Of mine own baby heart were taught to twine.
I speak not now as one who swerves or shrinks,
But merely, dear, to show thee what sharp tortures
I, nowise blind, but with deliberate soul,
Embrace for thee.
DON JOHN.
How can I doubt the anguish
So rude a snapping of all ties must smite
Thy tender heart withal? Yet, dwell we not
On the brief pain, but on the enduring joys.
If the Ribera’s love be all thou deemest,
He will forgive thy secret flight, thy—
MARIA.
Secret!
May I not bid farewell? May I not tell him
Where we are bound? How soon he may have hope
To hear from me—to welcome me, thy
Princess?
I dare not leave him without hope.
DON JOHN.
My child,
Thou art mad! We must be secret as the grave,
Else are we both undone. I have given out
That I depart in princely state to-morrow.
Far from the quay a bark awaiteth us.
