Confess, proud spirit,
(For I will have it from thy very mouth)
That better he deserved my love than thou?
_Dor._ O, whither would you drive me? I must grant,--
Yes, I must grant, but with a swelling soul,--
Henriquez had your love with more desert.
For you he fought, and died: I fought against you;
Through all the mazes of the bloody field,
Hunted your sacred life; which that I missed
Was the propitious error of my fate,
Not of my soul: My soul's a regicide.
_Seb._ [_More calmly._]
Thou might'st have given it a more gentle name.
Thou meant'st to kill a tyrant, not a king:
Speak, didst thou not, Alonzo?
_Dor._ Can I speak!
Alas, I cannot answer to Alonzo!--
No, Dorax cannot answer to Alonzo;
Alonzo was too kind a name for me.
Then, when I fought and conquered with your arms,
In that blest age, I was the man you named:
Till rage and pride debased me into Dorax,
And lost, like Lucifer, my name above.
_Seb._ Yet twice this day I owed my life to Dorax.
_Dor._ I saved you but to kill you: There's my grief.
_Seb._ Nay, if thou can'st be grieved, thou can'st repent;
Thou could'st not be a villain, though thou would'st:
Thou own'st too much, in owning thou hast erred;
And I too little, who provoked thy crime.
_Dor._ O stop this headlong torrent of your goodness!
It comes too fast upon a feeble soul,
Half drowned in tears before: Spare my confusion;
For pity spare; and say not first, you erred;
For yet I have not dared, through guilt and shame,
To throw myself beneath your royal feet.
Pages:
449
450
451
452
453
454
455
456
457
458
459
460
461
462
463
464
465
466
467
468
469
470
471
472
473