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 o