d Alvarez tore her from my heart,
And, plucking up my love, they had well nigh
Pluck'd up life too, for they were twin'd together.
Of that no more--What now does reason bid?
I cannot wed--Farewell, my happiness!
But, O my soul, with care provide for hers!
In life, how weak, how helpless, is a woman!
Take then my heart in dowry with the fair,
Be thou her guardian, and thou must be mine;
Shut out the thousand pressing ills of life
With thy surrounding arms--Do this, and then
Set down the liberty and life thou gav'st me,
As little things, as essays of thy goodness,
And rudiments of friendship so divine.

_Alon._ There is a grandeur in thy goodness to me,
Which with thy foes would render thee ador'd.

_Car._ I do not part with her, I give her thee.

_Alon._ O, Carlos!
But think not words were ever made
For such occasions. Silence, tears, embraces,
Are languid eloquence; I'll seek relief
In absence from the pain of so much goodness,
There, thank the blest above, thy sole superiors,
Adore, and raise my thoughts of them by thee. [_exit._

_Zan._ Thus far success has crown'd my boldest hope.
My next care is to hasten these new nuptials,
And then my master-works begin to play. [_aside._
Why that was greatly done, without one sigh [_to Car._
To carry such a glory to its period.

_Car._ Too soon thou praisest me. He's gone, and now
I must unsluice my over-burden'd heart,
And let it flow. I would not grieve my friend
With tears; nor interrupt my great design;
Great, sure, as ever human breast durst think of.
But now my sorrows, long with pain supprest,
Burst their confinement with impetuous sway,
O'er-swell all bounds, and bear e'en life away:
So till the day was won, the Greek renown'd
With anguish wore the arrow in his wound,
Then drew the shaft from out his tortur'd side,
Let gush the torrent of his blood, and dy'd. [_exeunt._

ACT THE THIRD.

SCENE I.

_Enter Zanga._

_Zan._ O joy, thou welcome stranger! twice three years
I have not felt thy vital beam; but now
It warms my veins, and plays around my heart:
A fiery instinct lifts me from the ground,
And I could mount!--the spirits numberless
Of my dear countrymen, which yesterday
Left 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 sure
It is thy last, thy last smile, that which now
Sits on thy ch