DON MANUEL.
Say not so!
Who doubts thy noble heart, knows thee not well;
The words were prouder, if thy soul were mean.
DON CAESAR.
It burns indignant at the thought of wrong—
But thou—methinks—in passion's fiercest mood,
'Twas aught but scorn that harbored in thy breast.
DON MANUEL.
Oh! had I known thy spirit thus to peace
Inclined, what thousand griefs had never torn
A mother's heart!
DON CAESAR.
I find thee just and true:
Men spoke thee proud of soul.
DON MANUEL.
The curse of greatness!
Ears ever open to the babbler's tale.
DON CAESAR.
Thou art too proud to meanness—I to falsehood!
DON MANUEL.
We are deceived, betrayed!
DON CAESAR.
The sport of frenzy!
DON MANUEL.
And said my mother true, false is the world?
DON CAESAR.
Believe her, false as air.
DON MANUEL.
Give me thy hand!