University of Virginia Library

SCENE V.

Osmond
alone.
Let me think—
What can this mean?—Is it to me Aversion?
Or is it, as I fear'd, She loves another?
Ha!—yes—perhaps the King, the young Count Tancred!
They were bred up together—Surely That,
That cannot be—Has he not given his Hand,
In the most solemn Manner, to Constantia?
Does not his Crown depend upon the Deed?
No—if they lov'd, and this old Statesman knew it,
He could not to a King prefer a Subject.
His Virtues I esteem—nay more, I trust them—
So far as Virtue goes—but could he place
His Daughter on the Throne of Sicily—
O 'tis a glorious Bribe too much for Man!—
What is it then?—I care not what it be.
My Honour now, my Dignity demands,
That my propos'd Alliance, by her Father
And even her self accepted, be not scorn'd.
I love her too—I never knew till now
To what a Pitch I lov'd Her. O She shot
Ten thousand Charms into my inmost Soul!
She look'd so mild, so amiably gentle,
She bow'd her Head, she glow'd with such Confusion,
Such Loveliness of Modesty! She is,
In gracious Mind, in Manners, and in Person,
The perfect Model of all female Beauty!—
She must be mine—She is!—If yet her Heart
Consents not to my Happiness, her Duty,
Join'd to my tender Cares, will gain so much
Upon her generous Nature—That will follow.
The Man of Sense, who acts a prudent Part,
Not flattering steals, but forms himself the Heart.