Zan. Then heaven has lost its image here on earth.

Alon. Good-natur'd man! he makes my pains his own.

Zan. Did you not read it then?

Alon. Mine eye just touch'd it, and could bear no more.

Zan. Thus perish all that gives Alonzo pain!

[tears the letter.

Alon. Why didst thou tear it?

Zan. Think of it no more.

Alon. And didst thou tremble then for my mistake?

Zan. Is this Alonzo's language to his Zanga?

Alon. Then my worst fears are true, and life is past.

Zan. What has the rashness of my passion utter'd?

Alon. So, heaven look on me,

Zan. Indeed! [aside]—Our innocence is not our shield.

Alon. Oh that it were!

Zan. It is;

Alon. O, Zanga! it is that confounds me most,

Zan. No more, my lord, for you condemn yourself.

Alon. What indiscretion?

Zan. Come, you must bear to hear your faults from me.

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