s that
Does counterbalance travel, danger, pain--
'Tis heav'n's expedient to make mortals bear
The light, and cheat them of the peaceful grave.

_Leon._ Alas, my lord! why talk you of the grave?
Your friend is dead: in friendship you sustain
A mighty loss; repair it with my love.

_Alon._ Thy love, thou piece of witchcraft! I would say,
Thou brightest angel! I could gaze for ever.
But oh, those eyes! those murderers! Oh, whence,
Whence didst thou steal their burning orbs? from heaven?
Thou didst; and 'tis religion to adore them.

_Leon._ My best Alonzo, moderate your thoughts.
Extremes still fright me, though of love itself.

_Alon._ Extremes indeed! it hurry'd me away;
But I come home again--and now for justice--
And now for death--It is impossible-- [_aside._
I leave her to just heav'n. [_drops the dagger, goes off._

_Leon._ Ha, a dagger!
What dost thou say, thou minister of death?
What dreadful tale dost tell me?--Let me think--

_Enter Zanga._

_Zan._ Death to my tow'ring hope! Oh! fall from high!
My close, long-labour'd scheme at once is blasted,
That dagger, found, will cause her to inquire;
Inquiry will discover all; my hopes
Of vengeance perish; I myself am lost--
Curse on the coward's heart; wither his hand,
Which held the steel in vain!--what can be done?
Where can I fix?--that's something still--'twill breed
Fell rage and bitterness betwixt their souls,
Which may, perchance, grow up to greater evil:
If not, 'tis all I can--It shall be so-- [_aside._

_Leon._ Oh, Zanga, I am sinking in my fears!
Alonzo dropp'd this dagger as he left me,
And left me in a strange disorder too.
What can this mean? Angels preserve his life!

_Zan._ Yours, madam, yours.

_Leon._ What, Zanga, dost thou say?

_Zan._ Carry you goodness then to such extremes,
So blinded to the faults of him you love,
That you perceive not he is jealous?

_Leon._ Heav'ns!
And yet a thousand things recur that swear it.
What villain could inspire him with that thought?
It is not of the growth of his own nature.

_Zan._ Some villain; who, hell knows; but he is jealous;
And 'tis most fit a heart so pure as yours
Do itself justice, and assert its honour,
And make him conscious of his stab to virtue.

_Leon._ Jealous! it sickens at my heart. Unkind,
Ungen'rous, groundless, weak, and insolent!
Why, wherefore? on what shadow of occasion?
Oh, how the great man lessens to my thought!
How could so mean a vice as jealo