Alph. For you have given my soul so large a swing,
That it bounds back again with double force,
Only because you carried it too far.
You've set an image of so vast destruction
Before my sight, that reason shuns the approach,
And dares not view the fearful precipice.
Ram. Is vengeance, which is said so sweet a morsel,
That heaven reserves it for its proper taste,
Is it so soon disrelished?
Alph. What have the people done, the sheep of princes,