Don Car. Not then when storms against your virtue rise.
No; since to lose you wretched Carlos dies,
He'll have the honour of it, in your cause.
This is the noblest thing that Fate could do;
She thus abates the rigour of her laws,
Since 'tis some pleasure but to die for you.
Queen. Talk not of death, for that even cowards dare,
When their base fears compel them to despair:
Hope's the far nobler passion of the mind;
Fortune's a mistress that's with caution kind;
Knows that the constant merit her alone,
They who, though she seem froward, yet court on.
Don Car. To wretched minds thus still some comfort gleams,
And angels ease our griefs, though but with dreams.
I have too oft already been deceived,
And the cheat's grown too plain to be believed,
You, madam, bid me go. [Looking earnestly at the Queen.
Queen. You must.
M. of Posa. You shall.
Alas! I love you, would not see you fall;
And yet may find some way to evade it all.
Don Car. Thou, Posa, ever wert my truest friend;
I almost wish thou wert not now so kind.
Thou of a thing that's lost tak'st too much care;
And you, fair angel, too indulgent are. [To the Queen.
Great my despair; but still my love is higher.
Well—in obedience to you I'll retire;
Though during all the storm I will be nigh,
Where, if I see the danger grow too high,
To save you, madam, I'll come forth and die. [Exit.
Re-enter King and Ruy-Gomez.
King. Who would have guessed that this had ever been?
[Seeing the Marquis of Posa and the
Queen
Distraction! where shall my revenge begin?
Why, he's the very bawd to all their sin;
And to disguise it puts on friendship's mask:
But his despatch, Ruy-Gomez, is thy task.
With him pretend some private conference,
And under that disguise seduce him hence;
Then in some place fit for the deed impart
The business, by a poniard to his heart.