Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, DON CARLOS, by THOMAS OTWAY

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

DON CARLOS, by THOMAS OTWAY Poet Analysis Poet's Biography
First Line: When first our author took this play in hand
Last Line: I'll e'en forsake the play-house, and turn nun.

PROLOGUE.

WHEN first our author took this play in hand,
He doubted much, and long was at a stand.
He knew the fame and memory of kings
Were to be treated of as sacred things,
Not as they're represented in this age,
Where they appear the lumber of the stage;
Used only just for reconciling tools,
Or what is worse, made villains all, or fools.
Besides, the characters he shows to-night,
He found were very difficult to write:
He found the fame of France and Spain at stake,
Therefore long paused, and feared which part to take;
Till this his judgment safest understood,
To make them both heroic as he could.
But now the greatest stop was yet unpassed;
He found himself, alas! confined too fast.
He is a man of pleasure, sirs, like you,
And therefore hardly could to business bow;
Till at the last he did this conquest get,
To make his pleasure whetstone to his wit;
So sometimes for variety he writ.
But as those blockheads, who discourse by rote,
Sometimes speak sense, although they rarely know't;
So he scarce knew to what his work would grow,
But 'twas a play, because it would be so:
Yet well he knows this is a weak pretence,
For idleness is the worst want of sense.
Let him not now of carelessness be taxed,
He'll write in earnest, when he writes the next:
Meanwhile,—
Prune his superfluous branches, never spare;
Yet do it kindly, be not too severe:
He may bear better fruit another year.

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.

PHILIP II., King of Spain.
Don CARLOS, his Son.
Don JOHN of Austria.
Marquis of POSA, the Prince's Confidant.
RUY-GOMEZ.
Officer of the Guards.

QUEEN OF SPAIN.
Duchess of EBOLI, Wife of Ruy-Gomez.
HENRIETTA.
GARCIA.

SCENE—THE COURT OF SPAIN.

ACT THE FIRST.

SCENE I.—An Apartment in the Palace.

KING and QUEEN, DON CARLOS, the Marquis of POSA, RUY-GOMEZ, the
Duchess of EBOLI, HENRIETTA, GARCIA, Attendants, and Guards
discovered.

KING. Happy the monarch, on whose brow no cares
Add weight to the bright diadem he wears;
Like me, in all that he can wish for, blest.
Renown and love, the gentlest calms of rest,
And peace, adorn my brow, enrich my breast.
To me great nations tributary are;
Though, whilst my vast dominions spread so far,
Where most I reign, I must pay homage, here.
[To the QUEEN.
Approach, bright mistress of my purest vows:
Now show me him that more religion owes
To Heaven, or to its altars more devoutly bows.
Don Car. So merchants, cast upon some savage coast,
Are forced to see their dearest treasures lost.
Curse! what's obedience? a false notion made
By priests, who when they found old cheats decayed,
By such new arts kept up declining trade. [Aside.
A father! Oh!
King. Why does my Carlos shroud
His joy, and when all's sunshine wear a cloud?
My son, thus for thy glory I provide;
From this fair charmer, and our royal bride,
Shall such a noble race of heroes spring,
As may adorn the court when thou art king.
Don Car. A greater glory I can never know
Than what already I enjoy in you.
The brightest ornaments of crowns and powers
I only can admire, as they are yours.
King. Heaven! how he stands unmoved! not the least show
Of transport.
Don Car. Not admire your happiness? I do
As much admire it as I reverence you.
Let me express the mighty joy I feel:
Thus, sir, I pay my duty when I kneel.
[Kneels to the QUEEN.
Queen. How hard it is his passion to confine!
I'm sure 'tis so, if I may judge by mine. [Aside.
Alas! my lord, you're too obsequious now.
[To Don CARLOS.
Don Car. Oh! might I but enjoy this pleasure still,
Here would I worship, and for ever kneel.
Queen. 'Fore Heaven, my lord! you know not what you do.
King. Still there appears disturbance on his brow;
And in his looks an earnestness I read,
Which from no common causes can proceed. [Aside.
I'll probe him deep. When, when, my dearest joy,
[To the QUEEN.
Shall I the mighty debt of love defray?
Hence to love's secret temple let's retire,
There on his altars kindle the amorous fire,
Then, phœnix-like, each in the flame expire.—
Still he is fixed. [Looking on Don CARLOS.] Gomez, observe the
prince.—
Yet smile on me, my charming excellence.
[To the QUEEN.
Virgins should only fears and blushes show;
But you must lay aside that title now.
The doctrine which I preach, by Heaven, is good:—
Oh, the impetuous sallies of my blood!
Queen. To what unwelcome joys I'm forced to yield?
Now fate her utmost malice has fulfilled.
Carlos, farewell; for since I must submit—
King. Now, winged with rapture, let us fly, my sweet.
My son, all troubles from thy breast resign,
And let thy father's happiness be thine.
[Exeunt KING and QUEEN, RUY-GOMEZ, Duchess of
EBOLI, HENRIETTA,
GARCIA, and Attendants.
Don Car. What king, what god would not his power forego,
To enjoy so much divinity below!
Didst thou behold her, Posa?
M. of Posa. Sir, I did.
Don Car. And is she not a sweet one? Such a bride!
O Posa, once she was decreed for mine:
Once I had hopes of bliss. Hadst thou but seen
How blest, how proud I was if I could get
But leave to lie a prostrate at her feet!
Even with a look I could my pains beguile;Nay, she in pity too would sometimes
smile;
Till at the last my vows successful proved,
And one day, sighing, she confessed she loved.
Oh! then I found no limits to our joy,
With eyes thus languishing we looked all day;
So vigorous and strong we darted beams,
Our meeting glances kindled into flames;
Nothing we found that promised not delight:
For when rude shades deprived us of the light,
As we had gazed all day, we dreamt all night.
But, after all these labours undergone,
A cruel father thus destroys his son;
In their full height my choicest hopes beguiles,
And robs me of the fruit of all my toils.
My dearest Posa, thou wert ever kind;
Bring thy best counsel, and direct my mind.

Re-enter RUY-GOMEZ.

Ruy-Gom. Still he is here. My lord!
Don Car. Your business now?
Ruy-Gom. I've with concern beheld your clouded brow.
Ah! though you've lost a beauty well might make
Your strictest honour and your duty shake,
Let not a father's ills misguide your mind,
But be obedient, though he has proved unkind.
Don Car. Hence, cynic, to dull slaves thy morals teach;
I have no leisure now to hear thee preach:
Still you'll usurp a power o'er my will.
Ruy-Gom. Sir, you my services interpret ill:
Nor need it be so soon forgot that I
Have been your guardian from your infancy.
When to my charge committed, I alone
Instructed you how to expect a crown;
Taught you ambition, and war's noblest arts,
How to lead armies, and to conquer hearts;
Whilst, though but young,
You would with pleasure read of sieges got,
And smile to hear of bloody battles fought:
And, still, though not control, I may advise,
Don Car. Alas! thy pride wears a too thin disguise:
Too well I know the falsehood of thy soul,
Which to my father rendered me so foul
That hardly as his son a smile I've known,
But always as a traitor met his frown.
My forward honour was ambition called;
Or, if my friends my early fame extolled,
You damped my father's smiles still as they sprung,
Persuading I repined he lived too long.
So all my hopes by you were frustrate made,
And, robbed of sunshine, withered in the shade.
Whilst, my good patriot! you disposed the crown
Out of my reach, to have it in your own.
But I'll prevent your policy—
Ruy-Gom. My lord,
This accusation is unjust and hard.
The king, your father, would not so upbraid
My age: is all my service thus repaid?
But I will hence, and let my master hear
How generously you reward my care;
Who, on my just complaint, I doubt not, will
At least redress the injuries I feel. [Exit.
M. of Posa. Alas! my lord, you too severely urge
Your fate; his interest with the king is large.
Besides, you know he has already seen
The transports of your passion for the queen.
The use he may of that advantage make
You ought at least to avoid, but for her sake.
Don. Car. Ah! my dear friend, thou'st touched my tenderest part;
I never yet learned the dissembling art.
Go, call him back; tell him that I implore
His pardon, and will ne'er offend him more.
The queen! kind Heaven, make her thy nearest care!
Oh! fly, o'ertake him ere he goes too far.
[Exit Marquis of POSA.
How are we bandied up and down by fate!
By so much more unhappy as we're great.
A prince, and heir to Spain's great monarch born,
I'm forced to court a slave whom most I scorn;
Who like a bramble 'mongst a cedar's boughs,
Vexes his peace under whose shades he grows.
Now he returns: assist me falsehood—down,
Thou rebel passion—

Re-enter RUY-GOMEZ and the Marquis of POSA.

Sir, I fear I've done
[To RUY-GOMEZ.
You wrong; but, if I have, you can forgive.
Heaven! can I do this abject thing, and live? [Aside.
Ruy-Gom. Ah, my good lord, it makes too large amends,
When to his vassal thus a prince descends;
Though it was something rigid and unkind,
To upbraid your faithful servant and your friend.
Don Car. Alas! no more; all jealousies shall cease;
Between us two let there be henceforth peace.
So may just Heaven assist me when I sue,
As I to Gomez always will be true.
Ruy-Gom. Stay, sir, and for this mighty favour take
All the return sincerity can make.
Blest in your father's love, as I'm in yours,
May not one fear disturb your happy hours!
Crowned with success may all your wishes be,
And you ne'er find worse enemies than me!
[Exeunt Don CARLOS and Marquis of POSA.
Nor, spite of all his greatness, shall he need:
Of too long date his ruin is decreed.
Spain's early hopes of him have been my fears;
'Twas I the charge had of his tender years,
And read in all the progress of his growth,
An untamed, haughty, hot, and furious youth;
A will unruly, and a spirit wild;
At all my precepts still with scorn he smiled.
Or when, by the power I from his father had,
Any restraint was on his pleasures laid,
Ushered with frowns on me his soul would rise,
And threaten future vengeance from his eyes.
But now to all my fears I bid adieu;
For, prince, I'll humble both your fate and you.
Here comes the star by whom my course I steer.

Re-enter Duchess of EBOLI.

Welcome, my love!
D. of Eboli. My lord, why stay you here,
Losing the pleasures of this happy night?
When all the court are melting in delight,
You toil with the dull business of the state.
Ruy-Gom. Only, my fair one, how to make thee great.
Thou takest up all the business of my heart,
And only to it pleasure canst impart.
Say, say, my goddess, when shall I be blest?
It is an age since I was happy last.
D. of Eboli. My lord, I come not hither now to hear
Your love, but offer something to your ear.
If you have well observed, you must have seen,
To-day, some strange disorders in the queen.
Ruy-Gom. Yes, such as youthful brides do still express,
Impatient longings for the happiness.
Approaching joys will so disturb the soul,
As needles always tremble near the pole.
D. of Eboli. Come, come, my lord, seem not so blind; too well
I've seen the wrongs which you from Carlos feel;
And know your judgment is too good to lose
Advantage, where you may so safely choose.
Say now, if I inform you how you may
With full revenge all your past wrongs repay—
Ruy-Gom. Blest oracle! speak how it may be done:
My will, my life, my hopes, are all thy own.
D. of Eboli. Hence then, and with your strictest cunning try
What of the queen and prince you can descry;
Watch every look, each quick and subtle glance;
Then we'll from all produce such circumstance
As shall the king's new jealousy advance.
Nay, sir, I'll try what mighty love you show:
If you will make me great, begin it now.
How, sir, d'ye stand considering what to do?
Ruy-Gom. No, but methinks I view from hence a king,
A queen, and prince, three goodly flowers spring:
Whilst on them like a subtle bee I'll prey,
Till, so their strength and virtue drawn away,
Unable to recover, each shall droop,
Grow pale, and fading hang his withered top:
Then, fraught with thyme, triumphant back I'll come,
And unlade all the precious sweets at home. [Exit.
D. of Eboli. In thy fond policy, blind fool, go on,
And make what haste thou canst to be undone,
Whilst I have nobler business of my own.
Was I bred up in greatness; have I been
Nurtured with glorious hopes to be a queen;
Made love my study, and with practised charms
Prepared myself to meet a monarch's arms;
At last to be condemned to the embrace
Of one whom nature made to her disgrace,
An old, imperfect, feeble dotard, who
Can only tell (alas!) what he would do?
On him to throw away my youth and bloom,
As jewels that are lost to enrich a tomb?
No, though all hopes are in a husband dead,
Another path to happiness I'll tread;
Elsewhere find joys which I'm in him denied:
Yet, while he can, let the slave serve my pride.
Still I'll in pleasure live, in glory shine;
The gallant, youthful Austria shall be mine:
To him with all my force of charms I'll move:
Let others toil for greatness, whilst I love. [Exit.

ACT THE SECOND.

SCENE I.—An Orange Grove, near the Palace.

Enter Don JOHN of Austria.

DON JOHN. Why should dull law rule nature, who first made
That law by which herself is now betrayed?
Ere man's corruptions made him wretched, he
Was born most noble that was born most free:
Each of himself was lord, and, unconfined,
Obeyed the dictates of his god-like mind.
Law was an innovation brought in since,
When fools began to love obedience,
And called their slavery safety and defence.
My glorious father got me in his heat,
When all he did was eminently great:
When warlike Belgia felt his conquering power,
And the proud Germans owned him emperor,
Why should it be a stain then on my blood,
Because I came not in the common road,
But born obscure, and so more like a god?
No; though his diadem another wear,
At least to all his pleasures I'll be heir.
Here I should meet my Eboli, my fair.

Enter Duchess of EBOLI.

She comes; as the bright Cyprian goddess moves,
When loose, and in her chariot drawn by doves,
She rides to meet the warlike god she loves.
D. of Eboli. Alas! my lord, you know not with what fear
And hazard I am come to meet you here.
Don John. Oh, banish it: lovers like us should fly,
And, mounted by their wishes, soar on high,
Where softest ecstasies and transports are,
While fear alone disturbs the lower air.
D. of Eboli. But who is safe when eyes are every where?
Or, if we could with happiest secrecy
Enjoy these sweets, oh, whither shall we fly
To escape that sight whence we can nothing hide?
Don John. Alas! lay this religion now aside;
I'll show thee one more pleasant, that which Jove
Set forth to the old world, when from above
He came himself, and taught his mortals love.
D. of Eboli. Will nothing then quench your unruly flame?
My lord, you might consider who I am.
Don John. I know you're her I love, what should I more
Regard
D. of Eboli. [Aside.] By Heaven, he's brave!—But can so poor
A thought possess your breast, to think that I
Will brand my name with lust and infamy?
Don John. Those who are noblest born should higher prize
Love's sweets. Oh! let me fly into those eyes!
There's something in them leads my soul astray:
As he who in a necromancer's glass
Beholds his wished-for fortune by him pass,
Yet still with greedy eyes
Pursues the vision as it glides away.
D. of Eboli. Protect me, Heaven! I dare no longer stay;
Your looks speak danger; I feel something too
That bids me fly, yet will not let me go. [Half aside.
Don John. Take vows and prayers if ever I prove false.
See at your feet the humble Austria falls. [Kneels.
D. of Eboli. Rise, rise. [Don JOHN rises.] My lord, why would you
thus deceive? [Sighs.
Don John. How many ways to wound me you contrive!
Speak, wouldst thou have an empire at thy feet?
Say, wouldst thou rule the world? I'll conquer it.
D. of Eboli. No; above empire far I could prize you,
If you would be but—
Don John. What?
D. of Eboli. For ever true.
Don John. That thou mayst ne'er have cause to fear those harms,
I'll be confined for ever in thy arms:
Nay, I'll not one short minute from thee stray;
Myself I'll on thy tender bosom lay,
Till in its warmths I'm melted all away.

Enter GARCIA.

Gar. Madam, your lord—
D. of Eboli. Oh! fly, or I'm undone. [Exit GARCIA.
Don John. Must I without thy blessing then be gone? [Kisses her
hand.
D. of Eboli. Think you that this discretion merits one? [Pulls it back
.
Don John. I'm awed:
As a sick wretch, that on his death-bed lies,
Loth with his friends to part, just as he dies,
Thus sends his soul in wishes from his eyes. [Exit.
D. of Eboli. O Heaven! what charms in youth and vigour are!
Yet he in conquest is not gone too far;
Too easily I'll not myself resign:
Ere I am his, I'll make him surely mine;
Draw him by subtle baits into the trap,
Till he's too far got in to make escape;
About him swiftly the soft snare I'll cast,
And when I have him there, I'll hold him fast.

Enter RUY-GOMEZ.

Ruy-Gom. Thus unaccompanied I subtly range
The solitary paths of dark revenge:
The fearful deer in herds to coverts run,
While beasts of prey affect to roam alone.
D. of Eboli. Ah! my dear lord, how do you spend your hours?
You little think what my poor heart endures;
Whilst, with your absence tortured, I in vain
Pant after joys I ne'er can hope to gain.
Ruy-Gom. You cannot my unkindness sure upbraid;
You should forgive those faults yourself have made.
Remember you the task you gave?
D. of Eboli. 'Tis true;
Your pardon, for I do remember now. [Sighs.
If I forgot, 'twas love had all my mind;
And 'tis no sin, I hope, to be too kind.
Ruy-Gom. How happy am I in a faithful wife!
O thou most precious blessing of my life!
D. of Eboli. Does then success attend upon your toil?
I long to see you revel in the spoil.
Ruy-Gom. What strictest diligence could do, I've done,
To incense an angry father 'gainst his son.
I to advantage told him all that's past,
Described with art each amorous glance they cast:
So that this night he shunned the marriage-bed,
Which through the court has various murmurs spread.

Enter the KING, attended by the Marquis of POSA.

See where he comes with fury in his eyes:
Kind Heaven, but grant the storm may higher rise!
If't grow too loud, I'll lurk in some dark cell,
And laugh to hear my magic work so well.
King. What's all my glory, all my pomp? how poor
Is fading greatness! or how vain is power!
Where all the mighty conquests I have seen?
I, who o'er nations have victorious been,
Now cannot quell one little foe within.
Cursed jealousy, that poisons all love's sweets!
How heavy on my heart the invader sits!
O Gomez, thou hast given my mortal wound.
Ruy-Gom. What is't does so your royal thoughts confound?
A king his power unbounded ought to have,
And, ruling all, should not be passion's slave.
King. Thou counsell'st well, but art no stranger sure
To the sad cause of what I now endure.
Know'st thou what poison thou didst lately give,
And dost not wonder to behold me live?
Ruy-Gom. I only did as by my duty tied,
And never studied any thing beside.
King. I do not blame thy duty or thy care:
Quickly, what passed between them more, declare.
How greedily my soul to ruin flies!
As he who in a fever burning liesFirst of his friends does for a drop implore,
Which tasted once, unable to give o'er,
Knows 'tis his bane, yet still thirsts after more.
Oh, then—
Ruy-Gom. I fear that you'll interpret wrong; said?
Tis true, they gazed, but 'twas not very long.
King. Lie still, my heart! Not long, was't that you
Ruy-Gom. No longer than they in your presence stayed.
King. No longer? Why, a soul in less time flies
To Heaven; and they have changed theirs at their eyes.
Hence, abject fears, begone! she's all divine!
Speak, friends, can angels in perfection sin?
Ruy-Gom. Angels, that shine above, do oft bestow
Their influence on poor mortals here below.
King. But Carlos is my son, and always near;
Seems to move with me in my glorious sphere.
True, she may shower promiscuous blessings down
On slaves that gaze for what falls from a crown;
But when too kindly she his brightness sees,
It robs my lustre to add more to his.
But oh! I dare not think
That those eyes should at least so humble be
To stoop to him, when they had vanquished me.
M. of Posa. Sir, I am proud to think I know the prince,
That he of virtue has too great a sense
To cherish but a thought beyond the bound
Of strictest duty. He to me has owned
How much was to his former passion due,
Yet still confessed he above all prized you.
Ruy-Gom. You better reconcile, sir, than advise:
Be not more charitable than you're wise.
The king is sick, and we should give him ease,
But first find out the depth of his disease.
Too sudden cures have oft pernicious grown;
We must not heal up festered wounds too soon.
King. But this then you a power would o'er me gain,
Wounding to let me linger in the pain.
I'm stung, and won't the torture long endure:
Serpents that wound have blood those wounds to cure.
Ruy-Gom. Good Heaven forbid that I should ever dare
To question virtue in a queen so fair,
Though she her eyes cast on your glorious son!
Men oft see treasures, and yet covet none.
King. Think not to blind me with dark ironies,
The truth disguised in obscure contraries.
No, I will trace his windings; all her dark
And subtlest paths, each little action mark,
If she prove false, as yet I fear, she dies.

Enter QUEEN attended, and HENRIETTA.

Ha! here! Oh, let me turn away my eyes,
For all around she'll her bright beams display:
Should I to gaze on the wild meteor stay,
Spite of myself I shall be led astray.
[Exeunt KING and Marquis of POSA.
Queen. How scornfully he is withdrawn!
Sure ere his love he'd let me know his power,
As Heaven oft thunders ere it sends a shower.
This Spanish gravity is very odd:
All things are by severity so awed,
That little Love dares hardly peep abroad.
Hen. Alas! what can you from old age expect,
When frail uneasy men themselves neglect?
Some little warmth perhaps may be behind,
Though such as in extinguished fires you'll find;
Where some remains of heat the ashes hold,
Which, if for more you open, straight are cold.
Queen. 'Twas interest and safety of the state,—
Interest, that bold imposer on our fate;
That always to dark ends misguides our wills,
And with false happiness smooths o'er our ills.
It was by that unhappy France was led,
When, though by contract I should Carlos wed,
I was an offering made to Philip's bed.
Why sigh'st thou, Henrietta?
Hen. Who is't can
Know your sad fate, and yet from grief refrain?
With pleasure oft I've heard you smiling tell
Of Carlos' love.
Queen. And did it please you well?
In that brave prince's courtship there did meet
All that we could obliging call, or sweet.
At every point he with advantage stood;
Fierce as a lion, if provoked abroad;
Else soft as angels, charming as a god.
Hen. One so accomplished, and who loved you too,
With what resentments must he part with you!
Methinks I pity him—But oh! in vain:
He's both above my pity and my pain. [Aside.
Queen. What means this strange disorder?
Hen. Yonder view
That which I fear will discompose you too.

Enter Don CARLOS and Marquis of POSA.

Queen. Alas, the prince! There to my mind appears
Something that in me moves unusual fears.
Away, Henrietta— [Offers to go.
Don Car. Why would you be gone?
Is Carlos' sight ungrateful to you grown?
If 'tis, speak: in obedience I'll retire.
Queen. No, you may speak, but must advance no nigher.
Don Car. Must I then at that awful distance sue,
As our forefathers were compelled to do,
When they petitions made at that great shrine,
Where none but the high priest might enter in?
Let me approach; I've nothing for your ear,
But what's so pure it might be offered there.
Queen. Too long 'tis dangerous for me here to stay:
If you must speak, proceed: what would you say?
[Don CARLOS kneels.
Nay, this strange ceremony pray give o'er.
Don Car. Was I ne'er in this posture seen before?
Ah! can your cruel heart so soon resign
All sense of these sad sufferings of mine?
To your more just remembrance, if you can,
Recall how fate seemed kindly to ordain
That once you should be mine; which I believed:
Though now, alas! I find I was deceived.
Queen. Then, sir, you should your fate, not me upbraid.
Don Car. I will not say you've broke the vows you made;
Only implore you would not quite forget
The wretch you've oft seen dying at your feet;
And now no other favour begs to have,
Than, such kind pity as becomes your slave.
For 'midst your highest joys, without a crime,
At least you now and then may think of him.
Queen. If e'er you loved me, you would this forbear;
It is a language which I dare not hear.
My heart and faith become your father's right,
All other passions I must now forget.
Don Car. Can then a crown and majesty dispense
Upon your heart such mighty influence,
That I must be for ever banished thence?
Had I been raised to all the heights of power,
In triumph crowned the world's great emperor,
Of all its riches, all its state possessed,
Yet you should still have governed in my breast.
Queen. In vain on her you obligations lay,
Who wants not will, but power to repay.
Hen. Yet had you Henrietta's heart, you would
At least strive to afford him all you could. [Aside.
Don Car. Oh! say not you want power; you may with one
Kind look pay doubly all I've undergone.
And knew you but the innocence I bear,
How pure, how spotless all my wishes are,
You would not scruple to supply my want,
When all I ask you may so safely grant.
Queen. I know not what to grant; too well I find
That still at least I cannot be unkind.
Don Car. Afford me then that little which I crave.
Queen. You shall not want what I may let you have. [Gives her hand,
sighing.
Don Car. Like one
That sees a heap of gems before him cast,
Thence to choose any that may please him best;
From the rich treasure whilst I choice should make,
Dazzled with all, I know not where to take.
I would be rich—
Queen. Nay, you too far encroach;
I fear I have already given too much. [Turns from him.
Don Car. Oh, take not back again the appearing bliss:
How difficult's the path to happiness!
Whilst up the precipice we climb with pain,
One little slip throws us quite down again.
Stay, madam, though you nothing more can give
Than just enough to keep a wretch alive,
At least remember how I've loved—
Queen. I will.
Don Car. That was so kind, that I must beg more still;
Let me love on: it is a very poor
And easy grant, yet I'll request no more.
Queen. Do you believe that you can love retain,
And not expect to be beloved again?
Don Car. Yes, I will love, and think I'm happy too,
So long as I can find that you are so;
All my disquiets banish from my breast;
I will endeavour to do so at least. [Sighing deeply.
Or, if I can't my miseries outwear,
They never more shall come to offend your ear.
Queen. Love then, brave prince, whilst I'll thy love admire;
[Gives her hand, which Don CARLOS during all this speech kisses
eagerly.
Yet keep the flame so pure, such chaste desire,
That without spot hereafter we above
May meet, when we shall come all soul, all love.
Till when—Oh! whither am I run astray?
I grow too weak, and must no longer stay:
For should I, the soft charm so strong would grow,
I find that I shall want the power to go.
[Exeunt QUEEN and HENRIETTA.
Don Car. Oh, sweet—
If such transport be in a taste so small,
How blest must he be that possesses all!
Where am I, Posa? Where's the queen?
[Standing amazed.
M. of Posa. My lord,
A while some respite to your heart afford:
The queen's retired—
Don Car. Retired! And did she then
Just show me Heaven, to shut it in again?
This little ease augments my pain the more;
For now I'm more impatient than before,
And have discovered riches make me mad.
M. of Posa. But since those treasures are not to be had,
You should correct desires that drive you on
Beyond that duty which becomes a son.
No longer let the tyrant love invade;
The brave may by themselves be happy made.
You to your father now must all resign.
Don Car. But ere he robbed me of her, she was mine.
To be my friend is all thou hast to do,
For half my miseries thou canst not know.
Make myself happy! Bid the damned do so;
Who in sad flames must be for ever tossed,
Yet still in view of the loved Heaven they've lost.
[Exeunt.

ACT THE THIRD.

SCENE I.—The same.

Enter Don JOHN of Austria.

DON JOHN. How vainly would dull moralists impose
Limits on love, whose nature brooks no laws?
Love is a god, and like a god should be
Inconstant, with unbounded liberty,
Rove as he list—
I find it; for even now I've had a feast,
Of which a god might covet for a taste.
Methinks I yet
See with what soft devotion in her eyes
The tender lamb came to the sacrifice.
Oh, how her charms surprised me as I lay!
Like too near sweets they took my sense a way;
And I even lost the power to reach at joy.
But those cross witchcrafts soon unravelled were,
And I was lulled in trances sweeter far:
As anchored vessels in calm harbours ride,
Rocked on the swellings of the floating tide.
How wretched's then the man, who though alone
He thinks he's blest, yet, as confined to one,
Is but at best a prisoner on a throne?

Enter the KING attended, Marquis of POSA, and RUY-GOMEZ.

King. Ye mighty powers, whose substitutes we are,
On whom you've lain of earth the rule and care,
Why all our toils do you reward with ill,
And to those weighty cares add greater still?
Oh, how could I your deities enrage,
That blessed my youth, thus to afflict my age?
A queen and a son's incest! dismal thought!
Don John. What is't so soon his majesty has brought
From the soft arms of his young bride? [To RUY-GOMEZ.
King. Ay, true!
Is she not, Austria, young and charming too?
Dost thou not think her to a wonder fair?
Tell me!
Don John. By Heaven, more bright than planets are:
Her beauty's force might even their power out-do.
King. Nay, she's as false, and as unconstant too.
O Austria, that a form so outward bright
Should be within all dark and ugly night!
For she, to whom I'd dedicated all
My love, that dearest jewel of my soul,
Takes from its shrine the precious relic down,
To adorn a little idol of her own,—
My son! that rebel both to Heaven and me!
Oh, the distracting throes of jealousy!
But as a drowning wretch, just like to sink,
Seeing him that threw him in upon the brink,
At the third plunge lays hold upon his foe,
And tugs him down into destruction too;
So thou, from whom these miseries I've known,
Shalt bear me out again, or with me drown.
[Seizes roughly on RUY-GOMEZ.
Ruy-Gom. My loyalty will teach me how to wait
All the successes of my sovereign's fate.
What is't, great sir, you would command me?
King. How!
What is't?—I know not what I'd have thee do:
Study revenge for me, 'tis that I want.
Don John. Alas! what frenzy does your temper haunt?
Revenge! on whom?
King. On my false queen and son.
Ruy-Gom. On them! good Heaven! what is't that they have done?
Oh, had my tongue been cursed, ere it had bred
This jealousy! [Half aside.
King. Then cancel what thou'st said.
Didst thou not tell me that thou saw'st him stand
Printing soft vows and kisses on her hand,
Whilst in requital she such glances gave,
Would quicken a dead lover in his grave?
Ruy-Gom. I did: and what less could the queen allow
To him than you to every vassal show?
The affording him that little from love's store
Implied that she for you reserved much more.
King. Oh, doubtless, she must have a wondrous store
Of love, that sells it at a rate so poor.
Now thou'dst rebate my passion with advice;
And, when thou shouldst be active, wouldst be wise.No, lead me where I may
their
incest see—
Do, or by Heaven—do, and I'll worship thee!
Oh, how my passions drive me to and fro!
Under their heavy weight I yield and bow.
But I'll re-gather yet my strength, and stand
Brandishing all my thunder in my hand.
M. of Posa. And may it be sent forth, and where it goes
Light fatally and heavy on your foes!
But let your loyal son and consort bear
No ill, since they of any guiltless are.
Here with my sword defiance I proclaim
To that bold traitor that dares wrong their fame.
Don John. I too dare with my life their cause make good.
King. Sure well their innocence you've understood,
That you so prodigal are of your blood.
Or wouldst thou speak me comfort? I would find
'Mongst all my counsellors at least one kind.
Yet any thing like that I must not hear;
For so my wrongs I should too tamely bear,
And weakly grow my own mean flatterer.
Posa, withdraw—[Exit Marquis of POSA.]—My lords, all this you've
heard.
Ruy-Gom. Yes, I observed it, sir, with strict regard:
The young lord's friendship was too great to hide.
King. Is he then so to my false son allied?
I am environed every way, and all
My fate's unhappy engines plot my fall.
Like Cæsar in the senate, thus I stand,
Whilst ruin threatened him on every hand.
From each side he had warning he must die;
Yet still he braved his fate, and so will I.
To strive for ease would but add more to pain:
As streams that beat against their banks in vain,
Retreating, swell into a flood again.
No, I'll do things the world shall quake to hear;
My just revenge so true a stamp shall bear,
As henceforth Heaven itself shall emulate,
And copy all its vengeance out by that.
All but Ruy-Gomez I must have withdrawn,
I've something to discourse with him alone.
[Exeunt Don JOHN and Attendants.
Now, Gomez, on thy truth depends thy fate;
Thou'st wrought my sense of wrong to such a height,
Within my breast it will no longer stay,
But grows each minute till it force its way.
I would not find myself at last deceived.
Ruy-Gom. Nor would I 'gainst your reason be believed.
Think, sir, your jealousy to be but fear
Of losing treasures which you hold so dear.
Your queen and son may yet be innocent:
I know but what they did, not what they meant.
King. Meant! what should looks, and sighs, and pressings mean?
No, no; I need not hear it o'er again.
No repetitions—something must be done.
Now there's no ill I know that I would shun.
I'll fly, till them I've in their incest found,
Full charged with rage, and with my vengeance hot,
Like a grenado from a cannon shot,
Which lights at last upon the enemy's ground,
Then, breaking, deals destruction all around. [Exit.
Ruy-Gom. So, now his jealousy is at the top,
Each little blast will serve to keep it up.
But stay; there's something I've omitted yet;—
Posa's my enemy; and true, he's great.
Alas! I'm armed 'gainst all that he can do;
For my snare's large enough to hold him too:
Yet I'll disguise that purpose for a while;
But when he with the rest is caught i' the toil,
I'll boldly out, and wanton in the spoil.

Re-enter Marquis of POSA.

M. of Posa. My lord Ruy-Gomez! and the king not here!
You, who so eminent a favourite are
In a king's eye, should ne'er be absent thence.
Ruy-Gom. No, sir, 'tis you that by a rising prince
Are cherished, and so tread a safer way,
Rich in that bliss the world waits to enjoy.
M. of Posa. Since what may bless the world we ought to prize,
I wish there were no public enemies;
No lurking serpents poison to dispense,
Nor wolves to prey on noble innocence;
No flatterers, that with royal goodness sport,
Those stinking weeds that overrun a court.
Ruy-Gom. Nay, if good wishes anything could do,
I have as earnest wishes, sir, as you:
That though perhaps our king enjoys the best
Of power, yet may he still be doubly blest.
May he—
M. of Posa. Nay, Gomez, you shall ne'er outdo me there;
Since for great Philip's good I would you were,
If possible, more honest than you are.
Ruy-Gom. Why, Posa; what defect can you discern?
M. of Posa. Nay, half your mysteries I'm yet to learn
Though this I'll boldly justify to all,—
That you contrive a generous prince's fall.
[RUY-GOMEZ smiles.
Nay, think not by your smiles and careless port
To laugh it off; I come not here to sport;
I do not, sir.
Ruy-Gom. Young lord, what meaning has
This heat?
M. of Posa. To let you see I know you're base.
Ruy-Gom. Nay, then, I pardon ask that I did smile:
By Heaven, I thought you'd jested all this while.
Base!
M. of Posa. Yes, more base than impotent or old.
All virtue in thee, like thy blood, runs cold:
Thy rotten putrid carcass is less full
Of rancour and contagion than thy soul.
Even now before the king I saw it plain;
But duty in that presence awed me then;
Yet there I dared thy treason with my sword:
But still
Thy villany talked all; courage had not a word.
True, thou art old; yet, if thou hast a friend,
To whom thy cursèd cause thou darest commend;
'Gainst him in public I'll the innocence
Maintain of the fair queen and injured prince.
Ruy-Gom. Farewell, bold champion!
Learn better how your passions to disguise;
Appear less choleric, and be more wise. [Exit.
M. of Posa. How frail is all the glory we design,
Whilst such as these have power to undermine!
Unhappy prince! who mightst have safely stood,
If thou hadst been less great, or not so good.
Why the vile monster's blood did I not shed,
And all the vengeance draw on my own head?
My honour so had had this just defence,—
That I preserved my parton and my prince.

Enter Don CARLOS and the QUEEN.

Brave Carlos—ha! he's here. O sir, take heed;
By an unlucky fate your love is led.
The king—the king your father's jealous grown;
Forgetting her, his queen, or you, his son,
Calls all his vengeance up against you both.
Don Car. Has then the false Ruy-Gomez broke his oath,
And, after all, my innocence betrayed?
M. of Posa. Yes, all his subtlest snares are for you laid.
The king within this minute will be here,
And you are ruined, if but seen with her.
Retire, my lord—
Queen. How! is he jealous grown?
I thought my virtue he had better known.
His unjust doubts have soon found out the way
To make their entry on our marriage day;
For yet he has not known with me a night.
Perhaps his tyranny is his delight;
And to such height his cruelty is grown,
He'd exercise it on his queen and son.
But since, my lord, this time we must obey
Our interest, I beg you would not stay:
Not seeing you, he may to me be just.
Don Car. Should I then leave you, madam?
Queen. Yes, you must.
Don Car. Not then when storms against your virtue rise.
No; since to lose you wretched Carlos dies,
He'll have the honour of it, in your cause.
This is the noblest thing that Fate could do;
She thus abates the rigour of her laws,
Since 'tis some pleasure but to die for you.
Queen. Talk not of death, for that even cowards dare,
When their base fears compel them to despair:
Hope's the far nobler passion of the mind;
Fortune's a mistress that's with caution kind;
Knows that the constant merit her alone,
They who, though she seem froward, yet court on.
Don Car. To wretched minds thus still some comfort gleams,
And angels ease our griefs, though but with dreams.
I have too oft already been deceived,
And the cheat's grown too plain to be believed,
You, madam, bid me go.
[Looking earnestly at the QUEEN.
Queen. You must.
M. of Posa. You shall.
Alas! I love you, would not see you fall;
And yet may find some way to evade it all.
Don Car. Thou, Posa, ever wert my truest friend;
I almost wish thou wert not now so kind.
Thou of a thing that's lost tak'st too much care;
And you, fair angel, too indulgent are. [To the QUEEN.
Great my despair; but still my love is higher.
Well—in obedience to you I'll retire;
Though during all the storm I will be nigh,
Where, If I see the danger grow too high,
To save you, madam, I'll come forth and die. [Exit.

Re-enter KING and RUY-GOMEZ.

King. Who would have guessed that this had ever been? [Seeing the
Marquis of POSA and the QUEEN
Distraction! where shall my revenge begin?
Why, he's the very bawd to all their sin;
And to disguise it puts on friendship's mask:
But his despatch, Ruy-Gomez, is thy task.
With him pretend some private conference,
And under that disguise seduce him hence;
Then in some place fit for deed impart
The business, by a poniard to his heart.
Ruy-Gomez. 'Tis done—
King. So, madam! [Steps to the QUEEN.
Queen. By the fury in your eyes,
I understand you're come to tyrannize.
I hear you are already jealous grown,
And dare suspect my virtue with your son.
King. O womankind! thy mysteries who can scan,
Too deep for easy, weak, believing man?
Hold, let me look: indeed you're wondrous fair;
So, on the outside, Sodom's apples were:
And yet within, when opened to the view,
Not half so dangerous or so foul as you.
Queen. Unhappy, wretched woman that I am!
And you unworthy of a husband's name!
Do you not blush?
King. Yes, madam, for your shame.
Blush, too, my judgment e'er should prove so faint,
To let me choose a devil for a saint.
When first I saw and loved that tempting eye,
The fiend within the flame I did not spy;
But still ran on, and cherished my desires,
For heavenly beams mistook infernal fires;
Such raging fires as you have since thought fit
Alone my son, my son's hot youth should meet.
O vengeance, vengeance!
Queen. Poor ungenerous king!
How mean's the soul from which such thoughts must spring!
Was it for this I did so late submit
To let you whine and languish at my feet;
When with false oaths you did my heart beguile
And proffered all your empire for a smile?
Then, then my freedom 'twas I did resign,
Though you still swore you would preserve it mine.
And still it shall be so, for from this hour
I vow to hate, and never see you more.
Nay, frown not, Philip, for you soon shall know
I can resent and rage as well as you.
King. By hell! her pride's as raging as her lust.
A guard there! seize the queen! [Enter Guard.

Re-enter Don CARLOS; he intercepts the Guards.

Don Car. Hold, sir, be just.
First look on me, whom once you called your son,
A title I was always proud to own.
King. Good Heaven! to merit this what have I done,
That he too dares before my sight appear?
Don Car. Why, sir, where is the cause that I should fear?
Bold in my innocence, I come to know
The reason why you use this princess so.
King. Sure I shall find some way to raise this siege:
He talks as if 'twere for his privilege.
Foul ravisher of all my honour, hence!
But stay! Guards, with the queen secure the prince.
Wherefore in my revenge should I be slow?
Now in my reach, I'll dash them at a blow.

Re-enter Don JOHN of Austria, with the Duchess of EBOLI,
HENRIETTA,
and GARCIA.

Don John. I come, great sir, with wonder here, to see
Your rage grow up to this extremity
Against your beauteous queen, and loyal son;
What is't that they to merit chains have done?
Or is't your own wild jealousy alone?
King. O Austria, thy vain inquiry cease,
If thou hast any value for thy peace.
My mighty wrongs so loud an accent bear,
'Twould make thee miserable but to hear.
Don Car. Father,—if I may dare to call you so,
Since now I doubt if I'm your son or no,—
As you have sealed my doom, I may complain.
King. Will then that monster dare to speak again?
Don Car. Yes, dying men should not their thoughts disguise;
And, since you take such joy in cruelties,
Ere of my death the new delight begin,
Be pleased to hear how cruel you have been.
Time was that we were smiled on by our fate,
You not unjust, nor I unfortunate:
Then, then I was your son, and you were glad
To hear my early praise was talked abroad:
Then love's dear sweets you to me would display;
Told me where this rich, beauteous treasure lay,
And how to gain't instructed me the way.
I came, and saw, and loved, and blessed you for't.
But then when love had sealed her to my heart,
You violently tore her from my side:
And, 'cause my bleeding wound I could not hide,
But still some pleasure to behold her took,
You now will have my life but for a look;
Wholly forgetting all the pains I bore,
Your heart with envious jealousy boils o'er,
'Cause I can love no less, and you no more.
Hen. Alas! how can you hear his soft complaint,
And not your hardened, stubborn heart relent?
Turn, sir; survey that comely, awful man,
And to my prayers be cruel if you can.
King. Away, deluder! who taught thee to sue?
D. of Eboli. Loving the queen, what is't she less can do,
Than lend her aid against the dreadful storm?
King. Why, can the devil dwell too in that form?
This is their little engine by the bye,
A scout to watch and tell when danger's nigh.
Come, pretty sinner, thou'lt inform me all,
How, where, and when; nay, do not fear—you shall.
Hen. Ah, sir, unkind! [Kneels.
King. Now hold they siren's tongue:
Who would have thought there was a witch so young?
Don John. Can you to suing beauty stop your ears?
[Raises up HENRIETTA and makes his address to her.
Heaven lays its thunder by, and gladly hears,
When angels are become petitioners.
D. of Eboli. Ha! what makes Austria so officious there?
That glance seems as it sent his heart to her.
[Aside to GARCIA.
Don. Car. A banquet then of blood since you design,
Yet you may satisfy yourself with mine.
I love the queen, I have confessed, 'tis true:
Proud to to think I love her more than you;
Though she, by Heaven, is clear;—but I indeed
Have been unjust, and do deserve to bleed.
There were no lawless thoughts that I did want,
Which love had power to ask, or beauty grant;
Though I ne'er yet found hopes to raise them on,
For she did still preserve her honour's throne,
And dash the bold aspiring devils down.
If to her cause your do not credit give,
Fondly against your happiness you'll strive;
As some lose Heaven, because they won't believe.
Queen. Whilst, prince, my preservation you design,
Blot not your virtue to add more to mine.
The clearness of my truth I'd not have shown
By any other light besides its own.—
No, sir, he through despair all this has said,
And owns offences which he never made.
Why should you think that I would do you wrong?
Must I needs be unchaste because I'm young?
King. Unconstant wavering heart, why heavest thou so?
I shiver all, and know not what I do.
I who re now have armies led to fight,
Thought war a sport, and danger a delight,
Whole winter nights stood under Heaven's wide roof,
Daring my foes, now am not beauty-proof.
Oh, turn away those basilisks, thy eyes;
The infection's fatal, and who sees them dies.
[Going away.
Queen. Oh, do not fly me; I have no design
Upon your life, for you may yet save mine. [Kneels.
Or if at last I must my breath submit,
Here take it, 'tis an offering at your feet:
Will you not look on me, my dearest lord?
King. Why? wouldst thou live?
Queen. Yes, if you'll say the word.
Don Car. O Heaven! how coldly and unmoved he sees
A praying beauty prostrate on her knees!
Rise, madam—[Steps to take her up.
King. bold encroacher, touch her not:
Into my breast her glances thick are shot.
Not true!—Stay, let me see—by Heaven, thou art—
[Looks earnestly on her.
A false vile woman—O my foolish heart!
I given thee life: But from this time refrain,
And never come into my sight again:
Be banished ever.
Queen. This you must not do,
At least till I've convinced you I am true.
Grant me but so much time; and, when that's done,
If you think fit, for ever I'll be gone.
King. I've all this while been angry, but in vain:
She heats me first, then strokes me tame again.
Oh, wert thou true, how happy should I be!
Think'st thou that I have joy to part with thee?
No, all my kingdom for the bliss I'd give—
Nay, though it were not so—but to believe.
Come, for I can't avoid it, cheat me quite!
Queen. I would not, sir, deceive you if I might.
But if you'll take my oaths, by all above,
'Tis you, and only you, that I will love.
King. Thus as a mariner that sails along,
With pleasure hears the enticing siren's song,
Unable quite his strong desires to bound,
Boldly leaps in, though certain to be drowned,—
Come to my bosom then, make no delay;
[Takes her in his arms.
My rage is hushed, and I have room for joy.
Queen. Again you'll think that I unjust will prove.
King. No, thou art all o'er truth, and I all love.
Oh that we might for ever thus remain
In folder arms, and never part again!
Queen. Command me anything, and try your power.
King. Then from this minute ne'er see Carlos more.—
Thou slave, that darest do ill with such a port,
For ever here I banish thee my court.
Within some cloister lead a private life,
That I may love and rule without this strife.
Here, Eboli, receive her to thy charge:
The treasure's precious, and the trust is large.
Whilst I, retiring hence, myself make fit
To wait for joys which are too fierce to meet. [Exit.
Don Car. My exile from his presence I can bear
With pleasure: but, no more to look on her!
Oh, 'tis a dreadful curse I cannot bear.
No, madam, all his power shall nothing do:
I'll stay and take my banishment from you.
Do you command me, see how far I'll fly.
Queen. Will Carlos be at last my enemy?
Consider, this submission I have shown,
More to preserve your safety than my own.
Ungratefully you needless ways devise,
To lose a life which I so dearly prize.
Don Car. So now her fortune's made, and I am left
Alone, a naked wanderer to shift. [Aside.
Madam, you might have spared the cruelty;
[To the QUEEN.
Blessed with your sight, I was prepared to die.
But now to lose it drives me to despair,
Making me wise to die, and yet not dare.
Well, to some solitary shore I'll roam,
And never more into your presence come,
Since I already find I'm troublesome. [Going.
Queen. Stay, sir, yet stay:—you shall not leave me so.
Don Car. Ha!
Queen. I must talk with you before you go.
O Carlos, how unhappy is our state!
How foul a game was played us by our fate!
Who promised fair when we did first begin,
Till envying to see us like to win,
Straight fell to cheat, and threw the false lot in.
My vows to you I now remember all.
Don Car. O madam, I can hear no more. [Kneels.
Queen. You shall;— [Kneels too.
For I can't choose but let you know that I,
If you'll resolve on't, yet will with you die.
Don Car. Sure nobler gallantry was never known!
Good Heaven! this blessing is too much for one:
No, 'tis enough for me to die alone.
My father, all my foes, I now forgive.
Queen. Nay, sir, by all our loves I charge you live.
But to what country wheresoe'er you go,
Forget not me, for I'll remember you.
Don Car. Shall I such virtue and such charms forget?
No, never!
Queen. Oh that we had never met,
But in our distant climates still been free!
I might have heard of you, and you of me:
So towards happiness more safely moved,
And never been thus wretched, yet have loved.
What makes you look so wildly? Why d'ye start?
Don Car. A faint cold damp is thickening round my heart.
Queen. What shall we do?
Don Car. Do anything but part;
Or stay so long till my poor soul expires
In view of all the glory it admires.
D. of Eboli. In such a lover how might I be blest!
Oh! were I of that noble heart possessed,
How soft, how easy would I make his bands! [Aside.
But, madam, you forget the king's commands:
[To the QUEEN.
Longer to stay, your dangers will renew.
Don Car. Ah, princess! lover's pains you never knew;
Or what it is to part, as we must do.
Part too for ever!
After one minute never more to stand
Fixed on those eyes, or pressing this soft hand!
'Twere but enough to feed one, and not starve,
Yet that is more than I did e'er deserve;
Though fate to us is niggardly and poor,
That from eternity can't spare one hour.
Queen. If it were had, that hour would soon be gone,
And we should wish to draw another on.No, rigorous necessity has made
Us both his slaves, and now will be obeyed.
Come, let us try the parting blow to bear.
Adieu! [Looking at each other.
Don Car. Farewell! I'm fixed and rooted here;
I cannot stir—
Queen. Shall I the way then show?
Now hold, my heart—
[Goes to the door, stops, and turns back again.
Nay, sir, why don't you go?
Don Car. Why do you stay?
Queen. I won't—
Don Car. You shall a while. [Kneels.
With one look more my miseries beguile,
That may support my heart till you are gone!
Queen. O Eboli! thy help, or I'm undone.
[Takes hold on her.
Here, take it then, and with it too my life!
[Leans into her arms.
Don Car. My courage with my tortures is at strife,
Since my griefs cowards are, and dare not kill,
I'll try to vanquish and out-toil the ill.
Well, madam, now I'm something hardier grown:
Since I at last perceive you must be gone,
To venture the encounter I'll be bold;
[Leads her to the door.
For certainly my heart will so long hold.
Farewell! be happy as you're fair and true.
Queen. And all Heaven's kindest angels wait on you! [Exeunt
QUEEN,
Duchess of EBOLI,
HENRIETTA, and GRACIA.
Don Car. Thus long I've wandered in love's crooked way,
By hope's deluded meteor led astray;
For, ere I've half the dangerous desert crossed,
The glimmering light's gone out, and I am lost.
[Exit.

ACT THE FOURTH.

SCENE I.—The Ante-Chamber to the QUEEN'S Apartment.

Enter Don CARLOS and Marquis of POSA.

DON CAR. The next is the apartment of the queen:
In vain I try, I must not venture in. [Goes toward the door but returns.
Thus is it with the souls of murdered men,
Who to their bodies would again repair;
But, finding that they cannot enter there,
Mourning and groaning wander in the air.
Robbed of my love, and as unjustly thrown
From all those hopes that promised me a crown,
My heart, with the dishonours to me done,
Is poisoned, swells too mighty for my breast;
But it will break, and I shall be at rest.
No; dull despair this soul shall never load:
Though patience be the virtue of a god,
Gods never feel the ills that govern here,
Or are above the injuries we bear.
"Father" and "king"; both names bear mighty sense:
Yet sure there's something too in "son" and "prince.
I was born high, and will not fall less great;
Since triumph crowned my birth, I'll have my fate
As glorious and majestic too as that.
To Flanders, Posa, straight my letters send;
Tell them the injured Carlos is their friend;
And that to head their forces I design;
So vindicate their cause, if they dare mine.
M. of Posa. To the rebels?
Don Car. No, they're friends; their cause is just;
Or, when I make it mine, at least it must.
Let the common rout like beasts love to be dull,
Whilst sordidly they live at ease and full,
Senseless what honour or ambition means,
And ignorantly drag their load of chains.
I am a prince, have had a crown in view,
And cannot brook to lose the prospect now.
If thou'rt my friend, do not my will delay.
M. of Posa. I'll do't. [Exit].

Enter Duchess of EBOLI.

D. of Eboli. My lord.
Don Car. Who calls me?
D. of Eboli. You must stay.
Don Car. What news of fresh affliction can you bear?
D. of Eboli. Suppose it were the queen; you'd stay for her?
Don Car. For her? yes, stay an age, for ever stay;
Stay even till time itself should pass away;
Fix here a statue never to remove,
An everlasting monument of love.
Though, may a thing so wretched as I am
But the least place in her remembrance claim?
D. of Eboli. Yes, if you dare believe me, sir, you do;
We both can talk of nothing else but you:
Whilst from the theme even emulation springs,
Each striving who shall say the kindest things.
Don Car. But from that charity I poorly live,
Which only pities, and can nothing give.
D. of Eboli. Nothing! Propose what 'tis you claim, and I,
For aught you know, may be security.
Don Car. No, madam, what's my due none e'er can pay;
There stands that angel, Honour, in the way,
Watching his charge with never-sleeping eyes,
And stops my entrance into paradise.
D. of Eboli. What paradise? What pleasures can you know,
Which are not in my power to bestow?
Don Car. Love, love, and all those eager, melting charms
The queen must yield when in my father's arms.
That queen, so excellently, richly fair,
Jove, could he come again a lover here,
Would court mortality to die for her.
O madam, take not pleasure to renew
Those pains, which if you felt, you would not do.
D. of Eboli. Unkindly urged: think you no sense I have
Of what you feel? Now you may take your leave.
Something I had to say; but let it die.
Don Car. Why, madam, who has injured you? Not I.
D. of Eboli. Nay, sir, your presence I would not detain:
Alas! you do not hear that I complain.
Though, could you half of my misfortunes see,
Methinks you should incline to pity me.
Don Car. I cannot guess what mournful tale you'd tell;
But I am certain you prepare me well.
Speak, madam.
D. of Eboli. Say I loved, and with a flame
Which even melts my tender heart to name;
Loved too a man, I will not say ingrate,
Because he's far above my birth or fate;
Yet so far he at least does cruel prove,
He prosecutes a dead and hopeless love,
Starves on a barren rock, and won't be blest,
Though I invite him kindly to a feast.
Don Car. What stupid animal could senseless lie,
Quickened by beams from that illustrious eye?
D. of Eboli. Nay, to increase your wonder, you shall know
That I, alas! am forced to tell him too,
Till even I blush, as now I tell it you.
Don Car. You neither shall have cause of shame or fear,
Whose secrets safe within my bosom are.
D. of Eboli. Then farther I the riddle may explain:
Survey that face, and blame me if you can.
[Shows him his own picture.
Don Car. Distraction of my eyes! what have they seen?
'Tis my own picture which I sent the queen,
When to her fame I paid devotion first,
Expecting bliss, but lost it: I am cursed,
Cursed too in thee, who from my saint darest steal
The only relic left her of my zeal,
And with the sacrilege attempt my heart.
Wert thou more charming than thou think'st thou art,
Almighty love preserves the fort for her,
And bids defiance to thy entrance there.
D. of Eboli. Neglected! Scorned by father and by son!
What a malicious course my stars have run!
But since I meet with such unlucky fate
In love, I'll try how I can thrive in hate:
My own dull husband may assist in that.
To his revenge I'll give him fresh alarms,
And with the gray old wizard muster charms.
I have't; thanks, thanks, revenge! Prince, 'tis thy bane. [Aside.
Can you forgive me, sir? I hope you can. [Mildly.
I'll try to recompense the wrongs I've done,
And better finish what is ill begun.
Don Car. Madam, you at so strange a rate proceed,
I shall begin to think you loved indeed.
D. of Eboli. No matter: be but to my honour true,
As you shall ever find I'll be to you.
The queen's my charge, and you may, on that score,
Presume that you shall see her yet once more.
I'll lead you to those so-much worshipped charms,
And yield you to my happy rival's arms.
Don Car. In what a mighty sum shall I be bound!
I did not think such virtue could be found.
Thou mistress of all best perfections, stay:
Fain I in gratitude would something say,
But am too far in debt for thanks to pay.

Enter Don JOHN of Austria.

Don John. Where is that prince, he whose afflictions speak
So loud, as all hearts but his own might break?
Don Car. My lord, what fate has left me, I am here,
Mere man, of all my comfort stripped and bare.
Once, like a vine, I flourished and was young,
Rich in my ripening hopes that spoke me strong:
But now a dry and withered stock am grown,
And all my clusters and my branches gone.
Don John. Amongst those numbers which your wrongs deplore,
Than me there's none that can resent them more.
I feel a generous grudging in my breast,
To see such honour and such hopes oppressed.
The king your father is my brother, true;
But I see more that's like myself in you.
Free-born I am, and not on him depend,
Obliged to none, but whom I call my friend.
And if that title you think fit to bear,
Accept the confirmation of it here.[Embraces him.
Don Car. From you, to whom I'm by such kindness tied,
The secrets of my soul I will not hide.
This generous princess has her promise given,
I once more shall be brought in sight of Heaven;
To the fair queen my last devotion pay;
And then for Flanders I intend my way,
Where to the insulting rebels I'll give law,
To keep myself from wrongs, and them in awe.
Don John. Prosperity to the design, 'tis good;
Both worthy of your honour and your blood.
Don Car. My lord, your spreading glories flourish high,
Above the reach or shock of destiny:
Mine, early nipped, like buds untimely die.

Enter Officer of the Guard.

Offi. My lord, I grieve to tell what you must hear;
They are unwelcome orders which I bear,
Which are, to guard you as a prisoner.
Don Car. A prisoner! what new game of fate's begun?
Henceforth be ever cursed the name of son,
Since I must be a slave, because I'm one.
Duty! to whom? He's not my father: no.
Back with your orders to the tyrant go;
Tell him his fury drives too much one way;
I'm weary on't, and can no more obey.
Don John. If asked by whose commands you did decline
Your orders tell my brother 'twas by mine.
[Exit Officer.
Don Car. Now, were I certain it would sink me quite,
I'd see the queen once more, though but in spite;
Though he with all his fury were in place,
I would caress and court her to his face.
Oh that I could this minute die! if so,
What he had lost he might too lately know,
Cursing himself to think what he has done:
For I was ever an obedient son;
With pleasure all his glories saw, when young,
Looked, and, with pride considering whence I sprung,
Joyfully under him and free I played,
Basked in his shine and wantoned in his shade—
But now,
Cancelling all whate'er he then conferred,
He thrusts me out among the common herd:
Nor quietly will there permit my stay,
But drives and hunts me like a beast of prey.
Affliction! O affliction! 'tis too great,
Nor have I ever learnt to suffer yet.
Though ruin at me from each side take aim,
And I stand thus encompassed round with flame,
Though the devouring fire approaches fast,
Yet will I try to plunge: if power waste,
I can at worst but sink, and burn at last.[Exit.
Don John. Go on, pursue thy fortune while 'tis hot:
I long for work where honour's to be got.
But, madam, to this prince you're wondrous kind.
D. of Eboli. You are not less to Henriet, I find.
Don John. Why, she's a beauty, tender, young, and fair.
D. of Eboli. I thought I might in charms have equalled her.
You told me once my beauty was not less.
Is this your faith? are these your promises?
Don John. You would seem jealous, but are crafty grown;
Tax me of falsehood to conceal your own.
Go, you're a woman—
D. of Eboli.Yes, I know I am:
And by my weakness do deserve that name,
When heart and honour I to you resigned.
Would I were not a woman, or less kind!
Don John.Think you your falsehood was not plainly seen,
When to your charge my brother gave the queen?
Too well I saw it; how did you dispense,
In looks, your pity to the afflicted prince!
Whilst I my duty paid the king, your time
You watched, and fixed your melting eyes on him;
Admired him—
D. of Eboli. Yes, sir, for his constancy—
But 'twas with pain, to think you false to me,
When to another's eye you homage paid,
And my true love wronged and neglected laid;
Wronged, too, so far as nothing can restore.
Don John. Nay, then, let's part, and think of love no more.
Farewell! [Going.
D. of Eboli. Farewell, if you're resolved to go:—
Inhuman Austria, can you leave me so?
Enough my soul is by your falsehood racked;
Add not to your inconstancy neglect.
Methinks you so far might have grateful proved,
Not to have quite forgotten that I loved.
Don John. If e'er you loved, 'tis you, not I forget;
For a remove 'tis here too deeply set,
Firm-rooted, and for ever must remain.
[She turns away.
Why thus unkind?
D. of Eboli. Why are you jealous then?
[Turns to him.
Don John. Come, let it be no more! I'm hushed and still.
Will you forgive?
D. of Eboli. How can you doubt my will?
I do.
Don John. Then send me not away unblest.
D. of Eboli. Till you return I will not think of rest.
Carlos will hither suddenly repair.
The next apartment's mine; I'll wait you there,
Farewell! [She seems to weep.
Don John. Oh, do not let me see a tear;
It quenches joy, and stifles appetite.
Like war's fierce god, upon my bliss I'd prey;
Who, from the furious toils of arms all day,
Returning home to love's fair queen at night,
Comes riotous and hot with full delight. [Exit.
D. of Eboli. He has reaped his joys, and now he would be free,
And to effect it puts on jealousy:
But I'm as much a libertine as he;
As fierce my will, as furious my desires;
Yet will I hold him; though enjoyment tires,
Though love and appetite be at the best,
He'll serve, as common meats fill up a feast,
And look like plenty, though we never taste.

Enter RUY-GOMEZ.

Old lord, I bring thee news will make thee young.
Ruy-Gom. Speak; there was always music in thy tongue.
D. of Eboli. Thy foes are tottering, and the day's thy own;
Give them but one lift now, and they go down.
Quickly to the king, and all his doubts renew;
Appear disturbed, as if you something knew
Too difficult and dangerous to relate,
Then bring him hither labouring with the weight.
I will take care that Carlos shall be here:
So for his jealous eyes a sight prepare,
Shall prove more fatal than Medusa's head,
And he more monster seem than she e'er made.
[Exit.

Enter KING, attended.

King. Still how this tyrant doubt torments my breast!
When shall I get the usurper dispossessed?
My thoughts, like birds when frighted from their rest,
Around the place where all was hushed before,
Flutter, and hardly settle any more—
[Sees RUY-GOMEZ.
Ha, Gomez! what art thou thus musing on?
Ruy-Gom. I'm thinking what it is to have a son;
What mighty cares and what tempestuous strife
Attend on an unhappy father's life;
How children blessings seem, but torments are;
When young, our folly; and when old, our fear.
King. Why dost thou bring these odd reflections here?
Thou enviest sure the quiet which I bear.
Ruy-Gom. No, sir, I joy in the ease which you possess,
And wish you never may have cause for less.
King. Have cause for less! Come nearer; thou art sad,
And look'st as thou wouldst tell me that I had.
Now, now, I feel it rising up again—
Speak quickly, where is Carlos? where the queen?
What, not a word? have my wrongs struck thee dumb?
Or art thou swollen and labouring with my doom,
Yet darest not let the fatal secret come?
Ruy-Gom. Heaven great infirmities to age allots:
I'm old, and have a thousand doting thoughts.
Seek not to know them, sir.
King. By Heaven! I must.
Ruy-Gom. Nay, I would not be by compulsion just.
King. Yet, if without it you refuse, you shall.
Ruy-Gom. Grant me then one request, I'll tell you all.
King. Name thy petition, and conclude it done.
Ruy-Gom. It is, that you would here forgive your son
For all his past offences to this hour.
King. Thou'st almost asked a thing beyond my power;
But so much goodness in the request I find,
Spite of myself, I'll for thy sake be kind.
His pardon's sealed; the secret now declare.
Ruy-Gom. Alas! 'tis only that I saw him here.
King. Where? with the queen! Yes, yes, 'tis so, I'm sure;
Never were wrongs so great as I endure;
So great that they are grown beyond complaint,
For half my patience might have made a saint.
O woman! monstrous woman!
Did I for this into my breast receive
The promising, repenting fugitive?
But, Gomez, I will throw her back again;
And thou shalt see me smile and tear her then.
I'll crush her heart, where all the poison lies,
Till, when the venom's out, the viper dies,
Ruy-Gom. They the best method of revenge pursue
Who so contrive that it may justice show;
Stay till their wrongs appear at such a head
That innocence may have no room to plead.
Your fury, sir, at least a while delay;
I guess the prince may come again this way:
Here I'll withdraw, and watch his privacy.
King. And when he's fixed, be sure bring word to me;
Till then I'll bridle vengeance, and retire,
Within my breast suppress this angry fire,
Till to my eyes my wrongs themselves display;
Then, like a falcon, gently cut my way,
And with my pounces seize the unwary prey. [Exit.

Re-enter Duchess of EBOLI.

D. of Eboli. I've overheard the business with delight,
And find revenge will have a feast to-night.
Though thy declining years are in their wane,
I can perceive there's youth still in thy brain.
Away! the queen is coming hither.
[Exit RUY-GOMEZ.

Enter QUEEN with Attendants, and HENRIETTA.

Queen. Now
To all felicity a long adieu.
Where are you, Eboli?
D. of Eboli. Madam, I'm here.
Queen. Oh, how fresh fears assault me everywhere!
I hear that Carlos is a prisoner made.
D. of Eboli. No, madam, he the orders disobeyed;
And boldly owns for Flanders he intends,
To head the rebels, whom he styles his friends:
But, ere he goes, by me does humbly sue
That he may take his last farewell of you.
Queen. Will he then force his destiny at last?
Hence quickly to him, Eboli, make haste:
Tell him, I beg his purpose he'd delay,
Or, if that can't his resolution stay,
Say I have sworn not to survive the hourIn which I hear that he has left this
shore.
Tell him, I've gained his pardon of the king;
Tell him—to stay him—tell him anything—
D. of Eboli. One word from you his duty would restore;
And, though you promised ne'er to see him more,
Methinks you might upon so just a score.
But see, he's here.

Re-enter Don CARLOS.

Don Car. Run out of breath by fate,
And persecuted by a father's hate,
Wearied with all, I panting hither fly,
To lay myself down at your feet, and die.
[Kneels, and kisses the QUEEN'S hands.
Queen. O too unhappy Carlos! yet unkind!
'Gainst you what harms have ever I designed,
That you should with such violence decree
Ungratefully at last to murder me?
Don Car. Pour all thy curses, Heaven, upon this head,
For I've the worst of vengeance merited,
That yet I impudently live to hear
Myself upbraided of a wrong to her! [Rises.
Say, has your honour been by me betrayed?
Or have I snares to entrap your virtue laid?
Tell me; if not, why do you then upbraid?
Queen. You will not know the afflictions which you give;
Was't not my last request that you would live?
I by our vows conjured it; but I see,
Forgetting them, unmindful too of me,
Regardless, your own ruin you design,
Though you are sure to purchase it with mine.
Don Car. I, as you bade me live, obeyed with pride,
Though it was harder far than to have died.
But loss of liberty my life disdains;
These limbs were never made to suffer chains.
My father should have singled out some crown,
And bidden me go conquer it for my own:
He should have seen what Carlos would have done.
But to prescribe my freedom, sink me low
To base confinement, where no comforts flow,
But black despair, that foul tormentor, lies,
With all my present load of miseries,
Was to my soul too violent a smart,
And roused the sleeping lion in my heart.
Queen. Yet then be kind; your angry father's rage
I know the least submission will assuage;
You're hot with youth, he's choleric with age.
To him, and put a true obedience on;
Be humble, and express yourself a son.
Carlos, I beg it of you: will you not?
Don Car. Methinks 'tis very hard, but yet I'll do't.
I must obey whatever you prefer,
Knowing you're all divine, and cannot err.
For, if my doom's unalterable, I shall
This way at least with less dishonour fall;
And princes less my tameness thus condemn,
When I for you shall suffer, though by him.
Queen. In my apartment farther we'll debate
Of this, and for a happy issue wait.
Your presence there he cannot disapprove,
When it shall speak your duty, and my love.
Exeunt DON CARLOS, QUEEN, HENRIETTA, and Attendants.

Re-enter RUY-GOMEZ.

D. of Eboli. Now, Gomez, triumph! All is ripe; the toil
Has caught them, and fate saw it with a smile.
Thus far the work of destiny was mine;
But I'm content the masterpiece be thine.
Away to the king, prepare his soul for blood,—
A mystery thou well hast understood.
Whilst I go rest within a lover's arms, [Aside.
And to my Austria lay out all my charms. [Exit.
Ruy-Gom. Fate, open now thy book, and set them down:
I have already marked them for thy own.
Re-enter KING, and Marquis of POSA at a distance.

My lord the king?
King. Gomez?
Ruy-Gom. The same.
King. Hast seen
The prince?
Ruy-Gom. I have.
King. Where is he?
Ruy-Gom. With the queen.
King. Now ye that dwell in everlasting flame,
And keep records of all ye mean to damn,
Show me, if 'mongst your precedents there e'er
Was seen a son like him, or wife like her.
Hark, Gomez! didst not hear the infernals groan?Hush, hell, a little, and they
are thy own!
M. of Posa. Who should these be? the king and Gomez, sure:
Methinks I wish that Carlos were secure;
For Flanders his despatches I've prepared.
King. Who's there? 'Tis Posa, pander to their lust. [Drawing near
to POSA.
Now, Gomez, to his heart thy dagger thrust;
In the pursuit of vengeance drive it far;
Strike deep, and, if thou canst, wound Carlos there.
Ruy-Gom. I'll do't as close as happy lovers kiss:
May he strike mine, if of his heart I miss!
Thus, sir! [Stabs POSA.
M. of Posa. Ha, Gomez! villain! thou hast done
Thy worst: but yet I would not die alone:
Here, dog! [Stabs at him.
Ruy-Gom. So brisk! then take it once again.
[As they are struggling, the despatches fall out of POSA'S
bosom.
'Twas only, sir, to put you out of pain.
[Stabs him again, and POSA falls.
M. of Posa. My lord the king—but life too far is gone—
I faint—be mindful of your queen and son. [Dies.
King. The slave in death repents, and warns me.
I shall be very mindful. What are these? [Yes,
[Takes up the despatches.
For Flanders! with the prince's signet sealed!
Here's villany has yet been unrevealed.
See, Gomez, practices against my crown;
[Shows them him.
Treason and lust have joined to pull me down.
Yet still I stand like a firm sturdy rock,
Whilst they but split themselves with their own shock.
But I too long delay: give word I come.
Ruy-Gom. What, ho! within! The king is nigh; make room.
[RUY-GOMEZ draws a curtain, and discovers Don JOHN and the
Duchess of EBOLI embracing.
King. Now let me, if I can, to fury add,
That when I thunder I may strike them dead.
[Looking earnestly on them.
Ha! Gomez! on this truth depends thy life.
Why, that's our brother Austria!
Ruy-Gom. And my wife!
Embracing close. Whilst I was busy grown
In others' ruins, here I've met my own.
Oh! had I perished ere 'twas understood!
King. This is the nest where lust and falsehood brood.
Is it not admirable?
[Exeunt Don JOHN and the Duchess of EBOLI embracing.
Ruy-Gom. Oh, sir, yes!
Ten thousand devils tear the sorceress!
King. But they are gone, and my dishonour's near.

Re-enter Don CARLOS and QUEEN, discoursing; HENRIETTA
and
Attendants.

Look, my incestuous son and wife appear.
See, Gomez, how she languishes and dies.
'Sdeath! there are very pulses in her eyes.
[Don CARLOS approaches the KING.
Don Car. In peace, Heaven ever guard the king from harms;
In war, success and triumph crown his arms;
Till all the nations of the world shall be
Humble and prostrate at his feet, like me! [Kneels.
I hear your fury has my death designed;
Though I've deserved the worst, you may be kind:
Behold me as your poor unhappy son,
And do not spill that blood which is your own!
King. Yes, when my blood grows tainted, I ne'er doubt
But for my health 'tis good to let it out:
But thine's a stranger, like thy soul, to me;
Or else be cursed thy mother's memory,
And doubly cursed be that unhappy night
In which I purchased torment with delight!
Don Car. Thus then I lay aside all rights of blood.
[Rises boldly.
My mother cursed! She was all just and good,
Tyrant! too good to stay with thee below,
And therefore's blest, and reigns above thee now.
Submission! which way got it entrance here?
King. Perhaps it came ere treason was aware.
Thy traitorous design's now come to light,
Too great and horrid to be hid in night.
See here my honour, and thy duty's stains!
[Shows the despatches.
I've paid your secretary for his pains;
He waits you there: to council with him go;
[Shows POSA's body.
Ask what intelligence from Flanders now.
Don Car. My friend here slain, my faithful Posa 'tis.
Good Heaven! what have I done to merit this?
What temples sacked, what desolations made,
To pull down such a vengeance on my head?
This, villain, was thy work: what friend of thine
[To RUY-GOMEZ.
Did I e'er wrong, that thou shouldst murder mine?
But I'll take care it shall not want reward—[Draws.
King. Courage, my Gomez, since thy king's thy guard.
Come, rebel, and thy villanies fulfil!
Don Car. No; though unjust, you are my father still; [Throws away
his
sword.
And from that title must your safety own:
'Tis that which awes my hand, and not your crown.
'Tis true, all there contained I had designed:
To such a height your jealousy was grown,
It was the only way that I could find
To work your peace, and to procure my own.
King. Thinking my youth and vigour to decrease,
You'd ease me of my crown to give me peace.
Don Car. Alas! you fetch your misconstructions far:
The injuries to me, and wrongs to her,
Were much too great for empire to repair.
When you forgot a father's love, and quite
Deprived me of a son's and prince's right,
Branded my honour, and pursued my life,
My duty long with nature was at strife.
Not that I feared my memory or name
Could suffer by the voice of common fame;
A thing I still esteemed beneath my pride:
For, though condemned by all the world beside,
Had you but thought me just, I could have died.
At last this only way I found, to fly
Your anger, and divert your jealousy:—
To go to Flanders, and be so removed
From all I ever honoured, ever loved;
There in your right hoping I might complete,
Spite of my wrongs, some action truly great;
Thus by my faith and sufferings to out-wear
Your hate, and shun that storm which threatened here.
Queen. And can this merit hate? He would forego
The joys and charms of courts to purchase you;
Banish himself, and stem the dangerous tide
Of lawless outrage and rebellious pride.
King. How evenly she pleads in his defence!
So blind is guilt when 'twould seem innocence.
She thinks her softness may my rage disarm.
No, sorceress, you're mistaken in your charm,
And, whilst you soothe, do but assist the storm!
Do, take full view of your tall able slave;
[QUEEN looks on Don CARLOS.
Look hard; it is the last you're like to have.
Don Car. My life or death are in your power to give.
King. Yes, and thou diest.
Don Car. Not till she give me leave:
She is the star that rules my destiny;
And, whilst her aspect's kind, I cannot die.
Queen. No, prince, for ever live, be ever blest.
King. Yes, I will send him to his eternal rest.
Oh! had I took the journey long ago,
I ne'er had known the pains that rack me now.
Queen. What pains? what racks? [Approaching.
King. Avoid, and touch me not!
I see thee foul, all one incestuous blot;
Thy broken vows are in thy guilty face.
Queen. Have I then in your pity left no place?
King. Oh! thus it was you drew me in before,
With promises you ne'er would see him more.
But now your subtlest wiles too weak are grown;
I've gotten freedom, and I'll keep my own.
Queen. May you be ever free! But can your mind
Conceive that any ill was here designed?
He hither came, only that he might show
Obedience, and be reconciled to you.
You saw his humble, dutiful address.
King. But you beforehand signed the happy peace.

Re-enter Duchess of EBOLI.

O princess, thank you for the care you take.
Tell me, how got this monster entrance? speak.
D. of Eboli. Heaven witness 'twas without my knowledge done.
Ruy-Gom. No, she had other business of her own.
[Aside.
O blood and murder!
King. All are false: a guard!

Enter Guard.

Seize on that traitor! [Pointing to Don CARLOS.
Don Car. Welcome; I'm prepared.
Queen. Stay, sir, let me die too: I can obey.
King. No, thou shalt live. [Seemingly kind.] By Heaven, but not a
day! [Aside.
I a revenge so exquisite have framed,
She unrepenting dies, and so she's damned.
Hen. If ever pity could your heart engage,
If e'er you hope for blessings on your age,
Incline your ears to a poor virgin's prayer!
King. I dare not venture thee, thou art too fair.
What wouldst thou say?
Hen. Destroy not in one man
More virtue than the world can boast again.
View him the eldest pledge of your first love,
Your virgin joys; that may some pity move—
King. No; for the wrongs I suffer weigh it down:
I'd now not spare his life to save my own.
Away! by thy soft tongue I'll not be caught.
Hen. By all that hopes can frame I beg: if not,
May you by some base hand unpitied die,
And childless mothers curse your memory!
By honour, love, by life—
King. Fond girl, away:
By Heaven, I'll kill thee else! Still darest thou stay?
Cannot death terrify thee?
Hen. No; for I,
If you refuse me, am resolved to die.
Don Car. Kind fair one, do not waste your sorrows here
On me, too wretched, and not worth a tear.
There yet for you are mighty joys in store,
When I in dust am laid, and seen no more.—
O madam! [To the QUEEN.
Queen. O my Carlos! must you die
For me? no mercy in a father's eye?
Don Car. Hide, hide your tears, into my soul they dart
A tenderness that misbecomes my heart:
For, since I must, I like a prince would fall,
And to my aid my manly spirits call.
Queen. You, like a man, as roughly as you will
May die, but let me be a woman still! [Weeps.
King. Thou'rt woman, a true copy of the first,
In whom the race of all mankind was cursed.
Your sex by beauty was to Heaven allied;
But your great lord, the devil, taught you pride.
He too an angel, till he durst rebel;
And you are, sure, the stars that with him fell.
Weep on! a stock of tears like vows you have,
And always ready when you would deceive.
Queen. Cruel! inhuman! O my heart! why should
I throw away a title that's so good,
On one a stranger to whate'er was so?
Alas, I'm torn, and know not what to do.
The just resentment of my wrong's so great,
My spirits sink beneath the heavy weight.
Tyrant, stand off! I hate thee, and will try
If I have scorn enough to make me die.
Don Car. Blest angel, stay! [Takes her in his arms.
Queen. Carlos, the sole embrace
You ever took, you have before his face.
Don Car. No wealthy monarch of the plenteous East,
In all the glories of his empire dressed,
Was ever half so rich, or half so blest.
But from such bliss how wretched is the fall!
They too like us must die, and leave it all.
King. All this before my face! what soul could bear't?
Go, force her from him! [Officer approaches.
Don Car. Slave, 'twill cost thy heart.
Thou'dst better meet a lion on his way,
And from his hungry jaws reprize the prey!
She's mistress of my soul, and to prepare
Myself for death, I must consult with her.
Ruy-Gom. Have pity! [Ironically.
King. Hence! how wretchedly he rules
That's served by cowards, and advised by fools!
Oh, torture!
Don Car. Rouse, my soul! consider now
That to thy blissful mansion thou must go.
But I so mighty joys have tasted here,
I hardly shall have sense of any there:
Oh, soft as blossoms, and yet sweeter far!
[Leaning on her bosom.
Sweeter than incense which to Heaven ascends,
Though 'tis presented there by angels' hands.
King. Still in his arms! Cowards, go tear her forth!
Don Car. You'll sooner from its centre shake the earth:
I'll hold her fast till my last hour is nigh;
Then I'll bequeath her to you when I die.
King. Cut off his hold! or any thing—
Don Car. Ay, come;
Here kill, and bear me hence into my tomb.
I'd have my monument erected here,
With broken mangled limbs still clasping her.
Queen. Hold, and I'll quit his arms—
[The Guards offer their axes. They part.
King. Now bear him hence.
Queen. O horrid tyrant!
[Guards are hurrying Don CARLOS off.
Stay, unhappy prince—
Turn, turn! O torment! must I leave you so?
No, stay, and take me with you where you go.
Don Car. Hark, slaves, my goddess summons me to stay.
Dogs! have you eyes, and can you disobey?
See her! Oh, let me but just touch my bliss.
[Pressing forward.
King. By hell! he shan't. Slaves, are ye mine or his?
Queen. My life—
Don Car. My soul, farewell!
[Exeunt Guards with Don CARLOS.
Queen. He's gone, he's gone!
Now, tyrant, to thy rage I'm left alone;
Give me my death, that hate both life and thee.
King. I know thou dost; yet live.
Queen. O misery! [Throws herself down.
Why was I born to be thus cursed? or why
Should life be forced, when 'tis so sweet to die?
King [To D. of EBOLI]. Thou, woman, hast been false; but, to
renew
Thy credit in my heart, assist me now.
Prepare a draught of poison, such as will
Act slow, and by degrees of torment kill.
Give it the queen, and, to prevent all sense
Of dying, tell her I've released the prince,
And that ere morning he'll attend her. I
In a disguise his presence will supply;
So glut my rage, and smiling see her die.
D. of Eboli. Your majesty shall be obeyed.
Ruy-Gom. Do, work thy mischiefs to their last degree,
And when they're in their height I'll murder thee.
[Aside.
King. Now, Gomez, ply my rage and keep it hot:
O'er love and nature I've the conquest got.
Still charming beauty triumphs in her eyes:
[Looking at the QUEEN.
Yet for my honour and my rest she dies.
[Exeunt QUEEN and Women.
But, oh! what ease can I expect to get,
When I must purchase at so dear a rate?
[Exeunt.

ACT THE FIFTH.

SCENE I.—An Apartment in the Palace.

Enter KING disguised.

KING. 'Tis night; the season when the happy take
Repose, and only wretches are awake.
Now discontented ghosts begin their rounds,
Haunt ruined buildings and unwholesome grounds;
Or at the curtains of the restless wait,
To frighten them with some sad tale of fate.
When I would rest, I can no rest obtain:
The ills I've borne even o'er my slumbers reign,
And in sad dreams torment me o'er again.
The fatal business is ere this begun:
I'm shocked, and start to think what I have done.
But I forget how I that Philip am
So much for constancy renowned by fame;
Who through the progress of my life was ne'er
By hopes transported, or depressed by fear.
No, it is gone too far to be recalled,
And steadfastness will make the act extolled.

Enter Duchess of EBOLI, in a night-gown.

Who? Eboli?
D. of Eboli. My lord.
King. Is the deed done?
D. of Eboli. 'Tis, and the queen to seek repose is gone.
King. Can she expect it, who allowed me none?
No, Eboli; her dreams must be as full
Of horror, and as hellish as her soul.
Does she believe the prince has freedom gained?
D. of Eboli. She does.
King. How were the tidings entertained?
D. of Eboli. O'er all her face young wandering blushes were,
Such as speak hopes too weak to conquer fear:—
But when confirmed, no lover e'er so kind;
She clasped me fast, caressed, and called me friend.
Which opportunity I took, to give
The poison; and till day she cannot live.
King. Quickly then to her; say that Carlos here
Waits to confirm his happiness with her.
Go, that my vengeance I may finish quite:
'Twould be imperfect, should I lose the sight.
But to contrive that I may not be known,
And she may still mistake me for my son,
Remove all light but that which may suffice
To let her see me scorn her when she dies.
D. of Eboli. You'll find her all in rueful sables clad,
With one dim lamp that yields imperfect light,
Such as in vaults assist the ghastly shade,
Where wretched widows come to weep at night.
Thus she resolves to die, or living mourn,
Till Carlos shall with liberty return. [Exit.
King. O steadfast sin! incorrigible lust!
Not damned! it is impossible; she must.
How do I long to see her in her pains,
The poisonous sulphur rolling through her veins!

Enter Don JOHN and Attendants.

Who's there? my brother?
Don John. Yes, sir, and your friend.
What can your presence here so late intend?
King. O Austria! Fate's at work; a deed's in hand
Will put thy youthful courage to a stand.
Survey me; do I look as heretofore?
Don John. You look like King of Spain, and lord of power;
Like one who still seeks glory on the wing;
You look as I would do, were I a king.
King. A king! Why I am more, I'm all that can
Be counted miserable in a man.
But thou shalt see how calm anon I'll grow;
I'll be as happy and as gay as thou.
Don John. No, sir; my happiness you cannot have,
Whilst to your abject passions thus a slave.
To know my ease, you thoughts like mine must bring,
Be something less a man, and more a king.
King. I'm growing so. 'Tis true that long I strove
With pleading nature, combated with love,
Those witchcrafts that had bound my soul so fast;
But now the date of the enchantment's past:
Before my rage like ruins down they fall,
And I mount up true monarch o'er them all.
Don John. I know your queen and son you've doomed to die,
And fear by this the fatal hour is nigh.
Why would you cut a sure succession off,
At which your friends must grieve, and foes will laugh;
As if, since age has from you took away
Increase, you'd grow malicious, and destroy?
King. Doubt it not, Austria: thou my brother art,
And in my blood I'm certain hast a part.
Only the justice of my vengeance own,—-
Thou 'rt heir of Spain, and my adopted son.
Don John. I must confess there in a crown are charms,
Which I would court in bloody fields and arms;
But in my nephew's wrong I must decline,
Since he must be extinguished ere I shine.
To mount a throne o'er battlements I'd climb,
Where Death should wait on me, not I on him.
Did you e'er love, or have you ever known
The mighty value of so brave a son?
King. I guessed I should be treated thus before;
I know it is thy kindness, but no more.
Thou, living free, alas! art easy grown
And think'st all hearts as honest as thy own.
Don John. Not, sir, so easy as I must be bold,
And speak what you perhaps would have untold;
That you're a slave to the vilest that obey,
Such as disgrace on royal favour lay,
And blindly follow as they lead astray:
Voracious varlets, sordid hangers-on;
Best by familiarity they're known,
Yet shrink at frowns; but when you smile they fawn.
They're these have wronged you, and abused your ears,
Possessed your mind with false misgrounded fears.
King. Misgrounded fears? Why, is there any truth
In women's vows, or disobedient youth?
I sooner would believe this world were Heaven,
Where I have nought but toils and torment met,
And never comfort yet to man was given.
But thou shalt see how my revenge I'll treat.
[A curtain is drawn, and discovers the QUEEN alone in mourning on
her
couch, with a lamp by her.
Look where she sits, as quiet and serene [Ironically.
As if she never had a thought of sin,
In mourning, her wronged innocence to show!
She has sworn't so oft, that she believes it true.
O'erwhelmed with sorrow she'll in darkness dwell:
So we have heard of witches in a cell,
Treating with fiends, and making leagues with hell.
[The QUEEN rises and comes towards him.
Queen. My lord! Prince Carlos! may it be believed?
Are my eyes blessed; and am I not deceived?
King. My queen, my love, I'm here—
[Embraces her.
Queen. My lord the king!
This is surprising kindness which you bring.
Can you believe me innocent at last?
Methinks my griefs are half already past.
King. O tongue, in nothing practised but deceit!
Too well she knew him, not to find the cheat. [Aside.
Yes, vile incestuous woman, it is I,
The king: look on me well, despair, and die.
Queen. Why had you not pronounced my doom before,
Since to affliction you could add no more?
Methinks death is less welcome, when I find
You could but counterfeit a look that's kind.
King. No, now thou'rt fit for death: had I believed
Thou couldst have been more wicked, thou hadst lived,—
Lived and gone on in lust and riot still;
But I perceived thee early ripe for hell:
And, that of the reward thou mightst not miss,
This night thou'st drank thy bane, thou'rt poisoned; yes,
Thou art—
Queen. Then welcome everlasting bliss!
But, ere I die, let me here make a vow,—
By Heaven, and all I hope for there, I'm true!
King. Vows you had always ready when you spoke:
How many of them have you made, and broke!
Yet there's a Power that does your falsehood hear,
A just one too, that lets thee live to swear.
How comes it that above such mercy dwells,
To permit sin, and make us infidels?
Queen. You have been ever so to all that's good,
My innocence had else been understood.
At first your love was nothing but your pride.
When I arrived to be the prince's bride,
You then a kind indulgent father were;
But, finding me unfortunately fair,
Thought me a prize too rich to be possessed
By him, and forced yourself into my breast,
Where you maintained an unresisted power;
Not your own daughter could have loved you more,
Till, conscious of your age, my faith was blamed,
And I a lewd adulteress proclaimed,
Accused of foulest incest with your son—
What more could my worst enemy have done?
King. Nothing, I hope; I would not have it said
That in my vengeance any fault I made.
Love me! O low pretence, too feebly built!
But 'tis the constant fault of dying guilt
Even to the last to cry they're innocent,
When their despair's so great, they can't repent.
Queen. Thus having urged your malice to the head,
You spitefully are come to rail me dead.
Had I been man, and had an impious wife,
With speedy fury I'd have snatched her life;
Torn a broad passage open to her heart,
And there have ransacked each polluted part;
Triumphed and laughed to have seen the issuing flood,
And wantonly have bathed my hands in blood.
That had outdone the low revenge you bring,
Much fitter for a woman than a king.
King. I'm glad I know what death you'd wish to have:
You would go down in silence to your grave;
Remove from future fame, as present times,
And bury with you, if you could, your crimes.
No, I will have my justice understood,
Proclaim thy falsehood and thy lust aloud.
Queen. About it then, the noble work begin;
Be proud, and boast how cruel you have been.
Oh, how a monarch's glory 'twill advance!
Do, quickly let it reach the ears of France.
I've there a royal brother that is young,
Who'll certainly revenge his sister's wrong;
Into thy Spain a mighty army bring,
Tumble thee from thy throne a wretched thing,
And make it quite forgot thou e'er wert king.
King. I ne'er had pleasure with her till this night:
The viper finds she's crushed, and fain would bite.—
Oh! were he here, and durst maintain that word,
I'd like an eagle seize the callow bird,
And gripe him till the dastard craven cried;
Then throw him panting by his sister's side.
Queen. Alas! I faint and sink; my lord, your hand!
[To DON JOHN.
My spirits fail, and I want strength to stand.
Don John. O jealousy!
A curse which none but he that bears it knows!
[Leads her to a chair.
So rich a treasure who would live to lose?
King. The poison works, Heaven grant there were enough!
She is so foul, she may be poison-proof.
Now my false fair one—
Queen. Tyrant, hence, begone!
This hour's my last, and let it be my own.
Away, away! I would not leave the light
With such a hated object in my sight.
King. No, I will stay, and even thy prayers prevent;
I would not give thee leisure to repent;
But let thy sins all in one throng combine
To plague thy soul, as thou hast tortured mine. Queen. Glut then your
eyes, your tyrant-fury feed,
And triumph; but remember, when I'm dead,
Hereafter on your dying pillows you
May feel those tortures which you give me now.
Go on, your worst reproaches I can bear,
And with them all you shall not force a tear.
King. Thus, Austria, my lost freedom I obtain,
And once more shall appear myself again.
Love held me fast whilst, like a foolish boy,
I of the thing was fond because 'twas gay;
But now I've thrown the gaudy toy away.
D. of Eboli [Within]. Help! murder! help!
King. See, Austria, whence that cry.
Call up our guards; there may be danger nigh.

Enter Guards; then re-enter Duchess of EBOLI in her

night-dress, wounded and bleeding; RUY-GOMEZ pursuing her.
D. of Eboli. Oh! guard me from that cruel murderer:
But 'tis in vain, the steel has gone too far.
Turn, wretched king, I've something to unfold;
Nor can I die till the sad secret's told.
King. The woman's mad; to some apartment by
Remove her, where she may grow tame and die.—
Fate came abroad to night, resolved to range:
I love a kind companion in revenge. [Hugs RUY-GOMEZ.
D. of Eboli. If in your heart truth any favour wins,
If e'er you would repent of secret sins,
Hear me a word.
King. What wouldst thou say? Be brief.
D. of Eboli. Do what you can to save that precious life;
Try every art that may her death prevent:
You are abused, and she is innocent.
When I perceived my hopes of you were vain,
Led by my lust, I practised all my charms
To gain the prince, Don Carlos, to my arms;
But, there too crossed, I did the purpose change,
And pride made him my engine for revenge;
[To RUY-GOMEZ.
Taught him to raise your growing jealousy.
Then my wild passion at this prince did fly,
[To DON JOHN.
And that was done for which I now must die.
King. Ha! Gomez, speak, and quickly; is it so?
Ruy-Gom. I'm sorry you should doubt if't be or no.
She, by whose lust my honour was betrayed,
Cannot want malice now to take my head;
And therefore does this penitence pretend.
D. of Eboli. O Austria! take away that ugly fiend:
He smiles and mocks me, waiting for my soul;
See how his glaring fiery eyeballs roll!
Ruy-Gom. Thus is her fancy tortured by her guilt:
But, since you'll have my blood, let it be split.
King [To RUY-GOMEZ]. No more!—[To D. of EBOLI.]
Speak on, I charge thee, by the rest
Thou hopest, the truth, and as thou shalt be blest.
D. of Eboli. As what I've said is so,
There may I find, where I must answer all,
What most I need, Heaven's mercy on my soul! [Dies.
King. Heaven! she was sensible that she should die,
And durst not in the minute tell a lie.
Don John. His guilt's too plain; see his wild staring eye.
By unconcern he would show innocence;
But hardened guilt ne'er wanted the pretence
Of great submission, when't had no defence.
Thus, whilst of life you show this little care,
You seem not guiltless, but betray despair.
King. His life! What satisfaction can that give?
But oh! in doubt I must for ever live,
And lose my peace—yet I the truth will find;
I'll rack him for't. Go, in this minute bind
Him to the wheel—
Ruy-Gom. How have I this deserved,
Who only your commands obeyed and served?
What would you have me do?
King. I'd have thee tell
The truth: do, Gomez; all shall then be well.
Ruy-Gom. Alas! like you, sir, in a cloud I'm lost.
And can but tell you what I think, at most.
You set me as a spy upon the prince,
And I still brought the best intelligence
I could; till, finding him too much aware
Of me, I nearer measures took by her:
Which if I after a false copy drew,
'Tis I have been unfortunate as you.
King. And is this all thou hast for life to show?
Ruy-Gom. Dear sir, your pardon, it is all I know.
King. Then villain, I am damned as well as thou.
Heaven! where is now thy sleeping providence,
That took so little care of innocence?
O Austria, had I to thy truth inclined,
Had I been half so good as thou wert kind!
But I'm too tame; secure the traitor. Oh!
[Guards seize RUY-GOMEZ.
Earth, open! to thy centre let me go!
And there for ever hide my impious head!
Thou fairest, purest creature Heaven e'er made,
Thy injured truth too late I've understood:
Yet live, and be immortal as thou'rt good.
Queen. Can you to think me innocent incline
On her bare word, and would not credit mine?
The poison's very busy at my heart;
Methinks I see Death shake his threatening dart.
Why are you kind, and make it hard to die?
Persist, continue on the injury;
Call me still vile, incestuous, all that's foul—
King. Oh, pity, pity my despairing soul!
Sink it not quite. Raise my physicians straight;
Hasten them quickly ere it be too late;
Propose rewards may set their skill at strife:
I'll give my crown to him that saves her life.
Cursed dog! [To RUY-GOMEZ.
Don John. Vile prostitute!
King. Revengeful fiend!
But I've forgotten half—to Carlos send;
Prevent what his despair may make him do.

Enter HENRIETTA.

Hen. O horror, horror! everlasting woe!
The prince, the prince!
King. Ha! speak.
Hen. He dies, he dies!
Within upon his couch he bleeding lies,
Just taken from a bath, his veins all cut,
From which the springing blood flows swiftly out.
He threatens death on all that shall oppose
His fate, to save that life which he will lose.
King. Dear Austria, hasten, all thy interest use;
Tell him it is to friendship an offence,
And let him know his father's penitence.
Beg him to live.
Ruy-Gom. Since you've decreed my death, know 'twill be hard:
The bath by me was poisoned when prepared.
I owed him that for his late pride and scorn.
King. There never was so cursed a villain born.
But by revenge such pains he shall go through
As even religious cruelty ne'er knew.
Rack him! I'll broil him, burn him by degrees,
Fresh torments for him every hour devise,
Till he curse Heaven, and then the caitiff dies.
Queen. My faithful Henrietta, art thou come
To wait thy unhappy mistress to her tomb?
I brought thee hither from thy parents young,
And now must leave thee to Heaven knows what wrong.
But Heaven to its protection will receive
Such goodness; let it then thy queen forgive!
Hen. How much I loved you, madam, none can tell;
For 'tis unspeakable, I loved so well.
A proof of it the world shall quickly find;
For, when you die, I'll scorn to stay behind.

Enter DON CARLOS, supported between two Attendants and bleeding.

Don John. See, sir, your son.
King. My son! But oh! how dare
I use that name, when this sad object's near?
See, injured prince, who 'tis thy pardon craves,
No more thy father, but the worst of slaves:
Behold the tears that from these fountains flow.
Don Car. I come to take my farewell, ere I go
To that bright dwelling where there is no room
For blood, and where the cruel never come.
King. I know there is not, therefore must despair.
O Heaven! his cruelty I cannot bear.—
Dost thou not hear thy wretched father sue?
Don Car. My father! speak the words once more; is't you?
And may I think the dear conversion true?
Oh that I could!
King. By Heaven thou must—it is!
Let me embrace and kiss thy trembling knees.
Why wilt thou die? no, live, my Carlos, live,
And all the wrongs that I have done forgive!
Don Car. Life was my curse, and given me sure in spite.
Oh! had I perished when I first saw light,
I never then these miseries had brought
On you, nor by you had been guilty thought.
Prop me: apace I feel my life decay.
The little time on earth I have to stay,
Grant I without offence may here bestow;
[Pointing to the QUEEN.
You cannot certainly be jealous now.
King. Break, break, my heart!
[Leads Don CARLOS to the chair.
Don Car. You've thus more kindness shown
Than if you'd crowned, and placed me on your throne.
Methinks so highly happy I appear
That I could pity you, to see you there.
Take me away again:—you are too good.
Queen. Carlos, is't you? Oh, stop that royal flood;
Live, and possess your father's throne, when I
In dark and gloomy shades forgotten lie.
Don Car. Crowns are beneath me; I have higher pride:
Thus on you fixed, and dying by your side,
How much a life and empire I disdain!
No, we'll together mount, where both shall reign
Above all wrongs, and never more complain.
Queen. O matchless youth! O constancy divine!
Sure there was never love that equalled thine;
Nor any so unfortunate as mine.
Henceforth forsaken virgins shall in songs,
When they would ease their own, repeat thy wrongs;And in remembrance of thee,
for thy sake,
A solemn annual procession make;
In chaste devotion as fair pilgrims come,
With hyacinths and lilies deck thy tomb.
But one thing more, and then, vain world, adieu!
It is to reconcile my lord and you.
Don Car. He has done no wrong to me; I am possessed
Of all, beyond my expectation blest.
But yet methinks there's something in my heart
Tells me, I must not too unkindly part.—
Father, draw nearer, raise me with your hand;
Before I die, what is't you would command?
King. Why wert thou made so excellently good?
And why was it no sooner understood?
But I was cursed, and blindly led astray;
Oh! for thy father, for thy father pray.
Thou mayst ask that which I'm too vile to dare;
And leave me not tormented by despair.
Don Car. Thus then with the remains of life we kneel. [Don CARLOS
and
the QUEEN sink out of their chairs and kneel.
May you be ever free from all that's ill!
Queen. And everlasting peace upon you dwell!
King. No more: this virtue's too divinely bright;
My darkened soul, too conversant with night,
Grows blind, and overcome with too much light.
Here, raise them up — gently — ye slaves, down, down!
Ye glorious toils, a sceptre and a crown,
For ever be forgotten; in your stead,
Only eternal darkness wrap my head.
Queen. Where are you? oh! farewell, I must be gone.
King. Blest happy soul, take not thy flight so soon:
Stay till I die, then bear mine with thee too,
And guard it up, which else must sink below.
Queen. From all my injuries and all my fears,
From jealousy, love's bane, the worst of cares,
Thus I remove to find that stranger, rest.
Carlos, thy hand, receive me on thy breast;
Within this minute how shall we be blest!
Don Car. Oh, far above
Whatever wishes framed, or hopes designed;
Thus, where we go, we shall the angels find
For ever praising, and for ever kind.
Queen. Make haste; in the first sphere I'll for you stay;
Thence we'll rise both to everlasting day.
Farewell— [Dies.
Don Car. I follow you; now close my eyes;
[Leans on her bosom.
Thus all o'er bliss the happy Carlos dies. [Dies.
King. They're gone, they're gone, where I must ne'er aspire.
Run, sally out, and set the world on fire;
Alarum Nature, let loose all the winds,
Set free those spirits whom strong magic binds;
Let the earth open all her sulphurous veins,
The fiends start from their hell, and shake their chains;
Till all things from their harmony decline,
And the confusion be as great as mine!
Here I'll lie down, and never more arise,
Howl out my life, and rend the air with cries.
Don John. Hold, sir, afford your labouring heart some ease.
King. Oh! name it not: there's no such thing as peace.
From these warm lips yet one soft kiss I'll take.
How my heart beats! why won't the rebel break?
My love, my Carlos, I'm thy father—speak.
Oh! he regards not now my miseries,
But's deaf to my complaint, as I have been to his.
Oh! now I think on't better, all is well.
Here's one that's just descending into hell;
How comes it that he's not already gone?
The sluggard's lazy, but I'll spur him on.
Hey! how he flies! [Stabs RUY-GOMEZ.
Ruy-Gom. 'Twas aimed well at my heart;
That I had strength enough but to retort!
Dull life, so tamely must I from thee part?
Curses and plagues! revenge, where art thou now?
Meet, meet me at thy own dark house below! [Dies.
King. He's gone, and now there's not so vile a thing
As I—
Don John. Remember, sir, you are a king.
King. A king! it is too little: I'll be more,
I tell thee: Nero was an emperor;
He killed his mother, but I've that out-done,
Murdered a loyal wife and guiltless son.
Yet, Austria, why should I grow mad for that?
Is it my fault I was unfortunate?
Don John. Collect your spirits, sir, and calm your mind.
King. Look to't; strange things I tell thee are designed.
Thou, Austria, shalt grow old, and in thy age
Dote, dote, my hero:—oh, a long gray beard,
With eyes distilling rheum, and hollow cheeks,
Will be such charms, thou canst not want success!
But, above all, beware of jealousy;
It was the dreadful curse that ruined me.
Don John. Dread sir, no more.
King. O heart! O Heaven! but stay,
Named I not Heaven? I did, and at the word
(Methought I saw't) the azure fabric stirred.
Oh, for my queen and son the saints prepare;
But I'll pursue and overtake them there;
Whirl, stop the sun, arrest his charioteer;
I'll ride in that: away! pull, pull him down!
Oh, how I'll hurl the wild-fire as I run!
Now, now I mount —[Runs off raving.
Don John. Look to the king.
See of this fair one, too, strict care be had.
[Pointing to HENRIETTA.
Despair, how vast a triumph hast thou made!
No more in love's enervate charms I'll lie;
Shaking off softness, to the camp I'll fly,
Where thirst of fame the active hero warms;
And what I've lost in peace, regain in arms. [Exeunt.

EPILOGUE

Spoken by a Girl.

NOW what d'ye think my message hither means?
Yonder's the poet sick behind the scenes:
He told me there was pity in my face,
And therefore sent me here to make his peace.
Let me for once persuade ye to be kind;
For he has promised me to stand my friend;
And if this time I can your kindness move,
He'll write for me, he swears by all above,
When I am big enough to be in love.
Now won't you be good-natured, ye fine men?
Indeed I'll grow as fast as e'er I can,
And try if to his promise he'll be true.
Think on't; when that time comes, you do not know
But I may grow in love with some of you;
Or, at the worst, I'm certain I shall see
Amongst you those who'll swear they're so with me.
But now, if by my suit you'll not be won,—
You know what your unkindness oft has done,—
I'll e'en forsake the play-house, and turn nun.

Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!

Other Poems of Interest...

THE ORPHAN by THOMAS OTWAY

THE SOLDIER'S FORTUNE: EPILOGUE by THOMAS OTWAY

VENICE PRESERVED by THOMAS OTWAY

THAT I AM by DAVID IGNATOW

WIND by AMY LOWELL

SURFACES AND MASKS; 6 by CLARENCE MAJOR

THE DIRTY OLD MAN by WILLIAM ALLINGHAM

MUTABILITY by RUPERT BROOKE

SONNET: 94 by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE

DOWN BY THE SALLEY GARDENS by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS

PRAYER TO THE VIRGIN OF CHARTRES by HENRY BROOKS ADAMS

AGAMEMNON: CHORUS by AESCHYLUS

Home: PoetryExplorer.net