Those eyes unhurt? The wounds myself have felt
(Which wounds alone should cause me to condemn thee,)
They plead in thy excuse; for I too strove
To shun those fires, and found 'twas not in man.

_Alon._ You cast in shades the failure of a friend,
And soften all; but think not you deceive me;
I know my guilt, and I implore your pardon,
As the sole glimpse I can obtain of peace.

_Car._ Pardon for him, who but this morning threw
Fair Leonora from his heart, all bath'd
In ceaseless tears, and blushing for her love!
Who, like a rose-leaf wet with morning dew,
Would have stuck close, and clung for ever there!
But 'twas in thee, through fondness for thy friend,
To shut thy bosom against ecstacies;
For which, while this pulse beats, it beats to thee;
While this blood flows, it flows for my Alonzo,
And every wish is levell'd at thy joy.

_Zan._ [_to Alon._] My lord, my lord, this is your time to speak.

_Alon._ [_to Zan._] Because he's kind? It therefore is the worst;
Do I not see him quite possess'd with anguish,
And shall I pour in new? No, fond desire;
No, love: one pang at parting, and farewell,
I have no other love but Carlos now.

_Car._ Alas! my friend, why with such eager grasp
Dost press my hand, and weep upon my cheek?

_Alon._ If, after death, our forms (as some believe)
Shall be transparent, naked every thought,
And friends meet friends, and read each other's hearts,
Thou'lt know one day that thou wast held most dear,
Farewell.

_Car._ Alonzo, stop--he cannot speak-- [_holds him._
Lest it should grieve me--Shall I be outdone?
And lose in glory, as I lose in love? [_aside._
I take it much unkindly, my Alonzo,
You think so meanly of me not to speak,
When well I know your heart is near to bursting.
Have you forgot how you have bound me to you?
Your smallest friendship's liberty and life.

_Alon._ There, there it is, my friend; it cuts me there.
How dreadful is it to a generous mind
To ask, when sure it cannot be deny'd!

_Car._ How greatly thought! In all he towers above me. [_aside._
Then you confess you would ask something of me?

_Alon._ No, on my soul.

_Zan._ [_to Alon._] Then lose her.

_Car._ Glorious spirit!
Why, what a pang has he run through for this!
By heaven, I envy him his agonies. [_aside._
My Alonzo!
Since thy great soul disdains to make request,
Receive with favour that I make to thee.

_Alon._ What means my Carlos?

_Car._ Pray observe me well.
Fate an