University of Virginia Library

SCENE III.

—A GALLERY IN THE PALACE.
Enter Françoise de Foix and Lautrec.
LAUTREC.
Nay, nay, my pretty sister, be not sad!
And that thou better mayst endure this parting,
I'll give thee hope, shall make thee think of nought
Save my return—what sayst thou to a husband?—
One fear'd in battle-field, and no less full
Of courtesy, and other noble virtues.
Than high in birth, and rank, and fortune;—eh?

FRANÇOISE
I could be well content that such a man
Had sought a meeter bride. Oh there be many
Maidens, of nobler parentage than mine,
Who would receive so brave a gentleman
With more of joy than I.

LAUTREC.
Why, my sweet sister!
This is a strange unnatural coldness hangs
Upon thy brow, and in thy measur'd speech.
I know not much of maiden state and pride,
But, by the mass! thy words seem less in coyness
Than in indifference.

FRANÇOISE.
Oh say in love,
In true and tender love to thee, my brother:
Trust me, I'm not ambitious; and would rather
Live ever by thy side unwooed, unwon,—
With nought to think or live for, but for thee,—
On whom, since earliest infancy, my heart
Hath spent its hopes and fears, its love and pride.
Oh do not give me to another; do not,
Dear Lautrec, send me from thee, and at once
Sever the ties of sweet and holy love
That live between us!

LAUTREC.
To the man, whom best
On earth I value, I resign thee, Françoise;
My word was plighted to thy glad consent,
And unless thou wilt break the faith I gave,
And cancel thus one of my fondest hopes,
Thou wilt be his.

FRANÇOISE.
I thank him for the honour
He doth our house, and my unworthy hand;
I thank thee, too, in that thy love hath made
So proud a choice for me. Oh, do not think
That, by one word, I will unknit the friendship
Of so long years. Where'er it seemeth thee
Best to bestow me, there will I endeavour
Humbly to bend my heart's untried affections,—
There love, if it be possible,—at least
There willingly obey.

LAUTREC.
Then, dearest love,
If that, indeed, this offer please thee well,
Think on it as the fondest wish I have,
And look to see me come from Italy,
Bringing thee home a bridegroom, proudly crown'd
With war's victorious wreaths; and who shall woo
The better, that he previously hath won
Fortune's hard favours, who, if I guess right,
Is coyer e'en than thou, my pretty sister.
Farewell awhile, I go to meet Laval.

[Exit.
FRANÇOISE.
Farewell! Oh, heav'n be prais'd that thou art blind
To that which, could thine unsuspecting heart
Once dream, would blast and wither it for ever.
I must not dwell on this sad theme; and though
I have read rightly in those dangerous eyes
Which gaz'd so passionately on me,I
Must e'en forget love's first and fondest lesson,
And write another in my lone heart's core.
What though the King—oh, very full of danger
Is solitude like this—and dangerous
These thoughts that flock around me, melting down
Each sterner purpose. By thy trusting love,
My brother! by thy hopes, that all in me
Centre their warmth and energy, I swear,
That while one throb of strength remains, I'll bear
This torture patiently, and in my heart
Lock love and misery until life depart.

[Exit.