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 | Plays and Poems |  |
SCENE VI.
A Room in the Castle. Enter Martina and Soto.Soto.
There bloom twin rose-buds 'twixt your nose and chin,
That I 'd fain taste.
Martina.
Kind sir, beware the thorns!
[Showing her nails.]
Soto.
I 've felt the thorns, they rankle in my heart;
Naught but thy lips can draw their venom out.
[Kisses her.]
63
Your act has bruised the heel of your desire,
So close it treads behind.—Dost love me, sir?
Soto.
Love thee! I love thee past the flight of thought.
Words cannot tell thee—nay, I cannot think,
I cannot truly to myself conceive—
Cannot set bounds to, cannot understand
The one idea which o'er me reigns supreme,
And bows me at thy feet— (Kneels.)
I can but feel
The might of that strong spirit.—Useless words!
[Rises.]
I see thou hat'st me, see thou think'st me mad—
Know thou wilt scorn me—send me from thee far,
To spend my days in mortified despair.
O, what a dolt was I, to tell thee this!
But my full heart drove on my silly tongue.
Farewell, forever!
Mar.
Stay; I hate thee not.
Soto.
But dost thou love me? Say that word, or I—
Mar.
I love thee.
Soto.
Wilt thou ever love me thus?
Mar.
Till soul and body fall apart, I will.
Soto.
O joy, O love! Success beyond my hopes!
I, like a reckless gamester, staked my all
On this last throw, and, see, the game is won!
Mar.
Play not again; or you may lose your winnings.
Soto.
Fear not, dear maid; I'm rich in what I 've won.
But dost thou know, Martina, that we two
Are not the only lovers here?
Mar.
How so?
64
My lord thy lady loves, as I love thee,
And she must love my master, as thou lov'st;
Or we this dismal house can never fly;
Here he'll abide till doomsday.—Dost thou see?
We must contrive to win her to his love?
For, if she fly, then in her train fly we.
Mar.
She loves him not; yet may be brought to it.—
I'll do my utmost; for thy sake, not his.
Soto.
Where dost thou lodge?
Mar.
Just next my lady's room,
And Hymen keeps the key.—Fair sir, good-night!
[Exit.]
Soto.
She 's a brave wench; but somewhat over-prudent.—
Well, if I wed her, I'll not mate a fool.
Now to Don Luis; let him watch his game,
If he will play at hazard with the Moor:
There'll be swords drawn before this cast is o'er.
[Exit.]
| Plays and Poems | |