Thomas Otway. Thomas Otway

Thomas Otway

is large. Besides, you know he has already seen The transports of your passion for the queen. The use he may of that advantage make You ought at least to avoid, but for her sake.

Don. Car. Ah! my dear friend, thou'st touched my tenderest part; I never yet learned the dissembling art. Go, call him back; tell him that I implore His pardon, and will ne'er offend him more. The queen! kind Heaven, make her thy nearest care! Oh! fly, o'ertake him ere he goes too far. [Exit Marquis of Posa. How are we bandied up and down by fate! By so much more unhappy as we're great. A prince, and heir to Spain's great monarch born, I'm forced to court a slave whom most I scorn; Who like a bramble 'mongst a cedar's boughs, Vexes his peace under whose shades he grows. Now he returns: assist me falsehood—down, Thou rebel passion—

Re-enter Ruy-Gomez and the Marquis of Posa.

Sir, I fear I've done

[To Ruy-Gomez.

You wrong; but, if I have, you can forgive.

Heaven! can I do this abject thing, and live? [Aside.

Ruy-Gom. Ah, my good lord, it makes too large amends, When to his vassal thus a prince descends; Though it was something rigid and unkind, To upbraid your faithful servant and your friend.

Don Car. Alas! no more; all jealousies shall cease; Between us two let there be henceforth peace. So may just Heaven assist me when I sue, As I to Gomez always will be true.

Ruy-Gom. Stay, sir, and for this mighty favour take All the return sincerity can make. Blest in your father's love, as I'm in yours, May not one fear disturb your happy hours! Crowned with success may all your wishes be, And you ne'er find worse enemies than me!

[Exeunt Don Carlos and Marquis of Posa.

Nor, spite of all his greatness, shall he need:

Of too long date his ruin is decreed.

Spain's early hopes of him have been my fears;

'Twas I the charge had of his tender years,

And read in all the progress of his growth,

An untamed, haughty, hot, and furious youth;

A will unruly, and a spirit wild;

At all my precepts still with scorn he smiled.

Or when, by the power I from his father had,

Any restraint was on his pleasures laid,

Ushered with frowns on me his soul would rise,

And threaten future vengeance from his eyes.

But now to all my fears I bid adieu;

For, prince, I'll humble both your fate and you.

Here comes the star by whom my course I steer.

Re-enter Duchess of Eboli.

Welcome, my love!

D. of Eboli. My lord, why stay you here, Losing the pleasures of this happy night? When all the court are melting in delight, You toil with the dull business of the state.

Ruy-Gom. Only, my fair one, how to make thee great. Thou takest up all the business of my heart, And only to it pleasure canst impart. Say, say, my goddess, when shall I be blest? It is an age since I was happy last.

D. of Eboli. My lord, I come not hither now to hear Your love, but offer something to your ear. If you have well observed, you must have seen, To-day, some strange disorders in the queen.

Ruy-Gom. Yes, such as youthful brides do still express, Impatient longings for the happiness. Approaching joys will so disturb the soul, As needles always tremble near the pole.

D. of Eboli. Come, come, my lord, seem not so blind; too well I've seen the wrongs which you from Carlos feel; And know your judgment is too good to lose Advantage, where you may so safely choose. Say now, if I inform you how you may With full revenge all your past wrongs repay—

Ruy-Gom. Blest oracle! speak how it may be done: My will, my life, my hopes, are all thy own.

D. of Eboli. Hence then, and with your strictest cunning try What of the queen and prince you can descry; Watch every look, each quick and subtle glance; Then we'll from all produce such circumstance As shall the king's new jealousy advance. Nay, sir, I'll try what mighty love you show: If you will make me great, begin it now. How, sir, d'ye stand considering what to do?

Ruy-Gom. No, but methinks I view from hence a king, A queen, and prince, three goodly flowers spring: Whilst on them like a subtle bee I'll prey, Till, so their strength and virtue drawn away, Unable to recover, each shall droop, Grow pale, and fading hang his withered top: Then, fraught with thyme, triumphant back I'll come, And unlade all the precious sweets at home. [Exit.

D. of Eboli. In thy fond policy, blind fool, go on, And make what haste thou canst to be undone, Whilst I have nobler business of my own. Was I bred up in greatness; have I been Nurtured with glorious hopes to be a queen; Made love my study, and with practised charms Prepared myself to meet a monarch's arms; At last to be condemned to the embrace Of one whom nature made to her disgrace, An old, imperfect, feeble dotard, who Can only tell (alas!) what he would do? On him to throw away my youth and bloom, As jewels that are lost to enrich a tomb? No, though all hopes are in a husband dead, Another path to happiness I'll tread; Elsewhere find joys which I'm in him denied: Yet, while he can, let the slave serve my pride. Still I'll in pleasure live, in glory shine; The gallant, youthful Austria shall be mine: To him with all my force of charms I'll move: Let others toil for greatness, whilst I love. [Exit.