Blan. Yea, my liege,
Now the black cloud has fallen from the sun;
But cannot guess why, at an hour like this,
And thus disguised—Oh, let me know at once
Whether in mercy or new wrath you come
To this most wretched house!
King. In neither, Blanca;
But in the execution of the trust
That Heaven has given to kings.
Blan. And how, my liege,