 | The Conflict ; or Love, Honour and Pride |  |
180
SCENE THIRD.
D. CARLOS(alone).
Defer the fight! Is not my valour stain'd
By this command? And will not honour blush?
Has the Queen right to give me law? Am I
Her Subject? No: I was born in Arragon.—
Heavens! I remember that, and dare stand here,
Count,—Marquis,—Governor of Burgos too,—
Yet know myself born of the meanest race;
Only the Son of a poor, peasant Shepherd;
Taught by a pious Priest through charity;
Till learning made me wild with mad ambition,
To act the heroic deeds, I joy'd to read.
By this command? And will not honour blush?
Has the Queen right to give me law? Am I
Her Subject? No: I was born in Arragon.—
Heavens! I remember that, and dare stand here,
Count,—Marquis,—Governor of Burgos too,—
Yet know myself born of the meanest race;
Only the Son of a poor, peasant Shepherd;
Taught by a pious Priest through charity;
Till learning made me wild with mad ambition,
To act the heroic deeds, I joy'd to read.
Oh! should these Lords discover my mean birth,
With what insatiate scorn would they exult:
How would my royal Mistress blush disdainful;
And sweet Elvira then reject my sword,
Nor own my arm to prop her tottering Throne.
With what insatiate scorn would they exult:
How would my royal Mistress blush disdainful;
And sweet Elvira then reject my sword,
Nor own my arm to prop her tottering Throne.
Cruel remembrance of my original self!
Cease! cease! to haunt, and terrify my mind!—
Kings were once chosen from victorious soldiers:
Who serves his Country needs no ancestry;
For, like the Sun, He gives, not borrows, light.
Cease! cease! to haunt, and terrify my mind!—
Kings were once chosen from victorious soldiers:
Who serves his Country needs no ancestry;
For, like the Sun, He gives, not borrows, light.
My Cottage blood has been exhausted all,
In glory's field, no drop of it remains:
But it has bought me all my soul holds dear,
The palm of victory, and the wreath of fame.
Behold she comes! my rightful unown'd Queen!
In glory's field, no drop of it remains:
But it has bought me all my soul holds dear,
The palm of victory, and the wreath of fame.
Behold she comes! my rightful unown'd Queen!
| The Conflict ; or Love, Honour and Pride | |