-- [_Falls at his feet._
Now spurn this rebel, this proud renegade;
'Tis just you should, nor will I more complain.
_Seb._ Indeed thou should'st not ask forgiveness first;
But thou prevent'st me still, in all that's noble. [_Taking him up._
Yes, I will raise thee up with better news.
Thy Violante's heart was ever thine;
Compelled to wed, because she was my ward,
Her soul was absent when she gave her hand;
Nor could my threats, or his pursuing courtship,
Effect the consummation of his love:
So, still indulging tears, she pines for thee,
A widow, and a maid.
_Dor._ Have I been cursing heaven, while heaven blest me?
I shall run mad with extacy of joy:
What! in one moment, to be reconciled
To heaven, and to my king, and to my love!--
But pity is my friend, and stops me short,
For my unhappy rival:--Poor Henriquez!
_Seb._ Art thou so generous, too, to pity him?
Nay, then, I was unjust to love him better.
Here let me ever hold thee in my arms; [_Embracing him._
And all our quarrels be but such as these,
Who shall love best, and closest shall embrace.
Be what Henriquez was,--be my Alonzo.
_Dor._ What, my Alonzo, said you? my Alonzo!
Let my tears thank you, for I cannot speak;
And, if I could,
Words were not made to vent such thoughts as mine.
_Seb._ Some strange reverse of fate must sure attend
This vast profusion, this extravagance
Of heaven, to bless me thus.
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