Oth. Has, then, the fatal secret reach'd thine ear? Inhuman tyrant!
Zap. Strike him, heav'n with thunder,
Nor let Zaphira doubt thy providence!
Oth. 'Twas what we fear'd. Oppose not heav'n's high will,
Nor struggle with the ten-fold chain of fate,
That links thee to thy woes. O, rather yield,
And wait the happier hour, when innocence
Shall weep no more. Rest in that pleasing hope,
And yield thyself to heaven, my honor'd queen.
The king——