n which herself is taken!
No more I'll bear this battle of the mind,
This inward anarchy; but find my wife
And, to her trembling heart presenting death,
Force all the secret from her.

_Zan._ O, forbear!
You totter on the very brink of ruin.

_Alon._ What dost thou mean?

_Zan._ That will discover all,
And kill my hopes. What can I think or do? [_aside._

_Alon._ What, dost thou murmur?

_Zan._ Force the secret from her!
What's perjury to such a crime as this?
Will she confess it then? O, groundless hope!
But rest assur'd, she'll make this accusation,
Or false or true, your ruin with the king;
Such is her father's pow'r.

_Alon._ No more, I care not;
Rather than groan beneath this load, I'll die.

_Zan._ But for what better will you change this load?
Grant you should know it, would not that be worse?

_Alon._ No; it would cure me of my mortal pangs
By hatred and contempt: I should despise her,
And all my love-bred agonies would vanish.

_Zan._ Ah! were I sure of that, my lord--

_Alon._ What then?

_Zan._ You should not hazard life to gain the secret.

_Alon._ What dost thou mean? thou know'st I'm on the rack.
I'll not be play'd with; speak, if thou hast aught,
Or I this instant fly to Leonora.

_Zan._ That is, to death. My lord, I am not yet
Quite so far gone in guilt to suffer it;
Though gone too far, heav'n knows--'Tis I am guilty;
I have took pains, as you, I know, observ'd,
To hinder you from diving in the secret,
And turn'd aside your thoughts from the detection.

_Alon._ Thou dost confound me.

_Zan._ I confound myself;
And frankly own, though to my shame I own it,
Nought but your life in danger could have torn
The secret out, and made me own my crime.

_Alon._ Speak quickly, Zanga, speak.

_Zan._ Not yet, dread sir:
First, I must be assur'd, that if you find
The fair one guilty, scorn, as you assur'd me,
Shall conquer love and rage, and heal your soul.

_Alon._ Oh! 't will, by heav'n.

_Zan._ Alas! I fear it much,
And scarce can hope so far; but I of this
Exact your solemn oath, that you'll abstain
From all self-violence, and save my lord.

_Alon._ I trebly swear.

_Zan._ You'll bear it like a man?

_Alon._ A god.

_Zan._ Such have you been to me, these tears confess it;
And pour'd forth miracles of kindness on me:
And what amends is now within my pow'r,
But to confess, expose myself to justice,
And as a blessing claim my punishment?
Know then, don Carlos--

_A