SCENE III. Florella’s Lodgings.
Enter the King, leading in Florella all in fear.
Flor. Ah, Sir, the Gods and you would be more merciful,
If by a Death less cruel than my Fears,
You would preserve my Honour; begin it quickly,
And after that I will retain my Duty,
And at your Feet breathe Thanks in dying Sighs.
King. Where learnt you, Fairest, so much Cruelty
To charge me with the Power of injuring thee?
Not from my Eyes, where Love and Languishment
Too sensibly inform thee of my Heart.
Flor. Call it not Injury, Sir, to free my Soul
From fears which such a Visit must create,
In dead of Night, when nought but frightful Ghosts
Of restless Souls departed walk the Round.
King. That fleeting thing am I, whom all Repose,
All Joys, and every good of Life abandon’d,
That fatal Hour thou gavest thy self away;
And I was doom’d to endless Desperation:
Yet whilst I liv’d, all glorious with my hopes,
Some sacred Treasures in thy Breast I hid,
And near thee still my greedy Soul will hover.
Flor. Ah, rather like a Ravisher you come, With Love and Fierceness in your dangerous Eyes; And both will equally be fatal to me.
King. Oh, do not fear me, as the fair Lucretia
Did the fierce Roman Youth; I mean no Rapes,
Thou canst not think that I wou’d force those Joys,
Which cease to be so, when compell’d, Florella—
No, I would sooner pierce this faithful Heart,
Whose Flame appears too criminal for your Mercy.
Flor. Why do you fright me, Sir? methinks your Looks
All pale, your Eyes thus fixt, and trembling Hands,
The awful Horror of the dark and silent Night,
Strike a cold Terror round my fainting Heart,
That does presage some fatal Accident.
King. ‘Tis in your cruel Eyes the Danger lies—
Wou’d you receive me with that usual Tenderness,
Which did express it self in every Smile,
I should dismiss tin’s Horror from my Face,
And place again its native Calmness there;
And all my Veins shall re-assume their Heat,
And with a new and grateful Ardour beat.