KING VICTOR & KING CHARLES. FIRST YEAR, 1730.-KING VICTOR. PART I. CHARLES, POLYXENA. Cha. You think so? Well, I do not. Pol. All must clear up; we shall be happy yet: My beloved, Like this drags on, now better and now worse. My father may may take to loving me; ... And he may take D'Ormea closer yet To counsel him ;-may even cast off her . . Or no, Polyxena, my only friend, Pol. Now, force me From you!-me, close by you as if there gloomed Arch-counsellor, prime confidant . . . force me! We clasp hands now, of being happy once. And blaze of nations, domineered those two. 'T was war, peace-France our foe, now-England, friend In love with Spain-at feud with Austria! Well- My curtain-"I am out of it," I said— When suddenly,—a warm March day, just that! Cha. And Philip's mouth yet fast to mine, His dead cheek on my cheek, his arm still round My neck, they bade me rise, "for I was heir To the Duke," they said, "the right hand of the Duke:" By him their Turin through? But he was punished, And then the wear and worry, blame on blame! She and my father, and I sitting by, I bore; I knew how brave a son they missed; "And on the point now of that end's success, "Our Ducal turning to a Kingly crown, "Where 's time to be reminded 't is his child "He spurns?" And so I suffered-scarcely suffered Since I had you at length! Pol. -To serve in place Of monarch, minister and mistress, Charles ! Cha. But, once that crown obtained, then was 't not like Our lot would alter? "When he rests, takes breath, "Glances around, and sees who 's left to love-"Now that my mother 's dead, sees I am left— "Is it not like he 'll love me at the last ? " Well, Savoy turns Sardinia; the Duke 's King : Could I precisely then-could you expect His harshness to redouble? These few months Have been.. have been.. Polyxena, do you And God conduct me, or I lose myself! What would he have? What is 't they want with me? -You see me and you hear him; judge us both! Pol. Endure, endure, beloved! Say you not To novel sway! Beside, our life must change : I bear this-not that there's so much to bear. Cha. You bear? Do no I know that you, tho' bound To silence for my sake, are perishing Piecemeal beside me? And how otherwise Pol. Is it agreed that we forego complaint Even at Turin, yet complain we here Come At Rivoli? 'T were wiser you announced The sable cloak and silver cross; such pomp Bodes. . what now, Charles? Can you conceive? Cha. Pol. A matter of some moment- Not I. There's our life! Which of the group of loiterers that stare D'Ormea's contrivance ! Tush! |