onzo to request it of his friend,
His friend to grant--then from that very grant,
The strongest proof of friendship man can give
(And other motives), to work out a cause
Of jealousy, to rack Alonzo's peace?
I have turn'd o'er the catalogue of human woes,
Which sting the heart of man, and find none equal.
It is the hydra of calamities,
The sev'nfold death; the jealous are the damn'd.
Oh, jealousy, each other passion's calm
To thee, thou conflagration of the soul!
Thou king of torments, thou grand counterpoise
For all the transports beauty can inspire!

_Isa._ Alonzo comes this way.

_Zan._ Most opportunely.--
Withdraw. [_exit Isabella._

_Enter Don Alonzo._

My lord, I give you joy.

_Alon._ Of what, good Zanga?

_Zan._ Is not the lovely Leonora yours?

_Alon._ What will become of Carlos?

_Zan._ He's your friend;
And since he can't espouse the fair himself,
Will take some comfort from Alonzo's fortune.

_Alon._ Alas, thou little know'st the force of love!
Love reigns a sultan with unrival'd sway;
Puts all relations, friendship's self to death,
If once he's jealous of it. I love Carlos;
Yet well I know what pangs I felt this morning
At his intended nuptials. For myself
I then felt pains, which now for him I feel.

_Zan._ You will not wed her then?

_Alon._ Not instantly.
Insult his broken heart the very moment!

_Zan._ I understand you: but you'll wed hereafter,
When your friend's gone, and his first pain assuag'd.

_Alon._ Am I to blame in that?

_Zan._ My lord, I love
Your very errors; they are born from virtue.
Your friendship (and what nobler passion claims
The heart?) does lead you blindfold to your ruin.
Consider, wherefore did Alvarez break
Don Carlos' match, and wherefore urge Alonzo's?
'Twas the same cause, the love of wealth. To-morrow
May see Alonzo in don Carlos' fortune;
A higher bidder is a better friend,
And there are princes sigh for Leonora.
When your friend's gone, you'll wed; why, then the cause
Which gives you Leonora now, will cease.
Carlos has lost her; should you lose her too,
Why, then you heap new torments on your friend,
By that respect which labour'd to relieve him--
'Tis well, he is disturb'd; it makes him pause. [_aside._

_Alon._ Think'st thou, my Zanga, should I ask don Carlos,
His goodness would consent that I should wed her?

_Zan._ I know, it would.

_Alon._ But then the cruelty
To ask it, and for me to ask it of him!

_Zan._ Methinks, you