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The Complete Works of William Shakespeare - Israel Gollancz William Shakespeare [1298]

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them seeming Saints, are but the Wiles

By which these Syrens lure us to Destruction.

Jul. Do not you weep now? I could drop myself

Into a Fountain for her.

Gent. She weeps extremely.

Jul. Let her weep; ’tis well:

Her Heart will break else. Great Sorrows live in Tears.

Viol. O false Henriquez! —

Jul. Ha!

Viol. And Oh, thou Fool,

Forsaken Violante! whose Belief

And childish Love have made Thee so — go, dye;

For there is nothing left Thee now to look for,

That can bring Comfort, but a quiet Grave.

There all the Miseries I long have felt,

And Those to come, shall sweetly sleep together.

Fortune may guide that false Henriquez hither,

To weep Repentance o’er my pale, dead Coarse,

And cheer my wand’ring Spirit with those lov’d Obsequies. [Going.

Jul. Stay, Lady, stay: Can it be possible,

That you are Violante?

Viol.That lost Name,

Spoken by One, that needs must know my Fortunes,

Has taken much Fear from me. Who are you, Sir?

For, sure, I am that hopeless Violante.

Jul. And I, as far from any earthly Comfort

That I know yet, the much-wrong’d Julio!

Viol. Julio!

Jul. I once was thought so. — If the curst Henriquez

Had Pow’r to change you to a Boy, why, Lady,

Should not that Mischief make me any thing,

That have an equal Share in all the Miseries

His Crimes have flung upon Us?

Viol. Well I know it:

And pardon Me, I could not know your Virtues,

Before your Griefs. Methought, when last we met,

The Accent of your Voice struck on my Ear

Like something I had known, but Floods of Sorrow

Drown’d the Remembrance. If you’ll please to sit,

(Since I have found a suff’ring true Companion,)

And give me Hearing, I will tell you something

Of Leonora, that may comfort you.

Jul. Blessing upon Thee! Henceforth, I protest

Never to leave Thee, if Heav’n say Amen.

But, soft! let’s shift our Ground, guide our sad Steps

To some remoter Gloom, where, undisturb’d,

We may compare our Woes; dwell on the Tale

Of mutual Injuries, ’till our Eyes run o’er,

And we infect each other, with fresh Sorrows. —

Talk’d you of Comfort? ’Tis the Food of Fools,

And We will None on’t; but indulge Despair:

So, worn with Griefs, steal to the Cave of Death,

And in a Sigh give up our latest Breath. [Exeunt.

The End of the Fourth Act.

Act V. Scene I.

Scene, The Prospect of the Mountains continued.


Enter Roderick, Leonora veil’d, Henriquez, Attendants as Mourners.

Rod. Rest certain, Lady, Nothing shall betide you,

But fair, and noble Usage. Pardon me,

That hitherto a Course of Violence

Has snatch’d you from that Seat of Contemplation

To which you gave your After-Life.

Leon. Where am I?

Rod. Not in the Nunnery; never blush, nor tremble;

Your Honour has as fair a Guard, as when

Within a Cloyster. Know then, what is done,

(Which, I presume, you understand not truly,)

Has this Use, to preserve the Life of One

Dying for Love of You: my Brother, and your Friend:

Under which Colour we desir’d to rest

Our Herse one Night within your hallow’d Walls,

Where we surpriz’d you.

Leon.Are you that Lord Roderick,

So spoken of for Virtue, and fair Life,

And dare you lose these to be Advocate

For such a Brother, such a sinful Brother,

Such an unfaithful, treacherous, brutal Brother?

Rod. This is a fearful Charge. —

[Looks at Henriquez.

Leon. If you would have me

Think, you still bear Respect for Virtue’s Name;

As you would wish, your Daughters, thus distress’d,

Might find a Guard, protect me from Henriquez;

And I am happy.

Rod. Come, Sir, make your Answer;

For as I have a Soul, I am asham’d on’t.

Henr. O Leonora, see! thus self-condemn’d,

I throw me at your Feet, and sue for Mercy.

If I have err’d, impute it to my Love;

The Tyrant God that bows us to his Sway,

Rebellious to the Laws of reas’ning Men;

That will not have his Votaries Actions scann’d,

But calls it Justice, when we most obey him.

He but commanded, what your Eyes inspir’d;

Whose sacred Beams, darted into my Soul,

Have purg’d the Mansion from impure Desires,

And kindled in my Heart a Vestal’s Flame.

Leon. Rise, rise, my Lord; this well-dissembled

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