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THE SPAGNOLETTO.
MARIA.
So, my lord, good-night.
[Exeunt Maria and Ribera.
DON JOHN (alone).
Gods, what a haughty devil rules that man!
As though two equal princes interchanged
Imperial courtesies ! The Spagnoletto
Thanks John of Austria ! Louis of France
Might so salute my father. By heavens, I know not
What patience or what reverence withheld
My enchafed spirit in bounds of courtesy.
Nay, it was she, mine angel, whose mere aspect
Is balm and blessing. How her love-lit eyes
Burned through my soul! How her soft hand’s slight pressure
Tingled along my veins! Oh, she is worthy
A heart s religion! How shall I wear the hours
Ere I may seek her? Lo, I stand and dream,
While my late guests await me. Patience, patience!
[Exit.
