_Qu_. Haste then, and kill thy self; thou art my Murderer. Nor had his Hand, if not by thee instructed, Aim’d at a Sin so dangerous-- _Abd_. Surely she’ll live--[_Aside_.]--This!-- Can Mischief dwell beneath this reverend Shape? Confess who taught thee so much Cruelty. Confess, or I will kill thee. _Rod_. The Cardinal. _Qu_. The Cardinal! _Abd_. Oh impious Traitor! How came I mention’d then? _Rod_. To get Admittance. _Abd_. But why do I delay thy Punishment? Die,--and be damn’d together. [_Aside.] [Stabs him_. But oh, my Queen!--_Elvira_, call for help. Have I remov’d all that oppos’d our Flame, [_Kneels_. To have it thus blown out, thus in a Minute? When I, all full of youthful Fire, all Love, Had rais’d my Soul with Hopes of near Delights, To meet thee cold, and pale; to find those Eyes, Those charming Eyes thus dying--Oh ye Powers! Take all the Prospect of my future Joys, And turn it to Despair, since thou art gone. _Qu_. Cease,--cease--your kind Complaints--my struggling Soul, ’.wixt Death--and Love--holds an uneasy Contest; This will not let it stay--nor that depart;-- And whilst I hear thy Voice--thus breathing Love, It hovers still--about--the grateful--Sound. My Eyes--have took--an everlasting Leave-- Of all that blest their Sight; and now a gloomy Darkness Benights the wishing Sense,--that vainly strives-- To take another View;--but ‘tis too late,-- And Life--and Love--must yield--to Death--and-- Fate. [_Dies_. _Abd_. Farewell, my greatest Plague, [_He rises with Joy_. Thou wert a most impolitick loving thing; And having done my Bus’ness which thou wert born for, ’.was time thou shouldst retire, And leave me free to love, and reign alone. _Enter_ Leonora, Alonzo, Ordonio, _and other Men and Women_. Come all the World, and pay your Sorrows here, Since all the World has Interest in this Loss. _Alon_. The Moor in Tears! nay, then the Sin was his. _Leon_. The Queen my Mother dead! How many Sorrows will my Heart let in, E’er it will break in pieces. [_Weeps over her_. _Alon_. I know the Source of all this Villany, And need not ask you how the Queen came murder’d. _Elv_. My Lord, that Fryer, from the Cardinal, did it. _Alon_. The Cardinal! ’.is possible,--for the Injuries she did him Cou’d be repaid with nothing less than Death. [Aside. My Fair, your Griefs have been so just of late, I dare not beg that you would weep no more; Though every Tear those lovely Eyes let fall, Give me a killing Wound--Remove the Body. [_Guards remove the Body. Ex. all but_ Alon. _and_ Leon. Such Objects suit not Souls so soft as thine.