ALVA. What do you say! Can I have heard aright? By Heaven! I'm all amazement. Compass this, And I'll bow down to thee, Dominican! The day's our own.

DOMINGO. Soft! Some one comes: 'tis she— 'Tis she herself!

ALVA. I'm in the adjoining room If you should——

DOMINGO. Be it so: I'll call you in.

[Exit ALVA.



SCENE XI.

PRINCESS, DOMINGO.

DOMINGO. At your command, princess.

PRINCESS. We are perhaps Not quite alone? [Looking inquisitively after the DUKE. You have, as I observe, A witness still by you.

DOMINGO. How?

PRINCESS. Who was he, That left your side but now?

DOMINGO. It was Duke ALVA. Most gracious princess, he requests you will Admit him to an audience after me.

PRINCESS. Duke Alva! How? What can he want with me? You can, perhaps, inform me?

DOMINGO. I?—and that Before I learn to what important chance I owe the favor, long denied, to stand Before the Princess Eboli once more? [Pauses awaiting her answer. Has any circumstance occurred at last To favor the king's wishes? Have my hopes Been not in vain, that more deliberate thought Would reconcile you to an offer which Caprice alone and waywardness could spurn? I seek your presence full of expectation——

PRINCESS. Was my last answer to the king conveyed?

DOMINGO. I have delayed to inflict this mortal wound. There still is time, it rests with you, princess, To mitigate its rigor.

PRINCESS. Tell the king That I expect him.

DOMINGO. May I, lovely princess, Indeed accept this as your true reply?

PRINCESS. I do not jest. By heaven, you make me tremble What have I done to make e'en you grow pale?

DOMINGO. Nay, lady, this surprise—so sudden—I Can scarcely comprehend it.

PRINCESS. Reverend sir! You shall not comprehend it. Not for all The world would I you comprehended it. Enough for you it is so—spare yourself The trouble to investigate in thought, Whose eloquence hath wrought this wondrous change. But for your comfort let me add, you have No hand in this misdeed,—nor has the church. Although you've proved that cases might arise Wherein the church, to gain some noble end, Might use the persons of her youthful daughters! Such reasonings move not me; such motives, pure, Right reverend sir, are far too high for me.

DOMINGO. When they become superfluous, your grace, I willingly retract them.

PRINCESS. Seek the king, And ask him as from me, that he will not Mistake me in this business. What I have been That am I still. 'Tis but the course of things Has changed. When I in anger spurned his suit, I deemed him truly happy in possessing Earth's fairest queen. I thought his faithful wife Deserved my sacrifice. I thought so then, But now I'm undeceived.

DOMINGO. Princess, go on! I hear it all—we understand each other.

PRINCESS. Enough. She is found out. I will not spare her. The hypocrite's unmasked!—She has deceived The king, all Spain, and me. She loves, I know She loves! I can bring proofs that will make you tremble. The king has been deceived—but he shall not, By heaven, go unrevenged! The saintly mask Of pure and superhuman self-denial I'll tear from her deceitful brow, that all May see the forehead of the shameless sinner. 'Twill cost me dear, but here my triumph lies, That it will cost her infinitely more.

DOMINGO. Now all is ripe, let me call in the duke.

[Goes out.

PRINCESS (astonished). What means all this?



SCENE XII.

The PRINCESS, DUKE ALVA, DOMINGO.

DOMINGO (leading the DUKE in). Our tidings, good my lord, Come somewhat late. The Princess Eboli Reveals to us a secret we had meant Ourselves to impart to her.

ALVA. My visit, then, Will not so much surprise her, but I never Trust my own eyes in these discoveries. They need a woman's more discerning glance.

PRINCESS. Discoveries! How mean you?

DOMINGO. Would we knew What place and fitter season you——

PRINCESS. Just So! To-morrow noon I will expect you both. Reasons I have why this clandestine guilt Should from the king no longer be concealed.

ALVA. 'Tis this that brings us here. The king must know it. And he shall hear the news from you, princess, From you alone:—for to what tongue would he Afford such ready credence as to yours, Friend and companion ever of his spouse?

DOMINGO. As yours, who more than any one at will Can o'er him exercise supreme command.

ALVA. I am the prince's open enemy.

DOMINGO. And that is what the world believes of me. The Princess Eboli's above suspicion. We are compelled to silence, but your duty, The duty of your office, calls on you To speak. The king shall not escape our hands. Let your hints rouse him, we'll complete the work.

ALVA. It must be done at once, without delay; Each moment now is precious. In an hour The order may arrive for my departure.

DOMINGO (after a short pause, turns to the PRINCESS). Cannot some letters be discovered? Truly, An intercepted letter from the prince Would work with rare effect. Ay! let me see— Is it not so? You sleep, princess, I think, In the same chamber with her majesty?

PRINCESS. The next to hers. But of what use is that?

DOMINGO. Oh, for some skill in locks! Have you observed Where she is wont to keep her casket key?

PRINCESS (in thought). Yes, that might lead to something; yes, I think The key is to be found.

DOMINGO. Letters, you know, Need messengers. Her retinue is large; Who do you think could put us on the scent? Gold can do much.

ALVA. Can no one tell us whether The prince has any trusty confidant?

DOMINGO. Not one; in all Madrid not one.

ALVA. That's strange!

DOMINGO. Rely on me in this. He holds in scorn The universal court. I have my proofs.

ALVA. Stay! It occurs to me, as I was leaving The queen's apartments, I beheld the prince In private conference with a page of hers.

PRINCESS (suddenly interrupting). O no! that must have been of something else.

DOMINGO. Could we not ascertain the fact? It seems Suspicious. [To the DUKE. Did you know the page, my lord!

PRINCESS. Some trifle; what else could it be? Enough, I'm sure of that. So we shall meet again Before I see the king; and by that time We may discover much.

DOMINGO (leading her aside). What of the king? Say, may he hope? May I assure him so? And the entrancing hour which shall fulfil His fond desires, what shall I say of that?

PRINCESS. In a few days I will feign sickness, and Shall be excused from waiting on the queen. Such is, you know, the custom of the court, And I may then remain in my apartment.

DOMINGO. 'Tis well devised! Now the great game is won, And we may bid defiance to all queens!

PRINCESS. Hark! I am called. I must attend the queen, So fare you well. [Exit.



SCENE XIII.

ALVA and DOMINGO.

DOMINGO (after a pause, during which he has watched the PRINCESS). My lord! these roses, and— Your battles——

ALVA. And your god!—why, even so Thus we'll await the lightning that will scathe us!

[Exeunt.



SCENE XIV.

A Carthusian Convent. DON CARLOS and the PRIOR.

CARLOS (to the PRIOR, as he comes in). Been here already? I am sorry for it.

PRIOR. Yes, thrice since morning. 'Tis about an hour Since he went hence.

CARLOS. But he will sure return. Has he not left some message?

PRIOR. Yes; he promised To come again at noon.

CARLOS (going to a window, and looking round the country). Your convent lies Far from the public road. Yonder are seen The turrets of Madrid—just so—and there The Mansanares flows. The scenery is Exactly to my wish, and all around Is calm and still as secrecy itself.

PRIOR. Or as the entrance to another world.

CARLOS. Most worthy sir, to your fidelity And honor, have I now intrusted all I hold most dear and sacred in the world. No mortal man must know, or even suspect, With whom I here hold secret assignation. Most weighty reasons prompt me to deny, To all the world, the friend whom I expect, Therefore I choose this convent. Are we safe From traitors and surprise? You recollect What you have sworn.

PRIOR. Good sir, rely on us. A king's suspicion cannot pierce the grave, And curious ears haunts only those resorts Where wealth and passion dwell—but from these walls The world's forever banished.

CARLOS. You may think, Perhaps, beneath this seeming fear and caution There lies a guilty conscience?

PRIOR. I think nothing.

CARLOS. If you imagine this, most holy father, You err—indeed you err. My secret shuns The sight of man—but not the eye of God.

PRIOR. Such things concern us little. This retreat To guilt, and innocence alike, is open, And whether thy designs be good or ill, Thy purpose criminal or virtuous,—that We leave to thee to settle with thy heart.

CARLOS (with warmth). Our purpose never can disgrace your God. 'Tis his own noblest work. To you indeed, I may reveal it.

PRIOR. To what end, I pray? Forego, dear prince, this needless explanation. The world and all its troubles have been long Shut from my thoughts—in preparation for My last long journey. Why recall them to me For the brief space that must precede my death? 'Tis little for salvation that we need— But the bell rings, and summons me to prayer.

[Exit PRIOR.



SCENE XV.

DON CARLOS; the MARQUIS POSA enters.

CARLOS. At length once more,—at length——

MARQUIS. Oh, what a trial For the impatience of a friend! The sun Has risen twice—twice set—since Carlos' fate Has been resolved, and am I only now To learn it: speak,—you're reconciled!

CARLOS. With whom?

MARQUIS. The king! And Flanders, too,—its fate is settled!

CARLOS. The duke sets out to-morrow. That is fixed.

MARQUIS. That cannot be—it is not surely so. Can all Madrid be so deceived? 'Tis said You had a private audience, and the king——

CARLOS. Remained inflexible, and we are now Divided more than ever.

MARQUIS. Do you go To Flanders?

CARLOS. No!

MARQUIS. Alas! my blighted hopes!

CARLOS. Of this hereafter. Oh, Roderigo! since We parted last, what have I not endured? But first thy counsel? I must speak with her!

MARQUIS. Your mother? No! But wherefore?

CARLOS. I have hopes— But you turn pale! Be calm—I should be happy. And I shall be so: but of this anon— Advise me now, how I may speak with her.

MARQUIS. What mean you? What new feverish dream is this?

CARLOS. By the great God of wonders 'tis no dream! 'Tis truth, reality—— [Taking out the KING's letter to the PRINCESS EBOLI. Contained in this Important paper—yes, the queen is free,— Free before men and in the eyes of heaven; There read, and cease to wonder at my words.

MARQUIS (opening the letter). What do I here behold? The king's own hand! [After he has read it. To whom addressed?

CARLOS. To Princess Eboli. Two days ago, a page who serves the queen, Brought me, from unknown hands, a key and letter, Which said that in the left wing of the palace, Where the queen lodges, lay a cabinet,— That there a lady whom I long had loved Awaited me. I straight obeyed the summons.

MARQUIS. Fool! madman! you obeyed it——

CARLOS. Not that I The writing knew; but there was only one Such woman, who could think herself adored By Carlos. With delight intoxicate I hastened to the spot. A heavenly song, Re-echoing from the innermost apartment, Served me for guide. I reached the cabinet— I entered and beheld—conceive my wonder!

MARQUIS. I guess it all——

CARLOS. I had been lost forever, But that I fell into an angel's hands! She, hapless chance, by my imprudent looks, Deceived, had yielded to the sweet delusion And deemed herself the idol of my soul. Moved by the silent anguish of my breast, With thoughtless generosity, her heart Nobly determined to return my love; Deeming respectful fear had caused my silence, She dared to speak, and all her lovely soul Laid bare before me.

MARQUIS. And with calm composure, You tell this tale! The Princess Eboli Saw through your heart; and doubtless she has pierced The inmost secret of your hidden love. You've wronged her deeply, and she rules the king.

CARLOS (confidently). But she is virtuous!

MARQUIS. She may be so From love's mere selfishness. But much I fear Such virtue—well I know it: know how little It hath the power to soar to that ideal, Which, first conceived in sweet and stately grace, From the pure soul's maternal soil, puts forth Spontaneous shoots, nor asks the gardener's aid To nurse its lavish blossoms into life. 'Tis but a foreign plant, with labor reared, And warmth that poorly imitates the south, In a cold soil and an unfriendly clime. Call it what name you will—or education, Or principle, or artificial virtue Won from the heat of youth by art and cunning, In conflicts manifold—all noted down With scrupulous reckoning to that heaven's account, Which is its aim, and will requite its pains. Ask your own heart! Can she forgive the queen That you should scorn her dearly-purchased virtue, To pine in hopeless love for Philip's wife.

CARLOS. Knowest thou the princess, then, so well?

MARQUIS. Not I— I've scarcely seen her twice. And yet thus much I may remark. To me she still appears To shun alone the nakedness of vice, Too weakly proud of her imagined virtue. And then I mark the queen. How different, Carlos, Is everything that I behold in her! In native dignity, serene and calm, Wearing a careless cheerfulness—unschooled In all the trained restraints of conduct, far Removed from boldness and timidity, With firm, heroic step, she walks along The narrow middle path of rectitude, Unconscious of the worship she compels, Where she of self-approval never dreamed. Say, does my Carlos in this mirror trace The features of his Eboli? The princess Was constant while she loved; love was the price, The understood condition of her virtue. You failed to pay that price—'twill therefore fall.

CARLOS (with warmth). No, no! [Hastily pacing the apartment. I tell thee, no! And, Roderigo, Ill it becomes thee thus to rob thy Carlos Of his high trust in human excellence, His chief, his dearest joy!

MARQUIS. Deserve I this? Friend of my soul, this would I never do— By heaven I would not. Oh, this Eboli! She were an angel to me, and before Her glory would I bend me prostrate down, In reverence deep as thine, if she were not The mistress of thy secret.

CARLOS. See how vain, How idle are thy fears! What proofs has she That will not stamp her maiden brow with shame? Say, will she purchase with her own dishonor The wretched satisfaction of revenge?

MARQUIS. Ay! to recall a blush, full many a one Has doomed herself to infamy.

CARLOS (with increased vehemence). Nay, that Is far too harsh—and cruel! She is proud And noble; well I know her, and fear nothing. Vain are your efforts to alarm my hopes. I must speak to my mother.

MARQUIS. Now? for what?

CARLOS. Because I've nothing more to care for now. And I must know my fate. Only contrive That I may speak with her.

MARQUIS. And wilt thou show This letter to her?

CARLOS. Question me no more, But quickly find the means that I may see her.

MARQUIS (significantly). Didst thou not tell me that thou lov'st thy mother? And wouldst thou really show this letter to her?

[CARLOS fixes his eyes on the ground, and remains silent.

I read a something, Carlos, in thy looks Unknown to me before. Thou turn'st thine eyes Away from me. Then it is true, and have I Judged thee aright? Here, let me see that paper.

[CARLOS gives him the letter, and the MARQUIS tears it.

CARLOS. What! art thou mad? [Moderating his warmth. In truth—I must confess it, That letter was of deepest moment to me.

MARQUIS. So it appeared: on that account I tore it.

[The MARQUIS casts a penetrating look on the PRINCE, who surveys him with doubt and surprise. A long silence.

Now speak to me with candor, Carlos. What Have desecrations of the royal bed To do with thee—thy love? Dost thou fear Philip? How are a husband's violated duties Allied with thee and thy audacious hopes? Has he sinned there, where thou hast placed thy love? Now then, in truth, I learn to comprehend thee— How ill till now I've understood thy love!

CARLOS. What dost thou think, Roderigo?

MARQUIS. Oh, I feel From what it is that I must wean myself. Once it was otherwise! Yes, once thy soul Was bounteous, rich, and warm, and there was room For a whole world in thy expanded heart. Those feelings are extinct—all swallowed up In one poor, petty, selfish passion. Now Thy heart is withered, dead! No tears last thou For the unhappy fate of wretched Flanders— No, not another tear. Oh, Carlos! see How poor, how beggarly, thou hast become, Since all thy love has centered in thyself!

CARLOS (flings himself into a chair. After a pause, with scarcely suppressed tears). Too well I know thou lovest me no more!

MARQUIS. Not so, my Carlos. Well I understand This fiery passion: 'tis the misdirection Of feelings pure and noble in themselves. The queen belonged to thee: the king, thy father, Despoiled thee of her—yet till now thou hast Been modestly distrustful of thy claims. Philip, perhaps, was worthy of her! Thou Scarce dared to breathe his sentence in a whisper— This letter has resolved thy doubts, and proved Thou art the worthier man. With haughty joy Thou saw'st before thee rise the doom that waits On tyranny convicted of a theft, But thou wert proud to be the injured one: Wrongs undeserved great souls can calmly suffer, Yet here thy fancy played thee false: thy pride Was touched with satisfaction, and thy heart Allowed itself to hope: I plainly saw This time, at least, thou didst not know thyself.

CARLOS (with emotion). Thou'rt wrong, Roderigo; for my thoughts were far Less noble than thy goodness would persuade me.

MARQUIS. And am I then e'en here so little known? See, Carlos, when thou errest, 'tis my way, Amid a hundred virtues, still to find That one to which I may impute thy fall. Now, then, we understand each other better, And thou shalt have an audience of the queen.

CARLOS (falling on his neck). Oh, how I blush beside thee!

MARQUIS. Take my word, And leave the rest to me. A wild, bold thought, A happy thought is dawning in my mind; And thou shalt hear it from a fairer mouth, I hasten to the queen. Perhaps to-morrow Thy wish may be achieved. Till then, my Carlos, Forget not this—"That a design conceived Of lofty reason, which involves the fate, The sufferings of mankind, though it be baffled Ten thousand times, should never be abandoned." Dost hear? Remember Flanders.

CARLOS. Yes! all, all That thou and virtue bid me not forget.

MARQUIS (going to a window). The time is up—I hear thy suite approaching. [They embrace. Crown prince again, and the vassal.

CARLOS. Dost thou go Straight to Madrid?

MARQUIS. Yes, straight.

CARLOS. Hold! one word more. How nearly it escaped me! Yet 'twas news Of deep importance. "Every letter now Sent to Brabant is opened by the king!" So be upon thy guard. The royal post Has secret orders.

MARQUIS. How have you learned this?

CARLOS. Don Raymond Taxis is my trusty friend.

MARQUIS (after a pause). Well! then they may be sent through Germany.

[Exeunt on different sides.



ACT III.

SCENE I.

The king's bedchamber. On the toilet two burning lights. In the background several pages asleep resting on their knees. The KING, in half undress, stands before the table, with one arm bent over the chair, in a reflecting posture. Before him is a medallion and papers.

KING. Of a warm fancy she has ever been! Who can deny it? I could never love her, Yet has she never seemed to miss my love. And so 'tis plain—she's false!

[Makes a movement which brings him to himself. He looks round with surprise.

Where have I been? Is no one watching here, then, save the king? The light's burnt out, and yet it is not day. I must forego my slumbers for to-night. Take it, kind nature, for enjoyed! No time Have monarchs to retrieve the nights they lose. I'm now awake, and day it shall be.

[He puts out the candles, and draws aside the window-curtain. He observes the sleeping pages—remains for some time standing before them—then rings a bell.

All Asleep within the antechamber, too?



SCENE II.

The KING, COUNT LERMA.

LERMA (surprised at seeing the KING). Does not your majesty feel well?

KING. The left Pavilion of the palace was in flames: Did you not hear the alarum?

LERMA. No, my liege.

KING. No! What? And did I only dream it then? 'Twas surely real! Does not the queen sleep there?

LERMA. She does, your majesty.

KING. This dream affrights me! In future let the guards be doubled there As soon as it grows dark. Dost hear? And yet Let it be done in secret. I would not—— Why do you gaze on me?

LERMA. Your bloodshot eyes, I mark, that beg repose. Dare I remind My liege of an inestimable life, And of your subjects, who with pale dismay Would in such features read of restless nights? But two brief hours of morning sleep would——

KING (with troubled look). Shall I find sleep within the Escurial? Let the king sleep, and he may lose his crown, The husband, his wife's heart. But no! not so; This is but slander. Was it not a woman Whispered the crime to me? Woman, thy name Is calumny? The deed I'll hold unproved, Until a man confirms the fatal truth!

[To the pages, who in the meanwhile have awaked.

Summon Duke Alva! [Pages go.

Count, come nearer to me.

[Fixes a searching look on the COUNT.

Is all this true? Oh for omniscience now, Though but so long as a man's pulse might beat. Is it true? Upon your oath! Am I deceived?

LERMA. My great, my best of kings!

KING (drawing back). King! naught but king! And king again! No better answer than Mere hollow echo! When I strike this rock For water, to assuage my burning thirst, It gives me molten gold.

LERMA. What true, my liege?

KING. Oh, nothing, nothing! Leave me! Get thee gone!

[The COUNT going, the KING calls him back again.

Say, are you married? and are you a father?

LERMA. I am, your majesty.

KING. What! married—yet You dare to watch a night here with your king! Your hair is gray, and yet you do not blush To think your wife is honest. Get thee home; You'll find her locked, this moment, in your son's Incestuous embrace. Believe your king. Now go; you stand amazed; you stare at me With searching eye, because of my gray hairs. Unhappy man, reflect. Queens never taint Their virtue thus: doubt it, and you shall die!

LERMA (with warmth). Who dare do so? In all my monarch's realms Who has the daring hardihood to breathe Suspicion on her angel purity? To slander thus the best of queens——

KING. The best! The best, from you, too! She has ardent friends, I find, around. It must have cost her much— More than methinks she could afford to give. You are dismissed; now send the duke to me.

LERMA. I hear him in the antechamber. [Going.

KING (with a milder tone). Count, What you observed is very true. My head Burns with the fever of this sleepless night! What I have uttered in this waking dream, Mark you, forget! I am your gracious king!

[Presents his hand to kiss. Exit LERMA, opening the door at the same time to DUKE ALVA.



SCENE III.

The KING and DUKE ALVA.

ALVA (approaching the KING with an air of doubt). This unexpected order, at so strange An hour! [Starts on looking closer at the KING. And then those looks!

KING (has seated himself, and taken hold of the medallion on the table. Looks at the DUKE for some time in silence). Is it true I have no faithful servant!

ALVA. How?

KING. A blow Aimed at my life in its most vital part! Full well 'twas known, yet no one warned me of it.

ALVA (with a look of astonishment). A blow aimed at your majesty! and yet Escape your Alva's eye?

KING (showing him letters). Know you this writing?

ALVA. It is the prince's hand.

KING (a pause—watches the DUKE closely). Do you suspect Then nothing? Often have you cautioned me Gainst his ambition. Was there nothing more Than his ambition should have made me tremble?

ALVA. Ambition is a word of largest import, And much it may comprise.

KING. And had you naught Of special purport to disclose?

ALVA (after a pause, mysteriously). Your majesty Hath given the kingdom's welfare to my charge: On this my inmost, secret thoughts are bent, And my best vigilance. Beyond this charge What I may think, suspect, or know belongs To me alone. These are the sacred treasures Which not the vassal only, but the slave, The very slave, may from a king withhold. Not all that to my mind seems plain is yet Mature enough to meet the monarch's ear. Would he be answered—then must I implore He will not question as a king.

KING (handing the letters). Read these.

ALVA (reads them, and turns to the KING with a look of terror). Who was the madman placed these fatal papers In my king's bands?

KING. You know, then, who is meant? No name you see is mentioned in the paper.

ALVA (stepping back confused). I was too hasty!

KING. But you know!

ALVA (after some consideration). 'Tis spoken! The king commands,—I dare not now conceal. I'll not deny it—I do know the person.

KING (starting up in violent emotion). God of revenge! inspire me to invent Some new, unheard-of torture! Is their crime So clear, so plain, so public to the world, That without e'en the trouble of inquiry The veriest hint suffices to reveal it? This is too much! I did not dream of this! I am the last of all, then, to discern it— The last in all my realm?

ALVA (throwing himself at the KING'S feet). Yes, I confess My guilt, most gracious monarch. I'm ashamed A coward prudence should have tied my tongue When truth, and justice, and my sovereign's honor Urged me to speak. But since all else are silent And since the magic spell of beauty binds All other tongues, I dare to give it voice; Though well I know a son's warm protestations, A wife's seductive charms and winning tears——

KING (suddenly with warmth). Rise, Alva! thou hast now my royal promise; Rise, and speak fearlessly!

ALVA (rising). Your majesty, Perchance, may bear in your remembrance still What happened in the garden at Aranjuez. You found the queen deserted by her ladies, With looks confused—alone, within a bower,—

KING. Proceed. What further have I yet to hear?

ALVA. The Marchioness of Mondecar was banished Because she boldly sacrificed herself To save the queen! It has been since discovered She did no more than she had been commanded. Prince Carlos had been there.

KING (starting). The prince! What more?

ALVA. Upon the ground the footsteps of a man Were traced, till finally they disappeared Close to a grotto, leftward of the bower, Where lay a handkerchief the prince had dropped. This wakened our suspicions. But besides, The gardener met the prince upon the spot,— Just at the time, as near as we can guess, Your majesty appeared within the walk.

KING (recovering from gloomy thought). And yet she wept when I but seemed to doubt! She made me blush before the assembled court, Blush to my very self! By heaven! I stood In presence of her virtue, like a culprit.

[A long and deep silence. He sits down and hides his face.

Yes, Alva, you are right! All this may lead To something dreadful—leave me for a moment——

ALVA. But, gracious sire, all this is not enough——

KING (snatching up the papers). Nor this, nor this?—nor all the harmony Of these most damning proofs? 'Tis clear as day— I knew it long ago—their heinous guilt Began when first I took her from your hands, Here in Madrid. I think I see her now, With look of horror, pale as midnight ghost, Fixing her eyes upon my hoary hair! 'Twas then the treacherous game began!

ALVA. The prince, In welcoming a mother—lost his bride! Long had they nursed a mutual passion, long Each other's ardent feelings understood, Which her new state forbade her to indulge. The fear which still attends love's first avowal Was long subdued. Seduction, bolder grown, Spoke in those forms of easy confidence Which recollections of the past allowed. Allied by harmony of souls and years, And now by similar restraints provoked, They readily obeyed their wild desires. Reasons of state opposed their early union— But can it, sire, be thought she ever gave To the state council such authority? That she subdued the passion of her soul To scrutinize with more attentive eye The election of the cabinet. Her heart Was bent on love, and won a diadem.

KING (offended, and with bitterness). You are a nice observer, duke, and I Admire your eloquence. I thank you truly. [Rising coldly and haughtily. But you are right. The queen has deeply erred In keeping from me letters of such import, And in concealing the intrusive visit The prince paid in the garden:—from a false Mistaken honor she has deeply erred And I shall question further. [Ringing the bell. Who waits now Within the antechamber? You, Duke Alva, I need no longer. Go.

ALVA. And has my zeal A second time displeased your majesty?

KING (to a page who enters). Summon Domingo. Duke, I pardon you For having made me tremble for a moment, With secret apprehension, lest yourself Might fall a victim to a foul misdeed.

[Exit ALVA.



SCENE IV.

The KING, DOMINGO. KING walks up and down the room to collect his thoughts.

DOMINGO (after contemplating the KING for some time with a respectful silence). How joyfully surprised I am to find Your majesty so tranquil and collected.

KING. Surprised!

DOMINGO. And heaven be thanked my fears were groundless! Now may I hope the best.

KING. Your fears! What feared you?

DOMINGO. I dare not hide it from your majesty That I had learned a secret——

KING (gloomily). And have I Expressed a wish to share your secret with you? Who ventures to anticipate me thus? Too forward, by mine honor!

DOMINGO. Gracious monarch! The place, the occasion, seal of secrecy 'Neath which I learned it—free me from this charge. It was intrusted to me at the seat Of penitence—intrusted as a crime That deeply weighed upon the tender soul Of the fair sinner who confessed her guilt, And sought the pardon of offended heaven. Too late the princess weeps a foul misdeed That may involve the queen herself in ruin.

KING. Indeed! Kind soul! You have correctly guessed The occasion of your summons. You must guide me Through this dark labyrinth wherein blind zeal Has tangled me. From you I hope for truth. Be candid with me; what must I believe, And what determine? From your sacred office I look for strictest truth.

DOMINGO. And if, my liege, The mildness ever incident to this My holy calling, did not such restraint Impose upon me, still I would entreat Your majesty, for your own peace of mind, To urge no further this discovery, And cease forever to pursue a secret Which never can be happily explained. All that is yet discovered may be pardoned. Let the king say the word—and then the queen Has never sinned. The monarch's will bestows Virtue and fortune, both with equal ease. And the king's undisturbed tranquillity Is, in itself, sufficient to destroy The rumors set on foot by calumny.

KING. What! Rumors! and of me! among my subjects!

DOMINGO. All falsehood, sire! Naught but the vilest falsehood! I'll swear 'tis false! Yet what's believed by all, Groundless and unconfirmed although it be, Works its effect, as sure as truth itself.

KING. Not in this case, by heaven!

DOMINGO. A virtuous name Is, after all, my liege, the only prize Which queens and peasants' wives contest together.

KING. For which I surely have no need to tremble.

[He looks doubtingly at DOMINGO. After a pause.

Priest, thou hast something fearful to impart. Delay it not. I read it plainly stamped In thy ill-boding looks. Then out with it, Whate'er it be. Let me no longer tremble Upon the rack. What do the people say?

DOMINGO. The people, sire, are liable to err, Nay err assuredly. What people think Should not alarm the king. Yet that they should Presume so far as to indulge such thoughts——

KING. Why must I beg this poisonous draught so long?

DOMINGO. The people often muse upon that month Which brought your majesty so near the grave, From that time, thirty weeks had scarce elapsed, Before the queen's delivery was announced.

[The KING rises and rings the bell. DUKE ALVA enters. DOMINGO alarmed.

I am amazed, your majesty!

KING (going towards ALVA). Toledo! You are a man—defend me from this priest!

DOMINGO (he and DUKE ALVA exchange embarrassed looks. After a pause). Could we have but foreseen that this occurrence Would be avenged upon its mere relater.

KING. Said you a bastard? I had scarce, you say, Escaped the pangs of death when first she felt She should, in nature's time, become a mother. Explain how this occurred! 'Twas then, if I Remember right, that you, in every church, Ordered devotions to St. Dominick, For the especial wonder he vouchsafed. On one side or the other, then, you lie! What would you have me credit? Oh, I see Full plainly through you now! If this dark plot Had then been ripe your saint had lost his fame.

ALVA. This plot?

KING. How can you with a harmony So unexampled in your very thoughts Concur, and not have first conspired together? Would you persuade me thus? Think you that I Perceived not with what eagerness you pounced Upon your prey? With what delight you fed Upon my pain,—my agony of grief? Full well I marked the ardent, burning zeal With which the duke forestalled the mark of grace I destined for my son. And how this priest Presumed to fortify his petty spleen With my wrath's giant arm! I am, forsooth, A bow which each of you may bend at pleasure But I have yet a will. And if I needs Must doubt—perhaps I may begin with you.

ALVA. Reward like this our truth did ne'er expect.

KING. Your truth! Truth warns of apprehended danger. 'Tis malice that speaks only of the past. What can I gain by your officiousness? Should your suspicion ripen to full truth, What follows but the pangs of separation, The melancholy triumphs of revenge? But no: you only fear—you feed me with Conjectures vague. To hell's profound abyss You lead me on, then flee yourself away.

DOMINGO. What other proofs than these are possible, When our own eyes can scarcely trust themselves?

KING (after a long pause, turning earnestly and solemnly towards DOMINGO). The grandees of the realm shall be convened, And I will sit in judgment. Then step forth In front of all, if you have courage for it, And charge her as a strumpet. She shall die— Die without mercy—and the prince, too, with her! But mark me well: if she but clear herself That doom shall fall on you. Now, dare you show Honor to truth by such a sacrifice? Determine. No, you dare not. You are silent. Such is the zeal of liars!

ALVA (who has stood at a distance, answers coldly and calmly). I will do it.

KING (turns round with astonishment and looks at the DUKE for a long time without moving). That's boldly said! But thou hast risked thy life In stubborn conflicts for far less a prize. Has risked it with a gamester's recklessness— For honor's empty bubble. What is life To thee? I'll not expose the royal blood To such a madman's power, whose highest hope Must be to yield his wretched being up With some renown. I spurn your offer. Go; And wait my orders in the audience chamber.

[Exeunt.



SCENE V.

The KING alone.

Now give me, gracious Providence! a man. Thou'st given me much already. Now vouchsafe me A man! for thou alone canst grant the boon. Thine eye doth penetrate all hidden things Oh! give me but a friend: for I am not Omniscient like to thee. The ministers Whom thou hast chosen for me thou dost know— And their deserts: and as their merits claim, I value them. Their subjugated vices, Coerced by rein severe, serve all my ends, As thy storms purify this nether world. I thirst for truth. To reach its tranquil spring, Through the dark heaps of thick surrounding error, Is not the lot of kings. Give me the man, So rarely found, of pure and open heart, Of judgment clear, and eye unprejudiced, To aid me in the search. I cast the lots. And may I find that man, among the thousands Who flutter in the sunshine of a court.

[He opens an escritoire and takes out a portfolio. After turning over the leaves a long time.

Nothing but names, mere names are here:—no note E'en of the services to which they owe Their place upon the roll! Oh, what can be Of shorter memory than gratitude! Here, in this other list, I read each fault Most accurately marked. That is not well! Can vengeance stand in need of such a help?

[He reads further.

Count Egmont! What doth he here? Long ago The victory of St. Quentin is forgotten. I place him with the dead.

[He effaces this name and writes it on the other roll after he has read further.

The Marquis Posa!

The Marquis Posa! I can scarce recall This person to mind. And doubly marked! A proof I destined him for some great purpose. How is it possible? This man, till now, Has ever shunned my presence—still has fled His royal debtor's eye? The only man, By heaven, within the compass of my realm, Who does not court my favor. Did he burn With avarice, or ambition, long ago He had appeared before my throne. I'll try This wondrous man. He who can thus dispense With royalty will doubtless speak the truth.



SCENE VI.

The Audience Chamber.

DON CARLOS in conversation with the PRINCE of PARMA. DUKES ALVA, FERIA, and MEDINA SIDONIA, COUNT LERMA, and other GRANDEES, with papers in their hands, awaiting the KING.

MEDINA SIDONIA (seems to be shunned by all the GRANDEES, turns towards DUKE ALVA, who, alone and absorbed in himself, walks up and down). Duke, you have had an audience of the king? How did you find him minded?

ALVA. Somewhat ill For you, and for the news you bring.

MEDINA SIDONIA. My heart Was lighter 'mid the roar of English cannon Than here on Spanish ground.

[CARLOS, who had regarded him with silent sympathy, now approaches him and presses his hand.

My warmest thanks, Prince, for this generous tear. You may perceive How all avoid me. Now my fate is sealed.

CARLOS. Still hope the best both from my father's favor, And your own innocence.

MEDINA SIDONIA. Prince, I have lost A fleet more mighty than e'er ploughed the waves. And what is such a head as mine to set 'Gainst seventy sunken galleons? And therewith Five hopeful sons! Alas! that breaks my heart.



SCENE VII.

The KING enters from his chamber, attired. The former all uncover and make room on both sides, while they form a semicircle round him. Silence.

KING (rapidly surveying the whole circle). Be covered, all.

[DON CARLOS and the PRINCE of PARMA approach first and kiss the KING's hand: he turns with friendly mien to the latter, taking no notice of his son.

Your mother, nephew, fain Would be informed what favor you have won Here in Madrid.

PARMA. That question let her ask When I have fought my maiden battle, sire.

KING. Be satisfied; your turn will come at last, When these old props decay. [To the DUKE OF FERIA. What brings you here?

FERIA (kneeling to the KING). The master, sire, of Calatrava's order This morning died. I here return his cross.

KING (takes the order and looks round the whole circle). And who is worthiest after him to wear it?

[He beckons to DUKE ALVA, who approaches and bends on one knee. The KING hangs the order on his neck.

You are my ablest general! Ne'er aspire To more, and, duke, my favors shall not fail you.

[He perceives the DUKE of MEDINA SIDONIA.

My admiral!

MEDINA SIDONIA. And here you see, great king, All that remains of the Armada's might, And of the flower of Spain.

KING (after a pause). God rules above us! I sent you to contend with men, and not With rocks and storms. You're welcome to Madrid.

[Extending his hand to him to kiss.

I thank you for preserving in yourself A faithful servant to me. For as such I value him, my lords; and 'tis my will That you should honor him.

[He motions him to rise and cover himself, then turns to the others.

What more remains?

[To DON CARLOS and the PRINCE OF PARMA.

Princes, I thank you.

[They retire; the other GRANDEES approach, and kneeling, hand their papers to the KING. He looks over them rapidly, and hands them to DUKE ALVA.

Duke, let these be laid Before me in the council. Who waits further?

[No one answers.

How comes it that amidst my train of nobles The Marquis Posa ne'er appears? I know This Marquis Posa served me with distinction. Does he still live? Why is he not among you?

LERMA. The chevalier is just returned from travel, Completed through all Europe. He is now Here in Madrid, and waits a public day To cast himself before his sovereign's feet.

ALVA. The Marquis Posa? Right, he is the same Bold Knight of Malta, sire, of whom renown Proclaims this gallant deed. Upon a summons Of the Grand Master, all the valiant knights Assembled in their island, at that time Besieged by Soliman. This noble youth, Scarce numbering eighteen summers, straightway fled From Alcala, where he pursued his studies, And suddenly arrived at La Valette. "This Cross," he said, "was bought for me; and now To prove I'm worthy of it." He was one Of forty knights who held St. Elmo's Castle, At midday, 'gainst Piali, Ulucciali, And Mustapha, and Hassem; the assault Being thrice repeated. When the castle fell, And all the valiant knights were killed around him, He plunged into the ocean, and alone Reached La Valette in safety. Two months after The foe deserts the island, and the knight Returned to end his interrupted studies.

FERIA. It was the Marquis Posa, too, who crushed The dread conspiracy in Catalonia; And by his marked activity preserved That powerful province to the Spanish crown.

KING. I am amazed! What sort of man is this Who can deserve so highly, yet awake No pang of envy in the breasts of three Who speak his praise? The character he owns Must be of noble stamp indeed, or else A very blank. I'm curious to behold This wondrous man. [To DUKE ALVA. Conduct him to the council When mass is over. [Exit DUKE. The KING calls FERIA. And do you preside Here in my place. [Exit.

FERIA. The king is kind to-day.

MEDIA SIDONIA. Call him a god! So he has proved to me!

FERIA. You well deserve your fortune, admiral! You have my warmest wishes.

ONE OF THE GRANDEES. Sir, and mine.

A SECOND. And also mine.

A THIRD. My heart exults with joy— So excellent a general!

THE FIRST. The king Showed you no kindness, 'twas your strict desert.

LERMA (to MEDINA SIDONIA, taking leave). Oh, how two little words have made your fortune!

[Exeunt all.



SCENE VIII.

The KING's Cabinet. MARQUIS POSA and DUKE ALVA.

MARQUIS (as he enters). Does he want me? What me? Impossible! You must mistake the name. What can he want With me?

ALVA. To know you.

MARQUIS. Curiosity! No more; I regret the precious minutes That I must lose: time passes swiftly by.

ALVA. I now commend you to your lucky stars. The king is in your hands. Employ this moment To your own best advantage; for, remember, If it is lost, you are alone to blame.



SCENE IX.

The MARQUIS alone.

MARQUIS. Duke, 'tis well spoken! Turn to good account The moment which presents itself but once! Truly this courtier reads a useful lesson If not in his sense good, at least in mine.

[Walks a few steps backwards and forwards.

How came I here? Is it caprice or chance That shows me now my image in this mirror? Why, out of millions, should it picture me— The most unlikely—and present my form To the king's memory? Was this but chance? Perhaps 'twas something more!—what else is chance But the rude stone which from the sculptor's hand Receives its life? Chance comes from Providence, And man must mould it to his own designs. What the king wants with me but little matters; I know the business I shall have with him. Were but one spark of truth with boldness flung Into the despot's soul, how fruitful 'twere In the kind hand of Providence; and so What first appeared capricious act of chalice, May be designed for some momentous end. Whate'er it be, I'll act on this belief.

[He takes a few turns in the room, and stands at last in tranquil contemplation before a painting. The KING appears in the neighboring room, where he gives some orders. He then enters and stands motionless at the door, and contemplates the MARQUIS for some time without being observed.



SCENE X.

The KING, and MARQUIS POSA.

The MARQUIS, as soon as he observes the KING, comes forward and sinks on one knee; then rises and remains standing before him without any sign of confusion.

KING (looks at him with surprise). We've met before then?

MARQUIS. No.

KING. You did my crown Some service? Why then do you shun my thanks? My memory is thronged with suitor's claims. One only is omniscient. 'Twas your duty To seek your monarch's eye! Why did you not?

MARQUIS. Two days have scarce elapsed since my return From foreign travel, sire.

KING. I would not stand Indebted to a subject; ask some favor——

MARQUIS. I enjoy the laws.

KING. So does the murderer!

MARQUIS. Then how much more the honest citizen! My lot contents me, sire.

KING (aside). By heavens! a proud And dauntless mind! That was to be expected. Proud I would have my Spaniards. Better far The cup should overflow than not be full. They say you've left my service?

MARQUIS. To make way For some one worthier, I withdrew.

KING. 'Tis pity. When spirits such as yours make holiday, The state must suffer. But perchance you feared To miss the post best suited to your merits.

MARQUIS. Oh, no! I doubt not the experienced judge, In human nature skilled—his proper study,— Will have discovered at a glance wherein I may be useful to him, wherein not. With deepest gratitude, I feel the favor Wherewith, by so exalted an opinion, Your majesty is loading me; and yet——

[He pauses.

KING. You hesitate?

MARQUIS. I am, I must confess, Sire, at this moment, unprepared to clothe My thoughts, as the world's citizen, in phrase Beseeming to your subject. When I left The court forever, sire, I deemed myself Released from the necessity to give My reasons for this step.

KING. Are they so weak? What do you fear to risk by their disclosure?

MARQUIS. My life at farthest, sire,—were time allowed For me to weary you—but this denied—

Then truth itself must suffer. I must choose 'Twixt your displeasure and contempt. And if I must decide, I rather would appear Worthy of punishment than pity.

KING (with a look of expectation). Well?

MARQUIS. I cannot be the servant of a prince. [The KING looks at him with astonishment. I will not cheat the buyer. Should you deem Me worthy of your service, you prescribe A course of duty for me; you command My arm in battle and my head in council. Then, not my actions, but the applause they meet At court becomes their object. But for me Virtue possesses an intrinsic worth. I would, myself, create that happiness A monarch, with my hand, would seek to plant, And duty's task would prove an inward joy, And be my willing choice. Say, like you this? And in your own creation could you hear A new creator? For I ne'er could stoop To be the chisel where I fain would be— The sculptor's self. I dearly love mankind, My gracious liege, but in a monarchy I dare not love another than myself.

KING. This ardor is most laudable. You wish To do good deeds to others; how you do them Is but of small account to patriots, Or to the wise. Choose then within these realms The office where you best may satisfy This noble impulse.

MARQUIS. 'Tis not to be found.

KING. How!

MARQUIS. What your majesty would spread abroad, Through these my hands—is it the good of men? Is it the happiness that my pure love Would to mankind impart? Before such bliss Monarchs would tremble. No! Court policy Has raised up new enjoyments for mankind. Which she is always rich enough to grant; And wakened, in the hearts of men, new wishes Which such enjoyments only can content. In her own mint she coins the truth—such truth! As she herself can tolerate: all forms Unlike her own are broken. But is that Which can content the court enough for me? Must my affection for my brother pledge Itself to work my brother injury? To call him happy when he dare not think? Sire, choose not me to spread the happiness Which you have stamped for us. I must decline To circulate such coin. I cannot be The servant of a prince.

KING (suddenly). You are, perhaps, A Protestant?

MARQUIS (after some reflection). Our creeds, my liege, are one. [A pause. I am misunderstood. I feared as much. You see the veil torn by my hand aside From all the mysteries of majesty. Who can assure you I shall still regard As sacred that which ceases to alarm me? I may seem dangerous, because I think Above myself. I am not so, my liege; My wishes lie corroding here. The rage [Laying his hand on his breast. For innovation, which but serves to increase The heavy weight of chains it cannot break, Shall never fire my blood! The world is yet Unripe for my ideal; and I live A citizen of ages yet to come. But does a fancied picture break your rest? A breach of yours destroys it.

KING. Say, am I The first to whom your views are known?

MARQUIS. You are.

KING (rises, walks a few paces and then stops opposite the MARQUIS—aside). This tone, at least, is new; but flattery Exhausts itself. And men of talent still Disdain to imitate. So let us test Its opposite for once. Why should I not? There is a charm in novelty. Should we Be so agreed, I will bethink me now Of some new state employment, in whose duties Your powerful mind——

MARQUIS. Sire, I perceive how small, How mean, your notions are of manly worth. Suspecting, in an honest man's discourse, Naught but a flatterer's artifice—methinks I can explain the cause of this your error. Mankind compel you to it. With free choice They have disclaimed their true nobility, Lowered themselves to their degraded state. Before man's inward worth, as from a phantom, They fly in terror—and contented with Their poverty, they ornament their chains With slavish prudence; and they call it virtue To bear them with a show of resignation. Thus did you find the world, and thus it was By your great father handed o'er to you. In this debased connection—how could you Respect mankind?

KING. Your words contain some truth.

MARQUIS. Alas! that when from the Creator's hand You took mankind, and moulded him to suit Your own ideas, making yourself the god Of this new creature, you should overlook That you yourself remained a human being— A very man, as from God's hands you came. Still did you feel a mortal's wants and pains. You needed sympathy; but to a God One can but sacrifice, and pray, and tremble— Wretched exchange! Perversion most unblest Of sacred nature! Once degrade mankind, And make him but a thing to play upon, Who then can share the harmony with you?

KING (aside). By heaven, he moves me!

MARQUIS. But this sacrifice To you is valueless. You thus become A thing apart, a species of your own. This is the price you pay for being a god; 'Twere dreadful were it not so, and if you Gained nothing by the misery of millions! And if the very freedom you destroyed Were the sole blessing that could make you happy. Dismiss me, sire, I pray you; for my theme Bears me too far; my heart is full; too strong The charm, to stand before the only man To whom I may reveal it.

[The COUNT LERMA enters, and whispers a few words to the KING, who signs him to withdraw, and continues sitting in his former posture.

KING (to the MARQUIS, after LERMA is gone). Nay, continue.

MARQUIS (after a pause).

I feel, sire—all the worth——

KING. Proceed; you had Yet more to say to me.

MARQUIS. Your majesty, I lately passed through Flanders and Brabant, So many rich and blooming provinces, Filled with a valiant, great, and honest people. To be the father of a race like this I thought must be divine indeed; and then I stumbled on a heap of burnt men's bones.

[He stops, he fixes a penetrating look on the KING, who endeavors to return his glance; but he looks on the ground, embarrassed and confused.

True, you are forced to act so; but that you Could dare fulfil your task—this fills my soul With shuddering horror! Oh, 'tis pity that The victim, weltering in his blood, must cease To chant the praises of his sacrificer! And that mere men—not beings loftier far— Should write the history of the world. But soon A milder age will follow that of Philip, An age of truer wisdom; hand in hand, The subjects' welfare and the sovereign's greatness Will walk in union. Then the careful state Will spare her children, and necessity No longer glory to be thus inhuman.

KING. When, think you, would that blessed age arrive, If I had shrunk before the curse of this? Behold my Spain, see here the burgher's good Blooms in eternal and unclouded peace. A peace like this will I bestow on Flanders.

MARQUIS (hastily). The churchyard's peace! And do you hope to end What you have now begun? Say, do you hope To check the ripening change of Christendom, The universal spring, that shall renew The earth's fair form? Would you alone, in Europe, Fling yourself down before the rapid wheel Of destiny, which rolls its ceaseless course, And seize its spokes with human arm. Vain thought! Already thousands have your kingdom fled In joyful poverty: the honest burgher For his faith exiled, was your noblest subject! See! with a mother's arms, Elizabeth Welcomes the fugitives, and Britain blooms In rich luxuriance, from our country's arts. Bereft of the new Christian's industry, Granada lies forsaken, and all Europe Exulting, sees his foe oppressed with wounds, By its own hands inflicted!

[The KING is moved; the MARQUIS observes it, and advances a step nearer.

You would plant For all eternity, and yet the seeds You sow around you are the seeds of death! This hopeless task, with nature's laws at strife, Will ne'er survive the spirit of its founder. You labor for ingratitude; in vain, With nature you engage in desperate struggle— In vain you waste your high and royal life In projects of destruction. Man is greater Than you esteem him. He will burst the chains Of a long slumber, and reclaim once more His just and hallowed rights. With Nero's name, And fell Busiris', will he couple yours; And—ah! you once deserved a better fate.

KING. How know you that?

MARQUIS. In very truth you did— Yes, I repeat it—by the Almighty power! Restore us all you have deprived us of, And, generous as strong, let happiness Flow from your horn of plenty—let man's mind Ripen in your vast empire—give us back All you have taken from us—and become, Amidst a thousand kings, a king indeed!

[He advances boldly, and fixes on him a look of earnestness and enthusiasm.

Oh, that the eloquence of all those myriads, Whose fate depends on this momentous hour, Could hover on my lips, and fan the spark That lights thine eye into a glorious flame! Renounce the mimicry of godlike powers Which level us to nothing. Be, in truth, An image of the Deity himself! Never did mortal man possess so much For purpose so divine. The kings of Europe Pay homage to the name of Spain. Be you The leader of these kings. One pen-stroke now, One motion of your hand, can new create The earth! but grant us liberty of thought.

[Casts himself at his feet.

KING (surprised, turns away his face, then again looks towards the MARQUIS). Enthusiast most strange! arise; but I——

MARQUIS. Look round on all the glorious face of nature, On freedom it is founded—see how rich, Through freedom it has grown. The great Creator Bestows upon the worm its drop of dew, And gives free-will a triumph in abodes Where lone corruption reigns. See your creation, How small, how poor! The rustling of a leaf Alarms the mighty lord of Christendom. Each virtue makes you quake with fear. While he, Not to disturb fair freedom's blest appearance, Permits the frightful ravages of evil To waste his fair domains. The great Creator We see not—he conceals himself within His own eternal laws. The sceptic sees Their operation, but beholds not Him. "Wherefore a God!" he cries, "the world itself Suffices for itself!" And Christian prayer Ne'er praised him more than doth this blasphemy.

KING. And will you undertake to raise up this Exalted standard of weak human nature In my dominions?

MARQUIS. You can do it, sire. Who else? Devote to your own people's bliss The kingly power, which has too long enriched The greatness of the throne alone. Restore The prostrate dignity of human nature, And let the subject be, what once he was, The end and object of the monarch's care, Bound by no duty, save a brother's love. And when mankind is to itself restored, Roused to a sense of its own innate worth, When freedom's lofty virtues proudly flourish— Then, sire, when you have made your own wide realms The happiest in the world, it then may be Your duty to subdue the universe.

KING (after a long pause). I've heard you to the end. Far differently I find, than in the minds of other men, The world exists in yours. And you shall not By foreign laws be judged. I am the first To whom you have your secret self disclosed; I know it—so believe it—for the sake Of this forbearance—that you have till now Concealed these sentiments, although embraced With so much ardor,—for this cautious prudence. I will forget, young man, that I have learned them, And how I learned them. Rise! I will confute Your youthful dreams by my matured experience, Not by my power as king. Such is my will, And therefore act I thus. Poison itself May, in a worthy nature, be transformed To some benignant use. But, sir, beware My Inquisition! 'Twould afflict me much——

MARQUIS. Indeed!

KING (lost in surprise). Ne'er met I such a man as that! No, marquis, no! you wrong me! Not to you Will I become a Nero—not to you!— All happiness shall not be blasted round me, And you at least, beneath my very eyes, May dare continue to remain a man.

MARQUIS (quickly). And, sire, my fellow-subjects? Not for me, Nor my own cause, I pleaded. Sire! your subjects——

KING. Nay, if you know so well how future times Will judge me, let them learn at least from you, That when I found a man, I could respect him.

MARQUIS. Oh, let not the most just of kings at once Be the most unjust! In your realm of Flanders There are a thousand better men than I. But you—sire! may I dare to say so much— For the first time, perhaps, see liberty In milder form portrayed.

KING (with gentle severity). No more of this, Young man! You would, I know, think otherwise Had you but learned to understand mankind As I. But truly—I would not this meeting Should prove our last. How can I hope to win you?

MARQUIS. Pray leave me as I am. What value, sire, Should I be to you were you to corrupt me?

KING. This pride I will not bear. From this day forth I hold you in my service. No remonstrance— For I will have it so. [After a pause. But how is this? What would I now? Was it not truth I wished? But here is something more. Marquis, so far You've learned to know me as a king; but yet You know me not as man— [The MARQUIS seems to meditate. I understand you— Were I the most unfortunate of fathers, Yet as a husband may I not be blest?

MARQUIS. If the possession of a hopeful son, And a most lovely spouse, confer a claim On mortal to assume that title, sire, In both respects, you are supremely blest.

KING (with a serious look). That am I not—and never, till this hour, Have I so deeply felt that I am not so.

[Contemplating the MARQUIS with a look of melancholy.

MARQUIS. The prince possesses a right noble mind. I ne'er have known him otherwise.

KING. I have The treasure he has robbed me of, no crown Can e'er requite. So virtuous a queen!

MARQUIS. Who dare assert it, sire?

KING. The world! and scandal! And I myself! Here lie the damning proofs Of doubtless guilt—and others, too, exist, From which I fear the worst. But still 'tis hard To trust one proof alone. Who brings the charge? And oh! if this were possible—that she, The queen, so foully could pollute her honor, Then how much easier were it to believe An Eboli may be a slanderer! Does not that priest detest my son and her? And can I doubt that Alva broods revenge? My wife has higher worth than all together.

MARQUIS. And there exists besides in woman's soul A treasure, sire, beyond all outward show, Above the reach of slander—female virtue!

KING. Marquis! those thoughts are mine. It costs too much To sink so low as they accuse the queen. The sacred ties of honor are not broken With so much ease, as some would fain persuade me. Marquis, you know mankind. Just such a man As you I long have wished for—you are kind— Cheerful—and deeply versed in human nature— Therefore I've chosen you——

MARQUIS (surprised and alarmed). Me, sire!

KING. You stand Before your king and ask no special favor— For yourself nothing!—that is new to me— You will be just—ne'er weakly swayed by passion. Watch my son close—search the queen's inmost heart. You shall have power to speak with her in private. Retire. [He rings a bell.

MARQUIS. And if with but one hope fulfilled I now depart, then is this day indeed The happiest of my life.

KING (holds out his hand to him to kiss). I hold it not Amongst my days a lost one. [The MARQUIS rises and goes. COUNT LERMA enters. Count, in future, The marquis is to enter, unannounced.



ACT IV.

SCENE I.

The Queen's Apartment. QUEEN, DUCHESS OLIVAREZ, PRINCESS EBOLI, COUNTESS FUENTES.

QUEEN (to the first lady as she rises). And so the key has not been found! My casket Must be forced open then—and that at once.

[She observes PRINCESS EBOLI, who approaches and kisses her hand.

Welcome, dear princess! I rejoice to see you So near recovered. But you still look pale.

FUENTES (with malice). The fault of that vile fever which affects The nerves so painfully. Is't not, princess?

QUEEN. I wished to visit you, dear Eboli, But dared not.

OLIVAREZ. Oh! the Princess Eboli Was not in want of company.

QUEEN. Why, that I readily believe, but what's the matter? You tremble——

PRINCESS. Nothing—nothing, gracious queen. Permit me to retire.

QUEEN. You hide it from us— And are far worse than you would have us think. Standing must weary you. Assist her, countess, And let her rest awhile upon that seat.

PRINCESS (going). I shall be better in the open air.

QUEEN. Attend her, countess. What a sudden illness!

[A PAGE enters and speaks to the DUCHESS, who then addresses the QUEEN.

OLIVAREZ. The Marquis Posa waits, your majesty, With orders from the king.

QUEEN. Admit him then.

[PAGE admits the MARQUIS and exit.



SCENE II.

MARQUIS POSA. The former.

The MARQUIS falls on one knee before the QUEEN, who signs to him to rise.

QUEEN. What are my lord's commands? And may I dare Thus publicly to hear——

MARQUIS. My business is In private with your royal majesty.

[The ladies retire on a signal from the QUEEN.



SCENE III.

The QUEEN, MARQUIS POSA.

QUEEN (full of astonishment). How! Marquis, dare I trust my eyes? Are you Commissioned to me from the king?

MARQUIS. Does this Seem such a wonder to your majesty? To me 'tis otherwise.

QUEEN. The world must sure Have wandered from its course! That you and he— I must confess——

MARQUIS. It does sound somewhat strange— But be it so. The present times abound In prodigies.

QUEEN. But none can equal this.

MARQUIS. Suppose I had at last allowed myself To be converted, and had weary grown Of playing the eccentric at the court Of Philip. The eccentric! What is that? He who would be of service to mankind Must first endeavor to resemble them. What end is gained by the vain-glorious garb Of the sectarian? Then suppose—for who From vanity is so completely free As for his creed to seek no proselytes? Suppose, I say, I had it in my mind To place my own opinions on the throne!

QUEEN. No, marquis! no! Not even in jest could I Suspect you of so wild a scheme as this; No visionary you! to undertake What you can ne'er accomplish.

MARQUIS. But that seems To be the very point at issue.

QUEEN. What I chiefly blame you, marquis, for, and what Could well estrange me from you—is——

MARQUIS. Perhaps Duplicity!

QUEEN. At least—a want of candor. Perhaps the king himself has no desire You should impart what now you mean to tell me.

MARQUIS. No.

QUEEN. And can evil means be justified By honest ends? And—pardon me the doubt— Can your high bearing stoop to such an office? I scarce can think it.

MARQUIS. Nor, indeed, could I, Were my sole purpose to deceive the king. 'Tis not my wish—I mean to serve him now More honestly than he himself commands.

QUEEN. 'Tis spoken like yourself. Enough of this— What would the king?

MARQUIS. The king? I can, it seems, Retaliate quickly on my rigid judge And what I have deferred so long to tell, Your majesty, perhaps, would willingly Longer defer to hear. But still it must Be heard. The king requests your majesty Will grant no audience to the ambassador Of France to-day. Such were my high commands— They're executed.

QUEEN. Marquis, is that all You have to tell me from him?

MARQUIS. Nearly all That justifies me thus to seek your presence.

QUEEN. Well, marquis, I'm contented not to hear What should, perhaps, remain a secret from me.

MARQUIS. True, queen! though were you other than yourself, I should inform you straight of certain things— Warn you of certain men—but this to you Were a vain office. Danger may arise And disappear around you, unperceived. You will not know it—of too little weight To chase the slumber from your angel brow. But 'twas not this, in sooth, that brought me hither, Prince Carlos——

QUEEN. What of him? How have you left him?

MARQUIS. E'en as the only wise man of his time, In whom it is a crime to worship truth— And ready, for his love to risk his life, As the wise sage for his. I bring few words— But here he is himself.

[Giving the QUEEN a letter.

QUEEN (after she has read it). He says he must Speak with me——

MARQUIS. So do I.

QUEEN. And will he thus Be happy—when he sees with his own eyes, That I am wretched?

MARQUIS. No; but more resolved, More active.

QUEEN. How?

MARQUIS. Duke Alva is appointed To Flanders.

QUEEN. Yes, appointed—so I hear.

MARQUIS. The king cannot retract:—we know the king. This much is clear, the prince must not remain Here in Madrid, nor Flanders be abandoned.

QUEEN. And can you hinder it?

MARQUIS. Perhaps I can, But then the means are dangerous as the evil— Rash as despair—and yet I know no other.

QUEEN. Name them.

MARQUIS. To you, and you alone, my queen, Will I reveal them; for from you alone, Carlos will hear them named without a shudder. The name they bear is somewhat harsh.

QUEEN. Rebellion!

MARQUIS. He must prove faithless to the king, and fly With secrecy to Brussels, where the Flemings Wait him with open arms. The Netherlands Will rise at his command. Our glorious cause From the king's son will gather matchless strength, The Spanish throne shall tremble at his arms, And what his sire denied him in Madrid, That will he willingly concede in Brussels.

QUEEN. You've spoken with the king to-day—and yet Maintain all this.

MARQUIS. Yes, I maintain it all, Because I spoke with him.

QUEEN (after a pause). The daring plan Alarms and pleases me. You may be right— The thought is bold, and that perhaps enchants me. Let it but ripen. Does Prince Carlos know it?

MARQUIS. It was my wish that he should hear it first From your own lips.

QUEEN. The plan is doubtless good, But then the prince's youth——

MARQUIS. No disadvantage! He there will find the bravest generals Of the Emperor Charles—an Egmont and an Orange— In battle daring, and in council wise.

QUEEN (with vivacity). True—the design is grand and beautiful! The prince must act; I feel it sensibly. The part he's doomed to play here in Madrid Has bowed me to the dust on his account. I promise him the aid of France and Savoy; I think with you, lord marquis—he must act— But this design needs money——

MARQUIS. It is ready.

QUEEN. I, too, know means.

MARQUIS. May I then give him hopes Of seeing you?

QUEEN. I will consider it.

MARQUIS. The prince, my queen, is urgent for an answer. I promised to procure it. [Presenting his writing tablet to the QUEEN. Two short lines Will be enough.

QUEEN (after she has written). When do we meet again?

MARQUIS. Whene'er you wish.

QUEEN. Whene'er I wish it, marquis! How can I understand this privilege?

MARQUIS. As innocently, queen, as e'er you may. But we enjoy it—that is sure enough.

QUEEN (interrupting). How will my heart rejoice should this become A refuge for the liberties of Europe, And this through him! Count on my silent aid!

MARQUIS (with animation). Right well I knew your heart would understand me.

[The DUCHESS OLIVAREZ enters.

QUEEN (coldly to the MARQUIS). My lord! the king's commands I shall respect As law. Assure him of the queen's submission.

[She makes a sign to him. Exit MARQUIS.



SCENE IV.

A Gallery. DON CARLOS, COUNT LERMA.

CARLOS. Here we are undisturbed. What would you now Impart to me?

LERMA. Your highness has a friend Here at the court.

CARLOS (starting). A friend! I knew it not! But what's your meaning?

LERMA. I must sue for pardon That I am learned in more than I should know. But for your highness' comfort I've received it From one I may depend upon—in short, I have it from myself.

CARLOS. Whom speak you of?

LERMA. The Marquis Posa.

CARLOS. What!

LERMA. And if your highness Has trusted to him more of what concerns you Than every one should know, as I am led To fear——

CARLOS. You fear!

LERMA. He has been with the king.

CARLOS. Indeed!

LERMA. Two hours in secret converse too.

CARLOS. Indeed!

LERMA. The subject was no trifling matter.

CARLOS. That I can well believe.

LERMA. And several times I heard your name.

CARLOS. That's no bad sign, I hope.

LERMA. And then, this morning, in the king's apartment, The queen was spoken of mysteriously.

CARLOS (starts back astonished). Count Lerma!

LERMA. When the marquis had retired I was commanded to admit his lordship In future unannounced.

CARLOS. Astonishing!

LERMA. And without precedent do I believe, Long as I served the king——

CARLOS. 'Tis strange, indeed! How did you say the queen was spoken of?

LERMA (steps back). No, no, my prince! that were against my duty.

CARLOS. 'Tis somewhat strange! One secret you impart. The other you withhold.

LERMA. The first was due To you, the other to the king.

CARLOS. You're right.

LERMA. And still I've thought you, prince, a man of honor.

CARLOS. Then you have judged me truly.

LERMA. But all virtue Is spotless till it's tried.

CARLOS. Some stand the trial.

LERMA. A powerful monarch's favor is a prize Worth seeking for; and this alluring bait Has ruined many a virtue.

CARLOS. Truly said!

LERMA. And oftentimes 'tis prudent to discover— What scarce can longer be concealed.

CARLOS. Yes, prudent It may be, but you say you've ever known The marquis prove himself a man of honor.

LERMA. And if he be so still my fears are harmless, And you become a double gainer, prince.

[Going.

CARLOS (follows him with emotion, and presses his hand). Trebly I gain, upright and worthy man, I gain another friend, nor lose the one Whom I before possessed.

[Exit LERMA.



SCENE V.

MARQUIS POSA comes through the gallery. CARLOS.

MARQUIS. Carlos! My Carlos!

CARLOS. Who calls me? Ah! 'tis thou—I was in haste To gain the convent! You will not delay.

[Going.

MARQUIS. Hold! for a moment.

CARLOS. We may be observed.

MARQUIS. No chance of that. 'Tis over now. The queen——

CARLOS. You've seen my father.

MARQUIS. Yes! he sent for me.

CARLOS (full of expectation). Well!

MARQUIS. 'Tis all settled—you may see the queen.

CARLOS. Yes! but the king! What said the king to you?

MARQUIS. Not much. Mere curiosity to learn My history. The zeal of unknown friends— I know not what. He offered me employment.

CARLOS. Which you, of course, rejected?

MARQUIS. Yes, of course

CARLOS. How did you separate?

MARQUIS. Oh, well enough!

CARLOS. And was I mentioned?

MARQUIS. Yes; in general terms.

[Taking out a pocketbook and giving it to the PRINCE.

See here are two lines written by the queen, To-morrow I will settle where and how.

CARLOS (reads it carelessly, puts the tablet in his pocket, and is going). You'll meet me at the prior's?

MARQUIS. Yes! But stay Why in such haste? No one is coming hither.

CARLOS (with a forced smile). Have we in truth changed characters? To-day You seem so bold and confident.

MARQUIS. To-day— Wherefore to-day?

CARLOS. What writes the queen to me?

MARQUIS. Have you not read this instant?

CARLOS. I? Oh yes.

MARQUIS. What is't disturbs you now?

CARLOS (reads the tablet again, delighted and fervently). Angel of Heaven! I will be so,—I will be worthy of thee. Love elevates great minds. So come what may, Whatever thou commandest, I'll perform. She writes that I must hold myself prepared For a great enterprise! What can she mean? Dost thou not know?

MARQUIS. And, Carlos, if I knew, Say, art thou now prepared to hear it from me?

CARLOS. Have I offended thee? I was distracted. Roderigo, pardon me.

MARQUIS. Distracted! How?

CARLOS. I scarcely know! But may I keep this tablet?

MARQUIS. Not so! I came to ask thee for thine own.

CARLOS. My tablet! Why?

MARQUIS. And whatsoever writings You have, unfit to meet a stranger's eye— Letters or memorandums, and in short, Your whole portfolio.

CARLOS. Why?

MARQUIS. That we may be Prepared for accidents. Who can prevent Surprise? They'll never seek them in my keeping. Here, give them to me——

CARLOS (uneasy). Strange! What can it mean?

MARQUIS. Be not alarmed! 'Tis nothing of importance A mere precaution to prevent surprise. You need not be alarmed!

CARLOS (gives him the portfolio). Be careful of it.

MARQUIS. Be sure I will.

CARLOS (looks at him significantly). I give thee much, Roderigo!

MARQUIS. Not more than I have often had from thee. The rest we'll talk of yonder. Now farewell.

[Going.

CARLOS (struggling with himself, then calls him back). Give me my letters back; there's one amongst them The queen addressed to me at Alcala, When I was sick to death. Still next my heart I carry it; to take this letter from me Goes to my very soul. But leave me that, And take the rest.

[He takes it out, and returns the portfolio.

MARQUIS. I yield unwillingly— For 'twas that letter which I most required.

CARLOS. Farewell!

[He goes away slowly, stops a moment at the door, turns back again, and brings him the letter.

You have it there.

[His hand trembles, tears start from his eyes, he falls on the neck of the MARQUIS, and presses his face to his bosom.

Oh, not my father, Could do so much, Roderigo! Not my father!

[Exit hastily.



SCENE VI.

MARQUIS (looks after him with astonishment).

And is this possible! And to this hour Have I not known him fully? In his heart This blemish has escaped my eye. Distrust Of me—his friend! But no, 'tis calumny! What hath he done that I accuse him thus Of weakest weakness. I myself commit The fault I charge on him. What have I done Might well surprise him! When hath he displayed To his best friend such absolute reserve? Carlos, I must afflict thee—there's no help— And longer still distress thy noble soul. In me the king hath placed his confidence, His holiest trust reposed—as in a casket, And this reliance calls for gratitude. How can disclosure serve thee when my silence Brings thee no harm—serves thee, perhaps? Ah! why Point to the traveller the impending storm? Enough, if I direct its anger past thee! And when thou wakest the sky's again serene.

[Exit.



SCENE VII.

The KING's Cabinet. The KING seated, near him the INFANTA CLARA EUGENIA.

KING (after a deep silence). No—she is sure my daughter—or can nature Thus lie like truth! Yes, that blue eye is mine! And I am pictured in thy every feature. Child of my love! for such thou art—I fold thee Thus to my heart; thou art my blood. [Starts and pauses: My blood— What's worse to fear? Are not my features his?

[Takes the miniature in his hand and looks first at the portrait, then at the mirror opposite; at last he throws it on the ground, rises hastily, and pushes the INFANTA from him.

Away, away! I'm lost in this abyss.



SCENE VIII.

COUNT LERMA and the KING.

LERMA. Her majesty is in the antechamber.

KING. What! Now?

LERMA. And begs the favor of an audience.

KING. Now! At this unaccustomed hour! Not now— I cannot see her yet.

LERMA. Here comes the queen.

[Exit LERMA.



SCENE IX.

The KING, the QUEEN enters, and the INFANTA.

The INFANTA runs to meet the QUEEN and clings to her; the QUEEN falls at the KING's feet, who is silent, and appears confused and embarrassed.

QUEEN. My lord! My husband! I'm constrained to seek Justice before the throne!

KING. What? Justice!

QUEEN. Yes! I'm treated with dishonor at the court! My casket has been rifled.

KING. What! Your casket?

QUEEN. And things I highly value have been plundered.

KING. Things that you highly value.

QUEEN. From the meaning Which ignorant men's officiousness, perhaps, Might give to them——

KING. What's this? Officiousness, And meaning! How? But rise.

QUEEN. Oh no, my husband! Not till you bind yourself by sacred promise, By virtue of your own authority, To find the offender out, and grant redress, Or else dismiss my suite, which hides a thief.

KING. But rise! In such a posture! Pray you, rise.

QUEEN (rises). 'Tis some one of distinction—I know well; My casket held both diamonds and pearls Of matchless value, but he only took My letters.

KING. May I ask——

QUEEN. Undoubtedly, My husband. They were letters from the prince: His miniature as well.

KING. From whom?

QUEEN. The prince, Your son.

KING. To you?

QUEEN. Sent by the prince to me.

KING. What! From Prince Carlos! Do you tell me that?

QUEEN. Why not tell you, my husband?

KING. And not blush.

QUEEN. What mean you? You must surely recollect The letters Carlos sent me to St. Germains, With both courts' full consent. Whether that leave Extended to the portrait, or alone His hasty hope dictated such a step, I cannot now pretend to answer; but If even rash, it may at least be pardoned For thus much I may be his pledge—that then He never thought the gift was for his mother. [Observes the agitation of the KING. What moves you? What's the matter?

INFANTA (who has found the miniature on the ground, and has been playing with it, brings it to the QUEEN). Look, dear mother! See what a pretty picture!

QUEEN. What then my——

[She recognizes the miniature, and remains in speechless astonishment. They both gaze at each other. After a long pause.

In truth, this mode of trying a wife's heart Is great and royal, sire! But I should wish To ask one question?

KING. 'Tis for me to question.

QUEEN. Let my suspicions spare the innocent. And if by your command this theft was done——

KING. It was so done!

QUEEN. Then I have none to blame, And none to pity—other than yourself— Since you possess a wife on whom such schemes Are thrown away.

KING. This language is not new— Nor shall you, madam, now again deceive me As in the gardens of Aranjuez— My queen of angel purity, who then So haughtily my accusation spurned— I know her better now.

QUEEN. What mean you, sire?

KING. Madam! thus briefly and without reserve— Say is it true? still true, that you conversed With no one there? Is really that the truth?

QUEEN. I spoke there with the prince.

KING. Then is clear As day! So daring! heedless of mine honor!

QUEEN. Your honor, sire! If that be now the question, A greater honor is, methinks, at stake Than Castile ever brought me as a dowry.

KING. Why did you then deny the prince's presence?

QUEEN. Because I'm not accustomed to be questioned Like a delinquent before all your courtiers; I never shall deny the truth when asked With kindness and respect. Was that the tone Your majesty used towards me in Aranjuez? Are your assembled grandees the tribunal Queens must account to for their private conduct? I gave the prince the interview he sought With earnest prayer, because, my liege and lord, I—the queen—wished and willed it, and because I never can admit that formal custom Should sit as judge on actions that are guiltless; And I concealed it from your majesty Because I chose not to contend with you About this right in presence of your courtiers.

KING. You speak with boldness, madam!

QUEEN. I may add, Because the prince, in his own father's heart, Scarce finds that kindness he so well deserves.

KING. So well deserves!

QUEEN. Why, sire! should I conceal it! Highly do I esteem him—yes! and love him As a most dear relation, who was once Deemed worthy of a dearer—tenderer—title. I've yet to learn that he, on this account, Should be estranged from me beyond all others,— Because he once was better loved than they. Though your state policy may knit together What bands it pleases—'tis a harder task To burst such ties! I will not hate another For any one's command—and since I must So speak—such dictates I will not endure.

KING. Elizabeth! you've seen me in weak moments— And their remembrance now emboldens you. On that strong influence you now depend, Which you have often, with so much success, Against my firmness tried. But fear the more The power which has seduced me to be weak May yet inflame me to some act of madness.

QUEEN. What have I done?

KING (takes her hand). If it should prove but so— And is it not already? If the full Accumulated measure of your guilt Become but one breath heavier—should I be Deceived—— [Lets her hand go. I can subdue these last remains Of weakness—can and will—then woe betide Myself and you, Elizabeth!

QUEEN. What crime Have I committed?

KING. On my own account then Shall blood be shed.

QUEEN. And has it come to this? Oh, Heaven!

KING. I shall forget myself—I shall Regard no usage and no voice of nature— Not e'en the law of nations.

QUEEN. Oh, how much I pity you!

KING. The pity of a harlot!

INFANTA (clinging to her mother in terror). The king is angry, and my mother weeps.

[KING pushes the child violently from the QUEEN.

QUEEN (with mildness and dignity, but with faltering voice). This child I must protect from cruelty— Come with me, daughter. [Takes her in her arms. If the king no more Acknowledge thee—beyond the Pyrenees I'll call protectors to defend our cause.

[Going.

KING (embarrassed). Queen!

QUEEN. I can bear no more—it is too much!

[Hastening to the door, she falls with her child on the threshold.

KING (running to her assistance). Heavens! What is that?

INFANTA (cries out with terror). She bleeds! My mother bleeds!

[Runs out.

KING (anxiously assisting her). Oh, what a fearful accident! You bleed; Do I deserve this cruel punishment? Rise and collect yourself—rise, they are coming! They will surprise us! Shall the assembled court Divert themselves with such a spectacle? Must I entreat you? Rise.

[She rises, supported by the KING.



SCENE X.

The former, ALVA, DOMINGO entering, alarmed, ladies follow.

KING. Now let the queen Be led to her apartment; she's unwell.

[Exit the QUEEN, attended by her ladies. ALVA and DOMINGO come forward.

ALVA. The queen in tears, and blood upon her face!

KING. Does that surprise the devils who've misled me?

ALVA and DOMINGO. We?

KING. You have said enough to drive me mad. But nothing to convince me.

ALVA. We gave you What we ourselves possessed.

KING. May hell reward you! I've done what I repent of! Ah! was hers, The language of a conscience dark with guilt?

MARQUIS POSA (from without). Say, can I see the king?



SCENE XI.

The former, MARQUIS POSA.

KING (starts up at the sound of his voice, and advances some paces to meet him). Ah! here he comes. Right welcome, marquis! Duke! I need you now No longer. Leave us.

[ALVA and DOMINGO look at each other with silent astonishment and retire.



SCENE XII.

The KING, and MARQUIS POSA.

MARQUIS. That old soldier, sire, Who has faced death, in twenty battles, for you, Must hold it thankless to be so dismissed.

KING. 'Tis thus for you to think—for me to act; In a few hours you have been more to me Than that man in a lifetime. Nor shall I Keep my content a secret. On your brow The lustre of my high and royal favor Shall shine resplendent—I will make that man A mark for envy whom I choose my friend.

MARQUIS. What if the veil of dark obscurity Were his sole claim to merit such a title?

KING. What come you now to tell me?

MARQUIS. As I passed Along the antechamber a dread rumor Fell on my ear,—it seemed incredible,— Of a most angry quarrel—blood—the queen——

KING. Come you from her?

MARQUIS. I should be horrified Were not the rumor false: or should perhaps Your majesty meantime have done some act— Discoveries of importance I have made, Which wholly change the aspect of affairs.

KING. How now?

MARQUIS. I found an opportunity To seize your son's portfolio, with his letters, Which, as I hope, may throw some light——

[He gives the PRINCE's portfolio to the KING.

KING (looks through it eagerly). A letter From the emperor, my father. How I a letter Of which I ne'er remember to have heard.

[He reads it through, puts it aside, and goes to the other papers.

A drawing of some fortress—detached thoughts From Tacitus—and what is here? The hand I surely recognize—it is a lady's.

[He reads it attentively, partly to himself, and partly aloud.

"This key—the farthest chamber of the queen's Pavilion!" Ha! what's this? "The voice of love,— The timid lover—may—a rich reward." Satanic treachery! I see it now. 'Tis she—'tis her own writing!