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!
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?
I, myself!
Say, could I love you, Carlos, warm as now,
If I must fear you?
That will never be.
What need hast thou of me? What cause hast thou
To stoop thy knee, a suppliant at the throne?
Does gold allure thee? Thou'rt a richer subject
Than I shall be a king! Dost covet honors?
E'en in thy youth, fame's brimming chalice stood
Full in thy grasp – thou flung'st the toy away.
Which of us, then, must be the other's debtor,
And which the creditor? Thou standest mute.
Dost tremble for the trial? Art thou, then,
Uncertain of thyself?
Carlos, I yield!
Here is my hand.
Is it mine own?
Forever —
In the most pregnant meaning of the word!
And wilt thou prove hereafter to the king
As true and warm as to the prince to-day?
I swear!
And when round my unguarded heart
The serpent flattery winds its subtle coil,
Should e'er these eyes of mine forget the tears
They once were wont to shed; or should these ears
Be closed to mercy's plea, – say, wilt thou, then,
The fearless guardian of my virtue, throw
Thine iron grasp upon me, and call up
My genius by its mighty name?
I will.
And now one other favor let me beg.
Do call me thou! Long have I envied this
Dear privilege of friendship to thine equals.
The brother's thou beguiles my ear, my heart,
With sweet suggestions of equality.
Nay, no reply: – I guess what thou wouldst say —
To thee this seems a trifle – but to me,
A monarch's son, 'tis much. Say, wilt thou be
A brother to me?
Yes; thy brother, yes!
Now to the king – my fears are at an end.
Thus, arm-in-arm with thee, I dare defy
The universal world into the lists.
ACT II
SCENE I
The royal palace at Madrid.
KING PHILIP under a canopy; DUKE ALVA at some distance, with his head covered; CARLOS.
The kingdom takes precedence – willingly
Doth Carlos to the minister give place —
He speaks for Spain; I am but of the household.
[Bows and steps backward.
The duke remains – the Infanta may proceed.
Then must I put it to your honor, sir,
To yield my father for a while to me.
A son, you know, may to a father's ear
Unbosom much, in fulness of his heart,
That not befits a stranger's ear. The king
Shall not be taken from you, sir – I seek
The father only for one little hour.
