The royal palace at Madrid.
KING PHILIP under a canopy; DUKE ALVA at some distance,
with his head covered; CARLOS.
CARLOS.
The kingdom takes precedence—willingly
Doth Carlos to the minister give place—
He speaks for Spain; I am but of the household.
[Bows and steps backward.
KING.
The duke remains—the Infanta may proceed.
CARLOS (turning to ALVA).
Then must I put it to your honor, sir,
To yield my father for a while to me.
A son, you know, may to a father's ear
Unbosom much, in fulness of his heart,
That not befits a stranger's ear. The king
Shall not be taken from you, sir—I seek
The father only for one little hour.
KING.
Here stands his friend.
CARLOS.
And have I e'er deserved
To think the duke should be a friend of mine?
KING.
Or tried to make him one? I scarce can love
Those sons who choose more wisely than their fathers.
CARLOS.
And can Duke Alva's knightly spirit brook
To look on such a scene? Now, as I live,
I would not play the busy meddler's part,
Who thrusts himself, unasked, 'twixt sire and son,
And there intrudes without a blush, condemned
By his own conscious insignificance,
No, not, by heaven, to win a diadem!
KING (rising, with an angry look at the Prince).
Retire, my lord!
[ALVA goes to the principal door, through which CARLOS
had entered, the KING points to the other.
No, to the cabinet,
Until I call you.
SCENE II.
KING PHILIP. DON CARLOS.
CARLOS (as soon as the DUKE has left the apartment, advances to the KING,
throws himself at his feet, and then, with great emotion).
My father once again!
Thanks, endless thanks, for this unwonted favor!
Your hand, my father! O delightful day!
The rapture of this kiss has long been strange
To your poor Carlos. Wherefore have I been
Shut from my father's heart? What have I done?
KING.
Carlos, thou art a novice in these arts—
Forbear, I like them not——
CARLOS (rising).
And is it so?
I hear your courtiers in those words, my father!
All is not well, by heaven, all is not true,
That a priest says, and a priest's creatures plot.
I am not wicked, father; ardent blood
Is all my failing;—all my crime is youth;—
Wicked I am not—no, in truth, not wicked;—
Though many an impulse wild assails my heart,
Yet is it still untainted.
KING.
Ay, 'tis pure—
I know it—like thy prayers——
CARLOS.
Now, then, or never!
We are, for once, alone—the barrier
Of courtly form, that severed sire and son
Has fallen! Now a golden ray of hope
Illumes my soul—a sweet presentment
Pervades my heart—and heaven itself inclines,
With choirs of joyous angels, to the earth,
And full of soft emotion, the thrice blest
Looks down upon this great, this glorious scene!
Pardon, my father!
[He falls on his knees before him.
KING.
Rise, and leave me.
CARLOS.
Father!
KING (tearing himself from him).
This trifling grows too bold.
CARLOS.
A son's devotion
Too bold! Alas!
KING.
And, to crown all, in tears!
Degraded boy! Away, and quit my sight!
CARLOS.
Now, then, or never!—pardon, O my father!
KING.
Away, and leave my sight! Return to me
Disgraced, defeated, from the battle-field,
Thy sire shall meet thee with extended arms:
But thus in tears, I spurn thee from my feet.
A coward's guilt alone should wash its stains
In such ignoble streams. The man who weeps
Without a blush will ne'er want cause for tears!
CARLOS.
Who is this man? By what mistake of nature
Has he thus strayed amongst mankind? A tear
Is man's unerring, lasting attribute.
Whose eye is dry was ne'er of woman born!
Oh, teach the eye that ne'er hath overflowed,
The timely science of a tear—thou'lt need
The moist relief in some dark hour of woo.
KING.
Think'st thou to shake thy father's strong mistrust
With specious words?
CARLOS.
Mistrust! Then I'll remove it.
Here will I hang upon my father's breast,
Strain at his heart with vigor, till each shred
Of that mistrust, which, with a rock's endurance,
Clings firmly round it, piecemeal fall away.
And who are they who drive me from the king—
My father's favor? What requital hath
A monk to give a father for a son?
What compensation can the duke supply
For a deserted and a childless age?
Would'st thou be loved? Here in this bosom springs
A fresher, purer fountain, than e'er flowed
From those dark, stagnant, muddy reservoirs,
Which Philip's gold must first unlock.
KING.
No more,
Presuming boy! For know the hearts thou slanderest
Are the approved, true servants of my choice.
'Tis meet that thou do honor to them.
CARLOS.
Never!
I know my worth—all that your Alva dares—
That, and much more, can Carlos. What cares he,
A hireling! for the welfare of the realm
That never can be his? What careth he
If Philip's hair grow gray with hoary age?
Your Carlos would have loved you:—Oh, I dread
To think that you the royal throne must fill
Deserted and alone.
KING (seemingly struck by this idea, stands in deep thought; after
a pause).
I am alone!
CARLOS (approaching him with eagerness).
You have been so till now. Hate me no more,
And I will love you dearly as a son:
But hate me now no longer! Oh, how sweet,
Divinely sweet it is to feel our being
Reflected in another's beauteous soul;
To see our joys gladden another's cheek,
Our pains bring anguish to another's bosom,
Our sorrows fill another's eye with tears!
How sweet, how glorious is it, hand in hand,
With a dear child, in inmost soul beloved,
To tread once more the rosy paths of youth,
And dream life's fond illusions o'er again!
How proud to live through endless centuries
Immortal in the virtues of a son;
How sweet to plant what his dear hand shall reap;
To gather what will yield him rich return,
And guess how high his thanks will one day rise!
My father of this early paradise
Your monks most wisely speak not.
KING (not without emotion).
Oh, my son,
Thou hast condemned thyself in painting thus
A bliss this heart hath ne'er enjoyed from thee.
CARLOS.
The Omniscient be my judge! You till this hour
Have still debarred me from your heart, and all
Participation in your royal cares.
The heir of Spain has been a very stranger
In Spanish land—a prisoner in the realm
Where he must one day rule. Say, was this just,
Or kind? And often have I blushed for shame,
And stood with eyes abashed, to learn perchance
From foreign envoys, or the general rumor,
Thy courtly doings at Aranjuez.
KING.
Thy blood flows far too hotly in thy veins.
Thou would'st but ruin all.
CARLOS.
But try me, father.
'Tis true my blood flows hotly in my veins.
Full three-and-twenty years I now have lived,
And naught achieved for immortality.
I am aroused—I feel my inward powers—
My title to the throne arouses me
From slumber, like an angry creditor;
And all the misspent hours of early youth,
Like debts of honor, clamor in mine ears.
It comes at length, the glorious moment comes
That claims full interest on the intrusted talent.
The annals of the world, ancestral fame,
And glory's echoing trumpet urge me on.
Now is the blessed hour at length arrived
That opens wide to me the list of honor.
My king, my father! dare I utter now
The suit which led me hither?
KING.
Still a suit?
Unfold it.
CARLOS.
The rebellion in Brabant
Increases to a height—the traitor's madness
By stern, but prudent, vigor must be met.
The duke, to quell the wild enthusiasm,
Invested with the sovereign's power, will lead
An army into Flanders. Oh, how full
Of glory is such office! and how suited
To open wide the temple of renown
To me, your son! To my hand, then, O king,
Intrust the army; in thy Flemish lands
I am well loved, and I will freely gage
My life for their fidelity and truth.
KING.
Thou speakest like a dreamer. This high office
Demands a man—and not a stripling's arm.
CARLOS.
It but demands a human being, father:
And that is what Duke Alva ne'er hath been.
KING.
Terror alone can tie rebellion's hands:
Humanity were madness. Thy soft soul
Is tender, son: they'll tremble at the duke.
Desist from thy request.
CARLOS.
Despatch me, sire,
To Flanders with the army—dare rely
E'en on my tender soul. The name of prince,
The royal name emblazoned on my standard,
Conquers where Alva's butchers but dismay.
Here on my knees I crave it—this the first
Petition of my life. Trust Flanders to me.
KING (contemplating CARLOS with a piercing look).
Trust my best army to thy thirst for rule,
And put a dagger in my murderer's hand!
CARLOS.
Great God! and is this all—is this the fruit
Of a momentous hour so long desired!
[After some thought, in a milder tone.
Oh, speak to me more kindly—send me not
Thus comfortless away—dismiss me not
With this afflicting answer, oh, my father!
Use me more tenderly, indeed, I need it.
This is the last resource of wild despair—
It conquers every power of firm resolve
To beat it as a man—this deep contempt—
My every suit denied: Let me away—
Unheard and foiled in all my fondest hopes,
I take my leave. Now Alva and Domingo
May proudly sit in triumph where your son
Lies weeping in the dust. Your crowd of courtiers,
And your long train of cringing, trembling nobles,
Your tribe of sallow monks, so deadly pale,
All witnessed how you granted me this audience.
Let me not be disgraced. Oh, strike me not
With this most deadly wound—nor lay me bare
To sneering insolence of menial taunts!
"That strangers riot on your bounty, whilst
Carlos, your son, may supplicate in vain."
And as a pledge that you would have me honored,
Despatch me straight to Flanders with the army.
KING.
Urge thy request no farther—as thou wouldst
Avoid the king's displeasure.
CARLOS.
I must brave
My king's displeasure, and prefer my suit
Once more, it is the last. Trust Flanders to me!
I must away from Spain. To linger here
Is to draw breath beneath the headsman's axe:
The air lies heavy on me in Madrid
Like murder on a guilty soul—a change,
An instant change of clime alone can cure me.
If you would save my life, despatch me straight
Without delay to Flanders.
KING (with affected coldness).
Invalids,
Like thee, my son—need not be tended close,
And ever watched by the physician's eye—
Thou stayest in Spain—the duke will go to Flanders.
CARLOS (wildly).
Assist me, ye good angels!
KING (starting).
Hold, what mean
Those looks so wild?
CARLOS.
Father, do you abide
Immovably by this determination?
KING.
It was the king's.
CARLOS.
Then my commission's done.
[Exit in violent emotion.
SCENE III.
King, sunk in gloomy contemplation, walks a few steps
up and down; Alva approaches with embarrassment.
KING.
Hold yourself ready to depart for Brussels
Upon a moment's notice.
ALVA.
All is prepared, my liege.
KING.
And your credentials
Lie ready sealed within my cabinet,—
Meanwhile obtain an audience of the queen,
And bid the prince farewell.
ALVA.
As I came in
I met him with a look of frenzy wild
Quitting the chamber; and your majesty
Is strangely moved, methinks, and bears the marks
Of deep excitement—can it be the theme
Of your discourse——
KING.
Concerned the Duke of Alva.
[The KING keeps his eye steadfastly fixed on him.
I'm pleased that Carlos hates my councillors,
But I'm disturbed that he despises them.
[ALVA, coloring deeply, is about to speak.
No answer now: propitiate the prince.
ALVA.
Sire!
KING.
Tell me who it was that warned me first
Of my son's dark designs? I listened then
To you, and not to him. I will have proof.
And for the future, mark me, Carlos stands
Nearer the throne—now duke—you may retire.
[The KING retires into his cabinet. Exit DUKE by another door.
SCENE IV.
The antechamber to the QUEEN'S apartments. DON CARLOS enters in
conversation with a PAGE. The attendants retire at his approach.
CARLOS.
For me this letter? And a key! How's this?
And both delivered with such mystery!
Come nearer, boy:—from whom didst thou receive them?
PAGE (mysteriously).
It seemed to me the lady would be guessed
Rather than be described.
CARLOS (starting).
The lady, what!
Who art thou, boy?
[Looking earnestly at the PAGE.
PAGE.
A page that serves the queen.
CARLOS (affrighted, putting his hand to the PAGE's mouth).
Hold, on your life! I know enough: no more.
[He tears open the letter hastily, and retires to read it; meanwhile DUKE ALVA comes, and passing the Prince, goes unperceived by him into the QUEEN'S apartment, CARLOS trembles violently and changes color; when he has read the letter he remains a long time speechless, his eyes steadfastly fixed on it; at last he turns to the PAGE.
She gave you this herself?
PAGE.
With her own hands.
CARLOS.
She gave this letter to you then herself?
Deceive me not: I ne'er have seen her writing,
And I must credit thee, if thou canst swear it;
But if thy tale be false, confess it straight,
Nor put this fraud on me.
PAGE.
This fraud, on whom?
CARLOS (looking once more at the letter, then at the PAGE with doubt
and earnestness).
Your parents—are they living? and your father—
Serves he the king? Is he a Spaniard born?
PAGE.
He fell a colonel on St. Quentin's field,
Served in the cavalry of Savoy's duke—
His name Alonzo, Count of Henarez.
CARLOS (taking his hand, and looking fixedly in his eyes).
The king gave you this letter?
PAGE (with emotion).
Gracious prince,
Have I deserved these doubts?
CARLOS (reading the letter).
"This key unlocks
The back apartments in the queen's pavilion,
The furthest room lies next a cabinet
Wherein no listener's foot dare penetrate;
Here may the voice of love without restraint
Confess those tender feelings, which till now
The heart with silent looks alone hath spoken.
The timid lover gains an audience here,
And sweet reward repays his secret sorrow."
[As if awakening from a reverie.
I am not in a dream, do not rave,
This is my right hand, this my sword—and these
Are written words. 'Tis true—it is no dream.
I am beloved, I feel I am beloved.
[Unable to contain himself, he rushes hastily through the room,
and raises his arms to heaven.
PAGE.
Follow me, prince, and I will lead the way.
CARLOS.
Then let me first collect my scattered thoughts.
The alarm of joy still trembles in my bosom.
Did I e'er lift my fondest hopes so high,
Or trust my fancy to so bold a flight?
Show me the man can learn thus suddenly
To be a god. I am not what I was.
I feel another heaven—another sun
That was not here before. She loves—she loves me!
PAGE (leading him forward).
But this is not the place: prince! you forget.
CARLOS.
The king! My father!
[His arms sink, he casts a timid look around, then
collecting himself.
This is dreadful! Yes,
You're right, my friend. I thank you: I was not
Just then myself. To be compelled to silence,
And bury in my heart this mighty bliss,
Is terrible!
[Taking the PAGE by the hand, and leading him aside.
Now here! What thou hast seen,
And what not seen, must be within thy breast
Entombed as in the grave. So now depart;
I shall not need thy guidance; they must not
Surprise us here! Now go.
[The PAGE is about to depart.
Yet hold, a word!
[The PAGE returns. CARLOS lays his hand on his shoulder, and looks
him steadily in the face.
A direful secret hast thou in thy keeping,
Which, like a poison of terrific power,
Shivers the cup that holds it into atoms.
Guard every look of thine, nor let thy head
Guess at thy bosom's secret. Be thou like
The senseless speaking-trumpet that receives
And echoes back the voice, but hears it not.
Thou art a boy! Be ever so; continue
The pranks of youth. My correspondent chose
Her messenger of love with prudent skill!
The king will ne'er suspect a serpent here.
PAGE.
And I, my prince, shall feel right proud to know
I am one secret richer than the king.
CARLOS.
Vain, foolish boy! 'tis this should make thee tremble.
Approach me ever with a cold respect:
Ne'er be induced by idle pride to boast
How gracious is the prince! No deadlier sin
Canst thou commit, my son, than pleasing me.
Whate'er thou hast in future for my ear,
Give not to words; intrust not to thy lips,
Ne'er on that common high road of the thoughts
Permit thy news to travel. Speak with an eye,
A finger; I will answer with a look.
The very air, the light, are Philip's creatures,
And the deaf walls around are in his pay.
Some one approaches; fly, we'll meet again.
[The QUEEN'S chamber opens, and DUKE ALVA comes out.
PAGE.
Be careful, prince, to find the right apartment.
[Exit.
CARLOS.
It is the duke! Fear not, I'll find the way.
SCENE V.
DON CARLOS. DUDE OF ALVA.
ALVA (meeting him).
Two words, most gracious prince.
CARLOS.
Some other time.
[Going.
ALVA.
The place is not the fittest, I confess;
Perhaps your royal highness may be pleased
To grant me audience in your private chamber.
CARLOS.
For what? And why not here? Only be brief.
ALVA.
The special object which has brought me hither,
Is to return your highness lowly thanks
For your good services.
CARLOS.
Thanks to me—
For what? Duke Alva's thanks!
ALVA.
You scarce had left
His majesty, ere I received in form
Instructions to depart for Brussels.
CARLOS.
What!
For Brussels!
ALVA.
And to what, most gracious prince,
Must I ascribe this favor, but to you—
Your intercession with the king?
CARLOS.
Ob, no!
Not in the least to me; but, duke, you travel,
So Heaven be with your grace!
ALVA.
And is this all?
It seems, indeed, most strange! And has your highness
No further orders, then, to send to Flanders?
CARLOS.
What should I have?
ALVA.
Not long ago, it seemed,
The country's fate required your presence.
CARLOS.
How?
But yes, you're right,—it was so formerly;
But now this change is better as it is.
ALVA.
I am amazed——
CARLOS.
You are an able general,
No one doubts that—envy herself must own it.
For me, I'm but a youth—so thought the king.
CARLOS.
The king was right, quite right. I see it now
Myself, and am content—and so no more.
God speed your journey, as you see, just now
My hands are full, and weighty business presses.
The rest to-morrow, or whene'er you will,
Or when you come from Brussels.
ALVA.
What is this?
CARLOS.
The season favors, and your route will lie
Through Milan, Lorraine, Burgundy, and on
To Germany! What, Germany? Ay, true,
In Germany it was—they know you there.
'Tis April now, May, June,—in July, then,
Just so! or, at the latest, soon in August,—
You will arrive in Brussels, and no doubt
We soon shall hear of your victorious deeds.
You know the way to win our high esteem,
And earn the crown of fame.
ALVA (significantly).
Indeed! condemned
By my own conscious insignificance!
CARLOS.
You're sensitive, my lord, and with some cause,
I own it was not fair to use a weapon
Against your grace you were unskilled to wield.
ALVA.
Unskilled!
CARLOS.
'Tis pity I've no leisure now
To fight this worthy battle fairly out
But at some other time, we——
ALVA.
Prince, we both
Miscalculate—but still in opposite ways.
You, for example, overrate your age
By twenty years, whilst on the other band,
I, by as many, underrate it——
CARLOS.
Well
ALVA.
And this suggests the thought, how many nights
Beside this lovely Lusitanian bride—
Your mother—would the king right gladly give
To buy an arm like this, to aid his crown.
Full well he knows, far easier is the task
To make a monarch than a monarchy;
Far easier too, to stock the world with kings
Than frame an empire for a king to rule.
CARLOS.
Most true, Duke Alva, yet——
ALVA.
And how much blood,
Your subjects' dearest blood, must flow in streams
Before two drops could make a king of you.
CARLOS.
Most true, by heaven! and in two words comprised,
All that the pride of merit has to urge
Against the pride of fortune. But the moral—
Now, Duke Alva!
ALVA.
Woe to the nursling babe
Of royalty that mocks the careful hand
Which fosters it! How calmly it may sleep
On the soft cushion of our victories!
The monarch's crown is bright with sparkling gems,
But no eye sees the wounds that purchased them.
This sword has given our laws to distant realms,
Has blazed before the banner of the cross,
And in these quarters of the globe has traced
Ensanguined furrows for the seed of faith.
God was the judge in heaven, and I on earth.
CARLOS.
God, or the devil—it little matters which;
Yours was his chosen arm—that stands confessed.
And now no more of this. Some thoughts there are
Whereof the memory pains me. I respect
My father's choice,—my father needs an Alva!
But that he needs him is not just the point
I envy in him: a great man you are,
This may be true, and I well nigh believe it,
Only I fear your mission is begun
Some thousand years too soon. Alva, methinks,
Were just the man to suit the end of time.
Then when the giant insolence of vice
Shall have exhausted Heaven's enduring patience,
And the rich waving harvest of misdeeds
Stand in full ear, and asks a matchless reaper,
Then should you fill the post. O God! my paradise!
My Flanders! But of this I must not think.
'Tis said you carry with you a full store
Of sentences of death already signed.
This shows a prudent foresight! No more need
To fear your foes' designs, or secret plots:
Oh, father! ill indeed I've understood thee.
Calling thee harsh, to save me from a post,
Where Alva's self alone can fitly shine!
'Twas an unerring token of your love.
ALVA.
These words deserve——
CARLOS.
What!
ALVA.
But your birth protects you.
CARLOS (seizing his sword).
That calls for blood! Duke, draw your sword!
ALVA (slightingly).
On whom?
CARLOS. (pressing upon him).
Draw, or I run you through.
ALVA.
Then be it so.
[They fight.
SCENE VI.
The QUEEN, DON CARLOS, DUKE ALVA.
QUEEN (coming from her room alarmed).
How! naked swords?
[To the PRINCE in an indignant and commanding tone.
Prince Carlos!
CARLOS (agitated at the QUEEN's look, drops his arm, stands motionless,
then rushes to the DUKE, and embraces him).
Pardon, duke!
Your pardon, sir! Forget, forgive it all!
[Throws himself in silence at the QUEEN'S feet, then rising
suddenly, departs in confusion.
ALVA.
By heaven, 'tis strange!
QUEEN (remains a few moments as if in doubt, then retiring to her
apartment).
A word with you, Duke ALVA.
[Exit, followed by the DUKE.
SCENE VII.
The PRINCESS EBOLI's apartment.
The PRINCESS in a simple, but elegant dress, playing on the lute.
The QUEEN's PAGE enters.
PRINCESS (starting up suddenly)
He comes!
PAGE (abruptly).
Are you alone? I wonder much
He is not here already; but he must
Be here upon the instant.
PRINCESS.
Do you say must!
Then he will come, this much is certain then.
PAGE.
He's close upon my steps. You are beloved,
Adored, and with more passionate regard
Than mortal ever was, or can be loved.
Oh! what a scene I witnessed!
PRINCESS (impatiently draws him to her).
Quick, you spoke
With him! What said he? Tell me straight—
How did he look? what were his words? And say—
Did he appear embarrassed or confused
And did he guess who sent the key to him?
Be quick! or did he not? He did not guess
At all, perhaps! or guessed amiss! Come, speak,
How! not a word to answer me? Oh, fie!
You never were so dull—so slow before,
'Tis past all patience.
PAGE.
Dearest lady, hear me!
Both key and note I placed within his hands,
In the queen's antechamber, and he started
And gazed with wonder when I told him that
A lady sent me!
PRINCESS.
Did he start? go on!
That's excellent. Proceed, what next ensued?
PAGE.
I would have told him more, but he grew pale,
And snatched the letter from my hand, and said
With look of deadly menace, he knew all.
He read the letter with confusion through,
And straight began to tremble.
PRINCESS.
He knew all!
He knew it all? Were those his very words?
PAGE.
He asked me, and again he asked, if you
With your own hands had given me the letter?
PRINCESS.
If I? Then did he mention me by name?
PAGE.
By name! no name he mentioned: there might be
Listeners, he said, about the palace, who
Might to the king disclose it.
PRINCESS (surprised).
Said he that?
PAGE.
He further said, it much concerned the king;
Deeply concerned—to know of that same letter.
PRINCESS.
The king! Nay, are you sure you heard him right?
The king! Was that the very word he used?
PAGE.
It was. He called it a most perilous secret,
And warned me to be strictly on my guard,
Never with word or look to give the king
Occasion for suspicion.
PRINCESS (after a pause, with astonishment).
All agrees!
It can be nothing else—he must have heard
The tale—'tis very strange! Who could have told him,
I wonder who? The eagle eye of love
Alone could pierce so far. But tell me further—
He read the letter.
PAGE.
Which, he said, conveyed
Such bliss as made him tremble, and till then
He had not dared to dream of. As he spoke
The duke, by evil chance, approached the room,
And this compelled us——
PRINCESS (angrily).
What in all the world
Could bring the duke to him at such a time?
What can detain him? Why appears he not?
See how you've been deceived; how truly blest
Might he have been already—in the time
You've taken to describe his wishes to me!
PAGE.
The duke, I fear——
PRINCESS.
Again, the duke! What can
The duke want here? What should a warrior want
With my soft dreams of happiness? He should
Have left him there, or sent him from his presence.
Where is the man may not be treated thus?
But Carlos seems as little versed in love
As in a woman's heart—he little knows
What minutes are. But hark! I hear a step;
Away, away!
[PAGE hastens out.
Where have I laid my lute?
I must not seem to wait for him. My song
Shall be a signal to him.
SCENE VIII.
The PRINCESS, DON CARLOS.
The PRINCESS has thrown herself upon an ottoman,
and plays.
CARLOS (rushes in; he recognizes the PRINCESS, and stands thunderstruck).
Gracious Heaven!
Where am I?
PRINCESS (lets her lute fall, and meeting him)
What? Prince Carlos! yes, in truth.
CARLOS.
Where am I? Senseless error; I have missed
The right apartment.
PRINCESS.
With what dexterous skill
Carlos contrives to hit the very room
Where ladies sit alone!
CARLOS.
Your pardon, princess!
I found—I found the antechamber open.
PRINCESS.
Can it be possible? I fastened it
Myself; at least I thought so——
CARLOS.
Ay! you thought,
You only thought so; rest assured you did not.
You meant to lock it, that I well believe:
But most assuredly it was not locked.
A lute's sweet sounds attracted me, some hand
Touched it with skill; say, was it not a lute?
[Looking round inquiringly.
Yes, there it lies, and Heaven can bear me witness
I love the lute to madness. I became
All ear, forgot myself in the sweet strain,
And rushed into the chamber to behold
The lovely eyes of the divine musician
Who charmed me with the magic of her tones.
PRINCESS.
Innocent curiosity, no doubt!
But it was soon appeased, as I can prove.
[After a short silence, significantly.
I must respect the modesty that has,
To spare a woman's blushes, thus involved
Itself in so much fiction.
CARLOS (with sincerity).
Nay, I feel
I but augment my deep embarrassment,
In vain attempt to extricate myself.
Excuse me for a part I cannot play.
In this remote apartment, you perhaps
Have sought a refuge from the world, to pour
The inmost wishes of your secret heart
Remote from man's distracting eye. By me,
Unhappy that I am, your heavenly dreams
Are all disturbed, and the atonement now
Must be my speedy absence.
[Going.
PRINCESS (surprised and confused, but immediately recovering herself).
Oh! that step
Were cruel, prince, indeed!
CARLOS.
Princess, I feel
What such a look in such a place imports:
This virtuous embarrassment has claims
To which my manhood never can be deaf.
Woe to the wretch whose boldness takes new fire
From the pure blush of maiden modesty!
I am a coward when a woman trembles.
PRINCESS.
Is't possible?—such noble self-control
In one so young, and he a monarch's son!
Now, prince, indeed you shall remain with me,
It is my own request, and you must stay.
Near such high virtue, every maiden fear
Takes wing at once; but your appearance here
Disturbed me in a favorite air, and now
Your penalty shall be to hear me sing it.
CARLOS (sits down near the PRINCESS, not without reluctance).
A penalty delightful as the sin!
And sooth to say, the subject of the song
Was so divine, again and yet again
I'd gladly hear it.
PRINCESS
What! you heard it all?
Nay, that was too bad, prince. It was, I think,
A song of love.
CARLOS.
And of successful love,
If I mistake not—dear delicious theme
From those most beauteous lips—but scarce so true,
Methinks, as beautiful.
PRINCESS.
What! not so true?
Then do you doubt the tale?
CARLOS.
I almost doubt
That Carlos and the Princess Eboli,
When they discourse on such a theme as love,
May not quite understand each other's hearts.
[The PRINCESS starts; he observes it, and continues
with playful gallantry.
Who would believe those rosy-tinted cheeks
Concealed a heart torn by the pangs of love.
Is it within the range of wayward chance
That the fair Princess Eboli should sigh
Unheard—unanswered? Love is only known
By him who hopelessly persists in love.
PRINCESS (with all her former vivacity).
Hush! what a dreadful thought! this fate indeed
Appears to follow you of all mankind,
Especially to-day.
[Taking his hand with insinuating interest.
You are not happy,
Dear prince—you're sad! I know too well you suffer,
And wherefore, prince? When with such loud appeal
The world invites you to enjoy its bliss—
And nature on you pours her bounteous gifts,
And spreads around you all life's sweetest joys.
You, a great monarch's son, and more—far more—
E'en in your cradle with such gifts endowed
As far eclipsed the splendor of your rank.
You, who in those strict courts where women rule,
And pass, without appeal, unerring sentence
On manly worth and honor, even there
Find partial judges. You, who with a look
Can prove victorious, and whose very coldness
Kindles aflame; and who, when warmed with passion,
Can make a paradise, and scatter round
The bliss of heaven, the rapture of the gods.
The man whom nature has adorned with gifts
To render thousands happy, gifts which she
Bestows on few—that such a man as this
Should know what misery is! Thou, gracious Heaven,
That gavest him all those blessings, why deny
Him eyes to see the conquests he has made?
CARLOS (who has been lost in absence of mind, suddenly recovers himself
by the silence of the PRINCESS, and starts up).
Charming! inimitable! Princess, sing
That passage, pray, again.
PRINCESS (looking at him with astonishment).
Where, Carlos, were
Your thoughts the while?
CARLOS (jumps up).
By heaven, you do remind me
In proper time—I must away—and quickly.
PRINCESS (holding him back).
Whither away?
CARLOS.
Into the open air.
Nay, do not hold me, princess, for I feel
As though the world behind me were in flames.
PRINCESS (holding him forcibly back).
What troubles you? Whence comes these strange, these wild,
Unnatural looks? Nay, answer me!
[CARLOS stops to reflect, she draws him to the sofa to her.
Dear Carlos,
You need repose, your blood is feverish.
Come, sit by me: dispel these gloomy fancies.
Ask yourself frankly can your head explain
The tumult of your heart—and if it can—
Say, can no knight be found in all the court,
No lady, generous as fair, to cure you—
Rather, I should have said, to understand you?
What, no one?
CARLOS (hastily, without thinking).
If the Princess Eboli——
PRINCESS (delighted, quickly).
Indeed!
CARLOS.
Would write a letter for me, a few words
Of kindly intercession to my father;—
They say your influence is great.
PRINCESS.
Who says so?
[Aside.
Ha! was it jealousy that held thee mute!
CARLOS.
Perchance my story is already public.
I had a sudden wish to visit Brabant
Merely to win my spurs—no more. The king,
Kind soul, is fearful the fatigues of war
Might spoil my singing!
PRINCESS.
Prince, you play me false!
Confess that by this serpent subterfuge
You would mislead me. Look me in the face,
Deceitful one! and say would he whose thoughts
Were only bent on warlike deeds—would he
E'er stoop so low as, with deceitful hand,
To steal fair ladies' ribbons when they drop,
And then—your pardon! hoard them—with such care?
[With light action she opens his shirt frill, and seizes
a ribbon which is there concealed.
CARLOS (drawing back with amazement).
Nay, princess—that's too much—I am betrayed.
You're not to be deceived. You are in league
With spirits and with demons!
PRINCESS.
Are you then
Surprised at this? What will you wager, Carlos
But I recall some stories to your heart?
Nay, try it with me; ask whate'er you please,
And if the triflings of my sportive fancy—
The sound half-uttered by the air absorbed—
The smile of joy checked by returning gloom—
If motions—looks from your own soul concealed
Have not escaped my notice—judge if I
Can err when thou wouldst have me understand thee?
CARLOS.
Why, this is boldly ventured; I accept
The wager, princess. Then you undertake
To make discoveries in my secret heart
Unknown even to myself.
PRINCESS (displeased, but earnestly).
Unknown to thee!
Reflect a moment, prince! Nay, look around;
This boudoir's not the chamber of the queen,
Where small deceits are practised with full license.
You start, a sudden blush o'erspreads your face.
Who is so bold, so idle, you would ask,
As to watch Carlos when he deems himself
From scrutiny secure? Who was it, then,
At the last palace-ball observed you leave
The queen, your partner, standing in the dance,
And join, with eager haste, the neighboring couple,
To offer to the Princess Eboli
The hand your royal partner should have claimed?
An error, prince, his majesty himself,
Who just then entered the apartment, noticed.
CARLOS (with ironical smile).
His majesty? And did he really so?
Of all men he should not have seen it.
PRINCESS.
Nor yet that other scene within the chapel,
Which doubtless Carlos hath long since forgotten.
Prostrate before the holy Virgin's image,
You lay in prayer, when suddenly you heard—
'Twas not your fault—a rustling from behind
Of ladies' dresses. Then did Philip's son,
A youth of hero courage, tremble like
A heretic before the holy office.
On his pale lips died the half-uttered prayer.
In ecstasy of passion, prince—the scene
Was truly touching—for you seized the hand,
The blessed Virgin's cold and holy hand,
And showered your burning kisses on the marble.
CARLOS.
Princess, you wrong me: that was pure devotion!
PRINCESS.
Indeed! that's quite another thing. Perhaps
It was the fear of losing, then, at cards,
When you were seated with the queen and me,
And you with dexterous skill purloined my glove.
[CARLOS starts surprised.
That prompted you to play it for a card?
CARLOS.
What words are these? O Heaven, what have I done?
PRINCESS.
Nothing I hope of which you need repent!
How pleasantly was I surprised to find
Concealed within the glove a little note,
Full of the warmest tenderest romance,
CARLOS (interrupting her suddenly).
Mere poetry! no more. My fancy teems
With idle bubbles oft, which break as soon
As they arise—and this was one of them;
So, prithee, let us talk of it no more.
PRINCESS (leaving him with astonishment, and regarding him for
some time at a distance).
I am exhausted—all attempts are vain
To hold this youth. He still eludes my grasp.
[Remains silent a few moments.
But stay! Perchance 'tis man's unbounded pride,
That thus to add a zest to my delight.
Assumes a mask of timid diffidence.
'Tis so.
[She approaches the PRINCE again, and looks at him doubtingly.
Explain yourself, prince, I entreat you.
For here I stand before a magic casket,
Which all my keys are powerless to unlock.
CARLOS.
As I before you stand.
PRINCESS (leaves him suddenly, walks a few steps up and down in silence,
apparently lost in deep thought. After a pause, gravely and solemnly).
Then thus at last—
I must resolve to speak, and Carlos, you
Shall be my judge. Yours is a noble nature,
You are a prince—a knight—a man of honor.
I throw myself upon your heart—protect me
Or if I'm lost beyond redemption's power,
Give me your tears in pity for my fate.
[The PRINCE draws nearer.
A daring favorite of the king demands
My hand—his name Ruy Gomez, Count of Silva,
The king consents—the bargain has been struck,
And I am sold already to his creature.
CARLOS (with evident emotion).
Sold! you sold! Another bargain, then,
Concluded by this royal southern trader!
PRINCESS.
No; but hear all—'tis not enough that I
Am sacrificed to cold state policy,
A snare is laid to entrap my innocence.
Here is a letter will unmask the saint!
[CARLOS takes the paper, and without reading it listens
with impatience to her recital.
Where Shall I find protection, prince? Till now
My virtue was defended by my pride,
At length——
CARLOS.
At length you yielded! Yielded? No.
For God's sake say not so!
PRINCESS.
Yielded! to whom?
Poor piteous reasoning. Weak beyond contempt
Your haughty minds, who hold a woman's favor,
And love's pure joys, as wares to traffic for!
Love is the only treasure on the face
Of this wide earth that knows no purchaser
Besides itself—love has no price but love.
It is the costly gem, beyond all price,
Which I must freely give away, or—bury
For ever unenjoyed—like that proud merchant
Whom not the wealth of all the rich Rialto
Could tempt—a great rebuke to kings! to save
From the deep ocean waves his matchless pearl,
Too proud to barter it beneath its worth!
CARLOS (aside).
Now, by great heaven, this woman's beautiful.
PRINCESS.
Call it caprice or pride, I ne'er will make
Division of my joys. To him, alone,
I choose as mine, I give up all forever.
One only sacrifice I make; but that
Shall be eternal. One true heart alone
My love shall render happy: but that one
I'll elevate to God. The keen delight
Of mingling souls—the kiss—the swimming joys
Of that delicious hour when lovers meet,
The magic power of heavenly beauty—all
Are sister colors of a single ray—
Leaves of one single blossom. Shall I tear
One petal from this sweet, this lovely flower,
With reckless hand, and mar its beauteous chalice?
Shall I degrade the dignity of woman,
The masterpiece of the Almighty's hand,
To charm the evening of a reveller?
CARLOS.
Incredible! that in Madrid should dwell
This matchless creature! and unknown to me
Until this day.
PRINCESS.
Long since had I forsaken
This court—the world—and in some blest retreat
Immured myself; but one tie binds me still
Too firmly to existence. Perhaps—alas!
'Tis but a phantom—but 'tis dear to me.
I love—but am not loved in turn.
CARLOS (full of ardor, going towards her).
You are!
As true as God is throned in heaven! I swear
You are—you are unspeakably beloved.
PRINCESS.
You swear it, you!—sure 'twas an angel's voice.
Oh, if you swear it, Carlos, I'll believe it.
Then I am truly loved!
CARLOS (embracing her with tenderness).
Bewitching maid,
Thou creature worthy of idolatry
I stand before thee now all eye, all ear,
All rapture and delight. What eye hath seen thee—
Under yon heaven what eye could e'er have seen thee,
And boast he never loved? What dost thou here
In Philip's royal court! Thou beauteous angel!
Here amid monks and all their princely train.
This is no clime for such a lovely flower—
They fain would rifle all thy sweets—full well
I know their hearts. But it shall never be—
Not whilst I draw life's breath. I fold thee thus
Within my arms, and in these hands I'll bear thee
E'en through a hell replete with mocking fiends.
Let me thy guardian angel prove.
PRINCESS (with a countenance full of love).
O Carlos!
How little have I known thee! and how richly
With measureless reward thy heart repays
The weighty task of—comprehending thee!
[She takes his hand and is about to kiss it.
CARLOS (drawing it back).
Princess! What mean you?
PRINCESS (with tenderness and grace, looking at his hand attentively).
Oh, this beauteous hand!
How lovely 'tis, and rich! This hand has yet
Two costly presents to bestow!—a crown—
And Carlos' heart:—and both these gifts perchance
Upon one mortal!—both on one—Oh, great
And godlike gift-almost too much for one!
How if you share the treasure, prince! A queen
Knows naught of love—and she who truly loves
Cares little for a crown! 'Twere better, prince,
Then to divide the treasure—and at once—
What says my prince? Have you done so already?
Have you in truth? And do I know the blest one?
CARLOS.
Thou shalt. I will unfold myself to thee,
To thy unspotted innocence, dear maid,
Thy pure, unblemished nature. In this court
Thou art the worthiest—first—the only one
To whom this soul has stood revealed.
Then, yes! I will not now conceal it—yes,
I love!
PRINCESS.
Oh, cruel heart! Does this avowal prove
So painful to thee? Must I first deserve
Thy pity—ere I hope to win thy love?
CARLOS (starting).
What say'st thou?
PRINCESS.
So to trifle with me, prince!
Indeed it was not well—and to deny
The key——
CARLOS.
The key! the key! Oh yes, 'tis so!
[After a dead silence.
I see it all too plainly! Gracious heaven!
[His knees totter, he leans against a chair, and covers
his face with his hands. A long silence on both sides.
The PRINCESS screams and falls.
PRINCESS.
Oh, horrible! What have I done!
CARLOS.
Hurled down
So far from all my heavenly joys! 'Tis dreadful!
PRINCESS (hiding her face in the cushion).
Oh, God! What have I said?
CARLOS (kneeling before her).
I am not guilty.
My passion—an unfortunate mistake—
By heaven, I am not guilty——
PRINCESS (pushing him from her).
Out of my sight,
For heaven's sake!
CARLOS.
No, I will not leave thee thus.
In this dread anguish leave thee——
PRINCESS (pushing him forcibly away).
Oh, in pity—
For mercy's sake, away—out of my sight!
Wouldst thou destroy me? How I hate thy presence!
[CARLOS going.
Give, give me back the letter and the key.
Where is the other letter?
CARLOS.
The other letter?
PRINCESS.
That from the king, to me——
CARLOS (terrified).
From whom?
PRINCESS.
The one I just now gave you.
CARLOS.
From the king!
To you!
PRINCESS.
Oh, heavens, how dreadfully have I
Involved myself! The letter, sir! I must
Have it again.
CARLOS.
The letter from the king!
To you!
PRINCESS.
The letter! give it, I implore you
By all that's sacred! give it.
CARLOS.
What, the letter
That will unmask the saint! Is this the letter?
PRINCESS.
Now I'm undone! Quick, give it me——
CARLOS.
The letter——
PRINCESS (wringing her hands in despair).
What have I done? O dreadful, dire imprudence!
CARLOS.
This letter comes, then, from the king! Princess,
That changes all indeed, and quickly, too.
This letter is beyond all value—priceless!
All Philip's crowns are worthless, and too poor
To win it from my hands. I'll keep this letter.
PRINCESS (throwing herself prostrate before him as he is going).
Almighty Heaven! then I am lost forever.
[Exit CARLOS.
SCENE IX.
The PRINCESS alone.
She seems overcome with surprise, and is confounded.
After CARLOS' departure she hastens to call him back.
PRINCESS.
Prince, but one word! Prince, hear me. He is gone.
And this, too, I am doomed to bear—his scorn!
And I am left in lonely wretchedness,
Rejected and despised!
[Sinks down upon a chair. After a pause
And yet not so;
I'm but displaced—supplanted by some wanton.
He loves! of that no longer doubt is left;
He has himself confessed it—but my rival—
Who can she be? Happy, thrice happy one!
This much stands clear: he loves where he should not.
He dreads discovery, and from the king
He hides his guilty passion! Why from him
Who would so gladly hail it? Or, is it not
The father that he dreads so in the parent?
When the king's wanton purpose was disclosed,
His features glowed with triumph, boundless joy
Flashed in his eyes, his rigid virtue fled;
Why was it mute in such a cause as this?
Why should he triumph? What hath he to gain
If Philip to his queen——
[She stops suddenly, as if struck by a thought, then
drawing hastily from her bosom the ribbon which she had
taken from CARLOS, she seems to recognize it.
Fool that I am!
At length 'tis plain. Where have my senses been?
My eyes are opened now. They loved each other
Long before Philip wooed her, and the prince
Ne'er saw me but with her! She, she alone
Was in his thoughts when I believed myself
The object of his true and boundless love.
O matchless error! and have I betrayed
My weakness to her?
[Pauses.
Should his love prove hopeless?
Who can believe it? Would a hopeless love
Persist in such a struggle? Called to revel
In joys for which a monarch sighs in vain!
A hopeless love makes no such sacrifice.
What fire was in his kiss! How tenderly
He pressed my bosom to his beating heart!
Well nigh the trial had proved dangerous
To his romantic, unrequited passion!
With joy he seized the key he fondly thought
The queen had sent:—in this gigantic stride
Of love he puts full credence—and he comes—
In very truth comes here—and so imputes
To Philip's wife a deed so madly rash.
And would he so, had love not made him bold?
'Tis clear as day—his suit is heard—she loves!
By heaven, this saintly creature burns with passion;
How subtle, too, she is! With fear I trembled
Before this lofty paragon of virtue!
She towered beside me, an exalted being,
And in her beams I felt myself eclipsed;
I envied her the lovely, cloudless calm,
That kept her soul from earthly tumults free.
And was this soft serenity but show?
Would she at both feasts revel, holding up
Her virtue's godlike splendor to our gaze,
And riot in the secret joys of vice?
And shall the false dissembler cozen thus,
And win a safe immunity from this
That no avenger comes? By heavens she shall not!
I once adored her,—that demands revenge:—
The king shall know her treachery—the king!
[After a pause.
'Tis the sure way to win the monarch's ear!
[Exit.
SCENE X.
A chamber in the royal palace.
DUKE OF ALVA, FATHER DOMINGO.
DOMINGO.
Something to tell me!
ALVA.
Ay! a thing of moment,
Of which I made discovery to-day,
And I would have your judgment on it.
DOMINGO.
How!
Discovery! To what do you allude?
ALVA.
Prince Carlos and myself this morning met
In the queen's antechamber. I received
An insult from him—we were both in heat—
The strife grew loud—and we had drawn our swords.
Alarmed, from her apartments rushed the queen.
She stepped between us,—with commanding eye
Of conscious power, she looked upon the prince.
'Twas but a single glance,—but his arm dropped,
He fell upon my bosom—gave me then
A warm embrace, and vanished.
DOMINGO (after a pause).
This seems strange.
It brings a something to my mind, my lord!
And thoughts like these I own have often sprung
Within my breast; but I avoid such fancies—
To no one have I e'er confided them.
There are such things as double-edged swords
And untrue friends,—I fear them both.
'Tis hard to judge among mankind, but still more hard
To know them thoroughly. Words slipped at random
Are confidants offended—therefore I
Buried my secret in my breast, till time
Should drag it forth to light. 'Tis dangerous
To render certain services to kings.
They are the bolts, which if they miss the mark,
Recoil upon the archer! I could swear
Upon the sacrament to what I saw.
Yet one eye-witness—one word overheard—
A scrap of paper—would weigh heavier far
Than my most strong conviction! Cursed fate
That we are here in Spain!
ALVA.
And why in Spain?
DOMINGO.
There is a chance in every court but this
For passion to forget itself, and fall.
Here it is warned by ever-wakeful laws.
Our Spanish queens would find it hard to sin—
And only there do they meet obstacles,
Where best 'twould serve our purpose to surprise them.
ALVA.
But listen further: Carlos had to-day
An audience of the king; the interview
Lasted an hour, and earnestly he sought
The government of Flanders for himself.
Loudly he begged, and fervently. I heard him
In the adjoining cabinet. His eyes
Were red with tears when I encountered him.
At noon he wore a look of lofty triumph,
And vowed his joy at the king's choice of me.
He thanked the king. "Matters are changed," he said,
"And things go better now." He's no dissembler:
How shall I reconcile such contradictions?
The prince exults to see himself rejected,
And I receive a favor from the king
With marks of anger! What must I believe?
In truth this new-born dignity doth sound
Much more like banishment than royal favor!
DOMINGO.
And is it come to this at last? to this?
And has one moment crumbled into dust
What cost us years to build? And you so calm,
So perfectly at ease! Know you this youth?
Do you foresee the fate we may expect
Should he attain to power? The prince! No foe
Am I of his. Far other cares than these
Gnaw at my rest—cares for the throne—for God,
And for his holy church! The royal prince—
(I know him, I can penetrate his soul),
Has formed a horrible design, Toledo!
The wild design—to make himself the regent,
And set aside our pure and sacred faith.
His bosom glows with some new-fangled virtue,
Which, proud and self-sufficient, scorns to rest
For strength on any creed. He dares to think!
His brain is all on fire with wild chimeras;
He reverences the people! And is this
A man to be our king?
ALVA.
Fantastic dreams!
No more. A boy's ambition, too, perchance
To play some lofty part! What can he less?
These thoughts will vanish when he's called to rule.
DOMINGO.
I doubt it! Of his freedom he is proud,
And scorns those strict restraints all men must bear
Who hope to govern others. Would he suit
Our throne? His bold gigantic mind
Would burst the barriers of our policy.
In vain I sought to enervate his soul
In the loose joys of this voluptuous age.
He stood the trial. Fearful is the spirit
That rules this youth; and Philip soon will see
His sixtieth year.
ALVA.
Your vision stretches far!
DOMINGO.
He and the queen are both alike in this.
Already works, concealed in either breast,
The poisonous wish for change and innovation.
Give it but way, 'twill quickly reach the throne.
I know this Valois! We may tremble for
The secret vengeance of this quiet foe
If Philip's weakness hearken to her voice!
Fortune so far hath smiled upon us. Now
We must anticipate the foe, and both
Shall fall together in one fatal snare.
Let but a hint of such a thing be dropped
Before the king, proved or unproved, it reeks not!
Our point is gained if he but waver. We
Ourselves have not a doubt; and once convinced,
'Tis easy to convince another's mind.
Be sure we shall discover more if we
Start with the faith that more remains concealed.
ALVA.
But soft! A vital question! Who is he
Will undertake the task to tell the king?
DOMINGO.
Nor you, nor I! Now shall you learn, what long
My busy spirit, full of its design,
Has been at work with, to achieve its ends.
Still is there wanting to complete our league
A third important personage. The king
Loves the young Princess Eboli—and I
Foster this passion for my own designs.
I am his go-between. She shall be schooled
Into our plot. If my plan fail me not,
In this young lady shall a close ally—
A very queen, bloom for us. She herself
Asked me, but now, to meet her in this chamber.
I'm full of hope. And in one little night
A Spanish maid may blast this Valois lily.
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.
