University of Virginia Library

SCENE SIXTH.

DONNA ISABELLA, BLANCHE.
D. ISABELLA.
I have mispent my time. The haughty Counts,
At such a price, refuse the Diadem.

BLANCHE.
I, Madam! am return'd successless too;
For Carlos, on such terms, rejects all fortune.

D. ISABELLA.
What! Is he bent to render hate for hate,
And for contempt—contempt?

BLANCHE.
Oh! no, far otherwise.
The Sisters of the Counts he much esteems;
Thinks them deserving of a Monarch's love.

D. ISABELLA.
Why does he then reject this high alliance?

BLANCHE.
Some secret obstacle obstructs your plan:
For, though obscure and all confus'd his speech,
I could perceive a something, from his words,
As if some vow of constancy were made;
And his whole soul were wedded to the object.

D. ISABELLA.
Ah!—does he love elsewhere?

BLANCHE.
I judge so, Madam!

D. ISABELLA.
Whom does he love?

BLANCHE.
One of exalted Rank.

ISABELLA.
Alas!—but tell me whom?

BLANCHE.
He loves a Queen.

D. ISABELLA.
He loves a Queen!—Elvira is his choice.
He quits Castile, and goes with her to Arragon.—
Love, and not Glory, makes him quit my Court.

BLANCHE.
You should desire his absence, as the means
To root this fatal passion from your heart.

D. ISABELLA.
Have I, to lose him, aggrandiz'd him then?
And shall a Queen, in the same cradle nurs'd with me,
Rear'd, and protected, by my Royal Parents,
Castile her refuge, and her sole defence,
Shall she,—ungrateful as this traitor Carlos,—
Rob me of what I priz'd the most; of Carlos
Of ungrateful, artful Carlos rob me?—
—I will not take such pains to save his life:
No; let the ingrate fight, and let him die.

BLANCHE.
Why should his love, or his retreat offend you?
I know not which he loves, you or Elvira;
Nor can I comprehend your wrathful Jealousy.

D. ELVIRA.
Then thou hast never love's disquiet known.
Stormy and fearful does it make my mind,
And tempest every feeling of my heart.
Elvira has no loftiness, no pride;
More generous, more exalted, than myself,
She, with the noble spirit of a Queen,
Bestows her Crown; she is belov'd, ador'd;
Whilst I am—left, scorn'd, hated, and renounc'd.
My pride, that dares not chuse him King, yet, brooks not
His desertion.

BLANCHE.
Since you respect your honour
Too much to chuse him King, why wish his heart?

D. ISABELLA.
I love him.—Can I bear to be disdain'd?
No; let him doating to distraction love me:
Yet, so respect me, never to break silence.

BLANCHE.
Respect Your Self.—Combat, conceal, this passion.

D. ISABELLA.
Carlos contemns me, he can reign without me;
He loves Elvira, hence his false respect,
That dar'd not love me, but as Heaven is lov'd.
She loves him too, and to a Throne will raise him.
The Queen, her Mother, is indulgent, Blanche!
And her consent will sanctify their union;
A Parent's Judgment justifies the Child.
Elvira loves him, and will make him King.

BLANCHE.
Madam! 't is said, she will not now be Queen.
For Fame reports that yet her Brother lives.

D. ISABELLA.
It cannot be; he died in early infancy.

BLANCHE.
I but declare the rumour, which I heard,
That this Prince is not dead, and that he comes
Now with th'expected Deputies from Arragon.

D. ISABELLA.
The Queen of Arragon believes him dead.
But in a Son restor'd to prop her state,
How will her sorrowing, widow'd heart rejoice;
Let mine, though lost to ev'ry hope of bliss,
Expand benevolent to greet her joy.

(Exit followed by Blanche.)