 | The Cid |  |
SCENE I.
Count. Elvira.Elvira.
'Mongst all the youthfull lovers which adore
Your daughters beauty, and implore my aid,
Don Roderigo and Don Sancho strive
Who shall shew most the fire her beauties rais'd.
But yet Cimena is indifferent
To both their loves, and with an equall eye
Beholds them both, nor does she take away
Or adde ought to their hopes, but still expects
A husband from your choice alone design'd.
Count.
She dost her duty, both of them deserve her,
Both sprung from brave and noble families,
Both young, yet such as in their faces shew
Th'illustrious vertue of their Ancestors,
But above all, in Roderigo's Pace
There's not a line which speaks not a brave man;
His family has been fruitfull still in souldiers,
His fathers valour, in his time, unequall'd,
(Whil'st his strength lasted) was a prodigie.
The furrowes in his fore-head seeme to be
Th'ingravements of his noble actions,
And Roderigo's person seemes to promise
The vertues of his father. In conclusion,
My daughter if she love him shall please me;
Goe entertaine her with it, but be sure
You hide m'intentions, and discover hers,
At my returne wee'le speake of it together,
Time cals me now to wait upon the Councell,
Where the King meanes to chuse a Governour
Unto the Prince his sonne, or rather seat me
In that high-place of honour, for my merits
Forbid me to expect an opposition.
| The Cid | |