Produced by Tapio Riikonen and David Widger DON CARLOS. By Frederich Schiller Translated by R. D. Boylan DRAMATIS PERSONAE. PHILIP THE SECOND, King of Spain. DON CARLOS, Prince, Son of Philip. ALEXANDER FARNESE, Prince of Parma. MARQUIS DE POSA. DUKE OF ALVA. Grandees of Spain: COUNT LERMA, Colonel of the Body Guard, DUKE OF FERIA, Knight of the Golden Fleece, DUKE OF MEDINA SIDONIA, Admiral, DON RAIMOND DE TAXIS, Postmaster-General, DOMINGO, Confessor to the King. GRAND INQUISITOR of Spain. PRIOR of a Carthusian Convent. PAGE of the Queen. DON LOUIS MERCADO, Physician to the Queen. ELIZABETH DE VALOIS, Queen of Spain. INFANTA CLARA FARNESE, a Child three years of age. DUCHESS D'OLIVAREZ, Principal Attendant on the Queen. Ladies Attendant on the Queen: MARCHIONESS DE MONDECAR, PRINCESS EBOLI, COUNTESS FUENTES, Several Ladies, Nobles, Pages, Officers of the Body-Guard, and mute Characters. ACT I. SCENE I. The Royal Gardens in Aranjuez. CARLOS and DOMINGO. DOMINGO. Our pleasant sojourn in Aranjuez Is over now, and yet your highness quits These joyous scenes no happier than before. Our visit hath been fruitless. Oh, my prince, Break this mysterious and gloomy silence! Open your heart to your own father's heart! A monarch never can too dearly buy The peace of his own son--his only son. [CARLOS looks on the ground in silence. Is there one dearest wish that bounteous Heaven Hath e'er withheld from her most favored child? I stood beside, when in Toledo's walls The lofty Charles received his vassals' homage, When conquered princes thronged to kiss his hand, And there at once six mighty kingdoms fell In fealty at his feet: I stood and marked The young, proud blood mount to his glowing cheek, I saw his bosom swell with high resolves, His eye, all radiant with triumphant pride, Flash through the assembled throng; and that same eye Confessed, "Now am I wholly satisfied!" [CARLOS turns away. This silent sorrow, which for eight long moons Hath hung its shadows, prince, upon your brow-- The mystery of the court, the nation's grief-- Hath cost your father many a sleepless night, And many a tear of anguish to your mother. CARLOS (turning hastily round). My mother! Grant, O heaven, I may forget How she became my mother! DOMINGO. Gracious prince! CARLOS (passing his hands thoughtfully over his brow). Alas! alas! a fruitful source of woe Have mothers been to me. My youngest act, When first these eyes beheld the light of day, Destroyed a mother. DOMINGO. Is it possible That this reproach disturbs your conscience, prince? CARLOS. And my new mother! Hath she not already Cost me my father's heart? Scarce loved at best. My claim to some small favor lay in this-- I was his only child! 'Tis over! She Hath blest him with a daughter--and who knows What slumbering ills the future hath in store? DOMINGO. You jest, my prince. All Spain adores its queen. Shall it be thought that you, of all the world, Alone should view her with the eyes of hate-- Gaze on her charms, and yet be coldly wise? How, prince? The loveliest lady of her time, A queen withal, and once your own betrothed? No, no, impossible--it cannot be! Where all men love, you surely cannot hate. Carlos could never so belie himself. I prithee, prince, take heed she do not learn That she hath lost her son's regard. The news Would pain her deeply. CARLOS. Ay, sir! think you so? DOMINGO. Your highness doubtless will remember how, At the late tournament in Saragossa, A lance's splinter struck our gracious sire. The queen, attended by her ladies, sat High in the centre gallery of the palace, And looked upon the fight. A cry arose, "The king! he bleeds!" Soon through the general din, A rising murmur strikes upon her ear. "The prince--the prince!" she cries, and forward rushed, As though to leap down from the balcony, When a voice answered, "No, the king himself!" "Then send for his physicians!" she replied, And straight regained her former self-composure. [After a short pause. But you seem wrapped in thought? CARLOS. In wonder, sir, That the king's merry confessor should own So rare a skill in the romancer's art. [Austerely. Yet have I heard it said that those Who watch men's looks and carry tales about, Have done more mischief in this world of ours Than the assassin's knife, or poisoned bowl. Your labor, Sir, hath been but ill-bestowed; Would you win thanks, go seek them of the king. DOMINGO. This caution, prince, is wise. Be circumspect With men--but not with every man alike. Repel not friends and hypocrites together; I mean you well, believe me! CARLOS. Say you so? Let not my father mark it, then, or else Farewell your hopes forever of the purple. DOMINGO (starts). CARLOS. How! CARLOS. Even so! Hath he not promised you The earliest purple in the gift of Spain? DOMINGO. You mock me, prince! CARLOS. Nay! Heaven forefend, that I Should mock that awful man whose fateful lips Can doom my father or to heaven or hell! DOMINGO. I dare not, prince, presume to penetrate The sacred mystery of your secret grief, Yet I implore your highness to remember That, for a conscience ill at ease, the church Hath opened an asylum, of which kings Hold not the key--where even crimes are purged Beneath the holy sacramental seal. You know my meaning, prince--I've said enough. CARLOS. No! be it, never said, I tempted so The keeper of that seal. DOMINGO. Prince, this mistrust-- You wrong the most devoted of your servants. CARLOS. Then give me up at once without a thought Thou art a holy man--the world knows that-- But, to speak plain, too zealous far for me. The road to Peter's chair is long and rough, And too much knowledge might encumber you. Go, tell this to the king, who sent thee hither! DOMINGO. Who sent me hither? CARLOS. Ay! Those were my words. Too well-too well, I know, that I'm betrayed, Slandered on every hand--that at this court A hundred eyes are hired to watch my steps. I know, that royal Philip to his slaves Hath sold his only son, and every wretch, Who takes account of each half-uttered word, Receives such princely guerdon as was ne'er Bestowed on deeds of honor, Oh, I know But hush!--no more of that! My heart will else O'erflow and I've already said too much. DOMINGO. The king is minded, ere the set of sun, To reach Madrid: I see the court is mustering. Have I permission, prince? CARLOS. I'll follow straight. [Exit DOMINGO. CARLOS (after a short silence). O wretched Philip! wretched as thy son! Soon shall thy bosom bleed at every pore, Torn by suspicion's poisonous serpent fang. Thy fell sagacity full soon shall pierce The fatal secret it is bent to know, And thou wilt madden, when it breaks upon thee! SCENE II. CARLOS, MARQUIS OF POSA. CARLOS. Lo! Who comes here? 'Tis he! O ye kind heavens, My Roderigo! MARQUIS. Carlos! CARLOS. Can it be? And is it truly thou? O yes, it is! I press thee to my bosom, and I feel Thy throbbing heart beat wildly 'gainst mine own. And now all's well again. In this embrace My sick, sad heart is comforted. I hang Upon my Roderigo's neck! MARQUIS. Thy heart! Thy sick sad heart! And what is well again What needeth to be well? Thy words amaze me. CARLOS. What brings thee back so suddenly from Brussels? Whom must I thank for this most glad surprise? And dare I ask? Whom should I thank but thee, Thou gracious and all bounteous Providence? Forgive me, heaven! if joy hath crazed my brain. Thou knewest no angel watched at Carlos' side, And sent me this! And yet I ask who sent him. MARQUIS. Pardon, dear prince, if I can only meet With wonder these tumultuous ecstacies. Not thus I looked to find Don Philip's son. A hectic red burns on your pallid cheek, And your lips quiver with a feverish heat. What must I think, dear prince? No more I see The youth of lion heart, to whom I come The envoy of a brave and suffering people. For now I stand not here as Roderigo-- Not as the playmate of the stripling Carlos-- But, as the deputy of all mankind, I clasp thee thus:--'tis Flanders that clings here Around thy neck, appealing with my tears To thee for succor in her bitter need. This land is lost, this land so dear to thee, If Alva, bigotry's relentless tool, Advance on Brussels with his Spanish laws. This noble country's last faint hope depends On thee, loved scion of imperial Charles! And, should thy noble heart forget to beat In human nature's cause, Flanders is lost! CARLOS. Then it is lost. MARQUIS. What do I hear? Alas! CARLOS. Thou speakest of times that long have passed away. I, too, have had my visions of a Carlos, Whose cheek would fire at freedom's glorious name, But he, alas! has long been in his grave. He, thou seest here, no longer is that Carlos, Who took his leave of thee in Alcala, Who in the fervor of a youthful heart, Resolved, at some no distant time, to wake The golden age in Spain! Oh, the conceit, Though but a child's, was yet divinely fair! Those dreams are past! MARQUIS. Said you, those dreams, my prince! And were they only dreams? CARLOS. Oh, let me weep, Upon thy bosom weep these burning tears, My only friend! Not one have I--not one-- In the wide circuit of this earth,--not one Far as the sceptre of my sire extends, Far as the navies bear the flag of Spain, There is no spot--none--none, where I dare yield An outlet to my tears, save only this. I charge thee, Roderigo! Oh, by all The hopes we both do entertain of heaven, Cast me not off from thee, my friend, my friend! [POSA bends over him in silent emotion. Look on me, Posa, as an orphan child, Found near the throne, and nurtured by thy love. Indeed, I know not what a father is. I am a monarch's son. Oh, were it so, As my heart tells me that it surely is, That thou from millions hast been chosen out To comprehend my being; if it be true, That all-creating nature has designed In me to reproduce a Roderigo, And on the morning of our life attuned Our souls' soft concords to the selfsame key; If one poor tear, which gives my heart relief, To thee were dearer than my father's favor---- MARQUIS. Oh, it is dearer far than all the world! CARLOS. I'm fallen so low, have grown so poor withal, I must recall to thee our childhood's years,-- Must ask thee payment of a debt incurred When thou and I were scarce to boyhood grown. Dost thou remember, how we grew together, Two daring youths, like brothers, side by side? I had no sorrow but to see myself Eclipsed by thy bright genius. So I vowed, Since I might never cope with thee in power, That I would love thee with excess of love. Then with a thousand shows of tenderness, And warm affection, I besieged thy heart, Which cold and proudly still repulsed them all. Oft have I stood, and--yet thou sawest it never Hot bitter tear-drops brimming in mine eyes, When I have marked thee, passing me unheeded, Fold to thy bosom youths of humbler birth. "Why only these?" in anguish, once I asked-- "Am I not kind and good to thee as they?" But dropping on thy knees, thine answer came, With an unloving look of cold reserve, "This is my duty to the monarch's son!" MARQUIS. Oh, spare me, dearest prince, nor now recall Those boyish acts that make me blush for shame. CARLOS. I did not merit such disdain from thee-- You might despise me, crush my heart, but never Alter my love. Three times didst thou repulse The prince, and thrice he came to thee again, To beg thy love, and force on thee his own. At length chance wrought what Carlos never could. Once we were playing, when thy shuttlecock Glanced off and struck my aunt, Bohemia's queen, Full in the face! She thought 'twas with intent, And all in tears complained unto the king. The palace youth were summoned on the spot, And charged to name the culprit. High in wrath The king vowed vengeance for the deed: "Although It were his son, yet still should he be made A dread example!" I looked around and marked Thee stand aloof, all trembling with dismay. Straight I stepped forth; before the royal feet I flung myself, and cried, "'Twas I who did it; Now let thine anger fall upon thy son!" MARQUIS. Ah, wherefore, prince, remind me? CARLOS. Hear me further! Before the face of the assembled court, That stood, all pale with pity, round about, Thy Carlos was tied up, whipped like a slave; I looked on thee, and wept not. Blow rained on blow; I gnashed my teeth with pain, yet wept I not! My royal blood streamed 'neath the pitiless lash; I looked on thee, and wept not. Then you came, And fell half-choked with sobs before my feet: "Carlos," you cried, "my pride is overcome; I will repay thee when thou art a king." MARQUIS (stretching forth his hand to CARLOS). Carlos, I'll keep my word; my boyhood's vow I now as man renew. I will repay thee. Some day, perchance, the hour may come---- CARLOS. Now! now! The hour has come; thou canst repay me all. I have sore need of love. A fearful secret Burns in my breast; it must--it must be told. In thy pale looks my death-doom will I read. Listen; be petrified; but answer not. I love--I love--my mother! MARQUIS. O my God! CARLOS. Nay, no forbearance! spare me not! Speak! speak! Proclaim aloud, that on this earth's great round There is no misery to compare with mine. Speak! speak!--I know all--all that thou canst say The son doth love his mother. All the world's Established usages, the course of nature, Rome's fearful laws denounce my fatal passion. My suit conflicts with my own father's rights, I feel it all, and yet I love. This path Leads on to madness, or the scaffold. I Love without hope, love guiltily, love madly, With anguish, and with peril of my life; I see, I see it all, and yet I love. MARQUIS. The queen--does she know of your passion? CARLOS. Could I Reveal it to her? She is Philip's wife-- She is the queen, and this is Spanish ground, Watched by a jealous father, hemmed around By ceremonial forms, how, how could I Approach her unobserved? 'Tis now eight months, Eight maddening months, since the king summoned me Home from my studies, since I have been doomed To look on her, adore her day by day, And all the while be silent as the grave! Eight maddening months, Roderigo; think of this! This fire has seethed and raged within my breast! A thousand, thousand times, the dread confession Has mounted to my lips, yet evermore Shrunk, like a craven, back upon my heart. O Roderigo! for a few brief moments Alone with her! MARQUIS. Ah! and your father, prince! CARLOS. Unhappy me! Remind me not of him. Tell me of all the torturing pangs of conscience, But speak not, I implore you, of my father! MARQUIS. Then do you hate your father? CARLOS. No, oh, no! I do not hate my father; but the fear That guilty creatures feel,--a shuddering dread,-- Comes o'er me ever at that terrible name. Am I to blame, if slavish nurture crushed Love's tender germ within my youthful heart? Six years I'd numbered, ere the fearful man, They told me was my father, met mine eyes. One morning 'twas, when with a stroke I saw him Sign four death-warrants. After that I ne'er Beheld him, save when, for some childish fault, I was brought out for chastisement. O God! I feel my heart grow bitter at the thought. Let us away! away! MARQUIS. Nay, Carlos, nay, You must, you shall give all your sorrow vent, Let it have words! 'twill ease your o'erfraught heart. CARLOS. Oft have I struggled with myself, and oft At midnight, when my guards were sunk in sleep, With floods of burning tears I've sunk before The image of the ever-blessed Virgin, And craved a filial heart, but all in vain. I rose with prayer unheard. O Roderigo! Unfold this wondrous mystery of heaven, Why of a thousand fathers only this Should fall to me--and why to him this son, Of many thousand better? Nature could not In her wide orb have found two opposites More diverse in their elements. How could She bind the two extremes of human kind-- Myself and him--in one so holy bond? O dreadful fate! Why was it so decreed? Why should two men, in all things else apart, Concur so fearfully in one desire? Roderigo, here thou seest two hostile stars, That in the lapse of ages, only once, As they sweep onwards in their orbed course, Touch with a crash that shakes them to the centre, Then rush apart forever and forever. MARQUIS. I feel a dire foreboding. CARLOS. So do I. Like hell's grim furies, dreams of dreadful shape Pursue me still. My better genius strives With the fell projects of a dark despair. My wildered subtle spirit crawls through maze On maze of sophistries, until at length It gains a yawning precipice's brink. O Roderigo! should I e'er in him Forget the father--ah! thy deathlike look Tells me I'm understood--should I forget The father--what were then the king to me? MARQUIS (after a pause). One thing, my Carlos, let me beg of you! Whate'er may be your plans, do nothing,--nothing,-- Without your friend's advice. You promise this? CARLOS. All, all I promise that thy love can ask! I throw myself entirely upon thee! MARQUIS. The king, I hear, is going to Madrid. The time is short. If with the queen you would Converse in private, it is only here, Here in Aranjuez, it can be done. The quiet of the place, the freer manners, All favor you. CARLOS. And such, too, was my hope; But it, alas! was vain. MARQUIS. Not wholly so. I go to wait upon her. If she be The same in Spain she was in Henry's court, She will be frank at least. And if I can Read any hope for Carlos in her looks-- Find her inclined to grant an interview-- Get her attendant ladies sent away---- CARLOS. Most of them are my friends--especially The Countess Mondecar, whom I have gained By service to her son, my page. MARQUIS. 'Tis well; Be you at hand, and ready to appear, Whene'er I give the signal, prince. CARLOS. I will,-- Be sure I will:--and all good speed attend thee! MARQUIS. I will not lose a moment; so, farewell. [Exeunt severally. SCENE III. The Queen's Residence in Aranjuez. The Pleasure Grounds, intersected by an avenue, terminated by the Queen's Palace. The QUEEN, DUCHESS OF OLIVAREZ, PRINCESS OF EBOLI, and MARCHIONESS OF MONDECAR, all advancing from the avenue. QUEEN (to the MARCHIONESS). I will have you beside me, Mondecar. The princess, with these merry eyes of hers, Has plagued me all the morning. See, she scarce Can hide the joy she feels to leave the country. EBOLI. 'Twere idle to conceal, my queen, that I Shall be most glad to see Madrid once more. MONDECAR. And will your majesty not be so, too? Are you so grieved to quit Aranjuez? QUEEN. To quit--this lovely spot at least I am. This is my world. Its sweetness oft and oft Has twined itself around my inmost heart. Here, nature, simple, rustic nature greets me, The sweet companion of my early years-- Here I indulge once more my childhood's sports, And my dear France's gales come blowing here. Blame not this partial fondness--all hearts yearn For their own native land. EBOLI. But then how lone, How dull and lifeless it is here! We might As well be in La Trappe. QUEEN. I cannot see it. To me Madrid alone is lifeless. But What saith our duchess to it? OLIVAREZ. Why, methinks, Your majesty, since kings have ruled in Spain, It hath been still the custom for the court To pass the summer months alternately Here and at Pardo,--in Madrid, the winter. QUEEN. Well, I suppose it has! Duchess, you know I've long resigned all argument with you. MONDECAR. Next month Madrid will be all life and bustle. They're fitting up the Plaza Mayor now, And we shall have rare bull-fights; and, besides, A grand auto da fe is promised us. QUEEN. Promised? This from my gentle Mondecar! MONDECAR. Why not? 'Tis only heretics they burn! QUEEN. I hope my Eboli thinks otherwise! EBOLI. What, I? I beg your majesty may think me As good a Christian as the marchioness. QUEEN. Alas! I had forgotten where I am,-- No more of this! We were speaking, I think, About the country? And methinks this month Has flown away with strange rapidity. I counted on much pleasure, very much, From our retirement here, and yet I have not Found that which I expected. Is it thus With all our hopes? And yet I cannot say One wish of mine is left ungratified. OLIVAREZ. You have not told us, Princess Eboli, If there be hope for Gomez,--and if we may Expect ere long to greet you as his bride? QUEEN. True--thank you, duchess, for reminding me! [Addressing the PRINCESS. I have been asked to urge his suit with you. But can I do it? The man whom I reward With my sweet Eboli must be a man Of noble stamp indeed. OLIVAREZ. And such he is, A man of mark and fairest fame,--a man Whom our dear monarch signally has graced With his most royal favor. QUEEN. He's happy in Such high good fortune; but we fain would know, If he can love, and win return of love. This Eboli must answer. EBOLI (stands speechless and confused, her eyes bent on the ground; at last she falls at the QUEEN's feet). Gracious queen! Have pity on me! Let me--let me not,-- For heaven's sake, let me not be sacrificed. QUEEN. Be sacrificed! I need no more. Arise! 'Tis a hard fortune to be sacrificed. I do believe you. Rise. And is it long Since you rejected Gomez' suit? EBOLI. Some months-- Before Prince Carlos came from Alcala. QUEEN (starts and looks at her with an inquisitive glance). Have you tried well the grounds of your refusal? EBOLI (with energy). It cannot be, my queen, no, never, never,-- For a thousand reasons, never! QUEEN. One's enough, You do not love him. That suffices me. Now let it pass. [To her other ladies. I have not seen the Infanta Yet this morning. Pray bring her, marchioness. OLIVAREZ (looking at the clock). It is not yet the hour, your majesty. QUEEN. Not yet the hour for me to be a mother! That's somewhat hard. Forget not, then, to tell me When the right hour does come. [A page enters and whispers to the first lady, who thereupon turns to the QUEEN. OLIVAREZ. The Marquis Posa! May it please your majesty. QUEEN. The Marquis Posa! OLIVAREZ. He comes from France, and from the Netherlands, And craves the honor to present some letters Intrusted to him by your royal mother. QUEEN. Is this allowed? OLIVAREZ (hesitating). A case so unforeseen Is not provided for in my instructions. When a Castilian grandee, with despatches From foreign courts, shall in her garden find The Queen of Spain, and tender them---- QUEEN. Enough! I'll venture, then, on mine own proper peril. OLIVAREZ. May I, your majesty, withdraw the while? QUEEN. E'en as you please, good duchess! [Exit the DUCHESS, the QUEEN gives the PAGE a sign, who thereupon retires. SCENE IV. The QUEEN, PRINCESS EBOLI, MARCHIONESS OF MONDECAR, and MARQUIS OF POSA. QUEEN. I bid you welcome, sir, to Spanish ground! MARQUIS. Ground which I never with so just a pride Hailed for the country of my sires as now. QUEEN (to the two ladies). The Marquis Posa, ladies, who at Rheims Coped with my father in the lists, and made My colors thrice victorious; the first That made me feel how proud a thing it was To be the Queen of Spain and Spanish men. [Turning to the MARQUIS. When we last parted in the Louvre, Sir, You scarcely dreamed that I should ever be Your hostess in Castile. MARQUIS. Most true, my liege! For at that time I never could have dreamed That France should lose to us the only thing We envied her possessing. QUEEN. How, proud Spaniard! The only thing! And you can venture this-- This to a daughter of the house of Valois! MARQUIS. I venture now to say it, gracious queen, Since now you are our own. QUEEN. Your journey hither Has led you, as I hear, through France. What news Have you brought with you from my honored mother And from my dearest brothers? MARQUIS (handing letters). I left your royal mother sick at heart, Bereft of every joy save only this, To know her daughter happy on the throne Of our imperial Spain. QUEEN. Could she be aught But happy in the dear remembrances Of relatives so kind--in the sweet thoughts Of the old time when--Sir, you've visited Full many a court in these your various travels, And seen strange lands and customs manifold; And now, they say, you mean to keep at home A greater prince in your retired domain Than is King Philip on his throne--a freer. You're a philosopher; but much I doubt If our Madrid will please you. We are so-- So quiet in Madrid. MARQUIS. And that is more Than all the rest of Europe has to boast. QUEEN. I've heard as much. But all this world's concerns Are well-nigh blotted from my memory. [To PRINCESS EBOLI. Princess, methinks I see a hyacinth Yonder in bloom. Wilt bring it to me, sweet? [The PRINCESS goes towards the palace, the QUEEN softly to the MARQUIS. I'm much mistaken, sir, or your arrival Has made one heart more happy here at court. MARQUIS. I have found a sad one--one that in this world A ray of sunshine---- EBOLI. As this gentleman Has seen so many countries, he, no doubt, Has much of note to tell us. MARQUIS. Doubtless, and To seek adventures is a knight's first duty-- But his most sacred is to shield the fair. MONDECAR. From giants! But there are no giants now! MARQUIS. Power is a giant ever to the weak. QUEEN. The chevalier says well. There still are giants; But there are knights no more. MARQUIS. Not long ago, On my return from Naples, I became The witness of a very touching story, Which ties of friendship almost make my own Were I not fearful its recital might Fatigue your majesty---- QUEEN. Have I a choice? The princess is not to be lightly balked. Proceed. I too, sir, love a story dearly. MARQUIS. Two noble houses in Mirandola, Weary of jealousies and deadly feuds, Transmitted down from Guelphs and Ghibellines, Through centuries of hate, from sire to son, Resolved to ratify a lasting peace By the sweet ministry of nuptial ties. Fernando, nephew of the great Pietro, And fair Matilda, old Colonna's child, Were chosen to cement this holy bond. Nature had never for each other formed Two fairer hearts. And never had the world Approved a wiser or a happier choice. Still had the youth adored his lovely bride In the dull limner's portraiture alone. How thrilled his heart, then, in the hope to find The truth of all that e'en his fondest dreams Had scarcely dared to credit in her picture! In Padua, where his studies held him bound; Fernando panted for the joyful hour, When he might murmur at Matilda's feet The first pure homage of his fervent love. [The QUEEN grows more attentive; the MARQUIS continues, after a short pause, addressing himself chiefly to PRINCESS EBOLI. Meanwhile the sudden death of Pietro's wife Had left him free to wed. With the hot glow Of youthful blood the hoary lover drinks The fame that reached him of Matilda's charms. He comes--he sees--he loves! The new desire Stifles the voice of nature in his heart. The uncle woos his nephew's destined bride, And at the altar consecrates his theft. QUEEN. And what did then Fernando? MARQUIS. On the wings Of Jove, unconscious of the fearful change, Delirious with the promised joy, he speeds Back to Mirandola. His flying steed By starlight gains the gate. Tumultuous sounds Of music, dance, and jocund revelry Ring from the walls of the illumined palace. With faltering steps he mounts the stair; and now Behold him in the crowded nuptial hall, Unrecognized! Amid the reeling guests Pietro sat. An angel at his side-- An angel, whom he knows, and who to him Even in his dreams, seemed ne'er so beautiful. A single glance revealed what once was his-- Revealed what now was lost to him forever. EBOLI. O poor Fernando! QUEEN. Surely, sir, your tale Is ended? Nay, it must be. MARQUIS. No, not quite. QUEEN. Did you not say Fernando was your friend? MARQUIS. I have no dearer in the world. EBOLI. But pray Proceed, sir, with your story. MARQUIS. Nay, the rest Is very sad--and to recall it sets My sorrow fresh abroach. Spare me the sequel. [A general silence. QUEEN (turning to the PRINCESS EBOLI). Surely the time is come to see my daughter, I prithee, princess, bring her to me now! [The PRINCESS withdraws. The MARQUIS beckons a Page. The QUEEN opens the letters, and appears surprised. The MARQUIS talks with MARCHIONESS MONDECAR. The QUEEN having read the letters, turns to the MARQUIS with a penetrating look. QUEEN. You have not spoken of Matilda! She Haply was ignorant of Fernando's grief? MARQUIS. Matilda's heart has no one fathomed yet-- Great souls endure in silence. QUEEN. You look around you. Who is it you seek? MARQUIS. Just then the thought came over me, how one, Whose name I dare not mention, would rejoice, Stood he where I do now. QUEEN. And who's to blame, That he does not? MARQUIS (interrupting her eagerly). My liege! And dare I venture To interpret thee, as fain I would? He'd find Forgiveness, then, if now he should appear. QUEEN (alarmed). Now, marquis, now? What do you mean by this? MARQUIS. Might he, then, hope? QUEEN. You terrify me, marquis. Surely he will not---- MARQUIS. He is here already. SCENE V. The QUEEN, CARLOS, MARQUIS POSA, MARCHIONESS MONDECAR. The two latter go towards the avenue. CARLOS (on his knees before the QUEEN). At length 'tis come--the happy moment's come, And Charles may touch this all-beloved hand. QUEEN. What headlong folly's this? And dare you break Into my presence thus? Arise, rash man! We are observed; my suite are close at hand. CARLOS. I will not rise. Here will I kneel forever, Here will I lie enchanted at your feet, And grow to the dear ground you tread on? QUEEN. Madman! To what rude boldness my indulgence leads! Know you, it is the queen, your mother, sir, Whom you address in such presumptuous strain? Know, that myself will to the king report This bold intrusion---- CARLOS. And that I must die! Let them come here, and drag me to the scaffold! A moment spent in paradise like this Is not too dearly purchased by a life. QUEEN. But then your queen? CARLOS (rising). O God, I'll go, I'll go! Can I refuse to bend to that appeal? I am your very plaything. Mother, mother, A sign, a transient glance, one broken word From those dear lips can bid me live or die. What would you more? Is there beneath the sun One thing I would not haste to sacrifice To meet your lightest wish? QUEEN. Then fly! CARLOS. God! QUEEN. With tears I do conjure you, Carlos, fly! I ask no more. O fly! before my court, My guards, detecting us alone together, Bear the dread tidings to your father's ear. CARLOS. I bide my doom, or be it life or death. Have I staked every hope on this one moment, Which gives thee to me thus at length alone, That idle fears should balk me of my purpose? No, queen! The world may round its axis roll A hundred thousand times, ere chance again Yield to my prayers a moment such as this. QUEEN. It never shall to all eternity. Unhappy man! What would you ask of me? CARLOS. Heaven is my witness, queen, how I have struggled, Struggled as mortal never did before, But all in vain! My manhood fails--I yield. QUEEN. No more of this--for my sake--for my peace. CARLOS. You were mine own,--in face of all the world,-- Affianced to me by two mighty crowns, By heaven and nature plighted as my bride, But Philip, cruel Philip, stole you from me! QUEEN. He is your father? CARLOS. And he is your husband! QUEEN. And gives to you for an inheritance, The mightiest monarchy in all the world. CARLOS. And you, as mother! QUEEN. Mighty heavens! You rave! CARLOS. And is he even conscious of his treasure? Hath he a heart to feel and value yours? I'll not complain--no, no, I will forget, How happy, past all utterance, I might Have been with you,--if he were only so. But he is not--there, there, the anguish lies! He is not, and he never--never can be. Oh, you have robbed me of my paradise, Only to blast it in King Philip's arms! QUEEN. Horrible thought! CARLOS. Oh, yes, right well I know Who 'twas that knit this ill-starred marriage up. I know how Philip loves, and how he wooed. What are you in this kingdom--tell me, what? Regent, belike! Oh, no! If such you were, How could fell Alvas act their murderous deeds, Or Flanders bleed a martyr for her faith? Are you even Philip's wife? Impossible,-- Beyond belief. A wife doth still possess Her husband's heart. To whom doth his belong? If ever, perchance, in some hot feverish mood, He yields to gentler impulse, begs he not Forgiveness of his sceptre and gray hairs? QUEEN. Who told you that my lot, at Philip's side Was one for men to pity? CARLOS. My own heart! Which feels, with burning pangs, how at my side It had been to be envied. QUEEN. Thou vain man! What if my heart should tell me the reverse? How, sir, if Philip's watchful tenderness, The looks that silently proclaim his love, Touched me more deeply than his haughty son's Presumptuous eloquence? What, if an old man's Matured esteem---- CARLOS. That makes a difference! Then, Why then, forgiveness!--I'd no thought of this; I had no thought that you could love the king. QUEEN. To honor him's my pleasure and my wish. CARLOS. Then you have never loved? QUEEN. Singular question! CARLOS. Then you have never loved? QUEEN. I love no longer! CARLOS. Because your heart forbids it, or your oath? QUEEN. Leave me; nor never touch this theme again. CARLOS. Because your oath forbids it, or your heart? QUEEN. Because my duty--but, alas, alas! To what avails this scrutiny of fate, Which we must both obey? CARLOS. Must--must obey? QUEEN. What means this solemn tone? CARLOS. Thus much it means That Carlos is not one to yield to must Where he hath power to will! It means, besides, 'That Carlos is not minded to live on, The most unhappy man in all his realm, When it would only cost the overthrow Of Spanish laws to be the happiest. QUEEN. Do I interpret rightly? Still you hope? Dare you hope on, when all is lost forever? CARLOS. I look on naught as lost--except the dead. QUEEN. For me--your mother, do you dare to hope? [She fixes a penetrating look on him, then continues with dignity and earnestness. And yet why not? A new elected monarch Can do far more--make bonfires of the laws His father left--o'erthrow his monuments-- Nay, more than this--for what shall hinder him?-- Drag from his tomb, in the Escurial, The sacred corpse of his departed sire, Make it a public spectacle, and scatter Forth to the winds his desecrated dust. And then, at last, to fill the measure up---- CARLOS. Merciful heavens, finish not the picture! QUEEN. End all by wedding with his mother. CARLOS. Oh! Accursed son! [He remains for some time paralyzed and speechless. Yes, now 'tis out, 'tis out! I see it clear as day. Oh, would it had Been veiled from me in everlasting darkness! Yes, thou art gone from me--gone--gone forever. The die is cast; and thou art lost to me. Oh, in that thought lies hell; and a hell, too, Lies in the other thought, to call thee mine. Oh, misery! I can bear my fate no longer, My very heart-strings strain as they would burst. QUEEN. Alas, alas! dear Charles, I feel it all, The nameless pang that rages in your breast; Your pangs are infinite, as is your love, And infinite as both will be the glory Of overmastering both. Up, be a man, Wrestle with them boldly. The prize is worthy Of a young warrior's high, heroic heart; Worthy of him in whom the virtues flow Of a long ancestry of mighty kings. Courage! my noble prince! Great Charles's grandson Begins the contest with undaunted heart, Where sons of meaner men would yield at once. CARLOS. Too late, too late! O God, it is too late! QUEEN. Too late to be a man! O Carlos, Carlos! How nobly shows our virtue when the heart Breaks in its exercise! The hand of Heaven Has set you up on high,--far higher, prince, Than millions of your brethren. All she took From others she bestowed with partial hand On thee, her favorite; and millions ask, What was your merit, thus before your birth To be endowed so far above mankind? Up, then, and justify the ways of Heaven; Deserve to take the lead of all the world, And make a sacrifice ne'er made before. CARLOS. I will, I will; I have a giant's strength To win your favor; but to lose you, none. QUEEN. Confess, my Carlos, I have harshly read thee; It is but spoken, and waywardness, and pride, Attract you thus so madly to your mother! The heart you lavish on myself belongs To the great empire you one day shall rule. Look that you sport not with your sacred trust! Love is your high vocation; until now It hath been wrongly bent upon your mother: Oh, lead it back upon your future realms, And so, instead of the fell stings of conscience, Enjoy the bliss of being more than man. Elizabeth has been your earliest love, Your second must be Spain. How gladly, Carlos, Will I give place to this more worthy choice! CARLOS (overpowered by emotion, throws himself at her feet). How great thou art, my angel! Yes, I'll do All, all thou canst desire. So let it be. [He rises. Here in the sight of heaven I stand and swear-- I swear to thee, eternal--no, great Heaven!-- Eternal silence only,--not oblivion! QUEEN. How can I ask from you what I myself Am not disposed to grant? MARQUIS (hastening from the alley). The king! QUEEN. Oh God! MARQUIS. Away, away! fly from these precincts, prince! QUEEN. His jealousy is dreadful--should he see you---- CARLOS. I'll stay. QUEEN. And who will be the victim then? CARLOS (seizing the MARQUIS by the arm). Away, away! Come, Roderigo, come! [Goes and returns. What may I hope to carry hence with me? QUEEN. Your mother's friendship. CARLOS. Friendship! Mother! QUEEN. And These tears with it--they're from the Netherlands. [She gives him some letters. Exit CARLOS with the MARQUIS. The QUEEN looks restlessly round in search of her ladies, who are nowhere to be seen. As she is about to retire up, the KING enters. SCENE VI. The KING, the QUEEN, DUKE ALVA, COUNT LERMA, DOMINGO, LADIES, GRANDEES, who remain at a little distance. KING. How, madam, alone; not even one of all Your ladies in attendance? Strange! Where are they? QUEEN. My gracious lord! KING. Why thus alone, I say? [To his attendants. I'll take a strict account of this neglect. 'Tis not to be forgiven. Who has the charge Of waiting on your majesty to-day? QUEEN. Oh, be not angry! Good, my lord, 'tis I Myself that am to blame--at my request The Princess Eboli went hence but now. KING. At your request! QUEEN. To call the nurse to me, With the Infanta, whom I longed to see. KING. And was your retinue dismissed for that? This only clears the lady first in waiting. Where was the second? MONDECAR (who has returned and mixed with the other ladies, steps forward). Your majesty, I feel I am to blame for this. KING. You are, and so I give you ten years to reflect upon it, At a most tranquil distance from Madrid. [The MARCHIONESS steps back weeping. General silence. The bystanders all look in confusion towards the QUEEN. QUEEN. What weep you for, dear marchioness? [To the KING. If I Have erred, my gracious liege, the crown I wear, And which I never sought, should save my blushes Is there a law in this your kingdom, sire, To summon monarch's daughters to the bar? Does force alone restrain your Spanish ladies? Or need they stronger safeguard than their virtue? Now pardon me, my liege; 'tis not my wont To send my ladies, who have served me still With smiling cheerfulness, away in tears. Here, Mondecar. [She takes off her girdle and presents it to the MARCHIONESS. You have displeased the king, Not me. Take this remembrance of my favor, And of this hour. I'd have you quit the kingdom. You have only erred in Spain. In my dear France, All men are glad to wipe such tears away. And must I ever be reminded thus? In my dear France it had been otherwise. [Leaning on the MARCHIONESS and covering her face. KING. Can a reproach, that in my love had birth, Afflict you so? A word so trouble you, Which the most anxious tenderness did prompt? [He turns towards the GEANDEES. Here stand the assembled vassals of my throne. Did ever sleep descend upon these eyes, Till at the close of the returning day I've pondered, how the hearts of all my subjects Were beating 'neath the furthest cope of heaven? And should I feel more anxious for my throne Than for the partner of my bosom? No! My sword and Alva can protect my people, My eye alone assures thy love. QUEEN. My liege, If that I have offended---- KING. I am called The richest monarch in the Christian world; The sun in my dominions never sets. All this another hath possessed before, And many another will possess hereafter. That is mine own. All that the monarch hath Belongs to chance--Elizabeth to Philip. This is the point in which I feel I'm mortal. QUEEN. What fear you, sire? KING. Should these gray hairs not fear? But the same instant that my fear begins It dies away forever. [To the grandees. I run over The nobles of my court and miss the foremost. Where is my son, Don Carlos? [No one answers. He begins To give me cause of fear. He shuns my presence Since he came back from school at Alcala. His blood is hot. Why is his look so cold? His bearing all so stately and reserved? Be watchful, duke, I charge you. ALVA. So I am: Long as a heart against this corslet beats, So long may Philip slumber undisturbed; And as God's cherub guards the gates of heaven So doth Duke Alva guard your royal throne. LERMA. Dare I, in all humility, presume To oppose the judgment of earth's wisest king? Too deeply I revere his gracious sire To judge the son so harshly. I fear much From his hot blood, but nothing from his heart. KING. Lerma, your speech is fair to soothe the father, But Alva here will be the monarch's shield-- No more of this. [Turning to his suite. Now speed we to Madrid, Our royal duties summon us. The plague Of heresy is rife among my people; Rebellion stalks within my Netherlands-- The times are imminent. We must arrest These erring spirits by some dread example. The solemn oath which every Christian king Hath sworn to keep I will redeem to-morrow. 'Twill be a day of doom unparalleled. Our court is bidden to the festival. [He leads off the QUEEN, the rest follow. SCENE VII. DON CARLOS (with letters in his hand), and MARQUIS POSA enter from opposite sides. CARLOS. I am resolved--Flanders shall yet be saved: So runs her suit, and that's enough for me! MARQUIS. There's not another moment to be lost: 'Tis said Duke Alva in the cabinet Is named already as the governor. CARLOS. Betimes to-morrow will I see the king And ask this office for myself. It is The first request I ever made to him, And he can scarce refuse. My presence here Has long been irksome to him. He will grasp This fair pretence my absence to secure. And shall I confess to thee, Roderigo? My hopes go further. Face to face with him, 'Tis possible the pleading of a son May reinstate him in his father's favor. He ne'er hath heard the voice of nature speak; Then let me try for once, my Roderigo, What power she hath when breathing from my lips. MARQUIS. Now do I hear my Carlos' voice once more; Now are you all yourself again! SCENE VIII. The preceding. COUNT LERMA. COUNT. Your grace, His majesty has left Aranjuez; And I am bidden---- CARLOS. Very well, my lord-- I shall overtake the king---- MARQUIS (affecting to take leave with ceremony). Your highness, then, Has nothing further to intrust to me? CARLOS. Nothing. A pleasant journey to Madrid! You may, hereafter, tell me more of Flanders. [To LERMA, who is waiting for him. Proceed, my lord! I'll follow thee anon. SCENE IX. DON CARLOS, MARQUIS POSA. CARLOS. I understood thy hint, and thank thee for it. A stranger's presence can alone excuse This forced and measured tone. Are we not brothers? In future, let this puppet-play of rank Be banished from our friendship. Think that we Had met at some gay masking festival, Thou in the habit of a slave, and I Robed, for a jest, in the imperial purple. Throughout the revel we respect the cheat, And play our parts with sportive earnestness, Tripping it gayly with the merry throng; But should thy Carlos beckon through his mask, Thou'dst press his hand in silence as he passed, And we should be as one. MARQUIS. The dream's divine! But are you sure that it will last forever? Is Carlos, then, so certain of himself As to despise the charms of boundless sway? A day will come--an all-important day-- When this heroic mind--I warn you now-- Will sink o'erwhelmed by too severe a test. Don Philip dies; and Carlos mounts the throne, The mightiest throne in Christendom. How vast The gulf that yawns betwixt mankind and him-- A god to-day, who yesterday was man! Steeled to all human weakness--to the voice Of heavenly duty deaf. Humanity-- To-day a word of import in his ear-- Barters itself, and grovels 'mid the throng Of gaping parasites; his sympathy For human woe is turned to cold neglect, His virtue sunk in loose voluptuous joys. Peru supplies him riches for his folly, His court engenders devils for his vices. Lulled in this heaven the work of crafty slaves, He sleeps a charmed sleep; and while his dream Endures his godhead lasts. And woe to him Who'd break in pity this lethargic trance! What could Roderigo do? Friendship is true, And bold as true. But her bright flashing beams Were much too fierce for sickly majesty: You would not brook a subject's stern appeal, Nor I a monarch's pride! CARLOS. Tearful and true, Thy portraiture of monarchs. Yes--thou'rt right, But 'tis their lusts that thus corrupt their hearts, And hurry them to vice. I still am pure. A youth scarce numbering three-and-twenty years. What thousands waste in riotous delights, Without remorse--the mind's more precious part-- The bloom and strength of manhood--I have kept, Hoarding their treasures for the future king. What could unseat my Posa from my heart, If woman fail to do it? MARQUIS. I, myself! Say, could I love you, Carlos, warm as now, If I must fear you? CARLOS. That will never be. What need hast thou of me? What cause hast
{'title': 'Don Carlos: A Play by Friedrich Schiller', 'source': 'Project Gutenberg', 'lang': 'en'}