Thomas Otway. Thomas Otway
the bound Of strictest duty. He to me has owned How much was to his former passion due, Yet still confessed he above all prized you.
Ruy-Gom. You better reconcile, sir, than advise: Be not more charitable than you're wise. The king is sick, and we should give him ease, But first find out the depth of his disease. Too sudden cures have oft pernicious grown; We must not heal up festered wounds too soon.
King. By this then you a power would o'er me gain, Wounding to let me linger in the pain. I'm stung, and won't the torture long endure: Serpents that wound have blood those wounds to cure.
Ruy-Gom. Good Heaven forbid that I should ever dare To question virtue in a queen so fair, Though she her eyes cast on your glorious son! Men oft see treasures, and yet covet none.
King. Think not to blind me with dark ironies, The truth disguised in obscure contraries. No, I will trace his windings; all her dark And subtlest paths, each little action mark, If she prove false, as yet I fear, she dies.
Enter Queen attended, and Henrietta.
Ha! here! Oh, let me turn away my eyes,
For all around she'll her bright beams display:
Should I to gaze on the wild meteor stay,
Spite of myself I shall be led astray.
[Exeunt King and Marquis of Posa.
Queen. How scornfully he is withdrawn! Sure ere his love he'd let me know his power, As Heaven oft thunders ere it sends a shower. This Spanish gravity is very odd: All things are by severity so awed, That little Love dares hardly peep abroad.
Hen. Alas! what can you from old age expect, When frail uneasy men themselves neglect? Some little warmth perhaps may be behind, Though such as in extinguished fires you'll find; Where some remains of heat the ashes hold, Which, if for more you open, straight are cold.
Queen. 'Twas interest and safety of the state— Interest, that bold imposer on our fate; That always to dark ends misguides our wills, And with false happiness smooths o'er our ills. It was by that unhappy France was led, When, though by contract I should Carlos wed, I was an offering made to Philip's bed. Why sigh'st thou, Henrietta?
Hen. Who is't can Know your sad fate, and yet from grief refrain? With pleasure oft I've heard you smiling tell Of Carlos' love.
Queen. And did it please you well? In that brave prince's courtship there did meet All that we could obliging call, or sweet. At every point he with advantage stood; Fierce as a lion, if provoked abroad; Else soft as angels, charming as a god.
Hen. One so accomplished, and who loved you too, With what resentments must he part with you! Methinks I pity him——But oh! in vain: He's both above my pity and my pain. [Aside.
Queen. What means this strange disorder?
Hen. Yonder view That which I fear will discompose you too.
Enter Don Carlos and Marquis of Posa.
Queen. Alas, the prince! There to my mind appears Something that in me moves unusual fears. Away, Henrietta—[Offers to go.
Don Car. Why would you be gone? Is Carlos' sight ungrateful to you grown? If 'tis, speak: in obedience I'll retire.
Queen. No, you may speak, but must advance no nigher.
Don Car. Must I then at that awful distance sue, As our forefathers were compelled to do, When they petitions made at that great shrine, Where none but the high priest might enter in? Let me approach; I've nothing for your ear, But what's so pure it might be offered there.
Queen. Too long 'tis dangerous for me here to stay: If you must speak, proceed: what would you say?
[Don Carlos kneels.
Nay, this strange ceremony pray give o'er.
Don Car. Was I ne'er in this posture seen before? Ah! can your cruel heart so soon resign All sense of these sad sufferings of mine? To your more just remembrance, if you can, Recall how fate seemed kindly to ordain That once you should be mine; which I believed: Though now, alas! I find I was deceived.
Queen. Then, sir, you should your fate, not me upbraid.
Don Car. I will not say you've broke the vows you made; Only implore you would not quite forget The wretch you've oft seen dying at your feet; And now no other favour begs to have, Than such kind pity as becomes your slave. For 'midst your highest joys, without a crime, At least you now and then may think of him.
Queen. If e'er you loved me, you would this forbear; It is a language which I dare not hear. My heart and faith become your father's right, All other passions I must now forget.
Don Car. Can then a crown and majesty dispense Upon your heart such mighty influence, That I must be for ever banished thence? Had I been raised to all the heights of power, In triumph crowned the world's great emperor, Of all its riches, all its state possessed, Yet you should still have governed in my breast.
Queen. In vain on her you obligations lay, Who wants not will, but power to repay.
Hen. Yet had you Henrietta's heart, you would At least strive to afford him all you could. [Aside.
Don Car. Oh! say not you want power; you may with one Kind look pay doubly all I've undergone. And knew you but the innocence I bear, How pure, how spotless all my wishes are, You would not scruple to supply my want, When all I ask you may so safely grant.
Queen. I know not what to grant; too well I find That still at least I cannot be unkind.
Don Car. Afford me then that little which I crave.
Queen. You shall not want what I may let you have.
[Gives her hand, sighing.
Don Car. Like one That sees a heap of gems before him cast, Thence to choose any that may please him best; From the rich treasure whilst I choice should make, Dazzled with all, I know not where to take. I would be rich—
Queen. Nay, you too far encroach; I fear I have already given too much. [Turns from him.
Don Car. Oh, take not back again the appearing bliss: How difficult's the path to happiness! Whilst up the precipice we climb with pain, One little slip throws us quite down again. Stay, madam, though you nothing more can give Than just enough to keep a wretch alive, At least remember how I've loved—
Queen. I will.
Don Car. That was so kind, that I must beg more still; Let me love on: it is a very poor And easy grant, yet I'll request no more.
Queen. Do you believe that you can love retain, And not expect to be beloved again?
Don Car. Yes, I will love, and think I'm happy too, So long as I can find that you are so; All my disquiets banish from my breast; I will endeavour to do so at least. [Sighing deeply. Or, if I can't my miseries outwear, They never more shall come to offend your ear.
Queen. Love then, brave prince, whilst I'll thy love admire;
[Gives her hand, which Don Carlos during all this speech kisses eagerly.
Yet keep the flame so pure, such chaste desire,
That without spot hereafter we above
May meet, when we shall come all soul, all love.
Till when—Oh! whither am I run astray?
I grow too weak, and must no longer stay:
For should I, the soft charm so strong would grow,
I find