I:4:32 SOL.
He is content.
I:4:33 KING.
Hah!
I:4:34 SOL.
For he loves me still.
I:4:35 KING.
I would do much
To please thee. I'm prepared to bear the brunt
Of Hungary's ire; but do not urge, Solisa,
Beyond capacity of sufferance
My temper's proof.
I:4:36 SOL.
Alarcos is my husband,
Or shall the sceptre from our line depart.
Listen, ye saints of Spain, I'll have his hand,
Or by our faith, my fated womb shall be
As barren as thy love, proud King.
I:4:37 KING.
Thou'rt mad!
Thou'rt mad!
I:4:38 SOL.
Is he not mine? Thy very hand,
Did it not consecrate our vows? What claim
So sacred as my own?
I:4:39 KING.
He did conspire --
I:4:40 SOL.
'Tis false, thou know'st 'tis false: against themselves
Men do not plot: I would as soon believe
My hand could hatch a treason 'gainst my sight,
As that Alarcos would conspire to seize
A diadem I would myself have placed
Upon his brow.
I:4:41 KING.
[taking her hand]
Nay, calmness. Say 'tis true
He was not guilty, say perchance he was not --
I:4:42 SOL.
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