DOMINGO. I dare not, prince, presume to penetrate The sacred mystery of your secret grief, Yet I implore your highness to remember That, for a conscience ill at ease, the church Hath opened an asylum, of which kings Hold not the key—where even crimes are purged Beneath the holy sacramental seal. You know my meaning, prince—I've said enough.

CARLOS. No! be it, never said, I tempted so The keeper of that seal.

DOMINGO. Prince, this mistrust— You wrong the most devoted of your servants.

CARLOS. Then give me up at once without a thought Thou art a holy man—the world knows that— But, to speak plain, too zealous far for me. The road to Peter's chair is long and rough, And too much knowledge might encumber you. Go, tell this to the king, who sent thee hither!

DOMINGO. Who sent me hither?

CARLOS. Ay! Those were my words. Too well-too well, I know, that I'm betrayed, Slandered on every hand—that at this court A hundred eyes are hired to watch my steps. I know, that royal Philip to his slaves Hath sold his only son, and every wretch, Who takes account of each half-uttered word, Receives such princely guerdon as was ne'er Bestowed on deeds of honor, Oh, I know But hush!—no more of that! My heart will else O'erflow and I've already said too much.

DOMINGO. The king is minded, ere the set of sun, To reach Madrid: I see the court is mustering. Have I permission, prince?

CARLOS. I'll follow straight.

[Exit DOMINGO.

CARLOS (after a short silence). O wretched Philip! wretched as thy son! Soon shall thy bosom bleed at every pore, Torn by suspicion's poisonous serpent fang. Thy fell sagacity full soon shall pierce The fatal secret it is bent to know, And thou wilt madden, when it breaks upon thee!



SCENE II.

CARLOS, MARQUIS OF POSA.

CARLOS. Lo! Who comes here? 'Tis he! O ye kind heavens, My Roderigo!

MARQUIS. Carlos!

CARLOS. Can it be? And is it truly thou? O yes, it is! I press thee to my bosom, and I feel Thy throbbing heart beat wildly 'gainst mine own. And now all's well again. In this embrace My sick, sad heart is comforted. I hang Upon my Roderigo's neck!

MARQUIS. Thy heart! Thy sick sad heart! And what is well again What needeth to be well? Thy words amaze me.

CARLOS. What brings thee back so suddenly from Brussels? Whom must I thank for this most glad surprise? And dare I ask? Whom should I thank but thee, Thou gracious and all bounteous Providence? Forgive me, heaven! if joy hath crazed my brain. Thou knewest no angel watched at Carlos' side, And sent me this! And yet I ask who sent him.

MARQUIS. Pardon, dear prince, if I can only meet With wonder these tumultuous ecstacies. Not thus I looked to find Don Philip's son. A hectic red burns on your pallid cheek, And your lips quiver with a feverish heat. What must I think, dear prince? No more I see The youth of lion heart, to whom I come The envoy of a brave and suffering people. For now I stand not here as Roderigo— Not as the playmate of the stripling Carlos— But, as the deputy of all mankind, I clasp thee thus:—'tis Flanders that clings here Around thy neck, appealing with my tears To thee for succor in her bitter need. This land is lost, this land so dear to thee, If Alva, bigotry's relentless tool, Advance on Brussels with his Spanish laws. This noble country's last faint hope depends On thee, loved scion of imperial Charles! And, should thy noble heart forget to beat In human nature's cause, Flanders is lost!

CARLOS. Then it is lost.

MARQUIS. What do I hear? Alas!

CARLOS. Thou speakest of times that long have passed away. I, too, have had my visions of a Carlos, Whose cheek would fire at freedom's glorious name, But he, alas! has long been in his grave. He, thou seest here, no longer is that Carlos, Who took his leave of thee in Alcala, Who in the fervor of a youthful heart, Resolved, at some no distant time, to wake The golden age in Spain! Oh, the conceit, Though but a child's, was yet divinely fair! Those dreams are past!

MARQUIS. Said you, those dreams, my prince! And were they only dreams?

CARLOS. Oh, let me weep, Upon thy bosom weep these burning tears, My only friend! Not one have I—not one— In the wide circuit of this earth,—not one Far as the sceptre of my sire extends, Far as the navies bear the flag of Spain, There is no spot—none—none, where I dare yield An outlet to my tears, save only this. I charge thee, Roderigo! Oh, by all The hopes we both do entertain of heaven, Cast me not off from thee, my friend, my friend! [POSA bends over him in silent emotion. Look on me, Posa, as an orphan child, Found near the throne, and nurtured by thy love. Indeed, I know not what a father is. I am a monarch's son. Oh, were it so, As my heart tells me that it surely is, That thou from millions hast been chosen out To comprehend my being; if it be true, That all-creating nature has designed In me to reproduce a Roderigo, And on the morning of our life attuned Our souls' soft concords to the selfsame key; If one poor tear, which gives my heart relief, To thee were dearer than my father's favor——

MARQUIS. Oh, it is dearer far than all the world!

CARLOS. I'm fallen so low, have grown so poor withal, I must recall to thee our childhood's years,— Must ask thee payment of a debt incurred When thou and I were scarce to boyhood grown. Dost thou remember, how we grew together, Two daring youths, like brothers, side by side? I had no sorrow but to see myself Eclipsed by thy bright genius. So I vowed, Since I might never cope with thee in power, That I would love thee with excess of love. Then with a thousand shows of tenderness, And warm affection, I besieged thy heart, Which cold and proudly still repulsed them all. Oft have I stood, and—yet thou sawest it never Hot bitter tear-drops brimming in mine eyes, When I have marked thee, passing me unheeded, Fold to thy bosom youths of humbler birth. "Why only these?" in anguish, once I asked— "Am I not kind and good to thee as they?" But dropping on thy knees, thine answer came, With an unloving look of cold reserve, "This is my duty to the monarch's son!"

MARQUIS. Oh, spare me, dearest prince, nor now recall Those boyish acts that make me blush for shame.

CARLOS. I did not merit such disdain from thee— You might despise me, crush my heart, but never Alter my love. Three times didst thou repulse The prince, and thrice he came to thee again, To beg thy love, and force on thee his own. At length chance wrought what Carlos never could. Once we were playing, when thy shuttlecock Glanced off and struck my aunt, Bohemia's queen, Full in the face! She thought 'twas with intent, And all in tears complained unto the king. The palace youth were summoned on the spot, And charged to name the culprit. High in wrath The king vowed vengeance for the deed: "Although It were his son, yet still should he be made A dread example!" I looked around and marked Thee stand aloof, all trembling with dismay. Straight I stepped forth; before the royal feet I flung myself, and cried, "'Twas I who did it; Now let thine anger fall upon thy son!"

MARQUIS. Ah, wherefore, prince, remind me?

CARLOS. Hear me further! Before the face of the assembled court, That stood, all pale with pity, round about, Thy Carlos was tied up, whipped like a slave; I looked on thee, and wept not. Blow rained on blow; I gnashed my teeth with pain, yet wept I not! My royal blood streamed 'neath the pitiless lash; I looked on thee, and wept not. Then you came, And fell half-choked with sobs before my feet: "Carlos," you cried, "my pride is overcome; I will repay thee when thou art a king."

MARQUIS (stretching forth his hand to CARLOS). Carlos, I'll keep my word; my boyhood's vow I now as man renew. I will repay thee. Some day, perchance, the hour may come——

CARLOS. Now! now! The hour has come; thou canst repay me all. I have sore need of love. A fearful secret Burns in my breast; it must—it must be told. In thy pale looks my death-doom will I read. Listen; be petrified; but answer not. I love—I love—my mother!

MARQUIS. O my God!

CARLOS. Nay, no forbearance! spare me not! Speak! speak! Proclaim aloud, that on this earth's great round There is no misery to compare with mine. Speak! speak!—I know all—all that thou canst say The son doth love his mother. All the world's Established usages, the course of nature, Rome's fearful laws denounce my fatal passion. My suit conflicts with my own father's rights, I feel it all, and yet I love. This path Leads on to madness, or the scaffold. I Love without hope, love guiltily, love madly, With anguish, and with peril of my life; I see, I see it all, and yet I love.

MARQUIS. The queen—does she know of your passion?

CARLOS. Could I Reveal it to her? She is Philip's wife— She is the queen, and this is Spanish ground, Watched by a jealous father, hemmed around By ceremonial forms, how, how could I Approach her unobserved? 'Tis now eight months, Eight maddening months, since the king summoned me Home from my studies, since I have been doomed To look on her, adore her day by day, And all the while be silent as the grave! Eight maddening months, Roderigo; think of this! This fire has seethed and raged within my breast! A thousand, thousand times, the dread confession Has mounted to my lips, yet evermore Shrunk, like a craven, back upon my heart. O Roderigo! for a few brief moments Alone with her!

MARQUIS. Ah! and your father, prince!

CARLOS. Unhappy me! Remind me not of him. Tell me of all the torturing pangs of conscience, But speak not, I implore you, of my father!

MARQUIS. Then do you hate your father?

CARLOS. No, oh, no! I do not hate my father; but the fear That guilty creatures feel,—a shuddering dread,— Comes o'er me ever at that terrible name. Am I to blame, if slavish nurture crushed Love's tender germ within my youthful heart? Six years I'd numbered, ere the fearful man, They told me was my father, met mine eyes. One morning 'twas, when with a stroke I saw him Sign four death-warrants. After that I ne'er Beheld him, save when, for some childish fault, I was brought out for chastisement. O God! I feel my heart grow bitter at the thought. Let us away! away!

MARQUIS. Nay, Carlos, nay, You must, you shall give all your sorrow vent, Let it have words! 'twill ease your o'erfraught heart.

CARLOS. Oft have I struggled with myself, and oft At midnight, when my guards were sunk in sleep, With floods of burning tears I've sunk before The image of the ever-blessed Virgin, And craved a filial heart, but all in vain. I rose with prayer unheard. O Roderigo! Unfold this wondrous mystery of heaven, Why of a thousand fathers only this Should fall to me—and why to him this son, Of many thousand better? Nature could not In her wide orb have found two opposites More diverse in their elements. How could She bind the two extremes of human kind— Myself and him—in one so holy bond? O dreadful fate! Why was it so decreed? Why should two men, in all things else apart, Concur so fearfully in one desire? Roderigo, here thou seest two hostile stars, That in the lapse of ages, only once, As they sweep onwards in their orbed course, Touch with a crash that shakes them to the centre, Then rush apart forever and forever.

MARQUIS. I feel a dire foreboding.

CARLOS. So do I. Like hell's grim furies, dreams of dreadful shape Pursue me still. My better genius strives With the fell projects of a dark despair. My wildered subtle spirit crawls through maze On maze of sophistries, until at length It gains a yawning precipice's brink. O Roderigo! should I e'er in him Forget the father—ah! thy deathlike look Tells me I'm understood—should I forget The father—what were then the king to me?

MARQUIS (after a pause). One thing, my Carlos, let me beg of you! Whate'er may be your plans, do nothing,—nothing,— Without your friend's advice. You promise this?

CARLOS. All, all I promise that thy love can ask! I throw myself entirely upon thee!

MARQUIS. The king, I hear, is going to Madrid. The time is short. If with the queen you would Converse in private, it is only here, Here in Aranjuez, it can be done. The quiet of the place, the freer manners, All favor you.

CARLOS. And such, too, was my hope; But it, alas! was vain.

MARQUIS. Not wholly so. I go to wait upon her. If she be The same in Spain she was in Henry's court, She will be frank at least. And if I can Read any hope for Carlos in her looks— Find her inclined to grant an interview— Get her attendant ladies sent away——

CARLOS. Most of them are my friends—especially The Countess Mondecar, whom I have gained By service to her son, my page.

MARQUIS. 'Tis well; Be you at hand, and ready to appear, Whene'er I give the signal, prince.

CARLOS. I will,— Be sure I will:—and all good speed attend thee!

MARQUIS. I will not lose a moment; so, farewell.

[Exeunt severally.



SCENE III.

The Queen's Residence in Aranjuez. The Pleasure Grounds, intersected by an avenue, terminated by the Queen's Palace.

The QUEEN, DUCHESS OF OLIVAREZ, PRINCESS OF EBOLI, and MARCHIONESS OF MONDECAR, all advancing from the avenue.

QUEEN (to the MARCHIONESS). I will have you beside me, Mondecar. The princess, with these merry eyes of hers, Has plagued me all the morning. See, she scarce Can hide the joy she feels to leave the country.

EBOLI. 'Twere idle to conceal, my queen, that I Shall be most glad to see Madrid once more.

MONDECAR. And will your majesty not be so, too? Are you so grieved to quit Aranjuez?

QUEEN. To quit—this lovely spot at least I am. This is my world. Its sweetness oft and oft Has twined itself around my inmost heart. Here, nature, simple, rustic nature greets me, The sweet companion of my early years— Here I indulge once more my childhood's sports, And my dear France's gales come blowing here. Blame not this partial fondness—all hearts yearn For their own native land.

EBOLI. But then how lone, How dull and lifeless it is here! We might As well be in La Trappe.

QUEEN. I cannot see it. To me Madrid alone is lifeless. But What saith our duchess to it?

OLIVAREZ. Why, methinks, Your majesty, since kings have ruled in Spain, It hath been still the custom for the court To pass the summer months alternately Here and at Pardo,—in Madrid, the winter.

QUEEN. Well, I suppose it has! Duchess, you know I've long resigned all argument with you.

MONDECAR. Next month Madrid will be all life and bustle. They're fitting up the Plaza Mayor now, And we shall have rare bull-fights; and, besides, A grand auto da fe is promised us.

QUEEN. Promised? This from my gentle Mondecar!

MONDECAR. Why not? 'Tis only heretics they burn!

QUEEN. I hope my Eboli thinks otherwise!

EBOLI. What, I? I beg your majesty may think me As good a Christian as the marchioness.

QUEEN. Alas! I had forgotten where I am,— No more of this! We were speaking, I think, About the country? And methinks this month Has flown away with strange rapidity. I counted on much pleasure, very much, From our retirement here, and yet I have not Found that which I expected. Is it thus With all our hopes? And yet I cannot say One wish of mine is left ungratified.

OLIVAREZ. You have not told us, Princess Eboli, If there be hope for Gomez,—and if we may Expect ere long to greet you as his bride?

QUEEN. True—thank you, duchess, for reminding me! [Addressing the PRINCESS. I have been asked to urge his suit with you. But can I do it? The man whom I reward With my sweet Eboli must be a man Of noble stamp indeed.

OLIVAREZ. And such he is, A man of mark and fairest fame,—a man Whom our dear monarch signally has graced With his most royal favor.

QUEEN. He's happy in Such high good fortune; but we fain would know, If he can love, and win return of love. This Eboli must answer.

EBOLI (stands speechless and confused, her eyes bent on the ground; at last she falls at the QUEEN's feet). Gracious queen! Have pity on me! Let me—let me not,— For heaven's sake, let me not be sacrificed.

QUEEN. Be sacrificed! I need no more. Arise! 'Tis a hard fortune to be sacrificed. I do believe you. Rise. And is it long Since you rejected Gomez' suit?

EBOLI. Some months— Before Prince Carlos came from Alcala.

QUEEN (starts and looks at her with an inquisitive glance). Have you tried well the grounds of your refusal?

EBOLI (with energy). It cannot be, my queen, no, never, never,— For a thousand reasons, never!

QUEEN. One's enough, You do not love him. That suffices me. Now let it pass. [To her other ladies. I have not seen the Infanta Yet this morning. Pray bring her, marchioness.

OLIVAREZ (looking at the clock). It is not yet the hour, your majesty.

QUEEN. Not yet the hour for me to be a mother! That's somewhat hard. Forget not, then, to tell me When the right hour does come.

[A page enters and whispers to the first lady, who thereupon turns to the QUEEN.

OLIVAREZ. The Marquis Posa! May it please your majesty.

QUEEN. The Marquis Posa!

OLIVAREZ. He comes from France, and from the Netherlands, And craves the honor to present some letters Intrusted to him by your royal mother.

QUEEN. Is this allowed?

OLIVAREZ (hesitating). A case so unforeseen Is not provided for in my instructions. When a Castilian grandee, with despatches From foreign courts, shall in her garden find The Queen of Spain, and tender them——

QUEEN. Enough! I'll venture, then, on mine own proper peril.

OLIVAREZ. May I, your majesty, withdraw the while?

QUEEN. E'en as you please, good duchess!

[Exit the DUCHESS, the QUEEN gives the PAGE a sign, who thereupon retires.



SCENE IV.

The QUEEN, PRINCESS EBOLI, MARCHIONESS OF MONDECAR, and MARQUIS OF POSA.

QUEEN. I bid you welcome, sir, to Spanish ground!

MARQUIS. Ground which I never with so just a pride Hailed for the country of my sires as now.

QUEEN (to the two ladies). The Marquis Posa, ladies, who at Rheims Coped with my father in the lists, and made My colors thrice victorious; the first That made me feel how proud a thing it was To be the Queen of Spain and Spanish men. [Turning to the MARQUIS. When we last parted in the Louvre, Sir, You scarcely dreamed that I should ever be Your hostess in Castile.

MARQUIS. Most true, my liege! For at that time I never could have dreamed That France should lose to us the only thing We envied her possessing.

QUEEN. How, proud Spaniard! The only thing! And you can venture this— This to a daughter of the house of Valois!

MARQUIS. I venture now to say it, gracious queen, Since now you are our own.

QUEEN. Your journey hither Has led you, as I hear, through France. What news Have you brought with you from my honored mother And from my dearest brothers?

MARQUIS (handing letters). I left your royal mother sick at heart, Bereft of every joy save only this, To know her daughter happy on the throne Of our imperial Spain.

QUEEN. Could she be aught But happy in the dear remembrances Of relatives so kind—in the sweet thoughts Of the old time when—Sir, you've visited Full many a court in these your various travels, And seen strange lands and customs manifold; And now, they say, you mean to keep at home A greater prince in your retired domain Than is King Philip on his throne—a freer. You're a philosopher; but much I doubt If our Madrid will please you. We are so— So quiet in Madrid.

MARQUIS. And that is more Than all the rest of Europe has to boast.

QUEEN. I've heard as much. But all this world's concerns Are well-nigh blotted from my memory. [To PRINCESS EBOLI. Princess, methinks I see a hyacinth Yonder in bloom. Wilt bring it to me, sweet?

[The PRINCESS goes towards the palace, the QUEEN softly to the MARQUIS.

I'm much mistaken, sir, or your arrival Has made one heart more happy here at court.

MARQUIS. I have found a sad one—one that in this world A ray of sunshine——

EBOLI. As this gentleman Has seen so many countries, he, no doubt, Has much of note to tell us.

MARQUIS. Doubtless, and To seek adventures is a knight's first duty— But his most sacred is to shield the fair.

MONDECAR. From giants! But there are no giants now!

MARQUIS. Power is a giant ever to the weak.

QUEEN. The chevalier says well. There still are giants; But there are knights no more.

MARQUIS. Not long ago, On my return from Naples, I became The witness of a very touching story, Which ties of friendship almost make my own Were I not fearful its recital might Fatigue your majesty——

QUEEN. Have I a choice? The princess is not to be lightly balked. Proceed. I too, sir, love a story dearly.

MARQUIS. Two noble houses in Mirandola, Weary of jealousies and deadly feuds, Transmitted down from Guelphs and Ghibellines, Through centuries of hate, from sire to son, Resolved to ratify a lasting peace By the sweet ministry of nuptial ties. Fernando, nephew of the great Pietro, And fair Matilda, old Colonna's child, Were chosen to cement this holy bond. Nature had never for each other formed Two fairer hearts. And never had the world Approved a wiser or a happier choice. Still had the youth adored his lovely bride In the dull limner's portraiture alone. How thrilled his heart, then, in the hope to find The truth of all that e'en his fondest dreams Had scarcely dared to credit in her picture! In Padua, where his studies held him bound; Fernando panted for the joyful hour, When he might murmur at Matilda's feet The first pure homage of his fervent love.

[The QUEEN grows more attentive; the MARQUIS continues, after a short pause, addressing himself chiefly to PRINCESS EBOLI.

Meanwhile the sudden death of Pietro's wife Had left him free to wed. With the hot glow Of youthful blood the hoary lover drinks The fame that reached him of Matilda's charms. He comes—he sees—he loves! The new desire Stifles the voice of nature in his heart. The uncle woos his nephew's destined bride, And at the altar consecrates his theft.

QUEEN. And what did then Fernando?

MARQUIS. On the wings Of Jove, unconscious of the fearful change, Delirious with the promised joy, he speeds Back to Mirandola. His flying steed By starlight gains the gate. Tumultuous sounds Of music, dance, and jocund revelry Ring from the walls of the illumined palace. With faltering steps he mounts the stair; and now Behold him in the crowded nuptial hall, Unrecognized! Amid the reeling guests Pietro sat. An angel at his side— An angel, whom he knows, and who to him Even in his dreams, seemed ne'er so beautiful. A single glance revealed what once was his— Revealed what now was lost to him forever.

EBOLI. O poor Fernando!

QUEEN. Surely, sir, your tale Is ended? Nay, it must be.

MARQUIS. No, not quite.

QUEEN. Did you not say Fernando was your friend?

MARQUIS. I have no dearer in the world.

EBOLI. But pray Proceed, sir, with your story.

MARQUIS. Nay, the rest Is very sad—and to recall it sets My sorrow fresh abroach. Spare me the sequel.

[A general silence.

QUEEN (turning to the PRINCESS EBOLI). Surely the time is come to see my daughter, I prithee, princess, bring her to me now!

[The PRINCESS withdraws. The MARQUIS beckons a Page. The QUEEN opens the letters, and appears surprised. The MARQUIS talks with MARCHIONESS MONDECAR. The QUEEN having read the letters, turns to the MARQUIS with a penetrating look.

QUEEN. You have not spoken of Matilda! She Haply was ignorant of Fernando's grief?

MARQUIS. Matilda's heart has no one fathomed yet— Great souls endure in silence.

QUEEN. You look around you. Who is it you seek?

MARQUIS. Just then the thought came over me, how one, Whose name I dare not mention, would rejoice, Stood he where I do now.

QUEEN. And who's to blame, That he does not?

MARQUIS (interrupting her eagerly). My liege! And dare I venture To interpret thee, as fain I would? He'd find Forgiveness, then, if now he should appear.

QUEEN (alarmed). Now, marquis, now? What do you mean by this?

MARQUIS. Might he, then, hope?

QUEEN. You terrify me, marquis. Surely he will not——

MARQUIS. He is here already.



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 band.

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 woo.

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.



SCENE V.

DON CARLOS. DUDE OF ALVA.

ALVA (meeting him). Two words, most gracious prince.

CARLOS. Some other time.

[Going.

ALVA. The place is not the fittest, I confess; Perhaps your royal highness may be pleased To grant me audience in your private chamber.

CARLOS. For what? And why not here? Only be brief.

ALVA. The special object which has brought me hither, Is to return your highness lowly thanks For your good services.

CARLOS. Thanks to me— For what? Duke Alva's thanks!

ALVA. You scarce had left His majesty, ere I received in form Instructions to depart for Brussels.

CARLOS. What! For Brussels!

ALVA. And to what, most gracious prince, Must I ascribe this favor, but to you— Your intercession with the king?

CARLOS. Ob, no! Not in the least to me; but, duke, you travel, So Heaven be with your grace!

ALVA. And is this all? It seems, indeed, most strange! And has your highness No further orders, then, to send to Flanders?

CARLOS. What should I have?

ALVA. Not long ago, it seemed, The country's fate required your presence.

CARLOS. How? But yes, you're right,—it was so formerly; But now this change is better as it is.

ALVA. I am amazed——

CARLOS. You are an able general, No one doubts that—envy herself must own it. For me, I'm but a youth—so thought the king.

CARLOS. The king was right, quite right. I see it now Myself, and am content—and so no more. God speed your journey, as you see, just now My hands are full, and weighty business presses. The rest to-morrow, or whene'er you will, Or when you come from Brussels.

ALVA. What is this?

CARLOS. The season favors, and your route will lie Through Milan, Lorraine, Burgundy, and on To Germany! What, Germany? Ay, true, In Germany it was—they know you there. 'Tis April now, May, June,—in July, then, Just so! or, at the latest, soon in August,— You will arrive in Brussels, and no doubt We soon shall hear of your victorious deeds. You know the way to win our high esteem, And earn the crown of fame.

ALVA (significantly). Indeed! condemned By my own conscious insignificance!

CARLOS. You're sensitive, my lord, and with some cause, I own it was not fair to use a weapon Against your grace you were unskilled to wield.

ALVA. Unskilled!

CARLOS. 'Tis pity I've no leisure now To fight this worthy battle fairly out But at some other time, we——

ALVA. Prince, we both Miscalculate—but still in opposite ways. You, for example, overrate your age By twenty years, whilst on the other band, I, by as many, underrate it——

CARLOS. Well

ALVA. And this suggests the thought, how many nights Beside this lovely Lusitanian bride— Your mother—would the king right gladly give To buy an arm like this, to aid his crown. Full well he knows, far easier is the task To make a monarch than a monarchy; Far easier too, to stock the world with kings Than frame an empire for a king to rule.

CARLOS. Most true, Duke Alva, yet——

ALVA. And how much blood, Your subjects' dearest blood, must flow in streams Before two drops could make a king of you.

CARLOS. Most true, by heaven! and in two words comprised, All that the pride of merit has to urge Against the pride of fortune. But the moral— Now, Duke Alva!

ALVA. Woe to the nursling babe Of royalty that mocks the careful hand Which fosters it! How calmly it may sleep On the soft cushion of our victories! The monarch's crown is bright with sparkling gems, But no eye sees the wounds that purchased them. This sword has given our laws to distant realms, Has blazed before the banner of the cross, And in these quarters of the globe has traced Ensanguined furrows for the seed of faith. God was the judge in heaven, and I on earth.

CARLOS. God, or the devil—it little matters which; Yours was his chosen arm—that stands confessed. And now no more of this. Some thoughts there are Whereof the memory pains me. I respect My father's choice,—my father needs an Alva! But that he needs him is not just the point I envy in him: a great man you are, This may be true, and I well nigh believe it, Only I fear your mission is begun Some thousand years too soon. Alva, methinks, Were just the man to suit the end of time. Then when the giant insolence of vice Shall have exhausted Heaven's enduring patience, And the rich waving harvest of misdeeds Stand in full ear, and asks a matchless reaper, Then should you fill the post. O God! my paradise! My Flanders! But of this I must not think. 'Tis said you carry with you a full store Of sentences of death already signed. This shows a prudent foresight! No more need To fear your foes' designs, or secret plots: Oh, father! ill indeed I've understood thee. Calling thee harsh, to save me from a post, Where Alva's self alone can fitly shine! 'Twas an unerring token of your love.

ALVA. These words deserve——

CARLOS. What!

ALVA. But your birth protects you.

CARLOS (seizing his sword). That calls for blood! Duke, draw your sword!

ALVA (slightingly). On whom?

CARLOS. (pressing upon him). Draw, or I run you through.

ALVA. Then be it so.

[They fight.



SCENE VI.

The QUEEN, DON CARLOS, DUKE ALVA.

QUEEN (coming from her room alarmed). How! naked swords?

[To the PRINCE in an indignant and commanding tone.

Prince Carlos!

CARLOS (agitated at the QUEEN's look, drops his arm, stands motionless, then rushes to the DUKE, and embraces him). Pardon, duke! Your pardon, sir! Forget, forgive it all!

[Throws himself in silence at the QUEEN'S feet, then rising suddenly, departs in confusion.

ALVA. By heaven, 'tis strange!

QUEEN (remains a few moments as if in doubt, then retiring to her apartment). A word with you, Duke ALVA.

[Exit, followed by the DUKE.



SCENE VII.

The PRINCESS EBOLI's apartment.

The PRINCESS in a simple, but elegant dress, playing on the lute. The QUEEN's PAGE enters.

PRINCESS (starting up suddenly) He comes!

PAGE (abruptly). Are you alone? I wonder much He is not here already; but he must Be here upon the instant.

PRINCESS. Do you say must! Then he will come, this much is certain then.

PAGE. He's close upon my steps. You are beloved, Adored, and with more passionate regard Than mortal ever was, or can be loved. Oh! what a scene I witnessed!

PRINCESS (impatiently draws him to her). Quick, you spoke With him! What said he? Tell me straight— How did he look? what were his words? And say— Did he appear embarrassed or confused And did he guess who sent the key to him? Be quick! or did he not? He did not guess At all, perhaps! or guessed amiss! Come, speak, How! not a word to answer me? Oh, fie! You never were so dull—so slow before, 'Tis past all patience.

PAGE. Dearest lady, hear me! Both key and note I placed within his hands, In the queen's antechamber, and he started And gazed with wonder when I told him that A lady sent me!

PRINCESS. Did he start? go on! That's excellent. Proceed, what next ensued?

PAGE. I would have told him more, but he grew pale, And snatched the letter from my hand, and said With look of deadly menace, he knew all. He read the letter with confusion through, And straight began to tremble.

PRINCESS. He knew all! He knew it all? Were those his very words?

PAGE. He asked me, and again he asked, if you With your own hands had given me the letter?

PRINCESS. If I? Then did he mention me by name?

PAGE. By name! no name he mentioned: there might be Listeners, he said, about the palace, who Might to the king disclose it.

PRINCESS (surprised). Said he that?

PAGE. He further said, it much concerned the king; Deeply concerned—to know of that same letter.

PRINCESS. The king! Nay, are you sure you heard him right? The king! Was that the very word he used?

PAGE. It was. He called it a most perilous secret, And warned me to be strictly on my guard, Never with word or look to give the king Occasion for suspicion.

PRINCESS (after a pause, with astonishment). All agrees! It can be nothing else—he must have heard The tale—'tis very strange! Who could have told him, I wonder who? The eagle eye of love Alone could pierce so far. But tell me further— He read the letter.

PAGE. Which, he said, conveyed Such bliss as made him tremble, and till then He had not dared to dream of. As he spoke The duke, by evil chance, approached the room, And this compelled us——

PRINCESS (angrily). What in all the world Could bring the duke to him at such a time? What can detain him? Why appears he not? See how you've been deceived; how truly blest Might he have been already—in the time You've taken to describe his wishes to me!

PAGE. The duke, I fear——

PRINCESS. Again, the duke! What can The duke want here? What should a warrior want With my soft dreams of happiness? He should Have left him there, or sent him from his presence. Where is the man may not be treated thus? But Carlos seems as little versed in love As in a woman's heart—he little knows What minutes are. But hark! I hear a step; Away, away! [PAGE hastens out. Where have I laid my lute? I must not seem to wait for him. My song Shall be a signal to him.



SCENE VIII.

The PRINCESS, DON CARLOS.

The PRINCESS has thrown herself upon an ottoman, and plays.

CARLOS (rushes in; he recognizes the PRINCESS, and stands thunderstruck). Gracious Heaven! Where am I?

PRINCESS (lets her lute fall, and meeting him) What? Prince Carlos! yes, in truth.

CARLOS. Where am I? Senseless error; I have missed The right apartment.

PRINCESS. With what dexterous skill Carlos contrives to hit the very room Where ladies sit alone!

CARLOS. Your pardon, princess! I found—I found the antechamber open.

PRINCESS. Can it be possible? I fastened it Myself; at least I thought so——

CARLOS. Ay! you thought, You only thought so; rest assured you did not. You meant to lock it, that I well believe: But most assuredly it was not locked. A lute's sweet sounds attracted me, some hand Touched it with skill; say, was it not a lute? [Looking round inquiringly. Yes, there it lies, and Heaven can bear me witness I love the lute to madness. I became All ear, forgot myself in the sweet strain, And rushed into the chamber to behold The lovely eyes of the divine musician Who charmed me with the magic of her tones.

PRINCESS. Innocent curiosity, no doubt! But it was soon appeased, as I can prove. [After a short silence, significantly. I must respect the modesty that has, To spare a woman's blushes, thus involved Itself in so much fiction.

CARLOS (with sincerity). Nay, I feel I but augment my deep embarrassment, In vain attempt to extricate myself. Excuse me for a part I cannot play. In this remote apartment, you perhaps Have sought a refuge from the world, to pour The inmost wishes of your secret heart Remote from man's distracting eye. By me, Unhappy that I am, your heavenly dreams Are all disturbed, and the atonement now Must be my speedy absence. [Going.

PRINCESS (surprised and confused, but immediately recovering herself). Oh! that step Were cruel, prince, indeed!

CARLOS. Princess, I feel What such a look in such a place imports: This virtuous embarrassment has claims To which my manhood never can be deaf. Woe to the wretch whose boldness takes new fire From the pure blush of maiden modesty! I am a coward when a woman trembles.

PRINCESS. Is't possible?—such noble self-control In one so young, and he a monarch's son! Now, prince, indeed you shall remain with me, It is my own request, and you must stay. Near such high virtue, every maiden fear Takes wing at once; but your appearance here Disturbed me in a favorite air, and now Your penalty shall be to hear me sing it.

CARLOS (sits down near the PRINCESS, not without reluctance). A penalty delightful as the sin! And sooth to say, the subject of the song Was so divine, again and yet again I'd gladly hear it.

PRINCESS What! you heard it all? Nay, that was too bad, prince. It was, I think, A song of love.

CARLOS. And of successful love, If I mistake not—dear delicious theme From those most beauteous lips—but scarce so true, Methinks, as beautiful.

PRINCESS. What! not so true? Then do you doubt the tale?

CARLOS. I almost doubt That Carlos and the Princess Eboli, When they discourse on such a theme as love, May not quite understand each other's hearts.

[The PRINCESS starts; he observes it, and continues with playful gallantry.

Who would believe those rosy-tinted cheeks Concealed a heart torn by the pangs of love. Is it within the range of wayward chance That the fair Princess Eboli should sigh Unheard—unanswered? Love is only known By him who hopelessly persists in love.

PRINCESS (with all her former vivacity). Hush! what a dreadful thought! this fate indeed Appears to follow you of all mankind, Especially to-day. [Taking his hand with insinuating interest. You are not happy, Dear prince—you're sad! I know too well you suffer, And wherefore, prince? When with such loud appeal The world invites you to enjoy its bliss— And nature on you pours her bounteous gifts, And spreads around you all life's sweetest joys. You, a great monarch's son, and more—far more— E'en in your cradle with such gifts endowed As far eclipsed the splendor of your rank. You, who in those strict courts where women rule, And pass, without appeal, unerring sentence On manly worth and honor, even there Find partial judges. You, who with a look Can prove victorious, and whose very coldness Kindles aflame; and who, when warmed with passion, Can make a paradise, and scatter round The bliss of heaven, the rapture of the gods. The man whom nature has adorned with gifts To render thousands happy, gifts which she Bestows on few—that such a man as this Should know what misery is! Thou, gracious Heaven, That gavest him all those blessings, why deny Him eyes to see the conquests he has made?

CARLOS (who has been lost in absence of mind, suddenly recovers himself by the silence of the PRINCESS, and starts up). Charming! inimitable! Princess, sing That passage, pray, again.

PRINCESS (looking at him with astonishment). Where, Carlos, were Your thoughts the while?

CARLOS (jumps up). By heaven, you do remind me In proper time—I must away—and quickly.

PRINCESS (holding him back). Whither away?

CARLOS. Into the open air. Nay, do not hold me, princess, for I feel As though the world behind me were in flames.

PRINCESS (holding him forcibly back). What troubles you? Whence comes these strange, these wild, Unnatural looks? Nay, answer me! [CARLOS stops to reflect, she draws him to the sofa to her. Dear Carlos, You need repose, your blood is feverish. Come, sit by me: dispel these gloomy fancies. Ask yourself frankly can your head explain The tumult of your heart—and if it can— Say, can no knight be found in all the court, No lady, generous as fair, to cure you— Rather, I should have said, to understand you? What, no one?

CARLOS (hastily, without thinking). If the Princess Eboli——

PRINCESS (delighted, quickly). Indeed!

CARLOS. Would write a letter for me, a few words Of kindly intercession to my father;— They say your influence is great.

PRINCESS. Who says so? [Aside. Ha! was it jealousy that held thee mute!

CARLOS. Perchance my story is already public. I had a sudden wish to visit Brabant Merely to win my spurs—no more. The king, Kind soul, is fearful the fatigues of war Might spoil my singing!

PRINCESS. Prince, you play me false! Confess that by this serpent subterfuge You would mislead me. Look me in the face, Deceitful one! and say would he whose thoughts Were only bent on warlike deeds—would he E'er stoop so low as, with deceitful hand, To steal fair ladies' ribbons when they drop, And then—your pardon! hoard them—with such care?

[With light action she opens his shirt frill, and seizes a ribbon which is there concealed.

CARLOS (drawing back with amazement). Nay, princess—that's too much—I am betrayed. You're not to be deceived. You are in league With spirits and with demons!

PRINCESS. Are you then Surprised at this? What will you wager, Carlos But I recall some stories to your heart? Nay, try it with me; ask whate'er you please, And if the triflings of my sportive fancy— The sound half-uttered by the air absorbed— The smile of joy checked by returning gloom— If motions—looks from your own soul concealed Have not escaped my notice—judge if I Can err when thou wouldst have me understand thee?

CARLOS. Why, this is boldly ventured; I accept The wager, princess. Then you undertake To make discoveries in my secret heart Unknown even to myself.

PRINCESS (displeased, but earnestly). Unknown to thee! Reflect a moment, prince! Nay, look around; This boudoir's not the chamber of the queen, Where small deceits are practised with full license. You start, a sudden blush o'erspreads your face. Who is so bold, so idle, you would ask, As to watch Carlos when he deems himself From scrutiny secure? Who was it, then, At the last palace-ball observed you leave The queen, your partner, standing in the dance, And join, with eager haste, the neighboring couple, To offer to the Princess Eboli The hand your royal partner should have claimed? An error, prince, his majesty himself, Who just then entered the apartment, noticed.

CARLOS (with ironical smile). His majesty? And did he really so? Of all men he should not have seen it.

PRINCESS. Nor yet that other scene within the chapel, Which doubtless Carlos hath long since forgotten. Prostrate before the holy Virgin's image, You lay in prayer, when suddenly you heard— 'Twas not your fault—a rustling from behind Of ladies' dresses. Then did Philip's son, A youth of hero courage, tremble like A heretic before the holy office. On his pale lips died the half-uttered prayer. In ecstasy of passion, prince—the scene Was truly touching—for you seized the hand, The blessed Virgin's cold and holy hand, And showered your burning kisses on the marble.

CARLOS. Princess, you wrong me: that was pure devotion!

PRINCESS. Indeed! that's quite another thing. Perhaps It was the fear of losing, then, at cards, When you were seated with the queen and me, And you with dexterous skill purloined my glove. [CARLOS starts surprised. That prompted you to play it for a card?

CARLOS. What words are these? O Heaven, what have I done?

PRINCESS. Nothing I hope of which you need repent! How pleasantly was I surprised to find Concealed within the glove a little note, Full of the warmest tenderest romance,

CARLOS (interrupting her suddenly). Mere poetry! no more. My fancy teems With idle bubbles oft, which break as soon As they arise—and this was one of them; So, prithee, let us talk of it no more.

PRINCESS (leaving him with astonishment, and regarding him for some time at a distance). I am exhausted—all attempts are vain To hold this youth. He still eludes my grasp. [Remains silent a few moments. But stay! Perchance 'tis man's unbounded pride, That thus to add a zest to my delight. Assumes a mask of timid diffidence. 'Tis so. [She approaches the PRINCE again, and looks at him doubtingly. Explain yourself, prince, I entreat you. For here I stand before a magic casket, Which all my keys are powerless to unlock.

CARLOS. As I before you stand.

PRINCESS (leaves him suddenly, walks a few steps up and down in silence, apparently lost in deep thought. After a pause, gravely and solemnly). Then thus at last— I must resolve to speak, and Carlos, you Shall be my judge. Yours is a noble nature, You are a prince—a knight—a man of honor. I throw myself upon your heart—protect me Or if I'm lost beyond redemption's power, Give me your tears in pity for my fate.

[The PRINCE draws nearer.

A daring favorite of the king demands My hand—his name Ruy Gomez, Count of Silva, The king consents—the bargain has been struck, And I am sold already to his creature.

CARLOS (with evident emotion). Sold! you sold! Another bargain, then, Concluded by this royal southern trader!

PRINCESS. No; but hear all—'tis not enough that I Am sacrificed to cold state policy, A snare is laid to entrap my innocence. Here is a letter will unmask the saint!

[CARLOS takes the paper, and without reading it listens with impatience to her recital.

Where Shall I find protection, prince? Till now My virtue was defended by my pride, At length——

CARLOS. At length you yielded! Yielded? No. For God's sake say not so!

PRINCESS. Yielded! to whom? Poor piteous reasoning. Weak beyond contempt Your haughty minds, who hold a woman's favor, And love's pure joys, as wares to traffic for! Love is the only treasure on the face Of this wide earth that knows no purchaser Besides itself—love has no price but love. It is the costly gem, beyond all price, Which I must freely give away, or—bury For ever unenjoyed—like that proud merchant Whom not the wealth of all the rich Rialto Could tempt—a great rebuke to kings! to save From the deep ocean waves his matchless pearl, Too proud to barter it beneath its worth!

CARLOS (aside). Now, by great heaven, this woman's beautiful.

PRINCESS. Call it caprice or pride, I ne'er will make Division of my joys. To him, alone, I choose as mine, I give up all forever. One only sacrifice I make; but that Shall be eternal. One true heart alone My love shall render happy: but that one I'll elevate to God. The keen delight Of mingling souls—the kiss—the swimming joys Of that delicious hour when lovers meet, The magic power of heavenly beauty—all Are sister colors of a single ray— Leaves of one single blossom. Shall I tear One petal from this sweet, this lovely flower, With reckless hand, and mar its beauteous chalice? Shall I degrade the dignity of woman, The masterpiece of the Almighty's hand, To charm the evening of a reveller?

CARLOS. Incredible! that in Madrid should dwell This matchless creature! and unknown to me Until this day.

PRINCESS. Long since had I forsaken This court—the world—and in some blest retreat Immured myself; but one tie binds me still Too firmly to existence. Perhaps—alas! 'Tis but a phantom—but 'tis dear to me. I love—but am not loved in turn.

CARLOS (full of ardor, going towards her). You are! As true as God is throned in heaven! I swear You are—you are unspeakably beloved.

PRINCESS. You swear it, you!—sure 'twas an angel's voice. Oh, if you swear it, Carlos, I'll believe it. Then I am truly loved!

CARLOS (embracing her with tenderness). Bewitching maid, Thou creature worthy of idolatry I stand before thee now all eye, all ear, All rapture and delight. What eye hath seen thee— Under yon heaven what eye could e'er have seen thee, And boast he never loved? What dost thou here In Philip's royal court! Thou beauteous angel! Here amid monks and all their princely train. This is no clime for such a lovely flower— They fain would rifle all thy sweets—full well I know their hearts. But it shall never be— Not whilst I draw life's breath. I fold thee thus Within my arms, and in these hands I'll bear thee E'en through a hell replete with mocking fiends. Let me thy guardian angel prove.

PRINCESS (with a countenance full of love). O Carlos! How little have I known thee! and how richly With measureless reward thy heart repays The weighty task of—comprehending thee!

[She takes his hand and is about to kiss it.

CARLOS (drawing it back). Princess! What mean you?

PRINCESS (with tenderness and grace, looking at his hand attentively). Oh, this beauteous hand! How lovely 'tis, and rich! This hand has yet Two costly presents to bestow!—a crown— And Carlos' heart:—and both these gifts perchance Upon one mortal!—both on one—Oh, great And godlike gift-almost too much for one! How if you share the treasure, prince! A queen Knows naught of love—and she who truly loves Cares little for a crown! 'Twere better, prince, Then to divide the treasure—and at once— What says my prince? Have you done so already? Have you in truth? And do I know the blest one?

CARLOS. Thou shalt. I will unfold myself to thee, To thy unspotted innocence, dear maid, Thy pure, unblemished nature. In this court Thou art the worthiest—first—the only one To whom this soul has stood revealed. Then, yes! I will not now conceal it—yes, I love!

PRINCESS. Oh, cruel heart! Does this avowal prove So painful to thee? Must I first deserve Thy pity—ere I hope to win thy love?

CARLOS (starting). What say'st thou?

PRINCESS. So to trifle with me, prince! Indeed it was not well—and to deny The key——

CARLOS. The key! the key! Oh yes, 'tis so!

[After a dead silence.

I see it all too plainly! Gracious heaven!

[His knees totter, he leans against a chair, and covers his face with his hands. A long silence on both sides. The PRINCESS screams and falls.

PRINCESS. Oh, horrible! What have I done!

CARLOS. Hurled down So far from all my heavenly joys! 'Tis dreadful!

PRINCESS (hiding her face in the cushion). Oh, God! What have I said?

CARLOS (kneeling before her). I am not guilty. My passion—an unfortunate mistake— By heaven, I am not guilty——

PRINCESS (pushing him from her). Out of my sight, For heaven's sake!

CARLOS. No, I will not leave thee thus. In this dread anguish leave thee——

PRINCESS (pushing him forcibly away). Oh, in pity— For mercy's sake, away—out of my sight! Wouldst thou destroy me? How I hate thy presence!

[CARLOS going.

Give, give me back the letter and the key. Where is the other letter?

CARLOS. The other letter?

PRINCESS. That from the king, to me——

CARLOS (terrified). From whom?

PRINCESS. The one I just now gave you.

CARLOS. From the king! To you!

PRINCESS. Oh, heavens, how dreadfully have I Involved myself! The letter, sir! I must Have it again.

CARLOS. The letter from the king! To you!

PRINCESS. The letter! give it, I implore you By all that's sacred! give it.

CARLOS. What, the letter That will unmask the saint! Is this the letter?

PRINCESS. Now I'm undone! Quick, give it me——

CARLOS. The letter——

PRINCESS (wringing her hands in despair). What have I done? O dreadful, dire imprudence!

CARLOS. This letter comes, then, from the king! Princess, That changes all indeed, and quickly, too. This letter is beyond all value—priceless! All Philip's crowns are worthless, and too poor To win it from my hands. I'll keep this letter.

PRINCESS (throwing herself prostrate before him as he is going). Almighty Heaven! then I am lost forever.

[Exit CARLOS.



SCENE IX.

The PRINCESS alone.

She seems overcome with surprise, and is confounded. After CARLOS' departure she hastens to call him back.

PRINCESS. Prince, but one word! Prince, hear me. He is gone. And this, too, I am doomed to bear—his scorn! And I am left in lonely wretchedness, Rejected and despised! [Sinks down upon a chair. After a pause And yet not so; I'm but displaced—supplanted by some wanton. He loves! of that no longer doubt is left; He has himself confessed it—but my rival— Who can she be? Happy, thrice happy one! This much stands clear: he loves where he should not. He dreads discovery, and from the king He hides his guilty passion! Why from him Who would so gladly hail it? Or, is it not The father that he dreads so in the parent? When the king's wanton purpose was disclosed, His features glowed with triumph, boundless joy Flashed in his eyes, his rigid virtue fled; Why was it mute in such a cause as this? Why should he triumph? What hath he to gain If Philip to his queen——

[She stops suddenly, as if struck by a thought, then drawing hastily from her bosom the ribbon which she had taken from CARLOS, she seems to recognize it.

Fool that I am! At length 'tis plain. Where have my senses been? My eyes are opened now. They loved each other Long before Philip wooed her, and the prince Ne'er saw me but with her! She, she alone Was in his thoughts when I believed myself The object of his true and boundless love. O matchless error! and have I betrayed My weakness to her? [Pauses. Should his love prove hopeless? Who can believe it? Would a hopeless love Persist in such a struggle? Called to revel In joys for which a monarch sighs in vain! A hopeless love makes no such sacrifice. What fire was in his kiss! How tenderly He pressed my bosom to his beating heart! Well nigh the trial had proved dangerous To his romantic, unrequited passion! With joy he seized the key he fondly thought The queen had sent:—in this gigantic stride Of love he puts full credence—and he comes— In very truth comes here—and so imputes To Philip's wife a deed so madly rash. And would he so, had love not made him bold? 'Tis clear as day—his suit is heard—she loves! By heaven, this saintly creature burns with passion; How subtle, too, she is! With fear I trembled Before this lofty paragon of virtue! She towered beside me, an exalted being, And in her beams I felt myself eclipsed; I envied her the lovely, cloudless calm, That kept her soul from earthly tumults free. And was this soft serenity but show? Would she at both feasts revel, holding up Her virtue's godlike splendor to our gaze, And riot in the secret joys of vice? And shall the false dissembler cozen thus, And win a safe immunity from this That no avenger comes? By heavens she shall not! I once adored her,—that demands revenge:— The king shall know her treachery—the king! [After a pause. 'Tis the sure way to win the monarch's ear!

[Exit.



SCENE X.

A chamber in the royal palace. DUKE OF ALVA, FATHER DOMINGO.

DOMINGO. Something to tell me!

ALVA. Ay! a thing of moment, Of which I made discovery to-day, And I would have your judgment on it.

DOMINGO. How! Discovery! To what do you allude?

ALVA. Prince Carlos and myself this morning met In the queen's antechamber. I received An insult from him—we were both in heat— The strife grew loud—and we had drawn our swords. Alarmed, from her apartments rushed the queen. She stepped between us,—with commanding eye Of conscious power, she looked upon the prince. 'Twas but a single glance,—but his arm dropped, He fell upon my bosom—gave me then A warm embrace, and vanished.

DOMINGO (after a pause). This seems strange. It brings a something to my mind, my lord! And thoughts like these I own have often sprung Within my breast; but I avoid such fancies— To no one have I e'er confided them. There are such things as double-edged swords And untrue friends,—I fear them both. 'Tis hard to judge among mankind, but still more hard To know them thoroughly. Words slipped at random Are confidants offended—therefore I Buried my secret in my breast, till time Should drag it forth to light. 'Tis dangerous To render certain services to kings. They are the bolts, which if they miss the mark, Recoil upon the archer! I could swear Upon the sacrament to what I saw. Yet one eye-witness—one word overheard— A scrap of paper—would weigh heavier far Than my most strong conviction! Cursed fate That we are here in Spain!

ALVA. And why in Spain?

DOMINGO. There is a chance in every court but this For passion to forget itself, and fall. Here it is warned by ever-wakeful laws. Our Spanish queens would find it hard to sin— And only there do they meet obstacles, Where best 'twould serve our purpose to surprise them.

ALVA. But listen further: Carlos had to-day An audience of the king; the interview Lasted an hour, and earnestly he sought The government of Flanders for himself. Loudly he begged, and fervently. I heard him In the adjoining cabinet. His eyes Were red with tears when I encountered him. At noon he wore a look of lofty triumph, And vowed his joy at the king's choice of me.

He thanked the king. "Matters are changed," he said, "And things go better now." He's no dissembler: How shall I reconcile such contradictions? The prince exults to see himself rejected, And I receive a favor from the king With marks of anger! What must I believe? In truth this new-born dignity doth sound Much more like banishment than royal favor!

DOMINGO. And is it come to this at last? to this? And has one moment crumbled into dust What cost us years to build? And you so calm, So perfectly at ease! Know you this youth? Do you foresee the fate we may expect Should he attain to power? The prince! No foe Am I of his. Far other cares than these Gnaw at my rest—cares for the throne—for God, And for his holy church! The royal prince— (I know him, I can penetrate his soul), Has formed a horrible design, Toledo! The wild design—to make himself the regent, And set aside our pure and sacred faith. His bosom glows with some new-fangled virtue, Which, proud and self-sufficient, scorns to rest For strength on any creed. He dares to think! His brain is all on fire with wild chimeras; He reverences the people! And is this A man to be our king?

ALVA. Fantastic dreams! No more. A boy's ambition, too, perchance To play some lofty part! What can he less? These thoughts will vanish when he's called to rule.

DOMINGO. I doubt it! Of his freedom he is proud, And scorns those strict restraints all men must bear Who hope to govern others. Would he suit Our throne? His bold gigantic mind Would burst the barriers of our policy. In vain I sought to enervate his soul In the loose joys of this voluptuous age. He stood the trial. Fearful is the spirit That rules this youth; and Philip soon will see His sixtieth year.

ALVA. Your vision stretches far!

DOMINGO. He and the queen are both alike in this. Already works, concealed in either breast, The poisonous wish for change and innovation. Give it but way, 'twill quickly reach the throne. I know this Valois! We may tremble for The secret vengeance of this quiet foe If Philip's weakness hearken to her voice! Fortune so far hath smiled upon us. Now We must anticipate the foe, and both Shall fall together in one fatal snare. Let but a hint of such a thing be dropped Before the king, proved or unproved, it reeks not! Our point is gained if he but waver. We Ourselves have not a doubt; and once convinced, 'Tis easy to convince another's mind. Be sure we shall discover more if we Start with the faith that more remains concealed.

ALVA. But soft! A vital question! Who is he Will undertake the task to tell the king?

DOMINGO. Nor you, nor I! Now shall you learn, what long My busy spirit, full of its design, Has been at work with, to achieve its ends. Still is there wanting to complete our league A third important personage. The king Loves the young Princess Eboli—and I Foster this passion for my own designs. I am his go-between. She shall be schooled Into our plot. If my plan fail me not, In this young lady shall a close ally— A very queen, bloom for us. She herself Asked me, but now, to meet her in this chamber. I'm full of hope. And in one little night A Spanish maid may blast this Valois lily.