DON CARLOS. DUDE OF ALVA.
Two words, most gracious prince.
Some other time.
[Going.
The place is not the fittest, I confess;
Perhaps your royal highness may be pleased
To grant me audience in your private chamber.
For what? And why not here? Only be brief.
The special object which has brought me hither,
Is to return your highness lowly thanks
For your good services.
Thanks to me —
For what? Duke Alva's thanks!
You scarce had left
His majesty, ere I received in form
Instructions to depart for Brussels.
What!
For Brussels!
And to what, most gracious prince,
Must I ascribe this favor, but to you —
Your intercession with the king?
Ob, no!
Not in the least to me; but, duke, you travel,
So Heaven be with your grace!
And is this all?
It seems, indeed, most strange! And has your highness
No further orders, then, to send to Flanders?
What should I have?
Not long ago, it seemed,
The country's fate required your presence.
How?
But yes, you're right, – it was so formerly;
But now this change is better as it is.
I am amazed —
You are an able general,
No one doubts that – envy herself must own it.
For me, I'm but a youth – so thought the king.
The king was right, quite right. I see it now
Myself, and am content – and so no more.
God speed your journey, as you see, just now
My hands are full, and weighty business presses.
The rest to-morrow, or whene'er you will,
Or when you come from Brussels.
What is this?
The season favors, and your route will lie
Through Milan, Lorraine, Burgundy, and on
To Germany! What, Germany? Ay, true,
In Germany it was – they know you there.
'Tis April now, May, June, – in July, then,
Just so! or, at the latest, soon in August, —
You will arrive in Brussels, and no doubt
We soon shall hear of your victorious deeds.
You know the way to win our high esteem,
And earn the crown of fame.
Indeed! condemned
By my own conscious insignificance!
You're sensitive, my lord, and with some cause,
I own it was not fair to use a weapon
Against your grace you were unskilled to wield.
Unskilled!
'Tis pity I've no leisure now
To fight this worthy battle fairly out
But at some other time, we —
Prince, we both
Miscalculate – but still in opposite ways.
You, for example, overrate your age
By twenty years, whilst on the other hand,
I, by as many, underrate it —
Well
And this suggests the thought, how many nights
Beside this lovely Lusitanian bride —
Your mother – would the king right gladly give
To buy an arm like this, to aid his crown.
Full well he knows, far easier is the task
To make a monarch than a monarchy;
Far easier too, to stock the world with kings
Than frame an empire for a king to rule.
Most true, Duke Alva, yet —
And how much blood,
Your subjects' dearest blood, must flow in streams
Before two drops could make a king of you.
Most true, by heaven! and in two words comprised,
All that the pride of merit has to urge
Against the pride of fortune. But the moral —
Now, Duke Alva!
Woe to the nursling babe
Of royalty that mocks the careful hand
Which fosters it! How calmly it may sleep
On the soft cushion of our victories!
The monarch's crown is bright with sparkling gems,
But no eye sees the wounds that purchased them.
This sword has given our laws to distant realms,
Has blazed before the banner of the cross,
And in these quarters of the globe has traced
Ensanguined furrows for the seed of faith.
God was the judge in heaven, and I on earth.
God, or the devil – it little matters which;
Yours was his chosen arm – that stands confessed.
And now no more of this. Some thoughts there are
Whereof the memory pains me. I respect
My father's choice, – my father needs an Alva!
But that he needs him is not just the point
I envy in him: a great man you are,
This may be true, and I well nigh believe it,
Only I fear your mission is begun
Some thousand years too soon. Alva, methinks,
Were just the man to suit the end of time.
Then when the giant insolence of vice
Shall have exhausted Heaven's enduring patience,
And the rich waving harvest of misdeeds
Stand in full ear, and asks a matchless reaper,
Then should you fill the post. O God! my paradise!
My Flanders! But of this I must not think.
'Tis said you carry with you a full store
Of sentences of death already signed.
This shows a prudent foresight! No more need
To fear your foes' designs, or secret plots:
Oh, father! ill indeed I've understood thee.
Calling thee harsh, to save me from a post,
Where Alva's self alone can fitly shine!
'Twas an unerring token of your love.
These words deserve —
What!
But your birth protects you.
That calls for blood! Duke, draw your sword!
On whom?
Draw, or I run you through.
Then be it so.
[They fight.
The QUEEN, DON CARLOS, DUKE ALVA.
How! naked swords?
[To the PRINCE in an indignant and commanding tone.
Prince Carlos!
Pardon, duke!
Your pardon, sir! Forget, forgive it all!
[Throws himself in silence at the QUEEN'S feet, then rising suddenly, departs in confusion.
By heaven, 'tis strange!
A word with you, Duke ALVA.
[Exit, followed by the DUKE.
The PRINCESS EBOLI's apartment.
The PRINCESS in a simple, but elegant dress, playing on the lute.
The QUEEN's PAGE enters.
He comes!
Are you alone? I wonder much
He is not here already; but he must
Be here upon the instant.
Do you say must!
Then he will come, this much is certain then.
He's close upon my steps. You are beloved,
Adored, and with more passionate regard
Than mortal ever was, or can be loved.
Oh! what a scene I witnessed!
Quick, you spoke
With him! What said he? Tell me straight —
How did he look? what were his words? And say —
Did he appear embarrassed or confused
And did he guess who sent the key to him?
Be quick! or did he not? He did not guess
At all, perhaps! or guessed amiss! Come, speak,
How! not a word to answer me? Oh, fie!
You never were so dull – so slow before,
'Tis past all patience.
Dearest lady, hear me!
Both key and note I placed within his hands,
In the queen's antechamber, and he started
And gazed with wonder when I told him that
A lady sent me!
Did he start? go on!
That's excellent. Proceed, what next ensued?
I would have told him more, but he grew pale,
And snatched the letter from my hand, and said
With look of deadly menace, he knew all.
He read the letter with confusion through,
And straight began to tremble.
He knew all!
He knew it all? Were those his very words?
He asked me, and again he asked, if you
With your own hands had given me the letter?
If I? Then did he mention me by name?
By name! no name he mentioned: there might be
Listeners, he said, about the palace, who
Might to the king disclose it.
Said he that?
He further said, it much concerned the king;
Deeply concerned – to know of that same letter.
The king! Nay, are you sure you heard him right?
The king! Was that the very word he used?
It was. He called it a most perilous secret,
And warned me to be strictly on my guard,
Never with word or look to give the king
Occasion for suspicion.
All agrees!
It can be nothing else – he must have heard
The tale – 'tis very strange! Who could have told him,
I wonder who? The eagle eye of love
Alone could pierce so far. But tell me further —
He read the letter.
Which, he said, conveyed
Such bliss as made him tremble, and till then
He had not dared to dream of. As he spoke
The duke, by evil chance, approached the room,
And this compelled us —
What in all the world
Could bring the duke to him at such a time?
What can detain him? Why appears he not?
See how you've been deceived; how truly blest
Might he have been already – in the time
You've taken to describe his wishes to me!
The duke, I fear —
Again, the duke! What can
The duke want here? What should a warrior want
With my soft dreams of happiness? He should
Have left him there, or sent him from his presence.
Where is the man may not be treated thus?
But Carlos seems as little versed in love
As in a woman's heart – he little knows
What minutes are. But hark! I hear a step;
Away, away!
[PAGE hastens out.
Where have I laid my lute?
I must not seem to wait for him. My song
Shall be a signal to him.
The PRINCESS, DON CARLOS.
The PRINCESS has thrown herself upon an ottoman, and plays.
Gracious Heaven!
Where am I?
What? Prince Carlos! yes, in truth.
Where am I? Senseless error; I have missed
The right apartment.
With what dexterous skill
Carlos contrives to hit the very room
Where ladies sit alone!
Your pardon, princess!
I found – I found the antechamber open.
Can it be possible? I fastened it
Myself; at least I thought so —
Ay! you thought,
You only thought so; rest assured you did not.
You meant to lock it, that I well believe:
But most assuredly it was not locked.
A lute's sweet sounds attracted me, some hand
Touched it with skill; say, was it not a lute?
[Looking round inquiringly.
Yes, there it lies, and Heaven can bear me witness
I love the lute to madness. I became
All ear, forgot myself in the sweet strain,
And rushed into the chamber to behold
The lovely eyes of the divine musician
Who charmed me with the magic of her tones.
Innocent curiosity, no doubt!
But it was soon appeased, as I can prove.
[After a short silence, significantly.
I must respect the modesty that has,
To spare a woman's blushes, thus involved
Itself in so much fiction.
Nay, I feel
I but augment my deep embarrassment,
In vain attempt to extricate myself.
Excuse me for a part I cannot play.
In this remote apartment, you perhaps
Have sought a refuge from the world, to pour
The inmost wishes of your secret heart
Remote from man's distracting eye. By me,
Unhappy that I am, your heavenly dreams
Are all disturbed, and the atonement now
Must be my speedy absence.
[Going.
Oh! that step
Were cruel, prince, indeed!
Princess, I feel
What such a look in such a place imports:
This virtuous embarrassment has claims
To which my manhood never can be deaf.
Woe to the wretch whose boldness takes new fire
From the pure blush of maiden modesty!
I am a coward when a woman trembles.
Is't possible? – such noble self-control
In one so young, and he a monarch's son!
Now, prince, indeed you shall remain with me,
It is my own request, and you must stay.
Near such high virtue, every maiden fear
Takes wing at once; but your appearance here
Disturbed me in a favorite air, and now
Your penalty shall be to hear me sing it.
A penalty delightful as the sin!
And sooth to say, the subject of the song
Was so divine, again and yet again
I'd gladly hear it.
What! you heard it all?
Nay, that was too bad, prince. It was, I think,
A song of love.
And of successful love,
If I mistake not – dear delicious theme
From those most beauteous lips – but scarce so true,
Methinks, as beautiful.
What! not so true?
Then do you doubt the tale?
I almost doubt
That Carlos and the Princess Eboli,
When they discourse on such a theme as love,
May not quite understand each other's hearts.
[The PRINCESS starts; he observes it, and continues with playful gallantry.
Who would believe those rosy-tinted cheeks
Concealed a heart torn by the pangs of love.
Is it within the range of wayward chance
That the fair Princess Eboli should sigh
Unheard – unanswered? Love is only known
By him who hopelessly persists in love.
Hush! what a dreadful thought! this fate indeed
Appears to follow you of all mankind,
Especially to-day.
[Taking his hand with insinuating interest.
You are not happy,
Dear prince – you're sad! I know too well you suffer,
And wherefore, prince? When with such loud appeal
The world invites you to enjoy its bliss —
And nature on you pours her bounteous gifts,
And spreads around you all life's sweetest joys.
You, a great monarch's son, and more – far more —
E'en in your cradle with such gifts endowed
As far eclipsed the splendor of your rank.
You, who in those strict courts where women rule,
And pass, without appeal, unerring sentence
On manly worth and honor, even there
Find partial judges. You, who with a look
Can prove victorious, and whose very coldness
Kindles aflame; and who, when warmed with passion,
Can make a paradise, and scatter round
The bliss of heaven, the rapture of the gods.
The man whom nature has adorned with gifts
To render thousands happy, gifts which she
Bestows on few – that such a man as this
Should know what misery is! Thou, gracious Heaven,
That gavest him all those blessings, why deny
Him eyes to see the conquests he has made?
Charming! inimitable! Princess, sing
That passage, pray, again.
Where, Carlos, were
Your thoughts the while?
By heaven, you do remind me
In proper time – I must away – and quickly.
Whither away?
Into the open air.
Nay, do not hold me, princess, for I feel
As though the world behind me were in flames.
What troubles you? Whence comes these strange, these wild,
Unnatural looks? Nay, answer me!
[CARLOS stops to reflect, she draws him to the sofa to her.
Dear Carlos,
You need repose, your blood is feverish.
Come, sit by me: dispel these gloomy fancies.
Ask yourself frankly can your head explain
The tumult of your heart – and if it can —
Say, can no knight be found in all the court,
No lady, generous as fair, to cure you —
Rather, I should have said, to understand you?
What, no one?
If the Princess Eboli —
Indeed!
Would write a letter for me, a few words
Of kindly intercession to my father; —
They say your influence is great.
Who says so?
[Aside.
Ha! was it jealousy that held thee mute!
Perchance my story is already public.
I had a sudden wish to visit Brabant
Merely to win my spurs – no more. The king,
Kind soul, is fearful the fatigues of war
Might spoil my singing!
Prince, you play me false!
Confess that by this serpent subterfuge
You would mislead me. Look me in the face,
Deceitful one! and say would he whose thoughts
Were only bent on warlike deeds – would he
E'er stoop so low as, with deceitful hand,
To steal fair ladies' ribbons when they drop,
And then – your pardon! hoard them – with such care?
[With light action she opens his shirt frill, and seizes a ribbon which is there concealed.
Nay, princess – that's too much – I am betrayed.
You're not to be deceived. You are in league
With spirits and with demons!
Are you then
Surprised at this? What will you wager, Carlos
But I recall some stories to your heart?
Nay, try it with me; ask whate'er you please,
And if the triflings of my sportive fancy —
The sound half-uttered by the air absorbed —
The smile of joy checked by returning gloom —
If motions – looks from your own soul concealed
Have not escaped my notice – judge if I
Can err when thou wouldst have me understand thee?
Why, this is boldly ventured; I accept
The wager, princess. Then you undertake
To make discoveries in my secret heart
Unknown even to myself.
Unknown to thee!
Reflect a moment, prince! Nay, look around;
This boudoir's not the chamber of the queen,
Where small deceits are practised with full license.
You start, a sudden blush o'erspreads your face.
Who is so bold, so idle, you would ask,
As to watch Carlos when he deems himself
From scrutiny secure? Who was it, then,
At the last palace-ball observed you leave
The queen, your partner, standing in the dance,
And join, with eager haste, the neighboring couple,
To offer to the Princess Eboli
The hand your royal partner should have claimed?
An error, prince, his majesty himself,
Who just then entered the apartment, noticed.
His majesty? And did he really so?
Of all men he should not have seen it.
Nor yet that other scene within the chapel,
Which doubtless Carlos hath long since forgotten.
Prostrate before the holy Virgin's image,
You lay in prayer, when suddenly you heard —
'Twas not your fault – a rustling from behind
Of ladies' dresses. Then did Philip's son,
A youth of hero courage, tremble like
A heretic before the holy office.
On his pale lips died the half-uttered prayer.
In ecstasy of passion, prince – the scene
Was truly touching – for you seized the hand,
The blessed Virgin's cold and holy hand,
And showered your burning kisses on the marble.
Princess, you wrong me: that was pure devotion!
Indeed! that's quite another thing. Perhaps
It was the fear of losing, then, at cards,
When you were seated with the queen and me,
And you with dexterous skill purloined my glove.
[CARLOS starts surprised.
That prompted you to play it for a card?
What words are these? O Heaven, what have I done?
Nothing I hope of which you need repent!
How pleasantly was I surprised to find
Concealed within the glove a little note,
Full of the warmest tenderest romance,
Mere poetry! no more. My fancy teems
With idle bubbles oft, which break as soon
As they arise – and this was one of them;
So, prithee, let us talk of it no more.
some time at a distance).
I am exhausted – all attempts are vain
To hold this youth. He still eludes my grasp.
[Remains silent a few moments.
But stay! Perchance 'tis man's unbounded pride,
That thus to add a zest to my delight.
Assumes a mask of timid diffidence.
'Tis so.
[She approaches the PRINCE again, and looks at him doubtingly.
Explain yourself, prince, I entreat you.
For here I stand before a magic casket,
Which all my keys are powerless to unlock.
As I before you stand.
Then thus at last —
I must resolve to speak, and Carlos, you
Shall be my judge. Yours is a noble nature,
You are a prince – a knight – a man of honor.
I throw myself upon your heart – protect me
Or if I'm lost beyond redemption's power,
Give me your tears in pity for my fate.
[The PRINCE draws nearer.
A daring favorite of the king demands
My hand – his name Ruy Gomez, Count of Silva,
The king consents – the bargain has been struck,
And I am sold already to his creature.
Sold! you sold! Another bargain, then,
Concluded by this royal southern trader!
No; but hear all – 'tis not enough that I
Am sacrificed to cold state policy,
A snare is laid to entrap my innocence.
Here is a letter will unmask the saint!
[CARLOS takes the paper, and without reading it listens with impatience to her recital.
Where Shall I find protection, prince? Till now
My virtue was defended by my pride,
At length —
At length you yielded! Yielded? No.
For God's sake say not so!
Yielded! to whom?
Poor piteous reasoning. Weak beyond contempt
Your haughty minds, who hold a woman's favor,
And love's pure joys, as wares to traffic for!
Love is the only treasure on the face
Of this wide earth that knows no purchaser
Besides itself – love has no price but love.
It is the costly gem, beyond all price,
Which I must freely give away, or – bury
For ever unenjoyed – like that proud merchant
Whom not the wealth of all the rich Rialto
Could tempt – a great rebuke to kings! to save
From the deep ocean waves his matchless pearl,
Too proud to barter it beneath its worth!
Now, by great heaven, this woman's beautiful.
Call it caprice or pride, I ne'er will make
Division of my joys. To him, alone,
I choose as mine, I give up all forever.
One only sacrifice I make; but that
Shall be eternal. One true heart alone
My love shall render happy: but that one
I'll elevate to God. The keen delight
Of mingling souls – the kiss – the swimming joys
Of that delicious hour when lovers meet,
The magic power of heavenly beauty – all
Are sister colors of a single ray —
Leaves of one single blossom. Shall I tear
One petal from this sweet, this lovely flower,
With reckless hand, and mar its beauteous chalice?
Shall I degrade the dignity of woman,
The masterpiece of the Almighty's hand,
To charm the evening of a reveller?
Incredible! that in Madrid should dwell
This matchless creature! and unknown to me
Until this day.
Long since had I forsaken
This court – the world – and in some blest retreat
Immured myself; but one tie binds me still
Too firmly to existence. Perhaps – alas!
'Tis but a phantom – but 'tis dear to me.
I love – but am not loved in turn.
You are!
As true as God is throned in heaven! I swear
You are – you are unspeakably beloved.
You swear it, you! – sure 'twas an angel's voice.
Oh, if you swear it, Carlos, I'll believe it.
Then I am truly loved!
Bewitching maid,
Thou creature worthy of idolatry
I stand before thee now all eye, all ear,
All rapture and delight. What eye hath seen thee —
Under yon heaven what eye could e'er have seen thee,
And boast he never loved? What dost thou here
In Philip's royal court! Thou beauteous angel!
Here amid monks and all their princely train.
This is no clime for such a lovely flower —
They fain would rifle all thy sweets – full well
I know their hearts. But it shall never be —
Not whilst I draw life's breath. I fold thee thus
Within my arms, and in these hands I'll bear thee
E'en through a hell replete with mocking fiends.
Let me thy guardian angel prove.
O Carlos!
How little have I known thee! and how richly
With measureless reward thy heart repays
The weighty task of – comprehending thee!
[She takes his hand and is about to kiss it.
Princess! What mean you?
Oh, this beauteous hand!
How lovely 'tis, and rich! This hand has yet
Two costly presents to bestow! – a crown —
And Carlos' heart: – and both these gifts perchance
Upon one mortal! – both on one – Oh, great
And godlike gift-almost too much for one!
How if you share the treasure, prince! A queen
Knows naught of love – and she who truly loves
Cares little for a crown! 'Twere better, prince,
Then to divide the treasure – and at once —
What says my prince? Have you done so already?
Have you in truth? And do I know the blest one?
Thou shalt. I will unfold myself to thee,
To thy unspotted innocence, dear maid,
Thy pure, unblemished nature. In this court
Thou art the worthiest – first – the only one
To whom this soul has stood revealed.
Then, yes! I will not now conceal it – yes,
I love!
Oh, cruel heart! Does this avowal prove
So painful to thee? Must I first deserve
Thy pity – ere I hope to win thy love?
What say'st thou?
So to trifle with me, prince!
Indeed it was not well – and to deny
The key —
The key! the key! Oh yes, 'tis so!
[After a dead silence.
I see it all too plainly! Gracious heaven!
[His knees totter, he leans against a chair, and covers his face with his hands. A long silence on both sides.
The PRINCESS screams and falls.
Oh, horrible! What have I done!
Hurled down
So far from all my heavenly joys! 'Tis dreadful!
Oh, God! What have I said?
I am not guilty.
My passion – an unfortunate mistake —
By heaven, I am not guilty —
Out of my sight,
For heaven's sake!
No, I will not leave thee thus.
In this dread anguish leave thee —
Oh, in pity —
For mercy's sake, away – out of my sight!
Wouldst thou destroy me? How I hate thy presence!
[CARLOS going.
Give, give me back the letter and the key.
Where is the other letter?
The other letter?
That from the king, to me —
From whom?
The one I just now gave you.
From the king!
To you!
Oh, heavens, how dreadfully have I
Involved myself! The letter, sir! I must
Have it again.
The letter from the king!
To you!
The letter! give it, I implore you
By all that's sacred! give it.
What, the letter
That will unmask the saint! Is this the letter?
Now I'm undone! Quick, give it me —
The letter —
What have I done? O dreadful, dire imprudence!
This letter comes, then, from the king! Princess,
That changes all indeed, and quickly, too.
This letter is beyond all value – priceless!
All Philip's crowns are worthless, and too poor
To win it from my hands. I'll keep this letter.
Almighty Heaven! then I am lost forever.
[Exit CARLOS.