M. of Posa. Sir, I did.
Don Car. And is she not a sweet one? Such a bride!
O Posa, once she was decreed for mine:
Once I had hopes of bliss. Hadst thou but seen
How blest, how proud I was if I could get
But leave to lie a prostrate at her feet!
Even with a look I could my pains beguile;
Nay, she in pity too would sometimes smile;
Till at the last my vows successful proved,
And one day, sighing, she confessed she loved.
Oh! then I found no limits to our joy,
With eyes thus languishing we looked all day;
So vigorous and strong we darted beams,
Our meeting glances kindled into flames;
Nothing we found that promised not delight:
For when rude shades deprived us of the light,
As we had gazed all day, we dreamt all night.
But, after all these labours undergone,
A cruel father thus destroys his son;
In their full height my choicest hopes beguiles,
And robs me of the fruit of all my toils.
My dearest Posa, thou wert ever kind;
Bring thy best counsel, and direct my mind.
Re-enter Ruy-Gomez.
Ruy-Gom. Still he is here. My lord!
Don Car. Your business now?
Ruy-Gom. I've with concern beheld your clouded brow.
Ah! though you've lost a beauty well might make
Your strictest honour and your duty shake,
Let not a father's ills[11] misguide your mind,
But be obedient, though he has proved unkind.
Don Car. Hence, cynic, to dull slaves thy morals teach;
I have no leisure now to hear thee preach:
Still you'll usurp a power o'er my will.
Ruy-Gom. Sir, you my services interpret ill:
Nor need it be so soon forgot that I
Have been your guardian from your infancy.
When to my charge committed, I alone
Instructed you how to expect a crown;
Taught you ambition, and war's noblest arts,
How to lead armies, and to conquer hearts;
Whilst, though but young,
You would with pleasure read of sieges got,
And smile to hear of bloody battles fought:
And, still, though not control, I may advise,
Don Car. Alas! thy pride wears a too thin disguise:
Too well I know the falsehood of thy soul,
Which to my father rendered me so foul
That hardly as his son a smile I've known,
But always as a traitor met his frown.
My forward honour was ambition called;
Or, if my friends my early fame extolled,
You damped my father's smiles still as they sprung,
Persuading I repined he lived too long.
So all my hopes by you were frustrate made,
And, robbed of sunshine, withered in the shade.
Whilst, my good patriot! you disposed the crown
Out of my reach, to have it in your own.
But I'll prevent your policy—
Ruy-Gom. My lord,
This accusation is unjust and hard.
The king, your father, would not so upbraid
My age: is all my service thus repaid?
But I will hence, and let my master hear
How generously you reward my care;
Who, on my just complaint, I doubt not, will
At least redress the injuries I feel. [Exit.