_Queen._ 'Twas interest and safety of the state,-- Interest, that bold imposer on our fate; That always to dark ends misguides our wills, And with false happiness smooths o'er our ills. It was by that unhappy France was led, When, though by contract I should Carlos wed, I was an offering made to Philip's bed. Why sigh'st thou, Henrietta? _Hen._ Who is't can Know your sad fate, and yet from grief refrain? With pleasure oft I've heard you smiling tell Of Carlos' love. _Queen._ And did it please you well? In that brave prince's courtship there did meet All that we could obliging call, or sweet. At every point he with advantage stood; Fierce as a lion, if provoked abroad; Else soft as angels, charming as a god. _Hen._ One so accomplished, and who loved you too, With what resentments must he part with you! Methinks I pity him----But oh! in vain: He's both above my pity and my pain. [_Aside._ _Queen._ What means this strange disorder? _Hen._ Yonder view That which I fear will discompose you too. _Enter_ Don CARLOS _and_ Marquis of POSA. _Queen._ Alas, the prince! There to my mind appears Something that in me moves unusual fears. Away, Henrietta-- [_Offers to go._ _Don Car._ Why would you be gone? Is Carlos' sight ungrateful to you grown? If 'tis, speak: in obedience I'll retire. _Queen._ No, you may speak, but must advance no nigher. _Don Car._ Must I then at that awful distance sue, As our forefathers were compelled to do, When they petitions made at that great shrine, Where none but the high priest might enter in? Let me approach; I've nothing for your ear, But what's so pure it might be offered there. _Queen._ Too long 'tis dangerous for me here to stay: If you must speak, proceed: what would you say? [Don CARLOS _kneels_. Nay, this strange ceremony pray give o'er. _Don Car._ Was I ne'er in this posture seen before? Ah! can your cruel heart so soon resign All sense of these sad sufferings of mine? To your more just remembrance, if you can, Recall how fate seemed kindly to ordain That once you should be mine; which I believed: Though now, alas! I find I was deceived. _Queen._ Then, sir, you should your fate, not me upbraid. _Don Car._ I will not say you've broke the vows you made; Only implore you would not quite forget The wretch you've oft seen dying at your feet; And now no other favour begs to have, Than such kind pity as becomes your slave. For 'midst your highest joys, without a crime, At least you now and then may think of him.