_Car._ Alas, the cruel maid-- Indeed her father, who, though high in court, And pow'rful with the king, has wealth at heart To heal his devastations from the Moors, Knowing I'm richly freighted from the east, My fleet now sailing in the sight of Spain, (Heav'n guard it safe through such a dreadful storm!) Caresses me, and urges her to wed. _Man._ Her aged father, see, Leads her this way. _Car._ She looks like radiant truth, Brought forward by the hand of hoary time-- You to the port with speed; 'tis possible Some vessel is arriv'd. Heav'n grant it bring Tidings which Carlos may receive with joy! [_exit D. M._ _Enter Don Alvarez and Leonora._ _Alv._ Don Carlos, I am lab'ring in your favour With all a parent's soft authority, And earnest counsel. _Car._ Angels second you! For all my bliss or mis'ry hangs on it. _Alv._ Daughter, the happiness of life depends On our discretion, and a prudent choice. Look into those they call unfortunate, And, closer view'd, you'll find they are unwise: Some flaw in their own conduct lies beneath. Don Carlos is of ancient, noble blood, And then his wealth might mend a prince's fortune. For him the sun is lab'ring in the mines, A faithful slave, and turning earth to gold: His keels are freighted with that sacred pow'r, By which e'en kings and emperors are made. Sir, you have my good wishes, and I hope My daughter is not indispos'd to hear you. [_exit._ _Car._ Oh, Leonora! why art thou in tears? Because I am less wretched than I was? Before your father gave me leave to woo you, Hush'd was your bosom, and your eye serene. _Leon._ Think you my father too indulgent to me, That he claims no dominion o'er my tears? A daughter sure may be right dutiful, Whose tears alone are free from a restraint. _Car._ Had I known this before it had been well: I had not then solicited your father To add to my distress; Have I not languish'd prostrate at thy feet? Have I not liv'd whole days upon thy sight? Have I not seen thee where thou hast not been? And, mad with the idea, clasp'd the wind, And doated upon nothing? _Leon._ Court me not, Good Carlos, by recounting of my faults, And telling how ungrateful I have been. Alas, my lord, if talking would prevail, I could suggest much better arguments Than those regards you threw away on me; Your valour, honour, wisdom, prais'd by all. But bid physicians talk our veins to temper, And with an argument new-set a pulse; Then think, my lord, of reas'ning into love. _Car._ Must I despair then? do not shake me thus: My temper-beaten heart is cold to death. Ah, turn, and let me warm me in thy beauties. Heav'ns! what a proof I gave, but two nights past, Of matchless love! To fling me at thy feet, I slighted friendship, and I flew from fame; Nor heard the summons of the next day's battle: But darting headlong to thy arms, I left The promis'd fight, I left Alonzo too, To stand the war, and quell a world alone. [_trumpets._