We are alone, none to way-lay the words
That travel from your lips; speak out at once;
Or, by the heavens, Blanca,—
Blan. Oh, my liege,
Not in one breath
Turn royal mercy into needless threat;
Though it be true my bosom has so long
This secret kept close prisoner, and hop’d
To have it buried with me in my grave,
Yet if I peril my own name and theirs