Glutted with joys which I would die to taste!
No, let me stab the wretch in every vein,
And leave him dry of pleasure, ere we part.
Vict. Alphonso, no; you cannot kill Don Garcia,
But you declare the cause, and own your love.
Alph. And what care I, what after ages say
Alphonso did, to make Alphonso happy?
But oh, you love! and would preserve his life
To be for ever his.