Yet keep the flame so pure, such chaste desire, That without spot hereafter we above May meet, when we shall come all soul, all love. Till when--Oh! whither am I run astray? I grow too weak, and must no longer stay: For should I, the soft charm so strong would grow, I find that I shall want the power to go. [_Exeunt_ QUEEN _and_ HENRIETTA. _Don Car._ Oh, sweet-- If such transport be in a taste so small, How blest must he be that possesses all! Where am I, Posa? Where's the queen? [_Standing amazed._ _M. of Posa._ My lord, A while some respite to your heart afford: The queen's retired-- _Don Car._ Retired! And did she then Just show me Heaven, to shut it in again? This little ease augments my pain the more; For now I'm more impatient than before, And have discovered riches make me mad. _M. of Posa._ But since those treasures are not to be had, You should correct desires that drive you on Beyond that duty which becomes a son. No longer let the tyrant love invade; The brave may by themselves be happy made. You to your father now must all resign. _Don Car._ But ere he robbed me of her, she was mine. To be my friend is all thou hast to do, For half my miseries thou canst not know. Make myself happy! Bid the damned do so; Who in sad flames must be for ever tossed, Yet still in view of the loved Heaven they've lost. [_Exeunt._ [Illustration] [Illustration] ACT THE THIRD. SCENE I.--_The same._ _Enter_ Don JOHN of Austria. Don John. How vainly would dull moralists impose Limits on love, whose nature brooks no laws? Love is a god, and like a god should be Inconstant, with unbounded liberty, Rove as he list-- I find it; for even now I've had a feast, Of which a god might covet for a taste. Methinks I yet See with what soft devotion in her eyes The tender lamb came to the sacrifice. Oh, how her charms surprised me as I lay! Like too near sweets they took my sense away; And I even lost the power to reach at joy. But those cross witchcrafts soon unravelled were, And I was lulled in trances sweeter far: As anchored vessels in calm harbours ride, Rocked on the swellings of the floating tide. How wretched's then the man, who though alone He thinks he's blest, yet, as confined to one, Is but at best a prisoner on a throne? _Enter the_ KING _attended_, Marquis of POSA, _and_ RUY-GOMEZ.