ELVIRA

M Ongst all the youthful lovers which adore Your daughters beauty, and implore my aid, Done Roderigo and Done Sancho strive Who shall show most the fire her beau ties raised. But yet Cimena is indifferent To both their loves, and with and equal eye Beholds them both, nor does she take away Or add ought to their Hope's, but still expects A husband from your choice alone designed. HOw welcome news will this be to our lovers? How fortune has provided, that all things Should sort to their contentment? Only two words, enough to charm your senses, You cannot love Roderigo, more than he Does valve him. Nay he went farther, he approves his love, And will command you meet with his desires, This you will find soon as the Council rises, And that Done Diego meeting time, and place Fit for his purpose, shall propose the business; Fear not but your desires will be contented. You will find This fear of yours most happily deceived. W Hat mean you Roderigo? whither would you? But this is a strange boldness, to appear In the same place which you have filled with mourning, Come you to affront the ghost of the dead Count? Have not you slain him? But in the house of death to look for refuge, Did ever homicide make that his Asilum? Fly rather from her sighed, and do not meet With the first motions of her grief and anger, Why, would you more inflame her present passion? Cimena's at the Court, bathed in her tears, And will return thence with much company. For heavens sake fly: what will men's censures say If you are discovered here? they must report Cimena to have received into her house the Assassin of her father. Hark, she comes, It is her voice: at least, Roderigo, To save her reputation, hide your self. Quiet your self, sweet Madame. Can you then love the man that killed your Father? But do you mean to prosecute him, Madam? Fie, Madam, quit this tragical design, Be not so cruel to your self. Believe me, Madam, you may well be pardoned, If you preserve unto your self a man You cannot parallel, and one you love. Y'have done enough to have been with the King, Never press it farther, be not obstinate. But you love Roderigo, He can't displease you. These things considered, Madam, what can you do? How hard it is to be get faith in you, When every man extoll's the glorious actions Of this young Heros: The Moors before him Appeared, but to their shame. They quickly landed, But quicker was their flight. Three hours fight Left to our men a victory entire, And two Kings prisoners. Their leaders valour Could meet with nothing durst stand in its way. The two Kings which he vanquished are his prize. From those who found his praises up and down, The people, who with one voice do salute him Their Guardian Angel, saver of their Country. Roderigo dares not yet appear in Court, But Done Diego, in the Conquerors name, Has made a present of these Crowned Captives, And all he does demand, is, that the King Would deign to see the hand that freed his Country. I know not that. Why change you colour so? resume your spirits. Be not transported so: The Infanta's here. From both sides you will find reason of comfort, Either you have revenge or Roderigo How ever destiny disposes of you It saves your honour, and provides y'a husband. That were to handle you with too much cruelty, If when the fight were done, you should be bound A new to demand justice, and near leave, With rigour to pursue the man you love. No, it were better that his unmatched valour Should get him victory, and silence you, And that the King, according to his law Should force you to comply with your own wishes. Take heed, lest heaven for this strange pride of yours Suffer you not to be revenged at all. What? mean you to refuse this happiness That you may when you please fit down with honour? What is't you would pretend? what can you hope? Will your Lovers death restore your Father to you Or is your Father's death so small a mischief, That you'd heap up lose on lose, grief upon grief. Well, do, continue in this stubborn humour. You scarce deserve the man they have destined for you And heaven being weary of its too much favour, In stead of him, will wed you to Done Sancho. But hear him, Madame.