Perplexity

—LET me think— What can this mean?—Is it to me aversion? Or is it, as I fear'd, she loves another; Ha! yes—perhaps the king, the young count Tancred? They were bred up together—surely that, That cannot be—Has he not giv'n his hand, In the most solemn manner to Constantia? Does not his crown depend upon the deed? No—if they lov'd, and this old statesman knew it, He could not to a king prefer a subject. His virtues I esteem—nay more, I trust them— So far as virtue goes—but could he place His daughter on the throne of Sicily— O! 'tis a glorious bribe; too much for man! What is it then?—I care not what it is.