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enemy. Pizarro, I demand not of thee virtue, I ask not from thee nobleness of mind, I require only just dealing to the fame thou hast acquired: be not the assassin of thine own renown. How often have you sworn, that the sacrifice which thy wondrous valour's high report had won you from subdued Elvira, was the proudest triumph of your fame! Thou knowest I bear a mind not cast in the common mould, not formed for tame sequestered love, content mid household cares to prattle to an idle offspring, and wait the dull delight of an obscure lover's kindness : no my heart was framed to look up with awe and homage to the object it adored; my ears to own no music but the thrilling records of his praise; my lips to scorn all babbling but the tales of his achievements; my brain to turn giddy with delight, reading the applauding tributes of his monarch's and his country's gratitude; my every faculty to throb with transport, while I heard the shouts of acclamation which announced the coming of my hero; my whole soul to love him with devotion with enthusiasm! to see no other object—to own no other tie-but to make him my world! Thus to love is at least no common weakness. Pizarro! was not such my love for thee!

Piz. It was, Elvira !

Elv. Then do not make me hateful to myself, by tearing off the mask at once, baring the hideous imposture that has undone me! Do not an act which, howe'er thy present power may gloss it to the world, will make thee hateful to all future ages-accursed and scorned by posterity.

Piz. And should posterity applaud my deeds, thinkest thou my mouldering bones would rattle then with transport in my tomb? This is renown for visionary boys to dream of; I understand it not. The fame I value shall uplift my living estimation, o'erbear with popular support the envy of my foes, advance my purposes, and aid my power.

Elv. Each word thou speakest, each moment that I hear thee, dispels the fatal mist through which I've judged thee. Thou man of mighty name but little soul, I see thou wert not born to feel what genuine fame and glory are. Go! prefer the flattery of thy own fleeting day to the bright circle of a deathless name-go! prefer to stare upon the grain of sand on which you trample to musing on the starred canopy above thee. Fame, the sovereign deity of proud ambition, is not to be worshipped so; who seeks alone for living homage stands a mean canvasser in her temple's

porch, wooing promiscuously, from the fickle breath of every wretch that passes, the brittle tribute of his praise. He dares not approach the sacred altar-no noble sacrifice of his is placed there, nor ever shall his worshipped image, fixed above, claim for his memory a glorious immortality. Piz. Elvira, leave me !

Elv. Pizarro, you no longer love me.

Piz. It is not so, Elvira. But what might I not suspectthis wondrous interest for a stranger? Take back thy reproach.

Elv. No, Pizarro, as yet I am not lost to you; one string still remains, and binds me to your fate. Do not, I conjure you do not, for mine own sake, tear it asunder-shed not Alonzo's blood!

Piz. My resolution 's fixed.

Elv. Even though that moment lost you Elvira for ever ? Piz. Even so.

Elv. Pizarro, if not to honour, if not to humanity, yet listen to affection; bear some memory of the sacrifices I have made for thy sake. Have I not for thee quitted my parents, my friends, my fame, my native land? When escaping, did I not risk, in rushing to thy arms, to bury myself in the bosom of the deep? Have I not shared all thy perils-heavy storms at sea, and frightful 'scapes on shore ? Even on this dreadful day, amid the rout of battle, who remained firm and constant at Pizarro's side ? Who presented her bosom as his shield to the assailing foe ?

Piz. 'Tis truly spoken all. In love thou art thy sex's miracle, in war the soldier's pattern; and therefore my whole heart and half my acquisitions are thy right.

Elv. Convince me I possess the first; I exchange all title to the latter for-mercy to Alonzo.

Piz. No more! Had I intended to prolong his doom, each word thou utterest now would hasten on his fate. Elv. Alonzo then at morn will die ?

Piz. Thinkest thou yon sun will set ? As surely at his rising shall Alonzo die.

Elv. Then be it done-the string is cracked-sundered for ever. But mark me-thou hast heretofore had cause, 'tis true, to doubt my resolution, howe'er offended; but mark me now-the lips which, cold and jeering, barbing revenge with rancorous mockery, can insult a fallen enemy, shall never more receive the pledge of love: the arm which,

unshaken by its bloody purpose, shall assign to needless torture the victim who avows his heart, never more shall press the hand of faith! Pizarro, scorn not my words; beware you slight them not! I feel how noble are the motives which now animate my thoughts. Who could not feel as I do, I condemn; who, feeling so, yet would not act as I shall, I despise !

Piz. I have heard thee, Elvira, and know well the noble motives which inspire thee-fit advocate in virtue's cause ! Believe me, I pity thy tender feelings for the youth Alonzo ! He dies at sunrise!

[Exit

Elv. 'Tis well! 'tis just I should be humbled-I had forgot myself, and in the cause of innocence assumed the tone of virtue. 'Twas fit I should be rebuked-and by Pizarro. Fall, fall, ye few reluctant drops of weakness— the last these eyes shall ever shed. How a woman can love, Pizarro, thou hast known too well-how she can hate, thou hast yet to learn. Yes, thou undaunted !-thou, whom yet no mortal hazard has appalled-thou, who on Panama's brow didst make alliance with the raging elements that tore the silence of that horrid night, when thou didst follow, as thy pioneer, the crashing thunder's drift; and, stalking o'er the trembling earth, didst plant thy banner by the red volcano's mouth! thou, who went battling on the sea, and thy brave ship was blown to splinters, wast seen, as thou didst bestride a fragment of the smoking wreck, to wave thy glittering sword above thy head, as thou wouldst defy the world in that extremity !-come, fearless man! now meet the last and fellest peril of thy life; meet and survive an injured woman's fury, if thou canst. [Exit

ACT FOUR

SCENE I-A Dungeon

ALONZO is discovered in chains. A SENTINEL Walking near

Alon. For the last time I have beheld the shadowed ocean close upon the light. For the last time, through my cleft dungeon's roof, I now behold the quivering lustre of the stars. For the last time, O sun! (and soon the hour) I shall behold thy rising, and thy level beams melting the pale mists of morn to glittering dew-drops. Then comes

my death, and in the morning of my day I fall, which-no, Alonzo, date not the life which thou hast run by the mean reckoning of the hours and days which thou hast breathed: a life spent worthily should be measured by a nobler line -by deeds, not years. Then wouldst thou murmur not, but bless the Providence which in so short a span made thee the instrument of wide and spreading blessings to the helpless and oppressed. Though sinking in decrepit age, he prematurely falls whose memory records no benefit conferred by him on man. They only have lived long who have lived virtuously.

Enter a SOLDIER, shows the SENTINEL a passport, who withdraws

Alon. What bear you there?

Sold. These refreshments I was ordered to leave in your dungeon.

Alon. By whom ordered?

Sold. By the Lady Elvira: she will be here herself before the dawn.

Alon. Bear back to her my humblest thanks; and take thou the refreshments, friend-I need them not.

Sold. I have served under you, Don Alonzo. Pardon my saying that my heart pities you. [Exit

Alon. In Pizarro's camp, to pity the unfortunate, no doubt requires forgiveness.-[Looking out.] Surely, even now, thin streaks of glimmering light steal on the darkness of the east. If so, my life is but one hour more. I will not watch the coming dawn; but in the darkness of my cell, my last prayer, to thee, Power Supreme! shall be for my wife and child! Grant them to dwell in innocence and peace; grant health and purity of mind-all else is worthless [Retires into the dungeon Sent. Who's there? answer quickly! who's there? Rol. [Without.] A friar come to visit your prisoner.

Enter ROLLA, disguised as a Monк

Rol. Inform me, friend-is not Alonzo, the Spanish prisoner, confined in this dungeon

Sent. He is.

Rol. I must speak with him.

Sent. You must not.

Rol. He is my friend.

[Stopping him with his spear

Sent. Not if he were your brother.
Rol. What is to be his fate?
Sent. He dies at sunrise.

Rol. Ha! then I am come in time.
Sent. Just-to witness his death.

Rol. Soldier, I must speak with him.
Sent. Back, back! It is impossible!

Rol. I'do entreat thee but for one moment

Sent. You entreat in vain; my orders are most strict. Rol. Even now, I saw a messenger go hence.

Sent. He brought a pass, which we are all accustomed to obey.

thee and thine they are thine.

Rol. Look on this wedge of massive gold-look on these precious gems. In thy own land they will be wealth for beyond thy hope or wish. Take themLet me but pass one minute with Alonzo. Sent. Away! wouldst thou corrupt me ?-me! an old Castilian! I know my duty better.

Rol. Soldier! hast thou a wife?

Sent. I have.

Rol. Hast thou children?

Sent. Four-honest, lovely boys.

Rol. Where didst thou leave them?

Sent. In my native village-even in the cot where myself was born.

Rol. Dost thou love thy children and thy wife? Sent. Do I love them!-God knows my heart-I do. Rol. Soldier I-imagine thou wert doomed to die a cruel death in this strange land; what would be thy last request? Sent. That some of my comrades should carry my dying blessing to my wife and children.

Rol. Oh, but if that comrade was at thy prison gate-and should there be told-thy fellow-soldier dies at sunrise-yet thou shalt not for a moment see him-nor shalt thou bear his dying blessing to his poor children or his wretched wife -what wouldst thou think of him, who thus could drive thy comrade from the door?

Sent. How!

Rol. Alonzo has a wife and child-I am come but to receive for her and for her babe the last blessing of my friend.

Sent. Go in.

[Retires

Rol. Oh, holy Nature! thou dost never plead in vain. There is not, of our earth, a creature bearing form, and life,

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