_Alph._ He would pass, Without my sister's leave, into her lodgings. By heaven, if this be suffered to proceed, The next will be to treat the royal maid As coarsely, as she were some suburb girl. _Gar._ [_To Vera._] Had I not your permission, sir? _Vera._ You had. But these, Alphonso, are thy ruffian manners. How dar'st thou, boy, to break my orders, And then asperse thy sister with thy crime? _Alph._ She said his presence was unpleasing to her. _Vera._ Come, thou beliest her innocence and duty: She did not, durst not say it. _Alph._ If she did not, I dare, and will maintain to all the world, That Garcia is not worthy of my sister. _Vera._ Not worthy! _Alph._ No; I say once more, not worthy. _Gar._ Not in myself; for who deserves Victoria? But, since her royal father bids me hope, Not less unworthy than another prince:-- And none, with your permission, sir, shall dare [_To_ VER. To interpose betwixt my love and me. _Alph._ Sure a less price, than our infanta's bed, Might pay thee for thy mercenary troops. _Vera._ Peace, insolent; too long I have endured Thy haughty soul, untamed and turbulent: But, if I live, this shall not pass unpunished; Darkness and chains are medicines for a madman. _Xim._ My lord, I humbly beg you, spare your son; And add not fury to a raging fire. He soon will recollect his scattered reason, Which heat of youth, and sickness and fatigues, Have dissipated in his boiling blood. Give him but time, and then his temperate humour Will soon return into the native channel, And, unopposed, be calm. _Vera._ No; never more. The moon has rolled above his head, and turned it; As peals of thunder sour the generous wine.-- Hence from my presence, thou no more my son! [_To_ ALPH. _Xim._ If he be mad, be madness his excuse; And pardon nature's error, not his own. _Vera._ Ximena, you have fondled him to this: I prophesied; and now 'tis come to pass. _Gar._ Perhaps I interrupted him too rudely; And, since I caused myself that ill reception, Forgive our mutual faults. _Vera._ You shall prevail; Though he deserves not such an intercessor.-- [_To_ ALPH.] Retire, Alphonso, to your inmost lodgings, And there inclose yourself, and mourn your crimes. Be this your last relapse; the next is fatal. _Alph._ I will retire: But, if I am a madman, as you say, And as I half believe, expect no cure But in Alphonso's death. [ALPHONSO _goes in_. Xim. [_Aside._] It works apace; But whither it will tend, heaven only knows. [VERA. _sees the Book upon the Ground, and takes it up_.