RICHELIEU. That's my sweet Julie! why, upon this face
Blushes such daybreak, one might swear the morning
Were come to visit Tithon.
JULIE (placing herself at his feet). Are you gracious?
May I say "Father?"
RICH. Now and ever!
JULIE. Father!
A sweet word to an orphan.
RICH. No; not orphan
While Richelieu lives; thy father loved me well;
My friend, ere I had flatterers (now I'm great,
In other phrase, I'm friendless)—he died young
In years, not service, and bequeathed thee to me;
And thou shalt have a dowry, girl, to buy
Thy mate amid the mightiest. Drooping?—sighs?—
Art thou not happy at the court?
JULIE. Not often.
RICH, (aside). Can she love Baradas? Ah! at thy heart
There's what can smile and sigh, blush and grow pale,
All in a breath! Thou art admired—art young;
Does not his Majesty commend thy beauty—
Ask thee to sing to him?—and swear such sounds
Had smoothed the brow of Saul?
JULIE. He's very tiresome,
Our worthy King.
RICH. Fie! Kings are never tiresome
Save to their ministers. What courtly gallants
Charm ladies most?—De Sourdioc' Longueville, or
The favorite Baradas?
JULIE. A smileless man—
I fear and shun him.