From his dark eye, when King Sebastian's name
Became our theme?
2d Cit.—Trust me, there's more in this
Than may be lightly said. These are no times
To breathe men's thoughts i' th' open face of Heaven
And ear of multitudes. They that would speak
Of monarchs and their deeds, should keep within
Their quiet homes. Come, let us hence, and then
We'll commune of this stranger.
[Exeunt.
Scene.—The Portico of a Palace.
SEBASTIAN–GONZALEZ–ZAMOR.
Seb.—Withstand me not. I tell thee that my soul,
With all its passionate energies, is rous'd
Unto that fearful strength which must have way,
E'en like the elements, in their stormy hour
Of mastery o'er creation.
Gon.—But they wait
That hour in silence. Oh! be calm a while;
Thine is not come. My king—
Seb.—I am no king,
While, in the very palace of my sires,
Aye, where mine eyes first drank the glorious light,
Where my soul's thrilling echoes first awoke
To the high sound of earth's immortal names,
The usurper lives and reigns. I am no king,
Until I cast him thence.
Zam.—Shall not thy voice
Be as a trumpet to th' awakening land?
Will not the bright swords flash like sun-bursts forth,
When the brave hear their chief?
Gon.—Peace, Zamor, peace!
Child of the desart, what hast thou to do
With the calm hour of counsel?
Monarch, pause!
A kingdom's destiny should not be the sport
Of passion's reckless winds. There is a time
When men, in very weariness of heart,
And careless desolation, tam'd to yield
By misery, strong as death, will lay their souls
E’en at the conqueror's feet, as nature sinks,
After long torture, into cold, and dull,
