urst!
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 expect
To 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 time
I come in embassy from all your friends,
Whose joys are languid, uninspir'd by you.

_Alon._ This moment, Leonora, I was coming
To 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 know
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