Ros monologue (Act 3) — Life Is a Dream

My own good Fife, Keep to my side--and silence!--Oh, my Lord, For the third time behold me here where first You saw me, by a happy misadventure Losing my own way here to find it out For you to follow with these loyal men, Adding the moment of my little cause To yours; which, so much mightier as it is, By a strange chance runs hand in hand with mine; The self-same foe who now pretends your right, Withholding mine--that, of itself alone, I know the royal blood that runs in you Would vindicate, regardless of your own: The right of injured innocence; and, more, Spite of this epicene attire, a woman's; And of a noble stock I will not name Till I, who brought it, have retrieved the shame. Whom Duke Astolfo, Prince of Muscovy, With all the solemn vows of wedlock won, And would have wedded, as I do believe, Had not the cry of Poland for a Prince Call'd him from Muscovy to join the prize Of Poland with the fair Estrella's eyes. I, following him hither, as you saw, Was cast upon these rocks; arrested by Clotaldo: who, for an old debt of love He owes my family, with all his might Served, and had served me further, till my cause Clash'd with his duty to his sovereign, Which, as became a loyal subject, sir, (And never sovereign had a loyaller,) Was still his first. He carried me to Court, Where, for the second time, I crossed your path; Where, as I watch'd my opportunity, Suddenly broke this public passion out; Which, drowning private into public wrong, Yet swiftlier sweeps it to revenge along.