University of Virginia Library

SCENE VI.

GWENDYLEN, MORTIMER.
MORTIMER.
Come! my fair captive, tho' you were to blame
To irritate the King, who meant you kindness,
While I confine, I yet must pity you.

GWENDYLEN.
If thou, our most inveterate foe! hast pity,
Bestow it on th'oppressor! not th'opprest!
The one, has men, and demons for his vassals;
The other, angels for her friends. Just Heaven!
If, as I now most fondly would surmise,
By noble sufferance I may avert
Evil impending o'er my father's head,
I will not shrink, howe'er stern fate may try me;
But with that filial love, which still has been
The ruling passion of my ardent soul,
Exult to suffer for so dear a purpose.