale! There's proof equivalent to sight.Zan.I should distrust my sight on this occasion.Alon.And so should I; by heav'n, I think I should.What, Leonora! the divine, by whomWe guess'd at angels! Oh! I'm all confusion.Zan.You now are too much ruffled to think clearly.Since bliss and horror, life and death, hang on it,Go to your chamber, there maturely weighEach circumstance; consider, above all,That it is jealousy's peculiar natureTo swell small things to great; nay, out of noughtTo conjure much, and then to lose its reasonAmid the hideous phantoms it has form'd.Alon.Had I ten thousand lives, I'd give them allTo be deceiv'd.And yet she seem'd so pure, that I thought heav'nBorrow'd her form for virtue's self to wear,To gain her lovers with the sons of men.O, Leonora! Leonora![exit.Re-enter Isabella.Zan.Thus far it works auspiciously. My patientThrives, underneath my hand, in misery.He's gone to think; that is, to be distracted.Isa.I overheard your conference, and saw you,To my amazement, tear the letter.Zan.There,There, Isabella, I out-did myself.For, tearing it, I not secure it onlyIn its first force, but superadd a new.For who can now the character examineTo cause a doubt, much less detect the fraud?And after tearing it, as loth to showThe foul contents, if I should swear it nowA forgery, my lord would disbelieve me,Nay, more, would disbelieve the more I swore.But is the picture happily dispos'd of?Isa.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?Does this become a soldier? this becomeWhom 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 gainA point sublime, can such a task sustain;To wade through 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.[exeunt.
Enter Don Alonzo and Zanga.
Enter Don Alonzo and Zanga.
Alon.Oh, what a pain to think! when ev'ry thought,Perplexing thought, in intricacies runs,And reason knits th' inextricable toil,In which herself is taken!No more I'll bear this battle of the mind,This inward anarchy; but find my wifeAnd, to her trembling heart presenting death,Force all the secret from her.Zan.O, forbear!You totter on the very brink of ruin.Alon.What dost thou mean?Zan.That will discover all,And kill my hopes. What can I think or do?[aside.Alon.What, dost thou murmur?Zan.Force the secret from her!What's perjury to such a crime as this?Will she confess it then? O, groundless hope!But rest assur'd, she'll make this accusation,Or false or true, your ruin with the king;Such is her father's pow'r.Alon.No more, I care not;Rather than groan beneath this load, I'll die.Zan.But for what better will you change this load?Grant you should know it, would not that be worse?Alon.No; it would cure me of my mortal pangsBy hatred and contempt: I should despise her,And all my love-bred agonies would vanish.Zan.Ah! were I sure of that, my lord—Alon.What then?Zan.You should not hazard life to gain the secret.Alon.What dost thou mean? thou know'st I'm on the rack.I'll not be play'd with; speak, if thou hast aught,Or I this instant fly to Leonora.Zan.That is, to death. My lord, I am not yetQuite so far gone in guilt to suffer it;Though gone too far, heav'n knows—'Tis I am guilty;I have took pains, as you, I know, observ'd,To hinder you from diving in the secret,And turn'd aside your thoughts from the detection.Alon.Thou dost confound me.Zan.I confound myself;And frankly own, though to my shame I own it,Nought but your life in danger could have tornThe secret out, and made me own my crime.Alon.Speak quickly, Zanga, speak.Zan.Not yet, dread sir:First, I must be assur'd, that if you findThe fair one guilty, scorn, as you assur'd me,Shall conquer love and rage, and heal your soul.Alon.Oh! 't will, by heav'n.Zan.Alas! I fear it much,And scarce can hope so far; but I of thisExact your solemn oath, that you'll abstainFrom all self-violence, and save my lord.Alon.I trebly swear.Zan.You'll bear it like a man?Alon.A god.Zan.Such have you been to me, these tears confess it;And pour'd forth miracles of kindness on me:And what amends is now within my pow'r,But to confess, expose myself to justice,And as a blessing claim my punishment?Know then, don Carlos—Alon.Oh!Zan.You cannot bear it.Alon.Go on, I'll have it, though it blast mankind;I'll have it all, and instantly. Go on.Zan.Don Carlos did return at dead of night—That night, by chance (ill chance for me) did ICommand the watch that guards the palace gate.He told me he had letters for the king,Despatch'd from you.Alon.The villain lied!Zan.My lord,I pray, forbear—Transported at his sight,After so long a bondage, and your friend,(Who could suspect him of an artifice?)No farther I inquir'd, but let him pass,False to my trust, at least imprudent in it.Our watch reliev'd, I went into the garden,As is my custom, when the night's serene,And took a moon-light walk: when soon I heardA rustling in an arbour that was near me.I saw two lovers in each other's arms,Embracing and embrac'd. Anon the manArose; and, falling back some paces from her,Gaz'd ardently awhile, then rush'd at once,And, throwing all himself into her bosom,There softly sigh'd, "Oh, night of ecstasy!When shall we meet again?"—Don Carlos thenLed Leonora forth.Alon.Oh, oh, my heart![he sinks into a chair.Zan.Groan on, and with the sound refresh my soul!'Tis through his heart; his knees smite one another:'Tis through his brain; his eye-balls roll in anguish.[aside.My lord, my lord, why will you rack my soul?Alon.Oh, she was all!My fame, my friendship, and my love of arms,All stoop'd to her; my blood was her possession.Deep in the secret foldings of my heartShe liv'd with life, and far the dearer she:To think on't is the torment of the damn'd,And not to think on't is impossible.Zan.You said you'd bear it like a man.Alon.I do.Am I not most distracted?Zan.Pray, be calm.Alon.As hurricanes:—be thou assur'd of that.Zan.Is this the wise Alonzo?Alon.Villain, no:He died in the arbour—he was murder'd there!—Zan.Alas! he weeps.Alon.Go, dig her grave!Zan.My lord!Alon.But that her blood's too hot, I would carouse itAround my bridal board!Zan.And I would pledge thee.[aside.Alon.But I may talk too fast. Pray let me think,And reason mildly.—Wedded and undoneBefore one night descends.—Oh, hasty evil!What friend to comfort me in my extreme!Where's Carlos? why is Carlos absent from me?Does he know what has happen'd?Zan.My lord!Alon.Oh, villain, villain, most accurst!If thou didst know it, why didst let me wed?Zan.Hear me, my lord; your anger will abate.I knew it not:—I saw them in the garden;But saw no more than you might well expectTo see in lovers destin'd for each other.By heav'n, I thought their meeting innocent.Who could suspect fair Leonora's virtue,'Till after-proofs conspir'd to blacken it?Sad proofs, which came too late, which broke not out,(Eternal curses on Alvarez' haste!)'Till holy rites had made the wanton yours;And then, I own, I labour'd to conceal it,In duty and compassion to your peace.Alon.Live now, be damn'd hereafter—for I want thee.Let me think—The jess'mine bower—'tis secret and remote:Go, wait me there, and take thy dagger with thee.[exit Zanga.How sweet the sound still sings within my ear!When shall we meet again?—To-night, in hell.[going.Enter Leonora.Ha! I'm surprised! I stagger at her charms!Oh, angel-devil!—Shall I stab her now?No—It shall be as I at first determin'd.To kill her now were half my vengeance lost.Then I must now dissemble—if I can.Leon.My lord, excuse me; see, a second timeI come in embassy from all your friends,Whose joys are languid, uninspir'd by you.Alon.This moment, Leonora, I was comingTo thee, and all—but sure, or I mistake,Or thou canst well inspire my friends with joy.Leon.What says my lord?Alon.Thou art exceeding fair.Leon.Beauty alone is but of little worth;But when the soul and body of a piece,Both shine alike; then they obtain a price,And are a fit reward for gallant actions,Heaven's pay on earth for such great souls as yours;—If fair and innocent, I am your due.Alon.Innocent![aside.Leon.How, my lord! I interrupt you.Alon.No, my best life! I must not part with thee—This hand is mine—Oh, what a hand is here!So soft, souls sink into it, and are lost!Leon.In tears, my lord?Alon.What less can speak my joy?Why, I could gaze upon thy looks for ever,And drink in all my being from thine eyes;And I could snatch a flaming thunderbolt,And hurl destruction!—Leon.My lord, you fright me.Is this the fondness of your nuptial hour?Why, when I woo your hand, is it deny'd me?Your very eyes, why are they taught to shun me?—Nay, my good lord, I have a title here,[takes his hand.And I will have it. Am I not your wife?Have I not just authority to knowThat heart which I have purchas'd with my own?Tell me the secret; I conjure you, tell me.Speak then, I charge you speak, or I expire,And load you with my death. My lord, my lord!Alon.Ha, ha, ha![he breaks from her, and she sinks upon the floor.Leon.Are these the joys which fondly I conceiv'd?And is it thus a wedded life begins?What did I part with, when I gave my heart?I knew not that all happiness went with it.Why did I leave my tender father's wing,And venture into love? The maid that loves,Goes out to sea upon a shatter'd plank,And puts her trust in miracles for safety.Where shall I sigh?—where pour out my complaint?He that should hear, should succour, should redress,He is the source of all.Alon.Go to thy chamber;I soon will follow; that which now disturbs theeShall be clear'd up, and thou shalt not condemn me.[exit Leonora.Oh, how like innocence she looks!—What, stab her!And rush into her blood?How then? why thus—no more; it is determin'd.Re-enter Zanga.Zan.I fear, his heart has fail'd him. She must die.Can I not rouse the snake that's in his bosom,To sting out human nature, and effect it?[aside.Alon.This vast and solid earth, that blazing sun,Those skies, through which it rolls, must all have end.What then is man? the smallest part of nothing.Day buries day; month, month; and year, the year.Our life is but a chain of many deaths;Can then death's self be fear'd? our life much rather.Life is the desert, life the solitude.Death joins us to the great majority:'Tis to be borne to Platos and to Cæsars;'Tis to be great for ever;'Tis pleasure, 'tis ambition, then to die.Zan.I think, my lord, you talk'd of death.Alon.I did.Zan.I give you joy, then Leonora's dead.Alon.No, Zanga; to shed a woman's bloodWould stain my sword, and make my wars inglorious;He who, superior to the checks of nature,Dares make his life the victim of his reason,Does in some sort that reason deify,And take a flight at heaven.Zan.Alas, my lord,'Tis not your reason, but her beauty, findsThose arguments, and throws you on your sword.You cannot close an eye that is so bright,You cannot strike a breast that is so soft,That has ten thousand ecstasies in store—For Carlos?—No, my lord, I mean for you.Alon.Oh, through my heart and marrow! pr'ythee, spare me,Nor more upbraid the weakness of thy lord:I own, I try'd, I quarrell'd with my heart,And push'd it on, and bid it give her death;But, oh, her eyes struck first and murder'd me.Zan.I know not what to answer to my lord.Men are but men; we did not make ourselves.Farewell then, my best lord, since you must die.Oh, that I were to share your monument,And in eternal darkness close these eyesAgainst those scenes which I am doom'd to suffer!Alon.What dost thou mean?Zan.And is it then unknown?Oh, grief of heart, to think that you should ask it!Sure you distrust that ardent love I bear you,Else could you doubt when you are laid in dust—But it will cut my poor heart through and through,To see those revel on your sacred tomb,Who brought you thither by their lawless loves.For there they'll revel, and exult to findHim sleep so fast, who else might mar their joys.Alon.Distraction! But don Carlos well thou know'stIs sheath'd in steel, and bent on other thoughts.Zan.I'll work him to the murder of his friend.[aside.Yes, till the fever of his blood returns,While her last kiss still glows upon his cheek.But when he finds Alonzo is no more,How will he rush, like lightning, to her arms!There sigh, there languish, there pour out his soul;But not in grief—sad obsequies to thee!—But thou wilt be at peace, nor see, nor hear,The burning kiss, the sigh of ecstasy,Their throbbing hearts that jostle one another:Thank heaven, these torments will be all my own.Alon.I'll ease thee of that pain. Let Carlos die;O'ertake him on the road, and see it done.'Tis my command.[gives his signet.Zan.I dare not disobey.Alon.My Zanga, now I have thy leave to die.Zan.Ah, sir! think, think again. Are all men buriedIn Carlos' grave? you know not womankind:When once the throbbing of the heart has brokeThe modest zone, with which it first was ty'd,Each man she meets will be a Carlos to her.Alon.That thought has more of hell than had the former.Another, and another, and another!And each shall cast a smile upon my tomb.I am convinc'd; I must not, will not, die.Zan.You cannot die; nor can you murder her.What then remains? In nature no third way,But to forget, and so to love again.Alon.Oh!Zan.If you forgive, the world will call you good;If you forget, the world will call you wise;If you receive her to your grace again,The world will call you—very, very kind.Alon.Zanga, I understand thee well. She dies;Though my arm tremble at the stroke, she dies.Zan.That's truly great. What think you 'twas set upThe Greek and Roman name in such a lustre,But doing right in stern despite to nature;Shutting their ears to all her little cries,When great, august, and godlike justice call'd?At Aulis, one pour'd out a daughter's life,And gain'd more glory than by all his wars;Another, slew a sister in just rage;A third, the theme of all succeeding times,Gave to the cruel axe a darling son:Nay more, for justice some devote themselves,As he at Carthage, an immortal name!Yet there is one step left above them all,Above their history, above their fable:A wife, bride, mistress, unenjoy'd—do that,And tread upon the Greek and Roman glory.Alon.'Tis done!—Again new transports fire my brain:I had forgot it, 'tis my bridal night.Friend, give me joy, we must be gay together;See that the festival be duly honour'd.And when with garlands the full bowl is crown'd,And music gives her elevating sound,And golden carpets spread the sacred floor,And a new day the blazing tapers pour,Thou, Zanga, then my solemn friends invite,From the dark realms of everlasting night;Call Vengeance, call the furies, call Despair,And Death, our chief-invited guest, be there;He, with pale hand, shall lead the bride, and spreadEternal curtains round our nuptial bed.[exeunt.