onqueror
Dismay'd! I thought you gave the foe your sorrows.

_Alon._ Oh, cruel insult! are those tears your sport,
Which nothing but a love for you could draw?
Afric I quell'd, in hope by that to purchase
Your leave to sigh unscorn'd; but I complain not;
'Twas but a world, and you are--Leonora.

_Leon._ That passion which you boast of is your guilt,
A treason to your friend. You think mean of me,
To plead your crimes as motives of my love.

_Alon._ You, madam, ought to thank those crimes you blame!
'Tis they permit you to be thus inhuman,
Without the censure both of earth and heav'n--
I fondly thought a last look might be kind.
Farewell for ever.--This severe behaviour
Has, to my comfort, made it sweet to die.

_Leon._ Farewell for ever! Sweet to die! Oh, heav'n!
Alonzo, stay; you must not thus escape me;
But hear your guilt at large.

_Alon._ Oh, Leonora!
What could I do?--In duty to my friend,
I saw you; and to see is to admire.
For Carlos did I plead, and most sincerely.
Witness the thousand agonies it cost me.
You know I did; I sought but your esteem;
If that is guilt, an angel had been guilty.

_Leon._ If from your guilt none suffer'd but yourself,
It might be so--Farewell. [_going._

_Alon._ Who suffers with me?

_Leon._ Enjoy your ignorance, and let me go.

_Alon._ What mean these tears?

_Leon._ I weep by chance; nor have my tears a meaning.
But, oh, when first I saw Alonzo's tears,
I knew their meaning well!

[_Alonzo falls on his knees, and takes her hand._

_Alon._ Heav'ns! what is this? that excellence, for which
Desire was planted in the heart of man;
Virtue's supreme reward on this side heav'n;
The cordial of my soul--and this destroys me--
Indeed, I flatter'd me that thou didst hate.

_Leon._ Alonzo, pardon me the injury
Of loving you. I struggled with my passion,
And struggled long: let that be some excuse.

_Alon._ Unkind! you know I think your love a blessing
Beyond all human blessings! 'tis the price
Of sighs and groans, and a whole year of dying.
But, oh, the curse of curses!--Oh, my friend!--

_Leon._ Alas!

_Alon._ What says my love? speak, Leonora.

_Leon._ Was it for you, my lord, to be so quick
In finding out objections to our love?
Think you so strong my love, or weak my virtue,
It was unsafe to leave that part to me?

_Alon._ Is not the day then fix'd for your espousals?

_Leon._ Indeed, my father once had thought that way;
But marking how the marriage