Ay, yet--

III:1:43 ALAR.

The day may come, I'll kneel In such a mood, and might there then be hope?

III:1:44 PRIOR.

We hold the keys that bind and loosen all: But penitence alone is mercy's portal.

The obdurate soul is doomed. Remorseful tears Are sinners' sole ablution. O, my son, Bethink thee yet, to die in sin like thine; Eternal ma.s.ses profit not thy soul, Thy consecrated wealth will but upraise The monument of thy despair. Once more, Ere yet the vesper lights shall fade away, I do adjure thee, on the church's bosom Pour forth thy contrite heart.

III:1:45 ALAR.

A contrite heart!

A stainless hand would count for more. I see No drops on mine. My head is weak, my heart A wilderness of pa.s.sion. Prayers, thy prayers!

[ALARCOS rises suddenly and exit.]

SCENE 2

Chamber in the Royal Palace.

The INFANTA seated in despondency; the KING standing by her side.

III:2:1 KING.

Indeed, 'tis noticed.

III:2:2 SOL.

Solitude is all I ask; and is it then so great a boon?

III:2:3 KING.

Nay, solitude's no princely appanage.

Our state's a pedestal, which men have raised That they may gaze on greatness.

III:2:4 SOL.

A false idol, And weaker than its worshippers. I've lived To feel my station's vanity. O, Death, Thou endest all!

III:2:5 KING.

Thou art too young to die, And yet may be too happy. Moody youth Toys in its talk with the dark thought of death, As if to die were but to change a robe.

It is their present refuge for all cares And each disaster. When the sere has touched Their flowing locks, they prattle less of death, Perchance think more of it.

III:2:6 SOL.

Why, what is greatness?

Will't give me love, or faith, or tranquil thoughts?

No, no, not even justice.

III:2:7 KING.

'Tis thyself That does thyself injustice. Let the world Have other speculation than the breach Of our unfilled vows. They bear too near And fine affinity to what we would, Ay, what we will. I would not choose this moment, Men brood too curiously upon the cause Of the late rupture, for the cause detected May bar the consequence.

III:2:8 SOL.

A day, an hour Sufficed to crush me. Weeks and weeks pa.s.s on Since I was promised right.

III:2:9 KING.

Take thou my sceptre And do thyself this right. Is't, then, so easy?

III:2:10 SOL.

Let him who did the wrong, contrive the means Of his atonement.

III:2:11 KING.

All a father can, I have performed.

III:2:12 SOL.

Ah! then there is no hope.

The Bishop of Ossuna, you did say He was the learnedest clerk of Christendom, And you would speak to him?

III:2:13 KING.

What says Alarcos?

III:2:14 SOL.

I spoke not to him since I first received His princely pledge.

III:2:15 KING.

Call on him to fulfil it.

III:2:16 SOL.

Can he do more than kings?

III:2:17 KING.

Yes, he alone; Alone it rests with him. This learn from me.

There is no other let.

III:2:18 SOL.

I learn from thee What other lips should tell me.

III:2:19 KING.

Girl, art sure Of this same lover?

III:2:20 SOL.

O! I'll never doubt him.

III:2:21 KING.

And yet may be deceived.

III:2:22 SOL.

He is as true As talismanic steel.

III:2:23 KING.

Why, then thou art, At least thou should'st be, happy. Smile, Solisa; For since the Count is true, there is no bar.