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Don Carlos: A Play

Chapter 15: ACT II.
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About This Book

A historical court drama follows a prince whose private griefs and romantic disappointment collide with political duty inside an austere monarchy. Tensions arise from his fraught relationship with the king, an unattainable attachment to the queen, and a close friendship with a reform-minded noble whose ideals challenge royal authority. Secret alliances, clerical power, and political intrigue including the Inquisition escalate conflicts that test loyalty, conscience, and notions of freedom. Attempts at reform provoke moral dilemmas and sacrificial choices, producing tragic consequences for several figures while leaving broader questions about sovereignty, conscience, and liberty unresolved.





SCENE V.

      The QUEEN, CARLOS, MARQUIS POSA, MARCHIONESS MONDECAR.
      The two latter go towards the avenue.

   CARLOS (on his knees before the QUEEN).
   At length 'tis come—the happy moment's come,
   And Charles may touch this all-beloved hand.

   QUEEN.
   What headlong folly's this? And dare you break
   Into my presence thus? Arise, rash man!
   We are observed; my suite are close at hand.

   CARLOS.
   I will not rise. Here will I kneel forever,
   Here will I lie enchanted at your feet,
   And grow to the dear ground you tread on?








   QUEEN.
   Madman! To what rude boldness my indulgence leads!
   Know you, it is the queen, your mother, sir,
   Whom you address in such presumptuous strain?
   Know, that myself will to the king report
   This bold intrusion——

   CARLOS.
               And that I must die!
   Let them come here, and drag me to the scaffold!
   A moment spent in paradise like this
   Is not too dearly purchased by a life.

   QUEEN.
   But then your queen?

   CARLOS (rising).
              O God, I'll go, I'll go!
   Can I refuse to bend to that appeal?
   I am your very plaything. Mother, mother,
   A sign, a transient glance, one broken word
   From those dear lips can bid me live or die.
   What would you more? Is there beneath the sun
   One thing I would not haste to sacrifice
   To meet your lightest wish?

   QUEEN.
                  Then fly!

   CARLOS.
                       God!

   QUEEN.
   With tears I do conjure you, Carlos, fly!
   I ask no more. O fly! before my court,
   My guards, detecting us alone together,
   Bear the dread tidings to your father's ear.

   CARLOS.
   I bide my doom, or be it life or death.
   Have I staked every hope on this one moment,
   Which gives thee to me thus at length alone,
   That idle fears should balk me of my purpose?
   No, queen! The world may round its axis roll
   A hundred thousand times, ere chance again
   Yield to my prayers a moment such as this.

   QUEEN.
   It never shall to all eternity.
   Unhappy man! What would you ask of me?

   CARLOS.
   Heaven is my witness, queen, how I have struggled,
   Struggled as mortal never did before,
   But all in vain! My manhood fails—I yield.

   QUEEN.
   No more of this—for my sake—for my peace.

   CARLOS.
   You were mine own,—in face of all the world,—
   Affianced to me by two mighty crowns,
   By heaven and nature plighted as my bride,
   But Philip, cruel Philip, stole you from me!

   QUEEN.
   He is your father?

   CARLOS.
             And he is your husband!

   QUEEN.
   And gives to you for an inheritance,
   The mightiest monarchy in all the world.

   CARLOS.
   And you, as mother!

   QUEEN.
              Mighty heavens! You rave!

   CARLOS.
   And is he even conscious of his treasure?
   Hath he a heart to feel and value yours?
   I'll not complain—no, no, I will forget,
   How happy, past all utterance, I might
   Have been with you,—if he were only so.
   But he is not—there, there, the anguish lies!
   He is not, and he never—never can be.
   Oh, you have robbed me of my paradise,
   Only to blast it in King Philip's arms!

   QUEEN.
   Horrible thought!

   CARLOS.
             Oh, yes, right well I know
   Who 'twas that knit this ill-starred marriage up.
   I know how Philip loves, and how he wooed.
   What are you in this kingdom—tell me, what?
   Regent, belike! Oh, no! If such you were,
   How could fell Alvas act their murderous deeds,
   Or Flanders bleed a martyr for her faith?
   Are you even Philip's wife? Impossible,—
   Beyond belief. A wife doth still possess
   Her husband's heart. To whom doth his belong?
   If ever, perchance, in some hot feverish mood,
   He yields to gentler impulse, begs he not
   Forgiveness of his sceptre and gray hairs?

   QUEEN.
   Who told you that my lot, at Philip's side
   Was one for men to pity?

   CARLOS.
                My own heart!
   Which feels, with burning pangs, how at my side
   It had been to be envied.

   QUEEN.
                 Thou vain man!
   What if my heart should tell me the reverse?
   How, sir, if Philip's watchful tenderness,
   The looks that silently proclaim his love,
   Touched me more deeply than his haughty son's
   Presumptuous eloquence? What, if an old man's
   Matured esteem——

   CARLOS.
            That makes a difference! Then,
   Why then, forgiveness!—I'd no thought of this;
   I had no thought that you could love the king.

   QUEEN.
   To honor him's my pleasure and my wish.

   CARLOS.
   Then you have never loved?

   QUEEN.
                 Singular question!

   CARLOS.
   Then you have never loved?

   QUEEN.
                 I love no longer!

   CARLOS.
   Because your heart forbids it, or your oath?

   QUEEN.
   Leave me; nor never touch this theme again.

   CARLOS.
   Because your oath forbids it, or your heart?

   QUEEN.
   Because my duty—but, alas, alas!
   To what avails this scrutiny of fate,
   Which we must both obey?

   CARLOS.
                Must—must obey?

   QUEEN.
   What means this solemn tone?

   CARLOS.
                  Thus much it means
   That Carlos is not one to yield to must
   Where he hath power to will! It means, besides,
   'That Carlos is not minded to live on,
   The most unhappy man in all his realm,
   When it would only cost the overthrow
   Of Spanish laws to be the happiest.

   QUEEN.
   Do I interpret rightly? Still you hope?
   Dare you hope on, when all is lost forever?

   CARLOS.
   I look on naught as lost—except the dead.

   QUEEN.
   For me—your mother, do you dare to hope?

      [She fixes a penetrating look on him, then continues
      with dignity and earnestness.

   And yet why not? A new elected monarch
   Can do far more—make bonfires of the laws
   His father left—o'erthrow his monuments—
   Nay, more than this—for what shall hinder him?—
   Drag from his tomb, in the Escurial,
   The sacred corpse of his departed sire,
   Make it a public spectacle, and scatter
   Forth to the winds his desecrated dust.
   And then, at last, to fill the measure up——

   CARLOS.
   Merciful heavens, finish not the picture!

   QUEEN.
   End all by wedding with his mother.

   CARLOS.
                      Oh!
   Accursed son!
      [He remains for some time paralyzed and speechless.
           Yes, now 'tis out, 'tis out!
   I see it clear as day. Oh, would it had
   Been veiled from me in everlasting darkness!
   Yes, thou art gone from me—gone—gone forever.
   The die is cast; and thou art lost to me.
   Oh, in that thought lies hell; and a hell, too,
   Lies in the other thought, to call thee mine.
   Oh, misery! I can bear my fate no longer,
   My very heart-strings strain as they would burst.

   QUEEN.
   Alas, alas! dear Charles, I feel it all,
   The nameless pang that rages in your breast;
   Your pangs are infinite, as is your love,
   And infinite as both will be the glory
   Of overmastering both. Up, be a man,
   Wrestle with them boldly. The prize is worthy
   Of a young warrior's high, heroic heart;
   Worthy of him in whom the virtues flow
   Of a long ancestry of mighty kings.
   Courage! my noble prince! Great Charles's grandson
   Begins the contest with undaunted heart,
   Where sons of meaner men would yield at once.

   CARLOS.
   Too late, too late! O God, it is too late!

   QUEEN.
   Too late to be a man! O Carlos, Carlos!
   How nobly shows our virtue when the heart
   Breaks in its exercise! The hand of Heaven
   Has set you up on high,—far higher, prince,
   Than millions of your brethren. All she took
   From others she bestowed with partial hand
   On thee, her favorite; and millions ask,
   What was your merit, thus before your birth
   To be endowed so far above mankind?
   Up, then, and justify the ways of Heaven;
   Deserve to take the lead of all the world,
   And make a sacrifice ne'er made before.

   CARLOS.
   I will, I will; I have a giant's strength
   To win your favor; but to lose you, none.

   QUEEN.
   Confess, my Carlos, I have harshly read thee;
   It is but spoken, and waywardness, and pride,
   Attract you thus so madly to your mother!
   The heart you lavish on myself belongs
   To the great empire you one day shall rule.
   Look that you sport not with your sacred trust!
   Love is your high vocation; until now
   It hath been wrongly bent upon your mother:
   Oh, lead it back upon your future realms,
   And so, instead of the fell stings of conscience,
   Enjoy the bliss of being more than man.
   Elizabeth has been your earliest love,
   Your second must be Spain. How gladly, Carlos,
   Will I give place to this more worthy choice!

   CARLOS (overpowered by emotion, throws himself at her feet).
   How great thou art, my angel! Yes, I'll do
   All, all thou canst desire. So let it be.
                  [He rises.
   Here in the sight of heaven I stand and swear—
   I swear to thee, eternal—no, great Heaven!—
   Eternal silence only,—not oblivion!

   QUEEN.
   How can I ask from you what I myself
   Am not disposed to grant?

   MARQUIS (hastening from the alley).
                 The king!

   QUEEN.
                      Oh God!

   MARQUIS.
   Away, away! fly from these precincts, prince!

   QUEEN.
   His jealousy is dreadful—should he see you——

   CARLOS.
   I'll stay.

   QUEEN.
         And who will be the victim then?

   CARLOS (seizing the MARQUIS by the arm).
   Away, away! Come, Roderigo, come!
              [Goes and returns.
   What may I hope to carry hence with me?

   QUEEN.
   Your mother's friendship.

   CARLOS.
                 Friendship! Mother!

   QUEEN.
                            And
   These tears with it—they're from the Netherlands.

      [She gives him some letters. Exit CARLOS with the MARQUIS.
      The QUEEN looks restlessly round in search of her ladies,
      who are nowhere to be seen. As she is about to retire up,
      the KING enters.





SCENE VI.

      The KING, the QUEEN, DUKE ALVA, COUNT LERMA, DOMINGO,
      LADIES, GRANDEES, who remain at a little distance.

   KING.
   How, madam, alone; not even one of all
   Your ladies in attendance? Strange! Where are they?

   QUEEN.
   My gracious lord!

   KING.
             Why thus alone, I say?
      [To his attendants.
   I'll take a strict account of this neglect.
   'Tis not to be forgiven. Who has the charge
   Of waiting on your majesty to-day?

   QUEEN.
   Oh, be not angry! Good, my lord, 'tis I
   Myself that am to blame—at my request
   The Princess Eboli went hence but now.

   KING.
   At your request!

   QUEEN.
            To call the nurse to me,
   With the Infanta, whom I longed to see.

   KING.
   And was your retinue dismissed for that?
   This only clears the lady first in waiting.
   Where was the second?

   MONDECAR (who has returned and mixed with the other ladies,
        steps forward).
               Your majesty, I feel
   I am to blame for this.

   KING.
                You are, and so
   I give you ten years to reflect upon it,
   At a most tranquil distance from Madrid.

      [The MARCHIONESS steps back weeping. General silence.
      The bystanders all look in confusion towards the QUEEN.

   QUEEN.
   What weep you for, dear marchioness?
                   [To the KING.
                      If I
   Have erred, my gracious liege, the crown I wear,
   And which I never sought, should save my blushes
   Is there a law in this your kingdom, sire,
   To summon monarch's daughters to the bar?
   Does force alone restrain your Spanish ladies?
   Or need they stronger safeguard than their virtue?
   Now pardon me, my liege; 'tis not my wont
   To send my ladies, who have served me still
   With smiling cheerfulness, away in tears.
   Here, Mondecar.

      [She takes off her girdle and presents it to the MARCHIONESS.

            You have displeased the king,
   Not me. Take this remembrance of my favor,
   And of this hour. I'd have you quit the kingdom.
   You have only erred in Spain. In my dear France,
   All men are glad to wipe such tears away.
   And must I ever be reminded thus?
   In my dear France it had been otherwise.

      [Leaning on the MARCHIONESS and covering her face.

   KING.
   Can a reproach, that in my love had birth,
   Afflict you so? A word so trouble you,
   Which the most anxious tenderness did prompt?
          [He turns towards the GEANDEES.
   Here stand the assembled vassals of my throne.
   Did ever sleep descend upon these eyes,
   Till at the close of the returning day
   I've pondered, how the hearts of all my subjects
   Were beating 'neath the furthest cope of heaven?
   And should I feel more anxious for my throne
   Than for the partner of my bosom? No!
   My sword and Alva can protect my people,
   My eye alone assures thy love.

   QUEEN.
                   My liege,
   If that I have offended——

   KING.
                 I am called
   The richest monarch in the Christian world;
   The sun in my dominions never sets.
   All this another hath possessed before,
   And many another will possess hereafter.
   That is mine own. All that the monarch hath
   Belongs to chance—Elizabeth to Philip.
   This is the point in which I feel I'm mortal.

   QUEEN.
   What fear you, sire?

   KING.
              Should these gray hairs not fear?
   But the same instant that my fear begins
   It dies away forever.
                 [To the grandees.
               I run over
   The nobles of my court and miss the foremost.
   Where is my son, Don Carlos?
               [No one answers.
                  He begins
   To give me cause of fear. He shuns my presence
   Since he came back from school at Alcala.
   His blood is hot. Why is his look so cold?
   His bearing all so stately and reserved?
   Be watchful, duke, I charge you.

   ALVA.
                    So I am:
   Long as a heart against this corslet beats,
   So long may Philip slumber undisturbed;
   And as God's cherub guards the gates of heaven
   So doth Duke Alva guard your royal throne.

   LERMA.
   Dare I, in all humility, presume
   To oppose the judgment of earth's wisest king?
   Too deeply I revere his gracious sire
   To judge the son so harshly. I fear much
   From his hot blood, but nothing from his heart.

   KING.
   Lerma, your speech is fair to soothe the father,
   But Alva here will be the monarch's shield—
   No more of this.
              [Turning to his suite.
            Now speed we to Madrid,
   Our royal duties summon us. The plague
   Of heresy is rife among my people;
   Rebellion stalks within my Netherlands—
   The times are imminent. We must arrest
   These erring spirits by some dread example.
   The solemn oath which every Christian king
   Hath sworn to keep I will redeem to-morrow.
   'Twill be a day of doom unparalleled.
   Our court is bidden to the festival.

      [He leads off the QUEEN, the rest follow.





SCENE VII.

      DON CARLOS (with letters in his hand), and MARQUIS POSA
      enter from opposite sides.

   CARLOS.
   I am resolved—Flanders shall yet be saved:
   So runs her suit, and that's enough for me!

   MARQUIS.
   There's not another moment to be lost:
   'Tis said Duke Alva in the cabinet
   Is named already as the governor.

   CARLOS.
   Betimes to-morrow will I see the king
   And ask this office for myself. It is
   The first request I ever made to him,
   And he can scarce refuse. My presence here
   Has long been irksome to him. He will grasp
   This fair pretence my absence to secure.
   And shall I confess to thee, Roderigo?
   My hopes go further. Face to face with him,
   'Tis possible the pleading of a son
   May reinstate him in his father's favor.
   He ne'er hath heard the voice of nature speak;
   Then let me try for once, my Roderigo,
   What power she hath when breathing from my lips.

   MARQUIS.
   Now do I hear my Carlos' voice once more;
   Now are you all yourself again!





SCENE VIII.

      The preceding. COUNT LERMA.

   COUNT.
               Your grace,
   His majesty has left Aranjuez;
   And I am bidden——

   CARLOS.
             Very well, my lord—
   I shall overtake the king——

   MARQUIS (affecting to take leave with ceremony).
                  Your highness, then,
   Has nothing further to intrust to me?

   CARLOS.
   Nothing. A pleasant journey to Madrid!
   You may, hereafter, tell me more of Flanders.

      [To LERMA, who is waiting for him.

   Proceed, my lord! I'll follow thee anon.





SCENE IX.

      DON CARLOS, MARQUIS POSA.

   CARLOS.
   I understood thy hint, and thank thee for it.
   A stranger's presence can alone excuse
   This forced and measured tone. Are we not brothers?
   In future, let this puppet-play of rank
   Be banished from our friendship. Think that we
   Had met at some gay masking festival,
   Thou in the habit of a slave, and I
   Robed, for a jest, in the imperial purple.
   Throughout the revel we respect the cheat,
   And play our parts with sportive earnestness,
   Tripping it gayly with the merry throng;
   But should thy Carlos beckon through his mask,
   Thou'dst press his hand in silence as he passed,
   And we should be as one.

   MARQUIS.
                The dream's divine!
   But are you sure that it will last forever?
   Is Carlos, then, so certain of himself
   As to despise the charms of boundless sway?
   A day will come—an all-important day—
   When this heroic mind—I warn you now—
   Will sink o'erwhelmed by too severe a test.
   Don Philip dies; and Carlos mounts the throne,
   The mightiest throne in Christendom. How vast
   The gulf that yawns betwixt mankind and him—
   A god to-day, who yesterday was man!
   Steeled to all human weakness—to the voice
   Of heavenly duty deaf. Humanity—
   To-day a word of import in his ear—
   Barters itself, and grovels 'mid the throng
   Of gaping parasites; his sympathy
   For human woe is turned to cold neglect,
   His virtue sunk in loose voluptuous joys.
   Peru supplies him riches for his folly,
   His court engenders devils for his vices.
   Lulled in this heaven the work of crafty slaves,
   He sleeps a charmed sleep; and while his dream
   Endures his godhead lasts. And woe to him
   Who'd break in pity this lethargic trance!
   What could Roderigo do? Friendship is true,
   And bold as true. But her bright flashing beams
   Were much too fierce for sickly majesty:
   You would not brook a subject's stern appeal,
   Nor I a monarch's pride!

   CARLOS.
                Tearful and true,
   Thy portraiture of monarchs. Yes—thou'rt right,
   But 'tis their lusts that thus corrupt their hearts,
   And hurry them to vice. I still am pure.
   A youth scarce numbering three-and-twenty years.
   What thousands waste in riotous delights,
   Without remorse—the mind's more precious part—
   The bloom and strength of manhood—I have kept,
   Hoarding their treasures for the future king.
   What could unseat my Posa from my heart,
   If woman fail to do it?

   MARQUIS.
                I, myself!
   Say, could I love you, Carlos, warm as now,
   If I must fear you?

   CARLOS.
              That will never be.
   What need hast thou of me? What cause hast thou
   To stoop thy knee, a suppliant at the throne?
   Does gold allure thee? Thou'rt a richer subject
   Than I shall be a king! Dost covet honors?
   E'en in thy youth, fame's brimming chalice stood
   Full in thy grasp—thou flung'st the toy away.
   Which of us, then, must be the other's debtor,
   And which the creditor? Thou standest mute.
   Dost tremble for the trial? Art thou, then,
   Uncertain of thyself?

   MARQUIS.
               Carlos, I yield!
   Here is my hand.

   CARLOS.
            Is it mine own?

   MARQUIS.
                     Forever—
   In the most pregnant meaning of the word!

   CARLOS.
   And wilt thou prove hereafter to the king
   As true and warm as to the prince to-day?

   MARQUIS.
   I swear!

   CARLOS.
        And when round my unguarded heart
   The serpent flattery winds its subtle coil,
   Should e'er these eyes of mine forget the tears
   They once were wont to shed; or should these ears
   Be closed to mercy's plea,—say, wilt thou, then,
   The fearless guardian of my virtue, throw
   Thine iron grasp upon me, and call up
   My genius by its mighty name?

   MARQUIS.
                   I will.

   CARLOS.
   And now one other favor let me beg.
   Do call me thou! Long have I envied this
   Dear privilege of friendship to thine equals.
   The brother's thou beguiles my ear, my heart,
   With sweet suggestions of equality.
   Nay, no reply:—I guess what thou wouldst say—
   To thee this seems a trifle—but to me,
   A monarch's son, 'tis much. Say, wilt thou be
   A brother to me?

   MARQUIS.
            Yes; thy brother, yes!

   CARLOS.
   Now to the king—my fears are at an end.
   Thus, arm-in-arm with thee, I dare defy
   The universal world into the lists.

                   [Exeunt.





ACT II.





SCENE I.

      The royal palace at Madrid.

      KING PHILIP under a canopy; DUKE ALVA at some distance,
      with his head covered; CARLOS.

   CARLOS.
   The kingdom takes precedence—willingly
   Doth Carlos to the minister give place—
   He speaks for Spain; I am but of the household.

          [Bows and steps backward.

   KING.
   The duke remains—the Infanta may proceed.

   CARLOS (turning to ALVA).
   Then must I put it to your honor, sir,
   To yield my father for a while to me.
   A son, you know, may to a father's ear
   Unbosom much, in fulness of his heart,
   That not befits a stranger's ear. The king
   Shall not be taken from you, sir—I seek
   The father only for one little hour.

   KING.
   Here stands his friend.

   CARLOS.
                And have I e'er deserved
   To think the duke should be a friend of mine?

   KING.
   Or tried to make him one? I scarce can love
   Those sons who choose more wisely than their fathers.

   CARLOS.
   And can Duke Alva's knightly spirit brook
   To look on such a scene? Now, as I live,
   I would not play the busy meddler's part,
   Who thrusts himself, unasked, 'twixt sire and son,
   And there intrudes without a blush, condemned
   By his own conscious insignificance,
   No, not, by heaven, to win a diadem!

   KING (rising, with an angry look at the Prince).
   Retire, my lord!

      [ALVA goes to the principal door, through which CARLOS
      had entered, the KING points to the other.

            No, to the cabinet,
   Until I call you.





SCENE II.

      KING PHILIP. DON CARLOS.

   CARLOS (as soon as the DUKE has left the apartment, advances to the KING,
       throws himself at his feet, and then, with great emotion).
             My father once again!
   Thanks, endless thanks, for this unwonted favor!
   Your hand, my father! O delightful day!
   The rapture of this kiss has long been strange
   To your poor Carlos. Wherefore have I been
   Shut from my father's heart? What have I done?

   KING.
   Carlos, thou art a novice in these arts—
   Forbear, I like them not——

   CARLOS (rising).
                 And is it so?
   I hear your courtiers in those words, my father!
   All is not well, by heaven, all is not true,
   That a priest says, and a priest's creatures plot.
   I am not wicked, father; ardent blood
   Is all my failing;—all my crime is youth;—
   Wicked I am not—no, in truth, not wicked;—
   Though many an impulse wild assails my heart,
   Yet is it still untainted.

   KING.
                 Ay, 'tis pure—
   I know it—like thy prayers——

   CARLOS.
                   Now, then, or never!
   We are, for once, alone—the barrier
   Of courtly form, that severed sire and son
   Has fallen! Now a golden ray of hope
   Illumes my soul—a sweet presentment
   Pervades my heart—and heaven itself inclines,
   With choirs of joyous angels, to the earth,
   And full of soft emotion, the thrice blest
   Looks down upon this great, this glorious scene!
   Pardon, my father!

      [He falls on his knees before him.

   KING.
             Rise, and leave me.

   CARLOS.
                        Father!

   KING (tearing himself from him).
   This trifling grows too bold.

   CARLOS.
                   A son's devotion
   Too bold! Alas!

   KING.
            And, to crown all, in tears!
   Degraded boy! Away, and quit my sight!

   CARLOS.
   Now, then, or never!—pardon, O my father!

   KING.
   Away, and leave my sight! Return to me
   Disgraced, defeated, from the battle-field,
   Thy sire shall meet thee with extended arms:
   But thus in tears, I spurn thee from my feet.
   A coward's guilt alone should wash its stains
   In such ignoble streams. The man who weeps
   Without a blush will ne'er want cause for tears!

   CARLOS.
   Who is this man? By what mistake of nature
   Has he thus strayed amongst mankind? A tear
   Is man's unerring, lasting attribute.
   Whose eye is dry was ne'er of woman born!
   Oh, teach the eye that ne'er hath overflowed,
   The timely science of a tear—thou'lt need
   The moist relief in some dark hour of woe.

   KING.
   Think'st thou to shake thy father's strong mistrust
   With specious words?

   CARLOS.
              Mistrust! Then I'll remove it.
   Here will I hang upon my father's breast,
   Strain at his heart with vigor, till each shred
   Of that mistrust, which, with a rock's endurance,
   Clings firmly round it, piecemeal fall away.
   And who are they who drive me from the king—
   My father's favor? What requital hath
   A monk to give a father for a son?
   What compensation can the duke supply
   For a deserted and a childless age?
   Would'st thou be loved? Here in this bosom springs
   A fresher, purer fountain, than e'er flowed
   From those dark, stagnant, muddy reservoirs,
   Which Philip's gold must first unlock.

   KING.
                       No more,
   Presuming boy! For know the hearts thou slanderest
   Are the approved, true servants of my choice.
   'Tis meet that thou do honor to them.

   CARLOS.
                       Never!
   I know my worth—all that your Alva dares—
   That, and much more, can Carlos. What cares he,
   A hireling! for the welfare of the realm
   That never can be his? What careth he
   If Philip's hair grow gray with hoary age?
   Your Carlos would have loved you:—Oh, I dread
   To think that you the royal throne must fill
   Deserted and alone.

   KING (seemingly struck by this idea, stands in deep thought; after
      a pause).
              I am alone!

   CARLOS (approaching him with eagerness).
   You have been so till now. Hate me no more,
   And I will love you dearly as a son:
   But hate me now no longer! Oh, how sweet,
   Divinely sweet it is to feel our being
   Reflected in another's beauteous soul;
   To see our joys gladden another's cheek,
   Our pains bring anguish to another's bosom,
   Our sorrows fill another's eye with tears!
   How sweet, how glorious is it, hand in hand,
   With a dear child, in inmost soul beloved,
   To tread once more the rosy paths of youth,
   And dream life's fond illusions o'er again!
   How proud to live through endless centuries
   Immortal in the virtues of a son;
   How sweet to plant what his dear hand shall reap;
   To gather what will yield him rich return,
   And guess how high his thanks will one day rise!
   My father of this early paradise
   Your monks most wisely speak not.

   KING (not without emotion).
                     Oh, my son,
   Thou hast condemned thyself in painting thus
   A bliss this heart hath ne'er enjoyed from thee.

   CARLOS.
   The Omniscient be my judge! You till this hour
   Have still debarred me from your heart, and all
   Participation in your royal cares.
   The heir of Spain has been a very stranger
   In Spanish land—a prisoner in the realm
   Where he must one day rule. Say, was this just,
   Or kind? And often have I blushed for shame,
   And stood with eyes abashed, to learn perchance
   From foreign envoys, or the general rumor,
   Thy courtly doings at Aranjuez.

   KING.
   Thy blood flows far too hotly in thy veins.
   Thou would'st but ruin all.

   CARLOS.
                  But try me, father.
   'Tis true my blood flows hotly in my veins.
   Full three-and-twenty years I now have lived,
   And naught achieved for immortality.
   I am aroused—I feel my inward powers—
   My title to the throne arouses me
   From slumber, like an angry creditor;
   And all the misspent hours of early youth,
   Like debts of honor, clamor in mine ears.
   It comes at length, the glorious moment comes
   That claims full interest on the intrusted talent.
   The annals of the world, ancestral fame,
   And glory's echoing trumpet urge me on.
   Now is the blessed hour at length arrived
   That opens wide to me the list of honor.
   My king, my father! dare I utter now
   The suit which led me hither?

   KING.
                   Still a suit?
   Unfold it.

   CARLOS.
         The rebellion in Brabant
   Increases to a height—the traitor's madness
   By stern, but prudent, vigor must be met.
   The duke, to quell the wild enthusiasm,
   Invested with the sovereign's power, will lead
   An army into Flanders. Oh, how full
   Of glory is such office! and how suited
   To open wide the temple of renown
   To me, your son! To my hand, then, O king,
   Intrust the army; in thy Flemish lands
   I am well loved, and I will freely gage
   My life for their fidelity and truth.

   KING.
   Thou speakest like a dreamer. This high office
   Demands a man—and not a stripling's arm.

   CARLOS.
   It but demands a human being, father:
   And that is what Duke Alva ne'er hath been.

   KING.
   Terror alone can tie rebellion's hands:
   Humanity were madness. Thy soft soul
   Is tender, son: they'll tremble at the duke.
   Desist from thy request.

   CARLOS.
                Despatch me, sire,
   To Flanders with the army—dare rely
   E'en on my tender soul. The name of prince,
   The royal name emblazoned on my standard,
   Conquers where Alva's butchers but dismay.
   Here on my knees I crave it—this the first
   Petition of my life. Trust Flanders to me.

   KING (contemplating CARLOS with a piercing look).
   Trust my best army to thy thirst for rule,
   And put a dagger in my murderer's hand!

   CARLOS.
   Great God! and is this all—is this the fruit
   Of a momentous hour so long desired!
         [After some thought, in a milder tone.
   Oh, speak to me more kindly—send me not
   Thus comfortless away—dismiss me not
   With this afflicting answer, oh, my father!
   Use me more tenderly, indeed, I need it.
   This is the last resource of wild despair—
   It conquers every power of firm resolve
   To beat it as a man—this deep contempt—
   My every suit denied: Let me away—
   Unheard and foiled in all my fondest hopes,
   I take my leave. Now Alva and Domingo
   May proudly sit in triumph where your son
   Lies weeping in the dust. Your crowd of courtiers,
   And your long train of cringing, trembling nobles,
   Your tribe of sallow monks, so deadly pale,
   All witnessed how you granted me this audience.
   Let me not be disgraced. Oh, strike me not
   With this most deadly wound—nor lay me bare
   To sneering insolence of menial taunts!
   "That strangers riot on your bounty, whilst
   Carlos, your son, may supplicate in vain."
   And as a pledge that you would have me honored,
   Despatch me straight to Flanders with the army.

   KING.
   Urge thy request no farther—as thou wouldst
   Avoid the king's displeasure.

   CARLOS.
                   I must brave
   My king's displeasure, and prefer my suit
   Once more, it is the last. Trust Flanders to me!
   I must away from Spain. To linger here
   Is to draw breath beneath the headsman's axe:
   The air lies heavy on me in Madrid
   Like murder on a guilty soul—a change,
   An instant change of clime alone can cure me.
   If you would save my life, despatch me straight
   Without delay to Flanders.

   KING (with affected coldness).
                 Invalids,
   Like thee, my son—need not be tended close,
   And ever watched by the physician's eye—
   Thou stayest in Spain—the duke will go to Flanders.

   CARLOS (wildly).
   Assist me, ye good angels!

   KING (starting).
                 Hold, what mean
   Those looks so wild?

   CARLOS.
              Father, do you abide
   Immovably by this determination?

   KING.
   It was the king's.

   CARLOS.
             Then my commission's done.

              [Exit in violent emotion.





SCENE III.

      King, sunk in gloomy contemplation, walks a few steps
      up and down; Alva approaches with embarrassment.

   KING.
   Hold yourself ready to depart for Brussels
   Upon a moment's notice.

   ALVA.
   All is prepared, my liege.

   KING.
                 And your credentials
   Lie ready sealed within my cabinet,—
   Meanwhile obtain an audience of the queen,
   And bid the prince farewell.

   ALVA.
                  As I came in
   I met him with a look of frenzy wild
   Quitting the chamber; and your majesty
   Is strangely moved, methinks, and bears the marks
   Of deep excitement—can it be the theme
   Of your discourse——

   KING.
              Concerned the Duke of Alva.
      [The KING keeps his eye steadfastly fixed on him.
   I'm pleased that Carlos hates my councillors,
   But I'm disturbed that he despises them.
      [ALVA, coloring deeply, is about to speak.
   No answer now: propitiate the prince.

   ALVA.
   Sire!

   KING.
       Tell me who it was that warned me first
   Of my son's dark designs? I listened then
   To you, and not to him. I will have proof.
   And for the future, mark me, Carlos stands
   Nearer the throne—now duke—you may retire.

      [The KING retires into his cabinet. Exit DUKE by another door.





SCENE IV.

      The antechamber to the QUEEN'S apartments. DON CARLOS enters in
      conversation with a PAGE. The attendants retire at his approach.

   CARLOS.
   For me this letter? And a key! How's this?
   And both delivered with such mystery!
   Come nearer, boy:—from whom didst thou receive them?

   PAGE (mysteriously).
   It seemed to me the lady would be guessed
   Rather than be described.

   CARLOS (starting).
                 The lady, what!
   Who art thou, boy?

           [Looking earnestly at the PAGE.

   PAGE.
   A page that serves the queen.

   CARLOS (affrighted, putting his hand to the PAGE's mouth).
   Hold, on your life! I know enough: no more.

      [He tears open the letter hastily, and retires to read it; meanwhile
      DUKE ALVA comes, and passing the Prince, goes unperceived by him
      into the QUEEN'S apartment, CARLOS trembles violently and changes
      color; when he has read the letter he remains a long time
      speechless, his eyes steadfastly fixed on it; at last he turns to
      the PAGE.

   She gave you this herself?

   PAGE.
                 With her own hands.

   CARLOS.
   She gave this letter to you then herself?
   Deceive me not: I ne'er have seen her writing,
   And I must credit thee, if thou canst swear it;
   But if thy tale be false, confess it straight,
   Nor put this fraud on me.

   PAGE.
                 This fraud, on whom?

   CARLOS (looking once more at the letter, then at the PAGE with doubt
       and earnestness).
   Your parents—are they living? and your father—
   Serves he the king? Is he a Spaniard born?

   PAGE.
   He fell a colonel on St. Quentin's field,
   Served in the cavalry of Savoy's duke—
   His name Alonzo, Count of Henarez.

   CARLOS (taking his hand, and looking fixedly in his eyes).
   The king gave you this letter?

   PAGE (with emotion).
                   Gracious prince,
   Have I deserved these doubts?

   CARLOS (reading the letter).
                   "This key unlocks
   The back apartments in the queen's pavilion,
   The furthest room lies next a cabinet
   Wherein no listener's foot dare penetrate;
   Here may the voice of love without restraint
   Confess those tender feelings, which till now
   The heart with silent looks alone hath spoken.
   The timid lover gains an audience here,
   And sweet reward repays his secret sorrow."

          [As if awakening from a reverie.

   I am not in a dream, do not rave,
   This is my right hand, this my sword—and these
   Are written words. 'Tis true—it is no dream.
   I am beloved, I feel I am beloved.

      [Unable to contain himself, he rushes hastily through the room,
      and raises his arms to heaven.

   PAGE.
   Follow me, prince, and I will lead the way.

   CARLOS.
   Then let me first collect my scattered thoughts.
   The alarm of joy still trembles in my bosom.
   Did I e'er lift my fondest hopes so high,
   Or trust my fancy to so bold a flight?
   Show me the man can learn thus suddenly
   To be a god. I am not what I was.
   I feel another heaven—another sun
   That was not here before. She loves—she loves me!

   PAGE (leading him forward).
   But this is not the place: prince! you forget.

   CARLOS.
   The king! My father!

      [His arms sink, he casts a timid look around, then
      collecting himself.

               This is dreadful! Yes,
   You're right, my friend. I thank you: I was not
   Just then myself. To be compelled to silence,
   And bury in my heart this mighty bliss,
   Is terrible!

      [Taking the PAGE by the hand, and leading him aside.

          Now here! What thou hast seen,
   And what not seen, must be within thy breast
   Entombed as in the grave. So now depart;
   I shall not need thy guidance; they must not
   Surprise us here! Now go.

      [The PAGE is about to depart.

                 Yet hold, a word!

      [The PAGE returns. CARLOS lays his hand on his shoulder, and looks
      him steadily in the face.

   A direful secret hast thou in thy keeping,
   Which, like a poison of terrific power,
   Shivers the cup that holds it into atoms.
   Guard every look of thine, nor let thy head
   Guess at thy bosom's secret. Be thou like
   The senseless speaking-trumpet that receives
   And echoes back the voice, but hears it not.
   Thou art a boy! Be ever so; continue
   The pranks of youth. My correspondent chose
   Her messenger of love with prudent skill!
   The king will ne'er suspect a serpent here.

   PAGE.
   And I, my prince, shall feel right proud to know
   I am one secret richer than the king.

   CARLOS.
   Vain, foolish boy! 'tis this should make thee tremble.
   Approach me ever with a cold respect:
   Ne'er be induced by idle pride to boast
   How gracious is the prince! No deadlier sin
   Canst thou commit, my son, than pleasing me.
   Whate'er thou hast in future for my ear,
   Give not to words; intrust not to thy lips,
   Ne'er on that common high road of the thoughts
   Permit thy news to travel. Speak with an eye,
   A finger; I will answer with a look.
   The very air, the light, are Philip's creatures,
   And the deaf walls around are in his pay.
   Some one approaches; fly, we'll meet again.

      [The QUEEN'S chamber opens, and DUKE ALVA comes out.

   PAGE.
   Be careful, prince, to find the right apartment.

                      [Exit.

   CARLOS.
   It is the duke! Fear not, I'll find the way.