LITMIR.BIZ

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Because I came not in the common road,

       But born obscure, and so more like a god?

       No; though his diadem another wear,

       At least to all his pleasures I'll be heir.

       Here I should meet my Eboli, my fair.

      Enter Duchess of Eboli.

      She comes; as the bright Cyprian goddess moves,

       When loose, and in her chariot drawn by doves,

       She rides to meet the warlike god she loves.

      D. of Eboli. Alas! my lord, you know not with what fear And hazard I am come to meet you here.

      Don John. Oh, banish it: lovers like us should fly, And, mounted by their wishes, soar on high, Where softest ecstasies and transports are, While fear alone disturbs the lower air.

      D. of Eboli. But who is safe when eyes are everywhere? Or, if we could with happiest secrecy Enjoy these sweets, oh, whither shall we fly To escape that sight whence we can nothing hide?

      Don John. Alas! lay this religion now aside; I'll show thee one more pleasant, that which Jove Set forth to the old world, when from above He came himself, and taught his mortals love.

      D. of Eboli. Will nothing then quench your unruly flame? My lord, you might consider who I am.

      Don John. I know you're her I love, what should I more Regard?

      D. of Eboli. [Aside.] By Heaven, he's brave!— But can so poor A thought possess your breast, to think that I Will brand my name with lust and infamy?

      Don John. Those who are noblest born should higher prize Love's sweets. Oh! let me fly into those eyes! There's something in them leads my soul astray: As he who in a necromancer's glass Beholds his wished-for fortune by him pass, Yet still with greedy eyes Pursues the vision as it glides away.

      D. of Eboli. Protect me, Heaven! I dare no longer stay; Your looks speak danger; I feel something too That bids me fly, yet will not let me go. [Half aside.

      Don John. Take vows and prayers if ever I prove false. See at your feet the humble Austria falls. [Kneels.

      D. of Eboli. Rise, rise. [Don John rises.] My lord, why would you thus deceive? [Sighs.

      Don John. How many ways to wound me you contrive! Speak, wouldst thou have an empire at thy feet? Say, wouldst thou rule the world? I'll conquer it.

      D. of Eboli. No; above empire far I could prize you, If you would be but—

      Don John. What?

      D. of Eboli. For ever true.

      Don John. That thou mayst ne'er have cause to fear those harms, I'll be confined for ever in thy arms: Nay, I'll not one short minute from thee stray; Myself I'll on thy tender bosom lay, Till in its warmths I'm melted all away.

      Enter Garcia.

      Gar. Madam, your lord—

      D. of Eboli. Oh! fly, or I'm undone. [Exit Garcia.

      Don John. Must I without thy blessing then be gone?

      [Kisses her hand.

      D. of Eboli. Think you that this discretion merits one?

      [Pulls it back.

      Don John. I'm awed: As a sick wretch, that on his death-bed lies, Loth with his friends to part, just as he dies, Thus sends his soul in wishes from his eyes. [Exit.

      D. of Eboli. O Heaven! what charms in youth and vigour are! Yet he in conquest is not gone too far; Too easily I'll not myself resign: Ere I am his, I'll make him surely mine; Draw him by subtle baits into the trap, Till he's too far got in to make escape; About him swiftly the soft snare I'll cast, And when I have him there, I'll hold him fast.

      Enter Ruy-Gomez.

      Ruy-Gom. Thus unaccompanied I subtly range The solitary paths of dark revenge: The fearful deer in herds to coverts run, While beasts of prey affect to roam alone.

      D. of Eboli. Ah! my dear lord, how do you spend your hours? You little think what my poor heart endures; Whilst, with your absence tortured, I in vain Pant after joys I ne'er can hope to gain.

      Ruy-Gom. You cannot my unkindness sure upbraid; You should forgive those faults yourself have made. Remember you the task you gave?

      D. of Eboli. 'Tis true; Your pardon, for I do remember now. [Sighs. If I forgot, 'twas love had all my mind; And 'tis no sin, I hope, to be too kind.

      Ruy-Gom. How happy am I in a faithful wife! O thou most precious blessing of my life!

      D. of Eboli. Does then success attend upon your toil? I long to see you revel in the spoil.

      Ruy-Gom. What strictest diligence could do, I've done, To incense an angry father 'gainst his son. I to advantage told him all that's past, Described with art each amorous glance they cast: So that this night he shunned the marriage-bed, Which through the court has various murmurs spread.

      Enter the King, attended by the Marquis of Posa.

      See where he comes with fury in his eyes:

       Kind Heaven, but grant the storm may higher rise!

       If't grow too loud, I'll lurk in some dark cell,

       And laugh to hear my magic work so well.

      King. What's all my glory, all my pomp? how poor Is fading greatness! or how vain is power! Where all the mighty conquests I have seen? I, who o'er nations have victorious been, Now cannot quell one little foe within. Cursed jealousy, that poisons all love's sweets! How heavy on my heart the invader sits! O Gomez, thou hast given my mortal wound.

      Ruy-Gom. What is't does so your royal thoughts confound? A king his power unbounded ought to have, And, ruling all, should not be passion's slave.

      King. Thou counsell'st well, but art no stranger sure To the sad cause of what I now endure. Know'st thou what poison thou didst lately give, And dost not wonder to behold me live?

      Ruy-Gom. I only did as by my duty tied, And never studied any thing beside.

      King. I do not blame thy duty or thy care: Quickly, what passed between them more, declare. How greedily my soul to ruin flies! As he who in a fever burning lies First of his friends does for a drop implore, Which tasted once, unable to give o'er, Knows 'tis his bane, yet still thirsts after more. Oh, then—

      Ruy-Gom. I fear that you'll interpret wrong; Tis true, they gazed, but 'twas not very long.

      King. Lie still, my heart! Not long, was't that you said?

      Ruy-Gom. No longer than they in your presence stayed.

      King. No longer? Why, a soul in less time flies To Heaven; and they have changed theirs at their eyes. Hence, abject fears, begone! she's all divine! Speak, friends, can angels in perfection sin?

      Ruy-Gom. Angels, that shine above, do oft bestow Their influence on poor mortals here below.

      King. But Carlos is my son, and always near; Seems to move with me in my glorious sphere. True, she may shower promiscuous blessings down On slaves that gaze for what falls from a crown; But when too kindly she his brightness sees, It robs my lustre to add more to his. But oh! I dare not think That those eyes should at least so humble be To stoop to him, when they had vanquished me.

      M. of Posa. Sir, I am proud to think I know the prince, That he of virtue has too great a sense To cherish but

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