[_Aside_. Yet, thou ungrateful man,
Let thy approaching ruin make thee wise.
_Mont_. Thee, and thy love, and mischief, I despise!
_Zemp_. What shall I do? Some way must yet be tried;--
What reason can she use whom passions guide!
[_Aside. Trax_. Some black designs are hatching now:--False eyes
Are quick to see another's treacheries.
[_Aside. Zemp_. Rash stranger, thus to pull down thy own fate!
_Mont_. You, and that life you offer me, I hate.
_Enter Jailor_.
_Zemp_. Here, jailor, take--What title must he have?
Slave, slave!--Am I then captive to a slave?--
Why art thou thus unwilling to be free?
_Mont_. Death will release me from these chains, and thee.
_Zemp_. Here, jailor, take this monster from my sight,
And keep him where it may be always night.
Let none come near him; if thou dost, expect
To pay thy life, the price of the neglect.
_Mont_. I scorn thy pity, and thy cruelty;
And should despise a blessing sent from thee.
_Zemp_. O, horror to my soul! take him away!--
My rage, like dammed-up streams, swelled by some stay,
Shall, from this opposition, get new force,
And leave the bound of its old easy course.--
Come, my Traxalla, let us both forgive,
And in these wretches' fates begin to live.
The altars shall be crowned with funeral boughs,
Peace-offerings paid,--but with unquiet vows.
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