_Xim._ So may it move your noble mind to pity, As what the paper tells you is most true. She gave it me; and, with a thousand sighs, Begged me to recommend her life, her love, And all her hopes of happiness, to you. _Gar._ To break my marriage off, renounce her bed, To stand excluded from my promised bliss, And as my proper act to do all this? Disdainful, faithless, and ungrateful maid! _Cel._ Disdainful, and ungrateful; but not faithless. Because she never vowed nor promised love, But only to Alphonso. _Xim._ They loved not as a brother and a sister, But as the fair and brave each other love; For sympathy of souls inspired their passion. _Gar._ That sympathy, which made him love Victoria Has caused the same effect of love in me. _Cel._ But not in her: She loved him first, my lord; And you besieged a town already his. As you for her, others may die for you; And plead that argument to hope your love, If the same reason hold. _Gar._ No doubt it would, Were not my soul already prepossessed. _Cel._ So is Victoria's soul for her Alphonso, And that's her plea for constancy to him. _Gar._ My reason is convinced, but not my passion; For I must love, and, loving, must enjoy. _Cel._ Others must not enjoy, and yet must love. _Xim._ You cannot wed Victoria but by force; And force can only make her person yours. Think what a fatal doom you pass on her, To make yourself half happy. _Gar._ When she's mine, I will pursue her with so dear a passion, So chafe her coldness with my warm embraces, That she shall melt at length, hard as she is; And run like stubborn metal. _Cel._ No, my lord; Victoria is not formed of steel, but marble, Which is not made to melt, but flies the fire, And neither yields nor softens to the flames. Gain her esteem at least, her love is hopeless. _Gar._ Esteem! a scanty, mean reward of passion, That pays not half the value of the loss! _Cel._ Pay scorn with scorn, and make revenge a pleasure; So generous minds should do, and so should I. What needs there more? You see who loves you not, and---- _Xim._ And she would say, you may behold who loves you; But maiden bashfulness has tied her tongue: Look on her eyes, they speak. _Cel._ [_Softly._] A language that they never spoke before. _Xim._ Mark how she whispers, like a western wind, Which trembles through the forest; she, whose eyes Meet ready victory where'er they glance; Whom gazing crowds admire, whom nations court, And (did her praise become a mother's mouth) One who could change the worship of all climates, And make a new religion where she comes; Unite the differing faith of all the world, To idolize her face.