let thee know it--that's another.
I urg'd don Carlos to resign his mistress,
I forg'd the letter, I dispos'd the picture;
I hated, I despis'd, and I destroy!

_Alon._ Oh! [_swoons._

_Zan._ Why, this is well--why, this is blow for blow!
Where are you? crown me, shadow me with laurels,
Ye spirits which delight in just revenge!
Let Europe and her pallid sons go weep;
Let Afric and her hundred thrones rejoice:
Oh, my dear countrymen, look down and see
How I bestride your prostrate conqueror!
I tread on haughty Spain, and all her kings.
But this is mercy, this is my indulgence;
'Tis peace, 'tis refuge from my indignation.
I must awake him into horrors. Hoa!
Alonzo, hoa! the Moor is at the gate!
Awake, invincible, omnipotent!
Thou who dost all subdue!

_Alon._ Inhuman slave!

_Zan._ Fall'n Christian, thou mistak'st my character.
Look on me. Who am I? I know, thou say'st
The Moor, a slave, an abject, beaten slave:
(Eternal woes to him that made me so!)
But look again. Has six years' cruel bondage
Extinguish'd majesty so far, that nought
Shines here to give an awe of one above thee?
When the great Moorish king, Abdallah, fell,
Fell by thy hand accurs'd, I fought fast by him,
His son, though, through his fondness, in disguise,
Less to expose me to th' ambitious foe.--
Ha! does it wake thee?--O'er my father's corse
I stood astride till I had clove thy crest;
And then was made the captive of a squadron,
And sunk into thy servant--But, oh! what,
What were my wages? Hear not heaven, nor earth!
My wages were a blow! by heaven, a blow!
And from a mortal hand!

_Alon._ Oh, villain, villain!

_Zan._ All strife is vain. [_showing a dagger._

_Alon._ Is thus my love return'd?
Is this my recompense? Make friends of tigers!
Lay not your young, oh, mothers, on the breast,
For fear they turn to serpents as they lie,
And pay you for their nourishment with death!--
Carlos is dead, and Leonora dying!
Both innocent, both murder'd, both by me.

_Zan._ Must I despise thee too, as well as hate thee?
Complain of grief, complain thou art a man.--
Priam from fortune's lofty summit fell;
Great Alexander 'midst his conquests mourn'd;
Heroes and demi-gods have known their sorrows;
Caesars have wept; and I have had--my blow:
But, 'tis reveng'd, and now my work is done.
Yet, ere I fall, be it one part of vengeance
To force thee to confess that I am just.--
Thou seest a prince, whose father thou hast slain,
Whos