_Enter Philip._ _PHILIP._ Father, a word. _Man._ I pray you excuse me now. _Ph._ ’Tis that I know thy errand that I ask. I would speak through thee to the lady Constance. _Man._ What would you say? _Ph._ Let me be private with thee. _Man._ (_to Ros._) Doctor, I’ll follow. (_Aside._) Now to act my best. [_Exit Rosso._ _Ph._ Thou seest in me the man who wrought this ill. I’d have thee use thine office with the lady, To win her grace, that I may make confession Of that which burdens me. _Man._ How! what is this? 2560 What should I say? _Ph._ I’ll tell thee: and thou must know First, that I once was Manuel’s friend and pupil,— My pride, alas! self-wrested to my shame— And in those early days loved her, whom he Should at this time have married. Five years spent In graceless life meanwhile had far removed My heart from my first love, nor had my thought Once ventured back to think or wish her mine: But, as it happened,—and being at the time Stung by the sharp remorse of idle hours,— 2570 Chance sent me hither, and her presence soon Awaked those memories that I had thought were dead. Then vainly felt I worthier than I was, Seeing my better part desired to win What I too surely had deserved to lose. Constance denied me:—but now hear my crime. I won her father’s ear; and then, being lodged In Manuel’s house, I lit on a discovery Of some suspicion, and contrived thereby— Betraying him who was my friend and host— 2580 His absence and disgrace: whence by ill fate His death and all this lady’s trouble sprung. _Man._ ’Tis a sad tale you tell. _Ph._ I was misled To think he loved the lady less than I. Yet urge I no excuse, nor look for pardon: But if ’twould not add sorrow to her sorrow, I would discharge this burden from my soul. _Man._ Do so: for you shall find pity and pardon. _Ph._ Nay, nay: that could not be. _Man._ Though hard it seem, Ay, and may force awhile some generous tears; She cannot yet fail in the foremost duty 2591 Of all that sin. I shall prepare her well. _Ph._ I thank thee, father. [_Exit Manuel._ There is in these men A quiet strength, which shames our self-esteem. _Enter Ferdinand and Hugo with despatches._ _HUGO._ Philip, we have the news. Frederick is crowned. See, here’s for thee. (_Gives a despatch._) It bears the new king’s seal. _Ph._ Well, ’twill help nought. (_Opens._)