_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 cheek; enjoy it while thou may'st; Anguish, and groans, and death, bespeak to-morrow. _Enter Isabella._ My Isabella! _Isa._ What commands my Moor? _Zan._ My fair ally! my lovely minister! 'Twas well, Alvarez, by my arts impell'd (To plunge don Carlos in the last despair, And so prevent all future molestation), Finish'd the nuptials soon as he resolv'd them; This conduct ripen'd all for me and ruin. Scarce had the priest the holy rites perform'd, When I, by sacred inspiration, forg'd That letter which I trusted to thy hand; That letter, which in glowing terms conveys, From happy Carlos to fair Leonora, The most profound acknowledgement of heart, For wondrous transports which he never knew. This is a good subservient artifice, To aid the nobler workings of my brain. _Isa._ I quickly dropp'd it in the bride's apartment, As you commanded.