II! 
 

 
 Historical Dramas 
 
 i 
 
 WILHELM TELL 
 DON CARLOS 
 
 DEMETRIUS | 
 
 I 
 
 BY 
 
 FRIEDERICH SCHILLER 
 
 VOLUME I 
 
 ILtfcrarp attrition 
 
 NEW YORK: 
 
 |Blate Eenttng Co*
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 MB 
 
 WILHELM TBLL . 6 
 
 DON CARLOS 10 
 
 DEMETRIUS . 337 
 
 208791 1
 
 WILHELM TELL. 
 
 People of Schwytz. 
 
 People of Uri. 
 
 DEAMATIS PERSONS. 
 
 HERMANN GESSLER, Governor of Schwytz and Uri. 
 
 WERNER, Baron of Attinghausen, free noble of Switzerland. 
 
 ULRICH VON RUDENZ, his Nephew. 
 
 WERNER STAUFFACHER, 
 
 CONRAD HUNN, 
 
 HANS AUF DER MAUER, 
 
 JORQ IM HOPE, 
 
 ULRICH DER SCHMIDT, 
 
 JOST VON WEILER, 
 
 ITEL REDING, 
 
 WALTER FURST, 
 
 WILHELM TELL, 
 
 ROSSELMANN, the Priest, 
 
 PETERMANN, Sacristan, 
 
 KUONI, Herdsman, 
 
 WERNI, Huntsman, 
 
 RUODI, Fisherman, 
 
 ARNOLD OF MELCHTHAL, 
 
 CONRAD BAUMGARTEN, 
 
 MEYER VON SARNEN, 
 
 STRUTH VON WINKELRIED, 
 
 KLAUS VON DER FLUE, 
 
 BURKHART AM BUHEL, 
 
 ARNOLD VON SEWA, 
 
 PFEIFFER OF LUCERNE. 
 
 KUNZ OF GERSAU. 
 
 JENNI, Fisherman's Son. 
 
 SEPPI, Herdsman's Son. 
 
 GERTRUDK, Stauffacher's Wife. 
 
 HEDWIG, Wife of Tell, daughter of Furst. 
 
 BERTHA OF BRUNECK, a rich heiress.. 
 
 People of Unterwald,
 
 6 
 
 WILHELM TELL. 
 
 Peasant women. 
 
 TelVs sons. 
 
 Soldiers. 
 
 ARMGABT, 
 
 MECHTHILD, 
 
 ELSBETH, 
 
 HlLDEGAKD, 
 
 WALTER, 
 
 WILHELM, 
 
 FKIESSHAKDT, 
 
 LEUTHOLD, 
 
 KUDOLPH DEII HARRAS, Gessler's master of the horse. 
 
 JOHANNES PARRICIDA, Duke of Suabia. 
 
 STUSSI, Overseer. 
 
 THE MAYOR OF Uxf 
 
 A COURIER. 
 
 MASTER STONEMASON, COMPANIONS, AND WORKMEN. 
 
 TASKMASTER. 
 
 A CRIER. 
 
 MONKS OF THE ORDER OF CHARITY. 
 
 HORSEMEN OF GESSLER AND LANDENBERG. 
 
 MANY PEASANTS j MEN AND WOMEN FROM THE WAI/OCTETTE*
 
 WILHELM TELL. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 SCENE I. 
 
 1 high, rocky shore of the lake of Lucerne opposite Schwytz. The 
 lake makes a bend into the land ; a hut stands at a short dis- 
 tance from the shore; the fisher boy is rowing about in his boat. 
 Beyond *he lake are seen the green meadows, the hamlets, and 
 farms of Schwytz, lying in the clear sunshine. On the left are 
 observed the peaks of the Hacken, surrounded icith clouds ; to 
 the right, and in the remote distance, appear the Glaciers. The 
 Ham des Vaches, and the tinkling of cattle-bells, continue for 
 some time after the rising of the curtain. 
 
 FISHER BOY (sings in his boat). 
 Mdody of the Ranz des Vaches. 
 The clear, smiling lake wooed to bathe in its deep, 
 A boy on its green shore had laid him to sleep ; 
 Then heard he a melody 
 
 Flowing and soft, 
 And sweet, as when angels 
 
 Are singing aloft. 
 
 And as thrilling with pleasure he wakes from his rest. 
 The waters are murmuring over his breast; 
 And a voice from the deep cries, 
 
 " With me thou must go, 
 I charm the young shepherd, 
 I lure him below." 
 
 HERDSMAN (on the mountains). 
 Air. Variation of the Ranz des Vaches 
 Farewell, ye green meadows, 
 
 Farewell, sunny shore, 
 The herdsman must leave you, 
 
 The summer is o'er. 
 
 7
 
 8 WILHELM TELL. 
 
 We go to the hills, but you'll see us again, 
 
 When the cuckoo is calling, and wood-notes are gay, 
 When flowerets are blooming in dingle and plain, 
 And the brooks sparkle up in the sunshine of May. 
 Farewell, ye green meadows, 
 
 Farewell, sunny shore, 
 The herdsman must leave you, 
 The summer is o'er. 
 
 CHAMOIS HUNTER (appearing on the top of a cliff'). 
 
 /Second Variation of the Ranz des Vdches.^ 
 On the heights peals the thunder, and trembles the bridgt, 
 The huntsman bounds on by the dizzying ridge, 
 Undaunted he hies him 
 O'er ice-covered wild, 
 Where leaf never budded, 
 Nor spring ever smiled ; 
 
 And beneath him an ocean of mist, where his eye 
 No longer the dwellings of man can espy; 
 Through the parting clouds only 
 
 The earth can be seen, 
 
 Far down 'neath the vapor 
 
 The meadows of green. 
 
 [A change comes over the landscape. A rumbling, 
 cracking noise is heard among the mountains. 
 Shadows of clouds sweep across the scene. 
 [Ruooi, the fisherman, comes out of his cottage. 
 WERSTI, the huntsman, descends from the rocks. 
 KUONI, the shepherd, enters, with a milk-pail on 
 his shoulders, followed by SEPPI, his assistant. 
 RUODI. Bestir thee, Jenni, haul the boat on shore. 
 
 The grizzly Vale-king* comes, the glaciers 
 
 moan, 
 
 The lofty Mytensteint draws on his hood, 
 And from the Stormcleft chilly blows the wind ; 
 The storm will burst before we are prepared. 
 
 * The German is Thalvogt, Ruler of the Valley the name given figura- 
 tively to a dense gray mist which the south wind sweeps into the valleys from 
 the mountain tops. It is well known as the precursor of stormy weather. 
 
 t A steep rock standing on the north of Riitli, and nearly opposite to 
 Bruraen.
 
 WTLHELM TELL. 
 
 Kuoxi. 'Twill rain ere long ; my sheep browse eagerly, 
 
 And Watcher there is scraping up the earth. 
 WERNI. The fish are leaping, and the water-hen 
 
 Dives up and down. A storm is coming on. 
 KUONI (to Ms boy). 
 
 Look, Seppi, if the cattle are not straying. 
 SEPPI. There goes brown Liesel, I can hear her bells. 
 KUONI. Then all are safe ; she ever ranges farthest. 
 RUODI. You've a fine yoke of bells there, master herds- 
 man. 
 
 WERNI. And likely cattle, too. Are they your own ? 
 KUONI. I'm not so rich. They are the noble lord's 
 
 Of Attinghaus, and trusted to my care. 
 RUODI. How gracefully yon heifer bears her ribbon ! 
 KUONI. Ay, well she knows she's leader of the herd, 
 
 And, take it from her, she'd refuse to feed. 
 RUODI. You're joking now. A beast devoid of reason. 
 WEKNI. That's easy said. But beasts have reason too 
 
 And that we know, we men that hunt the 
 chamois. 
 
 They never turn to feed sagacious creatures! 
 
 Till they have placed a sentinel ahead, 
 
 Who pricks his ears whenever we approach, 
 
 And gives alarm with clear and piercing pipe. 
 RUODI (to the shepherd). 
 
 Are you for home ? 
 
 KUONI. The Alp is grazed quite bare. 
 
 WERNI. A safe return, my friend ! 
 KUONI. The same to you ( ? 
 
 Men come not always back from tracks like 
 
 yours. 
 
 RUODI. But who comes here, running at topmost speed ? 
 WERNI. I know the man ; 'tis Baumgart of Alzellen. 
 CONRAD BAUMGARTEN (rushing in breathless). 
 
 For God's sake, ferryman, your boat ! 
 RUODI. How now? 
 
 Why all this haste ? 
 BAUM. Cast off ! My life's at stake ! 
 
 Set me across ! 
 
 KUONI. Wliy, what's the matter, friend ? 
 
 WERNI. Who are pursuing you ? First tell us that.
 
 10 
 
 WILHELM TELL. 
 
 BAUM. (to the fisherman) . 
 
 Quick, quick, even now they're close upon my 
 
 heels ! 
 
 The viceroy's horsemen are in hot pursuit ! 
 I'm a lost man should they lay hands upon me. 
 
 RUODI. Why are the troopers in pursuit of you ? 
 
 BAUM. First save my life and then I'll tell you all. 
 
 WERNI. There's blood upon your garments how is 
 this? 
 
 BAUM. The imperial seneschal, who dwelt at Rossberg. 
 
 KUONI. How! What! The Wolfshot?* Is it he pur- 
 sues you ? 
 
 BAUM. He'll ne'er hunt man again ; I've settled him. 
 
 ALL (starting back). 
 
 Now, God forgive you, what is this you've done ! 
 
 BAUM. What every free man in my place had done. 
 
 I have but used mine own good household right 
 'Gainst him that would have wronged my wife 
 my honor. 
 
 KUONI. And has he wronged you in your honor, then ? 
 
 BAUM. That he did not fulfil his foul desire 
 Is due to God and to my trusty axe. 
 
 WERNI. You've cleft his skull, then, have" you, with your 
 axe? 
 
 KUONI. Oh, tell us all ! You've time enough, before 
 
 The boat can be unfastened from its moorings. 
 
 BAUM. When I was in the forest, felling timber, 
 My wife came running out in mortal fear 
 " The seneschal," she said, " was in my house, 
 Had ordered her to get a bath prepared, 
 And thereupon had taken unseemly fi'eedoms, 
 From which she rid herself and flew to me." 
 Armed as I was I sought him, and my axe 
 Has given his bath a bloody benediction. 
 
 WERNI. And you did well ; no man can blame the deed. 
 
 KUONI. The tyrant! Now he has his just reward! 
 We men of Unterwald have owed it long. 
 
 * In German, Wolfensclilessen a young man of noble family, and a 
 native of Unterwalden, who attached himself to the house of Austria and 
 was appointed Jluryvoyt, or senesuhal, of the castle of Kossberg. He was 
 killed by Baumgarteu 'in the manner and for the cause mentioned in the 
 text.
 
 WILHELM TELL. 11 
 
 BAUM. The deed got wind, and now they're in pursuit. 
 
 Heavens ! whilst we speak, th etime is flying fast. 
 
 [It begins to thunder. 
 
 Kuoxi. Quick, ferrymen, and set the good man over. 
 RUODI. Impossible ! a storm is close at hand, 
 
 Wait till it pass ! You must. 
 BAUM. Almighty heavens ! 
 
 I cannot wait ; the least delay is death. 
 Kuoxi (to the fisherman} . 
 
 Push out. God with you ! We should help our 
 neighbors ; 
 
 The like misfortune may betide us all. 
 
 [ Thunder and the roaring of the wind. 
 RUODI. The south wind's up ! * See how the lake is 
 rising ! 
 
 I cannot steer against both storm and wave. 
 BAUM. (clasping him by the knees). 
 
 God so help you, as now you pity me ! 
 WERNI. His life's at stake. Have pity on him, man ! 
 Kuoxi. He is a father : has a wife and children. 
 
 [Repeated peals of thunder. 
 RUODI. What ! and have I not, then, a life to lose, 
 
 A wife and child at home as well as he ? 
 
 See, how the breakers foam, and toss, and whirl, 
 
 And the lake eddies up from all its depths! 
 
 Right gladly would I save the worthy man, 
 
 But 'tis impossible, as you must see. 
 BAUM. (stitt kneeling). 
 
 Then must I fall into the tyrant's hands, 
 
 And with the port of safety close in sight ! 
 
 Yonder it lies ! My eyes can measure it, 
 
 My very voice can echo to its shores. 
 
 There is the boat to carry me across, 
 
 Yet must I lie here helpless and forlorn. 
 KUCXNT. Look ! who comes here ? 
 
 * Literally, the FoJin is loose ! " When," says Mutter, in his History of 
 Switzerland, " the wind called the Fohn is high the navigation of the lake 
 becomes extremely dangerous. Such is its vehemence that the laws of the 
 country require that the tires shall b.- extinguished in the houses while it 
 lasts, and the night watches are doubled. The inhabitants lay heavy stones 
 upon the roofs of their houses to prevent their being blown away."
 
 12 
 
 WILHELM TELL. 
 
 RUODI. 'Tis Tell, brave Tell, of Biirglen.* 
 
 [Enter TELL, with a crossbow. 
 
 TELL. Who is the man that here implores for aid ? 
 KUONI. He is from Alzellen, and to guard his honor 
 
 From touch of foulest shame, has slain the Wolf- 
 shot ! 
 
 The imperial seneschal, who dwelt at Rossberg 
 
 The viceroy's troopers are upon his heels ; 
 
 He begs the boatman here to take him over, 
 
 But he, in terror of the storm, refuses. 
 RUODI. Well, there is Tell can steer as well as I. 
 
 He'll be my judge, if it be possible. 
 
 [ Violent peals of thunder the lake becomes 
 more tempestuous. 
 
 Am I to plunge into the jaws of hell? 
 
 I should be mad to dare the desperate act. 
 TELL. The brave man thinks upon himself the last. 
 
 Put trust in God, and help him in his need ! 
 RUODI. Safe in the port, 'tis easy to advise. 
 
 There is the boat, and there the lake ! Try you ! 
 TELL. The lake may pity, but the viceroy will not. 
 
 Come, venture, man ! 
 SHEPHERD and HUNTSMAN. 
 
 Oh, save him! save him ! save him ! 
 RUODI. Though 'twere my brother, or my darling child, 
 
 I would not go. It is St. Simon's day, 
 
 The lake is up, and calling for its victim. 
 TELL. Naught's to be done with idle talking here. 
 
 Time presses on the man must be assisted. 
 
 Say, boatman, will you venture? 
 
 RUODI. No ; not I. 
 
 TELL. In God's name, then, give me the boat ! I will 
 
 With my poor strength, see what is to be done ! 
 KUONI. Ha, noble Tell ! 
 
 WERNI. That's like a gallant huntsman t 
 
 BAUM. You are my angel, my preserver, Tell. 
 TELL. I may preserve you from the viceroy's power 
 
 But from the tempest's rage another must. 
 
 * Bttrglen, the birthplace anil residence of Tell. A chapel erected in 
 1522 remains on the spot formerly occupied by his house.
 
 WILHELM TELL. 13 
 
 Yet you had better fall into God's hands, 
 
 Than into those of men. [ To the herdsman. 
 
 Herdsman, do thou 
 
 Console my wife, should aught of ill befall me. 
 
 I do but what I may not leave undone. 
 
 \_He leaps into the boat. 
 KUONI (to the fisherman) . 
 
 A pretty man to be a boatman, truly ! 
 
 What Tell could risk you dared not venture on. 
 RUODI. Far better men than I would not ape Tell. 
 
 There does not live his fellow 'mong the moun- 
 tains. 
 WERNI (who has ascended a rock). 
 
 He pushes off. God help thee now, brave sailor ! 
 
 Look how his bark is reeling on the waves ! 
 KUONI (on the shore). 
 
 The surge has swept clean over it. And now 
 
 Tis out of sight. Yet stay, there 'tis again ! 
 
 Stoutly he stems the breakers, noble fellow ! 
 SEPPI. Here come the troopers hard as they can ride! 
 KUONI. Heavens ! so they do ! Why, that was help, 
 indeed. 
 
 [Enter a troop of horsemen. 
 
 IST H. Give up the murderer ! You have him here ! 
 2o H. This way he came ! 'Tis useless to conceal him ! 
 RUODI and KUONI. 
 
 Whom do you mean ? 
 FIRST HORSEMAN (discovering the boat). 
 
 The devil ! What do I see ? 
 WERNI (from above). 
 
 Is't he in yonder boat ye seek ? Ride on, 
 
 If you lay to, you may o'ertake him yet. 
 2o H. Curse on you, he's escaped ! 
 FIRST HORSEMAN (to the shepherd and fisherman) . 
 
 You helped him off, 
 
 And you shall pay for it. Fall on their herds ! 
 
 Down with the cottage! burn it ! beat it down ! 
 
 [ They rush off. 
 
 SEPPI (hurrying after them). Oh, my poor lambs! 
 KUONI (following him). Unhappy me, my herds ! 
 WERNI. The tyrants !
 
 14 WILHELM TELL. 
 
 RUODI (wringing his hands). 
 
 Righteous Heaven ! Oh, when will come 
 Deliverance to this devoted land ? 
 
 [Exeunt severally. 
 
 SCENE II. 
 
 A lime-tree in front of STAUFFACHKR'S house at Steinen, 
 in Schwytz, upon the public road, near a bridge. 
 
 WERNER STAUFFACHER and PFEIFFER, of Lucerne, 
 enter into conversation. 
 
 PFEIFF. Ay, ay, friend Stauffacher, as I have said, 
 Swear not to Austria, if you can help it. 
 Hold by the empire stoutly as of yore, 
 And God preserve you in your ancient freedom ! 
 [Presses his hand warmly and is going. 
 STAUFF. Wait till my mistress comes. Now do ! You are 
 My guest in Schwytz I in Lucerne am yours. 
 PFEIFF. Thanks ! thanks ! But I must reach Gersau to- 
 day. 
 
 Whatever grievances your rulers' pride 
 And grasping avarice may yet inflict, 
 Bear them in patience soon a change may 
 
 come. 
 
 Another emperor may mouht the throne. 
 But Austria's once, and you are hers forever. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 [STATJFFACHER sits down sorrowfully upon a 
 bench under the lime tree. Gertrude, Ms 
 wife, enters, and finds him in this posture. 
 She places herself near him, and looks at 
 him for some time in silence. 
 
 GERT. So sad, my love ! I scarcely know thee now. 
 For many a day in silence I have marked 
 A moody sorrow furrowing thy brow. 
 Some silent grief is weighing on thy heart ; 
 Trust it to me. I am thy faithful wife, 
 And I demand my half of all thy cares. 
 [STAUFEACHEB gives her his hand and is silent, 
 Tell me what can oppress thy spirits thus ?
 
 WILHELM TELL. 15 
 
 Thy toil is blest the world goes well with 
 
 thee 
 
 Our barns are full our cattle many a score; 
 Our handsome team of sleek and well-fed steeds, 
 Brought from the mountain pastures safely home, 
 To winter in their comfortable stalls. 
 There stands thy house- no nobleman's more fair ! 
 'T is newly built with timber of the best, 
 All grooved and fitted with the nicest skill ; 
 Its many glistening windows tell of comfort ! 
 'Tis quartered o'er with scutcheons of all hues, 
 And proverbs sage, which passing travellers 
 Linger to read, and ponder o'er their meaning. 
 
 STAUFF. The house is strongly built, and handsomely, 
 
 But, ah ! the ground on which we built it totters. 
 
 GERT. Tell me/dear Werner, what you mean by that? 
 
 STAUFF. Xo later since than yesterday, I sat 
 
 Beneath this linden, thinking with delight, 
 How fairly all was finished, when from Kfiss- 
 
 nacht 
 
 The viceroy and his men came riding by. 
 Before this house he halted in surprise : 
 At once I rose, and, as beseemed his rank, 
 Advanced respectfully to greet the lord, 
 To whom the emperor delegates his power, 
 As judge supreme within our Canton here. 
 " Who is the owner of this house ? " he asked, 
 With mischief in his thoughts, for well he knew. 
 With prompt decision, thus I answered him : 
 " The emperor, your grace my lord and yours, 
 And held by me in fief." On this he answered, 
 " I am the emperor's viceregent here, 
 And will not that each peasant churl should build 
 At his own pleasure, bearing him as freely 
 As though he were the master in the land. 
 I shall make bold to put a stop to this ! " 
 So saying he, with menaces, rode off, 
 And left me musing, with a heavy heart, 
 On the fell purpose that his words betrayed. 
 
 GERT. Mine own dear lord and husband ! Wilt thou 
 take
 
 16 WILHELM TELL. 
 
 A word of honest counsel from thy wife? 
 
 I boast to be the noble Iberg's child, 
 
 A man of wide experience. Many a time, 
 
 As we sat spinning in the winter nights, 
 
 My sisters and myself, the people's chiefs 
 
 Were wont to gather round our father's hearth 
 
 To read the old imperial charters, and 
 
 To hold sage converse on the country's weal. 
 
 Then heedfully I listened, marking well 
 
 What or the wise men thought, or good man 
 
 wished, 
 
 And garnered up their wisdom in my heart. 
 Hear then, and mark me well ; for thou wilt see, 
 I long have known the grief that weighs thee 
 
 down. 
 
 The viceroy hates thee, fain would injure thee, 
 For thou hast crossed his wish to bend the Swiss 
 In homage to this upstart house of princes, 
 And kept them stanch, like their good sires of 
 
 old, 
 
 In true allegiance to the empire. Say. 
 Is't not so, Werner? Tell me, am I wrong? 
 STAUFP. 'Tis even so. For this doth Gessler hate me. 
 GERT. He burns with envy, too, to see thee living 
 Happy and free on thy inheritance, 
 For he has none. From the emperor himself 
 Thou boldest in fief the lands thy fathers left 
 
 thee. 
 
 There's not a prince in the empire that can show 
 A better title to his heritage ; 
 For thou hast over thee no lord but one, 
 And he the mightiest of all Christian kings. 
 Gessler, we know, is but a younger son, 
 His only wealth the knightly cloak he wears; 
 He therefore views an honest man's good fortune 
 With a malignant and a jealous eye. 
 Long has he sworn to compass thy destruction 
 As yet thou art uninjured. Wilt thou wait 
 Till he may safely give his malice scope? 
 A wise man would anticipate the blow. 
 STAUFF. What's to be done?
 
 WILHELM TELL. 17 
 
 GEBT. Now hear what I advise. 
 
 Thou knowest well, how here with us in Schwytz, 
 All worthy men are groaning underneath 
 This Gessler's grasping, grinding tyranny. 
 Doubt not the men of Unterwald as well, 
 And Uri, too, are chafing like ourselves, 
 At this oppressive and heart-wearying yoke, 
 For there, across the lake, the Landenberg 
 Wields the same iron rule as Gessler here 
 No fishing-boat comes over to our side 
 But brings the tidings of some new encroach- 
 ment, 
 
 Some outrage fresh, more grievous than the last. 
 Then it were well that some of you true men 
 Men sound at heart, should secretly devise 
 How best to shake this hateful thraldom off. 
 Well do I know that God would not desert you, 
 But lend his favor to the righteous cause. 
 Hast thou no friend in Uri, say, to whom 
 Thou frankly may'st unbosom all thy thoughts? 
 STAUFP. I know full many a gallant fellow there, 
 
 And nobles, too, great men, of high repute, 
 In whom I can repose unbounded trust. [Rising. 
 Wife! What a storm of wild and perilous 
 
 thoughts 
 
 Hast thou stirred up within my tranquil breast ? 
 The darkest musings of my bosom thou 
 Hast dragged to light, and placed them full be- 
 fore me. 
 
 And what I scarce dared harbor e'en in thought, 
 Thou speakest plainly out, with fearless tongue. 
 But hast thou weighed well what thou urgest 
 
 thus? 
 
 Discord will come, and the fierce clang of arms, 
 To scare this valley's long unbroken peace, 
 If we, a feeble shepherd race, shall dare 
 Him to the fight that lords it o'er the world. 
 Even now they only wait some fair pretext 
 For setting loose their savage warrior hordes, 
 To scourge and ravage this devoted land, 
 To lord it o'er us with the victor's rights,
 
 18 WILHELM TELL. 
 
 And 'neath the show of lawful chastisement, 
 
 Despoil us of our chartered liberties. 
 GEET. You, too, are men; can wield a battle-axe 
 
 As well as they. God ne'er deserts the brave. 
 STAUFF. Oh wife ! a horrid, ruthless fiend is war, 
 
 That strikes at once the shepherd and his flock. 
 GERT. Whate'er great heaven inflicts we must endure ; 
 
 No heart of noble temper brooks injustice. 
 STAUFF. -This house thy pride war, unrelenting war, 
 
 Will burn it down. 
 GERT. And did I think this heart 
 
 Enslaved and fettered to the things of earth, 
 
 With my own hand I'd hurl the kindling torch. 
 STAUFF. Thou hast faith in human kindness, wife ; but war 
 
 Spares not the tender'infant in its cradle. 
 GERT. There is a friend to innocence in heaven ! 
 
 Look forward, Werner not behind you, now! 
 STAUFF. We men may perish bravely, sword in hand ; 
 
 But oh, what fate, my Gertrude, may be thine? 
 GERT. None are so weak, but one last choice is left. 
 
 A spring from yonder bridge, and I am free ! 
 STAUFF. (embracing her). 
 
 Well may he fight for hearth and home that 
 clasps 
 
 A heart so rare as thine against his own ! 
 
 What are the hosts of emperors to him ! 
 
 Gertrude, farewell ! I will to Uri straight. 
 
 There lives my worthy comrade, Walter Furst , 
 
 His thoughts and mine upon these times are one. 
 
 There, too, resides the noble Banneret 
 
 Of Attinghaus. High though of blood he be, 
 
 He loves the people, honors their old customs. 
 
 With both of these I will take counsel how 
 
 To rid us bravely of our country's foe. 
 
 Farewell ! and while I am away, bear thou 
 
 A watchful eye in management at home. 
 
 The pilgrim journeying to the house of God, 
 
 And pious monk, collecting for his cloister, 
 
 To these give liberally from purse and garner. 
 
 Stauffacher's house would not be hid. Right 
 out
 
 WILHELM TELL. 19 
 
 Upon the public way it stands, and offers 
 
 To all that pass an hospitable roof. 
 
 [ While they are retiring, TELL enters with BAUMGARTEN. 
 TELL. Now, then, you have no further need of nie. 
 
 Enter yon house. 'Tis Werner Stauffacher's, 
 
 A man that is a father to distress. 
 
 See, there he is himself ! Come, follow me. 
 
 [ They retire up. Scene changes. 
 
 SCENE III. 
 
 A common near Altdorf. On an eminence in the background a 
 castle in progress of erection, and so far advanced that the 
 outline of the whole may be distinguished. The back pait is 
 finished; men are working at the front. Scaffolding, on wliicli 
 the workmen are going tip and down. A slater is seen upon the 
 highest part of the roof. All is bustle and activity. 
 
 TASKMASTER, MASON, WORKMEN, and LABORERS. 
 
 TASK, (with a stick, urging on the icorkmen). 
 
 Up, up ! You've rested long enough. To work ! 
 
 The stones here, now the mortar, and the lime ! 
 
 And let his lordship see the work advanced 
 
 When next he comes. These fellows crawl like 
 snails ! 
 
 [ To two laborers ^c^th loads. 
 
 What ! call ye that a load ? Go, double it. 
 
 Is this the way ye earn your wages, laggards ? 
 IST W. 'Tis very hard that we must bear the stones, 
 
 To make a keep and dungeon for ourselves ! 
 TASK. What's that you mutter? 'Tis a worthless 
 race, 
 
 And fit for nothing but to milk their cows, 
 
 And saunter idly up and down the mountains. 
 OLD MAN (sinks down exhausted). 
 
 I can no more. 
 TASK, (shaking him). 
 
 Up, up, old man, to work ! 
 IST W. Have you no bowels of compassion, thus 
 
 To press so hard upon a poor old man, 
 
 That scarce can drag his feeble limbs along ?
 
 20 
 
 WILHELM TELL. 
 
 MASTER MASON and WORKMEN. 
 
 Shame, shame upon you shame ! It cries to 
 
 heaven ! 
 
 TASK. Mind your own business. I but do my duty. 
 IST W. Pray, master, what's to be the name of this 
 
 Same castle when 'tis built? 
 TASK. The keep of Uri ; 
 
 For by it we shall keep you in subjection. 
 WORK. The keep of Uri. 
 
 TASK. Well, why laugh at that ? 
 
 2o W. So you'll keep Uri with this paltry place ! 
 IST W. How many molehills such as that must first 
 Be piled above each other ere you make 
 A mountain equal to the least in Uri ? 
 
 [TASKMASTER retires up the stage. 
 MAS. M. I'll drown the mallet in the deepest lake, 
 
 That served my hand on this accursed pile. 
 
 [Enter TELL and STAUFF ACHER- 
 STAUFF. Oh, that I had not lived to see this sight ! 
 TELL. Here 'tis not good to be. Let us proceed. 
 STAUFF. Am I in Uri, in the land of freedom ? 
 MAS. M. Oh, sir, if you could only see the vaults 
 
 Beneath these towers. The man that tenant* 
 
 them 
 
 Will never hear the cock crow more. 
 STAUFF. O God ! 
 
 MASON. Look at these ramparts and these buttresses, 
 That seem as they were built to last forever. 
 TELL. Hands can destroy whatever hands have reared. 
 
 [Pointing to the mountains. 
 That house of freedom God hath built for us. 
 [A drum is heard. People enter bearing a cap 
 upon a pole, followed by a crier. Women 
 and children thronging tumultuously aftet 
 them. 
 
 IST W. What means the drum ? Give heed ! 
 MASON. Why here's a mumming ! 
 
 And look, the cap, what can they mean by 
 
 that ? 
 
 CRIER. In the emperor's name, give ear ! 
 WORK. Hush ! silence ! hush !
 
 WILHELM TELL. 21 
 
 CRIER. Ye men of Uri, ye do see this cap ! 
 It will be set upon a lofty pole 
 In Altdorf, in the market-place : and this 
 Is the lord governor's good will and pleasure, 
 The cap shall have like honor as himself, 
 And all shall reverence it with bended knee, 
 And head uncovered ; thus the king will know 
 Who are his true and loyal subjects here : 
 His life and goods are forfeit to the crown, 
 That shall refuse obedience to the order. 
 
 [ The people burst out into laughter. The 
 drum beats, and the procession passes on. 
 
 IST W. A strange device to fall upon, indeed ! 
 Do reverence to a cap ! a pretty farce ! 
 Heard ever mortal anything like this? 
 
 MAS. M. Down to a cap on bended knee, forsooth ! 
 Rare jesting this with men of sober sense ! 
 
 IST W. Nay, were it but the imperial crown, indeed ! 
 But 'tis the cap of Austria ! I've seen it 
 Hanging above the throne in Gessler's hall. 
 
 MASON. The cap of Austria ! Mark that ! A snare 
 To get us into Austria's power, by heaven ! 
 
 WORK. Xo freeborn man will stoop to such disgrace. 
 
 MAS. M. Come to our comrades, and advise with them ! 
 
 [ They retire up. 
 
 TELL (to STAUFFACHER). 
 
 You see how matters stand. Farewell, my friend ! 
 
 STAUFF. Whither away? Oh, leave us not so soon. 
 
 TELL. They look for me at home. So fare ye well. 
 
 STAUFF. My heart's so full, and has so much to tell you. 
 
 TELL. Words will not make a heart that's heavy light. 
 
 STAUFF. Yet words may possibly conduct to deeds. 
 
 TELL. All we can do is to endure in silence. 
 
 STAUFF. But shall we bear what is not to be borne ? 
 
 TELL. Impetuous rulers have the shortest reigns. 
 
 When the fierce south wind rises from his chasms, 
 Men cover up their fires, the ships in haste 
 Make for the harbor, and the mighty spirit 
 Sweeps o'er the earth, and leaves no trace behind. 
 Let every man live quietly at home ; 
 Peace to the peaceful rarely is denied.
 
 22 WILHELM TELL. 
 
 STAUFF. And is it thus you view our grievances f 
 TELL. The serpent stings not till it is provoked. 
 
 Let them alone ; they'll weary of themselves, 
 
 Whene'er they see we arc not to be roused. 
 STAUFF. Much might be done did we stand fasi 
 
 together. 
 TELL. When the ship founders, he will best escape 
 
 Who seeks no other's safety but his own. 
 STAUFF. And you desert the common cause so coldly ? 
 TELL. A man can safely count but on himself ! 
 STAUFF. Nay, even the weak grow strong by union. 
 TELL. But the strong man is the strongest when alone. 
 STAUFF. Your country, then, cannot rely on you 
 
 If in despair she rise against her foes. 
 TELL. Tell rescues the lost sheep from yawning gulfs : 
 
 Is he a man, then, to desert his friends ? 
 
 Yet, whatsoe'er you do, spare me from council ! 
 
 I was not born to ponder and select ; 
 
 But when your course of action is resolved, 
 
 Then call on Tell ; you shall not find him fail. 
 
 \_Exeunt severally. A sudden tumult is 
 
 heard around the scaffolding. 
 MASON (running in). What's wrong? 
 FIRST WORKMAN (running foncard ). 
 
 The slater's fallen from the roof. 
 BERTHA (rushing in}. 
 
 Is he dashed to pieces ? Run save him, help ! 
 
 If help be possible, save him ! Here is gold. 
 
 [Throics her trinkets among the people. 
 MASON. Hence with your gold, your universal charm, 
 
 And remedy for ill ! When you have torn 
 
 Fathers from children, husbands from their wives, 
 
 And scattered woe and wail throughout the land, 
 
 You think with gold to compensate for all. 
 
 Hence! Till we saw you we were happy men ; 
 
 With you came misery and dark despair. 
 BERTHA (to the TASKMASTER, who has returned}. 
 
 Lives he ? 
 
 [TASKMASTER shakes Ms head. 
 Ill-fated towers, with curses built, 
 
 And doomed with curses to be tenanted \ \Exit.
 
 WILHELM TELL. 
 
 23 
 
 SCENE IV. 
 
 The House of WALTER FURST. WALTER FURST and 
 ARNOLD VON MELCHTHAL enter simultaneously at 
 different sides. 
 
 MELCH. Good Walter Furst. 
 
 FURST. If we should be surprised ! 
 
 Stay whei'e you are. We are beset with spies. 
 
 MELCH. Have you no news for me from Unterwald? 
 What of my father ? 'Tis not to be borne, 
 Thus to be pent up like a felon here ! 
 What have I done of such a heinous stamp, 
 To skulk and hide me like a murderer? 
 I only laid my staff across the fingers 
 Of the pert varlet, when before my eyes, 
 By order of the governor, he tried 
 To drive away my handsome team of oxen. 
 
 FURST. You are too rash by far. He did no more 
 Than what the governor had ordered him. 
 You had transgressed, and therefore should have 
 
 paid 
 The penalty, however hard, in silence. 
 
 MELCH. Was I to brook the fellow's saucy words? 
 
 " That if the peasant must have bread to eat, 
 " Whv, let him go and draw the plough him- 
 self ! " 
 
 It cut me to the very soul to see 
 My oxen, noble creatures, when the knave 
 Unyoked them from the plough. As though 
 
 they felt 
 The wrong, they lowed and butted with their 
 
 horns. 
 
 On this I could contain myself no longer, 
 And, overcome by passion, struck him down. 
 
 FURST. Oh, we old men can scarce command ourselves! 
 And can we wonder youth shall break its bounds? 
 
 MELCH. I'm only sorry for my father's sake ! 
 
 To be away from him, that needs so much 
 My fostering care ! The governor detests him, 
 Because he hath, whene'er occasion served, 
 Stood stoutly up for right and liberty.
 
 24 
 
 WILHELM TELL. 
 
 Therefore they'll bear him hard the poor old 
 
 man ! 
 And there is none to shield him from their 
 
 gripe. 
 
 Come what come may, I must go home again. 
 FURST. Compose yourself, and wait in patience till 
 We get some tidings o'er from U nterwald. 
 Away ! away ! I hear a knock ! Perhaps 
 A message from the viceroy ! Get thee in ! 
 You are not safe from Landenberger's * arm 
 In Uri, for these tyrants pull together. 
 MELCH. They teach us Switzers what we ought to do. 
 FURST. Away ! I'll call you when the coast is clear. 
 
 [MELCHTHAL retires. 
 
 Unhappy youth ! I dare not tell him all 
 The evil that my boding heart predicts! 
 Who's there ? The door ne'er opens but I look 
 For tidings of mishap. Suspicion lurks 
 With darkling treachery in every nook. 
 Even to our inmost rooms they force their way, 
 These myrmidons of power; and soon we'll 
 
 need 
 To fasten bolts and bars upon our doors. 
 
 [lie opens the door and steps back in surprise 
 
 as WERNER STAUFFACHER enters. 
 What do I see? You, Werner? Now, by 
 
 Heaven ! 
 
 A valued guest, indeed. No man e'er set 
 His foot across this threshold more esteemed. 
 Welcome ! thrice welcome, Werner, to my roof ! 
 What brings you here ? What seek you here 
 
 in Uri ? 
 STAUFF. (shakes FURST by the hand). 
 
 The olden times and olden Switzerland. 
 FURST. You bring them with yon. See how I'm rejoiced, 
 My heart leaps at the very sight of you. 
 Sit down sit down, and tell me how you left 
 
 * Berenger von Landenberg, a man of noble family in Thurgau, and 
 governor of Unterwald, infamous for his cruelties to the Swiss, and par- 
 ticularly to the venerable Henry of the Halden. He was slain at the battle 
 of Morgarteu in 1315.
 
 WILHELM TELL. 25 
 
 Your charming wife, fair Gertrude? Iberg's 
 
 child, 
 
 And clever as her father. Not a man, 
 That wends from Germany, by Meinrad's Cell,* 
 To Italy, but praises far and wide 
 Your house's hospitality. But say, 
 Have you came here direct from Fliielen, 
 And have you noticed nothing on your way, 
 Before you halted at my door? 
 
 STAUFF. (sits doicn). I saw 
 
 A work in progress, as I came along, 
 I little thought to see that likes me ill. 
 
 FURST. O friend ! you've lighted on my thought at once. 
 
 STAUFF. Such things in Uri ne'er were known before. 
 Never was prison here in man's remembrance, 
 Nor ever any stronghold but the grave. 
 
 FURST. You name it well. It is the grave of freedom. 
 
 STAUFF. Friend, Walter Furst, I will be plain with you. 
 No idle curiosity it is 
 
 That brings me here, but heavy cares. I left 
 Thraldom at home, and thraldom meets me here. 
 Our wrongs, e'en now, are more than we can 
 
 bear. 
 
 And who shall tell us where they are to end ? 
 From eldest time the Switzer has been free, 
 Accustomed only to the mildest rule. 
 Such things as now we suffer ne'er were known 
 Since herdsmen first drove cattle to the hills. 
 
 FURST. Yes, our oppressions are unparalleled ! 
 
 Why, even our own good lord of Attinghaus, 
 Who lived in olden times, himself declares 
 They are no longer to be tamely borne. 
 
 STAUFF. In Unterwalden yonder 'tis the same ; 
 And bloody has the retribution been. 
 The imperial seneschal, the Wolf shot, who 
 At Rossberg dwelt, longed for forbidden fruit- 
 Baumgarten's wife, that lives at Alzellen, 
 He wished to overcome in shameful sort, 
 On which the husband slew him with his axe. 
 
 * A cell built in the ninth century by Meinrad, Count Hohenzollern, the 
 founder of the Convent of Einsiettelii, subsequently alluded to in the text.
 
 26 WILHELM TELL. 
 
 FIJRST. Oh, Heaven is just in all its judgments still I 
 Baumgarten, say you? A most worthy man. 
 Has he escaped, and is lie safely hid ? 
 
 STAUFF. Your son-in-law conveyed him o'er the lake, 
 And he lies hidden in my house at Steinen. 
 He brought the tidings with him of a thing 
 That has been done, at Sarnen, worse than all, 
 A thing to make the very heart run blood ! 
 
 FURST (attentively). 
 
 Say on. What is it ? 
 
 STAUFF. There dwells in Melchthal, then, 
 
 Just as you enter by the road from Kearns, 
 An upright man, named Henry of the Halden, 
 A man of weight and influence in the Diet. 
 
 FURST. Who knows him not? But what of him? 
 Proceed. 
 
 STAUFF. The Landenberg, to punish some offence, 
 Committed by the old man's son, it seems, 
 Had given command to take the youth's best 
 
 pair 
 
 Of oxen from his plough : on which the lad 
 Struck down the messenger and took to flight. 
 
 FURST. But the old father tell me, what of him? 
 
 STAUFF. The Landenberg sent for him, and required 
 He should produce his son upon the spot ; 
 And when the old man protested, and with 
 
 truth, 
 
 That he knew nothing of the fugitive, 
 The tyrant called his torturers. 
 
 FURST (springs up and tries to lead him to the other side). 
 
 Hush, no moi'e ! 
 
 STAUFFACHER (with increasing warmth). 
 
 " And though thy son," he cried, " Has escaped 
 
 me now, 
 I have thee fast, and thou shalt feel my 
 
 vengeance." 
 
 With that they flung the old man to the earth, 
 And plunged the pointed steel into his eyes. 
 
 FURST. Merciful heavens! 
 
 MELCH. (rushing out). 
 
 Into his eyes, his eyes ?
 
 WILHELM TELL. 27 
 
 STAUFF. (addresses himself in astonishment to WALTER 
 
 FURST). 
 
 Who is this youth ? 
 MELCH. {grasping him convulsively). 
 
 Into his eyes ? Speak, speak ! 
 FURST. Oh, miserable hour ! 
 STAUFF. Who is it, tell me? 
 
 [STAUFFACHER makes a sign to him. 
 It is his son ! All righteous heaven ! 
 MELCH. And I 
 
 Must be from thence ! What ! into both his eyes ? 
 FURST. Be calm, be calm ; and bear it like a man ! 
 MELCH. And all for me for my mad wilful folly! 
 
 Blind, did you say ? Quite blind and both his 
 
 eyes? 
 STAUFF. Even so. The fountain of his sight's dried up. 
 
 He ne'er will see the blessed sunshine more. 
 FURST. Oh, spare his anguish ! 
 
 MELCH. Never, never more ! 
 
 [Presses his hands upon his eyes and is silent 
 
 for some moments / then turning from one 
 
 to the other, speaks in a subdued tone, broken 
 
 by sobs. 
 
 O the eye's light, of all the gifts of heaven, 
 The dearest, best! From light all beings live 
 Each fair created thing the very plants 
 Turn with a joyful transport to the light, 
 And he he must drag on through all his days 
 In endless darkness ! Never more for him 
 The sunny meads shall glow, the flowerets 
 
 bloom ; 
 
 Nor shall he more behold the roseate tints 
 Of the iced mountain top ! To die is nothing, 
 But to have life, and not have sight oh, that 
 Is misery indeed ! Why do you look 
 So piteously at me? I have two eyes, 
 Yet to my poor blind father can give neither! 
 No, not one gleam of that great sea of light, 
 That with its dazzling splendor floods my gaze. 
 STAUFF. Ah, I must swell the measure of your grief, 
 Instead of soothing it. The worst, alas !
 
 28 
 
 WILHELM TELL. 
 
 Remains to tell. They've stripped him of his 
 
 all; 
 Naught have they left him, save his staff, on 
 
 which, 
 Blind and in rags, he moves from door to door. 
 
 MELCH. Naught but his staff to the old eyeless man ! 
 Stripped of his all even of the light of day, 
 The common blessing of the meanest wretch. 
 Tell me no more of patience, of concealment! 
 Oh, what a base and coward thing am I, 
 That on mine own security I thought 
 And took no care of thine ! Thy precious head 
 Left as a pledge within the tyrant's grasp ! 
 Hence, craven-hearted prudence, hence ! And all 
 My thoughts be vengeance, and the despot's 
 blood ! [now 
 
 I'll seek him straight no power shall stay me 
 And at his hands demand my father's eyes. 
 I'll beard him 'mid a thousand myrmidons! 
 What's life to me, if in his heart's best blood 
 I cool the fever of this mighty anguish. 
 
 [fie is going. 
 
 FURST. Stay, this is madness, Melchthal ! What avails 
 Your single arm against his power ? He sits 
 At Sarnen high within his lordly keep, 
 And, safe within its battlemented walls, 
 May laugh to scorn your unavailing rage. 
 
 MELCH. And though he sat within the icy domes 
 
 Of yon far Schreckhorn ay, or higher, where 
 
 Veiled since eternity, the Jungfrau soars, 
 
 Still to the tyrant would I make my way ; 
 
 With twenty comrades minded like myself, 
 
 I'd lay his fastness level with the earth ! 
 
 And if none follow me, and if you all, 
 
 In terror for your homesteads and your herds, 
 
 Bow in submission to the tyrant's yoke, 
 
 I'll call the herdsmen on the hills around me, 
 
 And there beneath heaven's free and boundless 
 
 roof, 
 
 Where men still feel as men, and hearts are true 
 Proclaim aloud this foul enormity 1
 
 WILHELM TELL. 29 
 
 STAUFP. (to FUKST). 
 
 'Tis at its height and are we then to wait 
 Till some extremity 
 
 MELCHTHAL. What extremity 
 
 Uciuains for apprehension, where men's eyes 
 Have ceased to be secure within their sockets ? 
 Are we defenceless? Wherefore did we learn 
 To bend the crossbow wield the battle-axe? 
 What living creature, but in its despair, 
 Finds for itself a weapon of defence? 
 The baited stag will turn, and with the show 
 Of his dread antlers hold the hounds at bay ; 
 The chamois drags the huntsman down the 
 
 abyss ; 
 
 The very ox, the partner of man's toil, 
 The sharer of his roof, that meekly bends 
 The strength of his huge neck beneath the yoke, 
 Springs up, if he's provoked, whets his strong 
 
 horn, 
 And tosses his tormenter to the clouds. 
 
 FURST. If the three Cantons thought as we three do, 
 
 Something might, then, be done, with good effect. 
 
 STAUFF. When Uri calls, when Unterwald replies, 
 
 Schwytz will be mindful of her ancient league.* 
 
 * The League, or Bond, of the Three Cantons was of very ancient origin. 
 They met and renewed it from time to time, especially when their liberties 
 were threatened with danger. A remarkable instance of this occurred in the 
 end of the thirteenth century, when Albert of Austria became emperor, and 
 when, possibly, for the first time, the bond was reduced to writing. As it is 
 important to the understanding of many passages of the play, a translation is 
 subjoined of the oldest known document relating to it. The original, which 
 is in Latin and German, is dated in August, 1291, and is under the seals of the 
 whole of the men of Schwytz, the commonalty of the vale of Uri, and the 
 whole of the men of the upper and lower vales of Stanz. 
 
 THE BOND. 
 
 Be it known to every one, that the men of the Dale of Uri, the Com- 
 munity of Schwytz, as also the men of the mountains of Unterwald, in 
 consideration of the evil times, have full confidently bound themselves, and 
 sworn to help each other with all their power and might, property and 
 people, against all who shall do violence to them, or any of them. That is 
 our Ancient Bond. 
 
 Whoever hath a Seignior, let him obey according to the conditions of his 
 service. 
 
 We are agreed to receive into these dales no Judge who is not a country 
 man and indweller, or who hath bought his place. 
 
 Every controversy amongst the sworu confederates shall be. determined
 
 30 WILHELM TELL. 
 
 MELCH. I've many friends in Unterwald. and none 
 
 That would not gladly venture life and limb 
 
 If fairly backed and aided by the rest. 
 
 Oh, sage and reverend fathers of this land, 
 
 Here do I stand before your riper years, 
 
 An unskilled youth whose voice must in the Diet 
 
 Still be subdued into respectful silence. 
 
 Do not, because that I am young and want 
 
 Experience, slight my counsel and my words. 
 
 "Pis not the wantonness of youthful blood 
 
 That fires my spirit ; but a pang so deep 
 
 That even the flinty rocks must pity me. 
 
 You, too, are fathers, heads of families, 
 
 And you must wish to have a virtuous son 
 
 To reverence your gray hairs and shield your eyes 
 
 With pious and affectionate regard. 
 
 Do not, I pray, because in limb and fortune 
 
 You still are unassailed, and still your eyes 
 
 Revolve undimmed and sparkling in their 
 
 spheres ; 
 
 Oh, do not, therefore, disregard our wrongs! 
 Above you, too, doth hang the tyrant's sword. 
 You, too, have striven to alienate the land 
 From Austria. This was all my father's crime : 
 You share his guilt and may his punishment. 
 
 STAUFFACHER (to FURST). 
 
 Do thou resolve ! I am prepared to follow. 
 
 FURST. First let us learn what steps the noble lords 
 Von Sillinen and Attinghaus propose. 
 Their names would rally thousands in the cause. 
 
 MELCH. Is there a name within the Forest Mountains 
 
 by some of the sagest of their number, and if any one shall challenge their 
 judgment, then shall he be constrained to obey it by the rest. 
 
 Whoever intentionally or deceitfully kills another shall be executed, and 
 .vhoever shelters him shall be banished. 
 
 Whoever burns the property of another shall no longer be regarded as a 
 countryman, and whoever shelters him shall make good the damage done. 
 
 Whoever injures another, or robs him, and hath property in our country, 
 shall make satisfaction out of the same. 
 
 No one shall distrain a debtor without a judge, nor any one who is not his 
 debtor, or the surety for such debtor. 
 
 Every one in these dales shall submit to the judge, or we, the sworn con- 
 federates, all will take satisfaction for all the injury occasioned by his con- 
 tumacy. And if in any internal division the one party will not accept 
 justice, all the rest shall help the othfr party. These decrees shall, God 
 willing, endure eternally for our general advantage.
 
 WILHELM TELL. 31 
 
 That carries more respect than thine and 
 
 thine ? 
 
 To names like these the people cling for help 
 With confidence such names are household 
 
 words. 
 
 Rich was your heritage of manly virtue, 
 And richly have you added to its stores. 
 What need of nobles? Let us do the work 
 Ourselves. Although we stood alone, methinks 
 We should be able to maintain our rights. 
 
 STAFFF. The nobles' wrongs are not so great as ours. 
 The torrent that lays waste the lower grounds 
 Hath not ascended to the uplands yet. 
 But let them see the country once in arms 
 They'll not refuse to lend a helping hand. 
 
 FUKST. Were there an umpire 'twixt ourselves and 
 
 Austria, 
 
 Justice and law might then decide our quarrel. 
 But our oppressor is our emperor, too, 
 And judge supreme. 'Tis God must help us, 
 
 then, 
 
 And our own arm ! Be yours the task to rouse 
 The men of Schwytz ; I'll rally friends in Uri. 
 But whom are we to send to Unterwald ? 
 
 MELCH. Thither send me. Whom should it more 
 concern ? 
 
 FURST. No, Melchthal, no ; thou art my guest, and I 
 Must answer for thy safety. 
 
 MELCHTHAL. Let me go. 
 
 I know each forest track and mountain pass ; 
 Friends too I'll find, be sure, on every hand, 
 To give me willing shelter from the foe. 
 
 STAUFF. Nay, let him go; no traitors harbor there: 
 For tyranny is so abhorred in Unterwald 
 No minions can be found to work her will. 
 In the low valleys, too, the Alzeller 
 Will gain confederates and rouse the country. 
 
 MELCH. But how shall we communicate, and not 
 Awaken the suspicion of the tyrants ? 
 
 STAUFF. Might we not meet at Brunnen or at Treib, 
 
 Hard by the spot where merchant-vessels land ?
 
 32 
 
 WILHELM TELL. 
 
 FURST. We must not go so openly to work. 
 
 Hear my opinion. On the lake's left bank, 
 As we sail hence to Brunnen, right against 
 The Mytenstein, deep-hidden in the wood 
 A meadow lies, by shepherds called the Rootli, 
 Because the wood has been uprooted there. 
 'Tis where our Canton boundaries verge on 
 yours ; \_To MELCIITHAL. 
 
 Your boat will carry you across from Schwytz. 
 
 \_To STAUFFACHER. 
 
 Thither by lonely by-paths let us wend 
 At midnight and deliberate o'er our plans. 
 Let each bring with him there ten trusty men, 
 All one at heart with us ; and then we may 
 Consult together for the general weal, 
 And, with God's guidance, fix our onward 
 course. 
 
 STATJFF. So let it be. And now your true right hand ! 
 Yours, too, young man ! and as we now three 
 
 men 
 
 Among ourselves thus knit our hands together 
 In all sincerity and truth, e'en so 
 Shall we three Cantons, too, together stand 
 In victory and defeat, in life and death. 
 
 FURST and MELCHTHAL. 
 In life and death. 
 
 [ They hold their hands clasped together fot 
 some moments in silence. 
 
 MELCHTHAL. Alas, my old blind father ! 
 
 Thou canst no more behold the day of freedom ; 
 But thou shalt hear it. When from Alp to Alp 
 The beacon-fires throw up their flaming signs, 
 And the proud castles of the tyrants fall, 
 Into thy cottage shall the Switzer burst, 
 Bear the glad tidings to thine ear, and o'er 
 Thy darkened way shall Freedom's radiance 
 pour.
 
 WILHELM. TELL. 33 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 SCENE I. 
 
 The Mansion of the BARON OF ATTINGHAUSEN. A Gothic hall, 
 decorated with escutcheons and helmets. The BAKON, a gray- 
 headed man, eighty-five years old, tall, and of a commanding 
 mien, clad in a furred pelisse, and leaning on a staff tipped 
 with chamois horn. KUONI and six hinds standing round him, 
 with rakes and scythes. ULRIOH OF RUDENZ enters in the 
 costume of a knight. 
 
 RUD. Uncle, I'm here ! Your will ? 
 
 ATTINGHAUSEN. First let me share, 
 
 After the ancient custom of our house, 
 The morning-cup with these my faithful ser- 
 vants ! 
 \_He drinks from a cup, which is then passed 
 
 round. 
 
 Time was I stood myself in field and wood, 
 With mine own eyes directing all their toil, 
 Even as my banner led them in the fight, 
 Now I am only fit to play the steward; 
 And, if the genial sun come not to me, 
 I can no longer seek it on the mountains. 
 Thus slowly, in an ever-narrowing sphere, 
 I move on to the narrowest and the last, 
 Where all life's pulses cease. I now am but 
 The shadow of my former self, and that 
 Is fading fast 'twill soon be but a name. 
 
 KUONI (offering RUDENZ the cup). 
 A pledge, young master ! 
 
 [RUDENZ hesitates to take the cup. 
 
 Nay, sir, drink it off ! 
 
 One cup, one heart ! You know our proverb, sir ! 
 
 ATTING. Go, children, and at eve, when work is done, 
 
 We'll meet and talk the country's business over. 
 
 [Exeunt Servants. 
 
 Belted and plumed, and all thy bravery on ! 
 Thou art for Altdorf for the castle, boy? 
 
 RUD. Yes, uncle. Longer may I not delay 
 
 ATTINGHAUSEN (sitting down"). 
 
 Why in such haste ? Say, are thy youthful hours
 
 34 WILHELM TELL. 
 
 Doled in such niggard measure that thou must 
 Be chary of them to thy aged uncle ? 
 
 RUD. I see, my presence is not needed here, 
 I am but as a stranger in this house. 
 
 ATTINGHAUSEN (gazes fixedly at him for a considerable 
 
 time). 
 
 Alas, thou art indeed ! Alas, that home 
 To thee has grown so strange ! Oh, Uly ! Uly ! 
 I scarce do know thee now, thus decked in 
 
 silks, 
 
 The peacock's feather * flaunting in thy cap, 
 And purple mantle round thy shoulders flung; 
 Thou lookest upon the peasant with disdain, 
 And takest with a blush his honest greeting. 
 
 Run. All honor due to him I gladly pay, 
 
 But must deny the right he would usurp. 
 
 ATTING. The sore displeasure of the king is resting 
 Upon the land, and every true man's heart 
 Is full of sadness for the grievous wrongs 
 We suffer from our tyrants. Thou alone 
 Art all unmoved amid the general grief. 
 Abandoning thy friends, thou takest thy stand 
 Beside thy country's foes, and, as in scorn 
 Of our distress, pursuest giddy joys, 
 Courting the smiles of princes, all the while 
 Thy country bleeds beneath their cruel scourge. 
 
 RUD. The land is sore oppressed ; I know it, uncle. 
 But why? Who plunged it into this distress? 
 A word, one little easy word, might buy 
 Instant deliverance from such dire oppression, 
 And win the good-will of the emperor. 
 Woe unto those who seal the people's eyes, 
 And make them adverse to their country's good ; 
 The men who, for their own vile, selfish ends, 
 Are seeking to prevent the Forest States 
 From swearing fealty to Austria's house, 
 As all the countries round about have done. 
 It fits their humor well, to take their seats 
 
 * The Austrian knights were in the habit of wearing a plume of peacocks' 
 feathers in their helmets. After the overthrow of the Austrian dominion in 
 Switzerland it was made highly penal to wear the peacock's feather at any 
 public assembly there.
 
 WILHELM TELL. 36 
 
 Amid the nobles on the Herrenbank ; * 
 They'll have the Caesar for their lord, forsooth, 
 That is to say, they'll have no lord at all. 
 
 ATTING. Must I hear this, and from thy lips, rash boy ! 
 
 Run. You urged me to this answer. Hear me out. 
 What, uncle, is the character you've stooped 
 To fill contentedly through life? Have you 
 No higher pride, than in these lonely wilds 
 To be the Landamman or Banneret,t 
 The petty chieftain of a shepherd race? 
 How ! Were it not a far more glorious choice 
 To bend in homage to our royal lord, 
 And swell the princely splendors of his court, 
 Than sit at home, the peer of your own vassals, 
 And share the judgment-seat with vulgar clowns? 
 
 ATTING. Ah, Uly, Uly ; alt too well I see, 
 
 The tempter's voice has caught thy willing ear, 
 And poured its subtle poison in thy heart. 
 
 RITD. Yes. I conceal it not. It doth offend 
 
 My inmost soul to hear the stranger's gibes, 
 
 That taunt us with the name of " Peasant Xobles." 
 
 Think you the heart that's stirring here can brook, 
 
 While all the young nobility around 
 
 Are reaping honor under Hapsburg's banner, 
 
 That I should loiter, in inglorious ease, 
 
 Here on the heritage my fathers left. 
 
 And, in the dull routine of vulgar toil, 
 
 Lose all life's glorious spring? In other lands 
 
 Deeds are achieved. A world of fair renown 
 
 Beyond these mountains stirs in martial pomp. 
 
 My helm and shield are rusting in the hall ; 
 
 The martial trumpet's spirit-stirring blast, 
 
 The herald's call, inviting to the lists, 
 
 Rouse not the echoes of these vales, where naught 
 
 Save cowherd's horn and cattle-bell is heard, 
 
 In one unvarying, dull monotony. 
 
 ATTIXG. Deluded boy, seduced by empty show! 
 
 Despise the land that gave thee birth ! Ashamed 
 
 * The bench reserved for the nobility. 
 
 t The Landamman was an officer chosen by the Swiss Gemeinde, or Diet, 
 to preside over them. The Banneret was an officer intrusted with the keep- 
 ing of the state banner, and such others as were taken in battle.
 
 36 WILHELM TELL. 
 
 Of the good ancient customs of thy sires ! 
 The day will come, when thou, with burning 
 
 tears, 
 
 Wilt long for home, and for thy native hills, 
 And that dear melody of tuneful herds, 
 Which now, in proud disgust, thou dost despise ! 
 A day when thou wilt drink its tones in sadness, 
 Hearing their music in a foreign land. 
 Oh ! potent is the spell that binds to home ! 
 No, no, the cold, false world is not for thee. 
 At the proud court, with thy true heart thou wilt 
 Forever feel a stranger among strangers. 
 The world asks virtues of far other stamp 
 Than thou hast learned within these simple vales. 
 But go go thither; barter thy free soul, 
 Take land in fief, become a prince's vassal, 
 Where thou might'st be lord paramount, and 
 
 prince 
 
 Of all thine own unburdened heritage ! 
 O, Uly, Uly, stay among thy people ! 
 Go not to Altdorf. Oh, abandon not 
 The sacred cause of thy wronged native land ! 
 I am the last of all my race. My name 
 Ends with me. Yonder hang my helm and 
 
 shield ; 
 
 They will be buried with me in the grave.* 
 And must I think, when yielding up my breath, 
 That thou but wait'st the closing of mine eyes, 
 To stoop thy knee to this new feudal court, 
 And take in vassalage from Austria's hands 
 The noble lands, which I from God received 
 Free and unfettered as the mountain air! 
 RUD. 'Tis vain for us to strive against the king. 
 
 The world pertains to him : shall we alone, 
 In mad, presumptuous obstinacy strive 
 To break that mighty chain of lands, which he 
 Hath drawn around us with his giant grasp. 
 His are the markets, his the courts ; his too 
 The highways ; nay, the very carrier's horse, 
 
 According to the custom by which, when the last male -descendant of a 
 noble family died, his sword, helmet, and shield were buried with him.
 
 WILHELM TELL. 7 
 
 That traffics on the Gotthardt, pays him toll. 
 
 By his dominions, as within a net, 
 
 We are enclosed, and girded round about. 
 
 And will the empire shield us? Say, can it 
 
 Protect itself 'gainst Austria's growing power ? 
 
 To God, and not to emperors, must we look! 
 
 What store can on their promises be placed, 
 
 When they, to meet their own necessities, 
 
 Can pawn, and even alienate the towns 
 
 That flee for shelter 'neath the eagle's wings?* 
 
 No. uncle. It is wise and wholesome prudence, 
 
 In times like these, when faction's all abroad, 
 
 To own attachment' to some mighty chief. 
 
 The imperial crown's transferred from line to 
 
 line,f 
 
 It has no memory for faithful service : 
 But to secure the favor of these great 
 Hereditary masters, were to sow 
 Seed for a future harvest. 
 
 ATTINGHAUSEN. Art so wise ? 
 
 Wilt thou see clearer than thy noble sires, 
 Who battled for fair freedom's costly gem, 
 With life, and fortune, and heroic arm ? 
 Sail down the lake to Lucerne, there inquire, 
 How Austria's rule doth weigh the Cantons down. 
 Soon she will come to count our sheep, our cattle, 
 To portion out the Alps, e'en to their summits, 
 And in our own free woods to hinder us 
 From striking down the eagle or the stag; 
 To set her tolls on every bridge and gate, 
 Impoverish us to swell her lust of sway, 
 And drain our dearest blood to feed her wars. 
 No, if our blood must flow, let it be shed 
 In our own cause ! We purchase liberty 
 More cheaply far than bondage. 
 
 RUDENZ. What can we, 
 
 A shepherd race, against great Albert's hosts? 
 
 * Tills frequently occurred. But in the event of an imperial city being 
 mortgaged for the purpose of raising money it lost its freedom, and was con- 
 sidered as put out of the realm. 
 
 t An allusion to the circumstance of the imperial crown not being heredi- 
 tary, but conferred by election on one of the counts of the empire.
 
 38 
 
 ATTING. Learn, foolish boy, to know this shepherd race ! 
 I know them, I have led them on in fight 
 I saw them in the battle at Favenz. 
 Austria will try, forsooth, to force on us 
 A yoke we are determined not to bear ! 
 Oh, learn to feel from what a race thou'rt sprung ! 
 Cast not, for tinsel trash and idle show, 
 The precious jewel of thy worth away. 
 To be the chieftain of a freeborn race, 
 Bound to thee only by their unbought love, 
 Ready to stand to fight to die with thee, 
 Be that thy pride, be that thy noblest boast ! 
 Knit to thy heart the ties of kindred home 
 Cling to the land, the dear land of thy sires, 
 Grapple to that with thy whole heart and soul ! 
 Thy power is rooted deep and strongly here, 
 But in yon stranger world thou'lt stand alone, 
 A trembling reed beat down by every blast.^ 
 Oh come ! 'tis long since we have seen thee, TJly ! 
 Tarry but this one day. Only to-day 
 Go not to Altdorf. Wilt thou ? Not to-day ! 
 For this one day bestow thee on thy friends. 
 
 [ Takes his hand. 
 
 RUD. I gave my word. Unhand me! I am bound. 
 
 ATTING. (drops his hand and says sternly}. 
 
 Bound, didst thou say? Oh yes, unhappy boy, 
 Thou art, indeed. But not by word or oath. 
 Tis by the silken mesh of love thou'rt bound. 
 
 [RUDENZ turns atoay, 
 
 Ay, hide thee, as thou wilt. 'Tis she, I know, 
 Bertha of Bruneck, draws thee to the court ; 
 Tis she that chains thee to the emperor's service. 
 Thou think'st to win the noble, knightly maid, 
 By thy apostacy. Be not deceived. 
 She is held out before thee as a lure ; 
 But never meant for innocence like thine. 
 
 RUD. No more; I've heard enough. So fare you well. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 ATTIXG. Stay, Uly ! Stay ! Rash boy, he's gone ! I can 
 Nor hold him back, nor save him from de- 
 struction.
 
 W1LHELM TELL. 39 
 
 And so the Wolfshot has deserted us ; 
 Others will follow his example soon. 
 This foreign witchery, sweeping o'er, our hills, 
 *Tear8 with its potent spell our youth away : 
 O luckless hour, when men and 'manners strange 
 Into these calm and happy valleys came, 
 To warp our primitive and guileless ways. 
 The new is pressing on with might. The old, 
 The good, the simple, fleeteth fast away. 
 New times come on. A race is springing up, 
 That think not as their fathers thought before ! 
 What do I here ? All, all are in the grave 
 With whom erewhile I moved and held converse ; 
 My age has long been laid beneath the sod : 
 Happy the man who may not live to see 
 What shall be done by those that follow me ! 
 
 SCENE II. 
 
 A meadow surrounded by high rocks and wooded ground. On the 
 rocks are tracks, with rails and ladders, by which the peasants 
 are afterwards seen descending. In the background the lake is 
 observed, and over it a moon rainbow in the early part of the 
 scene. The prospect is closed by lofty mountains, with glaciers 
 rising behind them. The stage is dark, but the lake and glaciers 
 glisten in the moonlight. ' 
 
 MELCHTHAL, BAUMGARTEX, WIXKELRIED, MEYER vox 
 SARXEX, BURKHART AM BUHEL, ARNOLD vox SEWA, 
 KLAUS VON DER FLUE, and four other peasants, att 
 armed. 
 
 MELCHTHAL (behind the scenes). 
 
 The mountain pass is open. Follow me 
 I see the rock, and little cross upon it : 
 This is the spot ; here is the Rootli. 
 
 [ They enter with torches. 
 
 WIXKELRIED. Hark ! 
 
 SEWA. The coast is clear. 
 
 MEYER. None of our comrades come ? 
 
 We are the first, we Unterwaldeners. 
 
 MELCH. How far is't in the night?
 
 40 
 
 WILHELM TELL. 
 
 BAUM. The beacon watch 
 
 Upon the Selisberg has just called two. 
 
 \_A bell is heard at q distance. 
 MEYER. Hush ! Hark ! 
 BUHEL. The forest chapel's matin bell 
 
 Chimes clearly o'er the lake from Switzerland. 
 VON F. The air is clear, and bears the sound so far. 
 MELCH. Go, you and you, and light some broken boughs, 
 Let's bid them welcome with a cheerful blaze. 
 
 [ Two peasants exeunt. 
 SEWA. The moon shines fair to-night. Beneath its 
 
 beams 
 
 The lake reposes, bright as burnished steel. 
 BUHEL. They'll have an easy passage. 
 WINK, (pointing to the lake). Ha ! look there ! 
 
 See you nothing ? 
 MEYER. What is it ? Ay, indeed ! 
 
 A rainbow in the middle of the night. 
 MELCH. Formed by the bright reflection of the moon ! 
 VON F. A sign most sti'ange and wonderful, indeed ! 
 Many there be who ne'er have seen the like. 
 SEWA. 'Tis doubled, see, a paler one above! 
 BAUM. A boat is gliding yonder right beneath it. 
 MELCH. That must be Werner Stauffacher! I knew 
 The worthy patriot would not tarry long. 
 
 [ Goes with BAUMGARTEN towards the shore. 
 MEYER. The Uri men are like to bo the last. 
 BUHEL. They're forced to take a winding circuit through 
 The mountains ; for the viceroy's spies are out. 
 \_In the meanwhile the two peasants have 
 
 kindled a fire in the centre of the stage. 
 MELCH. ^(on the shore). 
 
 Who's there ? The word ? 
 
 STAUFF. (from below). Friends of the country. 
 
 [All retire up the stage, towards the. party 
 landing from the boat. Enter STAUFF- 
 ACHER, ITEL, REDING, HANS AUF DEE 
 MAUER, JORG IM HOFE, CONRAD HUNN, 
 ULRICH DER SCHMIDT, JOST VON WEILER, 
 and three other peasants, armed.
 
 WILHELM TELL. 41 
 
 ALL. Welcome ! 
 
 [ While the rest remain behind exchanging 
 greetings, MKLCHTHAL comes forward with 
 STAUFFACHER. 
 
 MELCH. Oh, worthy Stauffacher, I've looked but now 
 On him, who could not look on me again. 
 I've laid my hands upon his rayless eyes, 
 And on their vacant orbits sworn a vow 
 Of vengeance, only to be cooled in blood. 
 
 STAUFF. Speak not of vengeance. We are here to meet 
 The threatened evil, not to avenge the past. 
 Now tell me what you've done, and what secured, 
 To aid the common cause in Unterwald. 
 How stands the peasantry disposed, and how 
 Yourself escaped the wiles of treachery? 
 
 MELCH. Through the Surenen's fearful mountain chain, 
 Where dreary ice-fields stretch on every side, 
 And sound is none, save the hoarse vulture's cry, 
 I reached the Alpine pasture, where the herds 
 From Uri and from Engelberg resort, 
 And turn their cattle forth to graze in common. 
 Still as I went along, I slaked my thirst 
 With the coarse oozings of the lofty glacier, 
 That through the crevices come foaming down, 
 And turned to rest me in the herdsman's cots,* 
 Where I was host and guest, until I gained 
 The cheerful homes and social haunts of men. 
 Already through these distant vales had spread 
 The rumor of this last atrocity ; 
 And wheresoe'er I went, at every door, 
 Kind words and gentle looks were there to 
 
 greet me. 
 
 I found these simple spirits all in arms 
 Against our rulers' tyrannous encroachments. 
 For as their Alps through each succeeding year 
 Yield the same roots, their streams flow 
 
 ever on 
 In the same channels, nay, the clouds and winds 
 
 * These are the cots, or shealings, erected by the herdsmen for shelter 
 while pasturing their herds on the mountains during the summer. These 
 are left deserted in winter, during which period Melchthal's journey was 
 taken.
 
 42 WILHELM TELL 
 
 The selfsame course unalterably pursue, 
 So have old customs there, from sire to son, 
 Been handed down, unchanging and unchanged ; 
 Nor will they brook to swerve or turn aside 
 From the fixed, even tenor of their life. 
 With grasp of their hard hands they welcomed 
 
 me 
 
 Took from the walls their rusty falchionsdown 
 And from their eyes the soul of valor flashed 
 With joyful lustre, as I spoke those names, 
 Sacred to every peasant in the mountains, 
 Your own and Walter Fiirst's. Whate'er your 
 
 voice 
 
 Should dictate as the right they swore to do ; 
 And you they swore to follow e'en to death. 
 So sped I on from house to house, secure 
 In the guest's sacred privilege and when 
 I reached at last the valley of my home, 
 Where dwell my kinsmen, scattered far and 
 
 near 
 
 And when I found my father stripped and blind, 
 Upon the stranger's straw, fed by the alms 
 
 Of charity 
 
 STAUFFACHER. Great heaven ! 
 
 MELCIITHAL. Yet wept I not . 
 
 No not in weak and unavailing tears 
 Spent I the force of my fierce, burning anguish. 
 Deep in my bosom, like some precious treasure, 
 I locked it fast, and thought on deeds alone. 
 Through every winding of the hills I crept 
 No valley so remote but I explored it ; 
 Nay, even at the glacier's ice-clad base, 
 I sought and found the homes of living men ; 
 And still, where'er my wandering footsteps 
 
 turned, 
 
 The self-same hatred of these tyrants met me. 
 For even there, at vegetation's verge, 
 Where the numbed earth is barren of all fruits, 
 There grasping hands had been stretched forth 
 
 for plunder. 
 Into the hearts of all this honest race,
 
 WILHELM TELL. 43 
 
 The story of my wrongs struck deep, and now 
 They to a man are ours ; both heart and hand. 
 
 STAUFF. Great things, indeed, you've wrought in little 
 time. 
 
 MELCH. I did still more than this. The fortresses, 
 
 Rossberg and Sarnen, are the country's dread ; 
 For from behind their rocky walls the foe 
 Swoops, as the eagle from his eyrie, down, 
 And, safe himself, spreads havoc o'er the land. 
 With my own eyes I wished to weigh its 
 
 strength, 
 So went to Sarnen, and explored the castle. 
 
 STAUFF. How ! Risk thyself even in the tiger's den ? 
 
 MELCH. Disguised in pilgrim's weeds I entered it; 
 I saw the viceroy feasting at his board 
 Judge if I'm master of myself or no! 
 I saw the tyrant, and I slew him not ! 
 
 STAUFF. Fortune, indeed, has smiled upon your boldness. 
 \_Meamchile the others have arrived and join 
 
 MELCHTHAL and STAUFFACHER. 
 Yet tell me now, I pray, who are the friends, 
 The worthy men, who came along with you? 
 Make me acquainted with them, that we may 
 Speak frankly, man to man, and heart to heart. 
 
 MEYER. In the three Cantons, who, sir, knows not you ? 
 Meyer of Sarnen is my name ; and this 
 Is Struth of Winkelried, my sister's son. 
 
 STAUFF. No unknown name. A Winkelried it was 
 Who slew the dragoon in the fen at Weiler, 
 And lost his life in the encounter, too. 
 
 WINK. That, Master Stauffacher, was my grandfather. 
 
 MELCH. (pointing to tiro peasants}. 
 
 These two are men belonging to the convent 
 Of Engelberg, and live behind the forest. 
 You'll not think ill of them, because they're 
 
 serfs, 
 
 And sit not free upon the soil, like us. 
 They love the land, and bear a good repute. 
 
 STAUFFACHER (to them}. 
 
 Give me your hands. He has good cause for 
 thanks,
 
 44 
 
 WILHELM TELL. 
 
 That unto no man owes his body's service. 
 But worth is worth, no matter where 'tis found, 
 
 HUNN. That is Herr Reding, sir, our old Landamman. 
 
 MEYER. I know him well. There is a suit between us, 
 About a piece of ancient heritage. 
 Herr Reding, we are enemies in court, 
 Here we are one. [Shakes his hand. 
 
 STAUWACHER. That's well and bravely said. 
 
 WINK. Listen ! They come. Hark to the horn of Uri ! 
 \_0n the right and left armed men are seen 
 descending the rocks with torches. 
 
 MAUER. Look, is not that God's pious servant there? 
 A worthy priest ! The terrors of the night, 
 And the way's pains and perils scare not him, 
 A faithful shepherd caring for his flock. 
 
 BAUM. The Sacrist follows him, and Walter Fiirst. 
 But where is Tell ? I do not see him there. 
 [WALTER FURST, ROSSELMAXST the Pastor, 
 PETERMAXN the /Sacrist, KUONI the Shep- 
 herd, WERNI the Huntsman, Ruom the 
 Fisherman, and five other countrymen, 
 thirty-three in all, advance and take their 
 places round the fire. 
 
 FURST. Thus must we, on the soil our fathers left us, 
 Creep forth by stealth to meet like murderers, 
 And in the night, that should their mantle lend 
 Only to crime and black conspiracy, 
 Assert our own good rights, which yet are clear 
 As is the radiance of the noonday sun. 
 
 MELCH. So be it. What is woven in gloom of night 
 Shall free and boldly meet the morning light. 
 
 ROSSEL. Confederates ! listen to the words which God 
 Inspires my heart withal. Here we are met 
 To represent the general weal. In us 
 Are all the people of the land convened. 
 Then let us hold the Diet, as of old, 
 And as we're wont in peaceful times to do. 
 The time's necessity be our excuse 
 If there be aught informal in this meeting. 
 Still, wheresoe'er men strike for justice, there 
 Is God, and now beneath his heaven we stand.
 
 WILHELM TELL. 45 
 
 STAUFF. 'Tis well advised. Let us, then, hold the Diet 
 
 According to our ancient usages. 
 
 Though it be night there's sunshine in our cause. 
 MELCH. Few though our numbers be, the hearts are here 
 
 Of the whole people ; here the best are met. 
 HUNN. The ancient books may not be near at hand, 
 
 Yet are they graven in our inmost hearts. 
 ROSSEL. 'Tis well. And now, then, let a ring be formed, 
 
 And plant the swords of power within the 
 
 ground.* 
 MAUER. Let the Landamman step into his place, 
 
 And by his side his secretaries stand. 
 SACRIST. There are three Cantons here. Which hath the 
 right 
 
 To give the head to the united council ? 
 
 Schwytz may contest the dignity with Uri, 
 
 We Unterwaldeners enter not the field. 
 MELCH. We stand aside. We are not suppliants here, 
 
 Invoking aid from our more potent friends. 
 STAUFF. Let Uri have the sword. Her banner takes 
 
 In battle the precedence of our own. 
 FURST. Schwytz, then, must share the honor of the 
 sword ; 
 
 For she's the honored ancestor of all. 
 ROSSEL. Let me arrange this generous controversy. 
 
 Uri shall lead in battle Schwytz in council. 
 FURST (gives STAUFFACHER his hand). 
 
 Then take your place. 
 
 STAUFFACHER. Not I. Some older man. 
 
 HOFE. Ulrich, the smith, is the most aged here. 
 MAUER. A worthy man, but he is not a freeman ; 
 
 No bondman can be judge in Switzerland. 
 STAUFF. Is not Herr Reding here, our old Landamman ? 
 
 Where can we find a worthier man than he? 
 FURST. Let him be Amman and the Diet's chief? 
 
 You that agree with me hold up your hands ! 
 
 \_All hold up their right hands. 
 REDING (stepping into the centre). 
 
 I cannot lay my hands upon the books ; 
 
 * It was the custom at the meetings of the Landes Oemeinde, or Diet, to 
 set swords upright in the grouud as emblems of authority.
 
 46 WILHELM TELL. 
 
 But by yon everlasting stars I swear 
 Never to swerve from justice and the right. 
 
 REDING (resting on his battle-sword). 
 
 Why, at the hour when spirits walk the earth, 
 Meet the three Cantons of the mountains here, 
 Upon the lake's inhospitable shore ? 
 And what the purport of the new alliance 
 We here contract beneath the starry heaven ? 
 STAUFFACHER (entering the circle). 
 
 No new alliance do we now contract, 
 But one our fathers framed, in ancient times, 
 We purpose to renew ! For know, confederates, 
 Though mountain ridge and lake divide our 
 
 bounds, 
 
 And every Canton's ruled by its own laws, 
 Yet are we but one race, born of one blood, 
 And all are children of one common home. 
 WINK. Then is the burden of our legends true, 
 
 That we came hither from a distant land ? 
 Oh, tell us what you know, that our new league 
 May reap fresh vigor from the leagues of old. 
 STAUFF. Hear, then, what aged herdsmen tell. Ihere 
 
 dwelt 
 
 A mighty people in the land that lies 
 Back to the north. The scourge of famine came ; 
 And in this strait 'twas publicly resolved, 
 That each tenth man, on whom the lot might fall 
 Should leave the country. They obeyed and 
 
 forth, 
 
 With loud lamentings, men and women went, 
 A mighty host ; and to the south moved on, 
 Cutting their way through Germany by the 
 
 sword, 
 
 Until they gained that pine-clad hills of ours; 
 Nor stopped they ever on their forward course, 
 Till at the shaggy dell they halted, where 
 The Mtita flows through its luxuriant meads. 
 No trace of human creature met their eye,
 
 WILHELM TELL. 47 
 
 Save one poor hut upon the desert shore, 
 Where dwelt a lonely man, and kept the ferry. 
 A tempest raged the lake rose mountains high 
 And barred their further progress. Thereupon 
 They viewed the country ; found it rich in wood, 
 Discovered goodly springs, and felt as they 
 Were in their own deai native land once more. 
 Then they resolved to settle on the spot ; 
 Erected there the ancient town of Schwytz ; 
 And many a day of toil had they to clear 
 The tangled brake and forest's spreading roots. 
 Meanwhile their numbers grew, the soil became 
 Unequal to sustain them, and they crossed 
 To the black mountain, far as Weissland, where, 
 Concealed behind eternal walls of ice, 
 Another people speak another tongue. 
 They built the village Stanz, beside the Kern- 
 
 wald: 
 
 The village Altdorf, in the vale of Reuss ; 
 Yet, ever mindful of their parent stem, 
 The men of Schwytz, from all the stranger race, 
 That since that time have settled in the land, 
 Each other recognize. Their hearts still know, 
 And beat fraternally to kindred blood. 
 
 [Extends his hand right and left. 
 
 M.VUER. Ay, we are all one heart, one blood, one race ! 
 
 ALL (joining hands). 
 
 We are one people, and will act as one. 
 
 STAUFF. The nations round us bear a foreign yoke ; 
 For they have yielded to the conqueror. 
 Nay, even within our frontiers may be found 
 Some that owe villein service to a lord, 
 A race of bonded serfs from sire to son. 
 But we, the genuine race of ancient Swiss, 
 Have kept our freedom from the first till now, 
 Never to princes have we bowed the knee ; 
 Freely we sought protection of the empire. 
 
 ROSSEL. Freely we sought it freely it was given. 
 
 'Tis so set down in Emperor Frederick's charter 
 
 STAUFF. For the most free have still some feudal lord. 
 There must be still a chief, a judge supreme,
 
 48 WILHELM TELL. 
 
 To whom appeal may lie in case of strife. 
 And therefore was it that our sires allowed 
 For what they had recovered from the waste, 
 This honor to the emperor, the lord 
 Of all the German and Italian soil ; 
 And, like the other freemen of his realm, 
 Engaged to aid him with their swords in war ; 
 And this alone should be the freeman's duty, 
 To guard the empire that keeps guard for him. 
 
 MELCH. He's but a slave that would acknowledge more. 
 
 STAUFF. They followed, when the Heribann * went forth, 
 The imperial standard, and they fought its 
 
 battles ! 
 
 To Italy they marched in arms, to place 
 The Caesars' crown upon the emperor's head. 
 But still at home they ruled themselves in peace, 
 By their own laws and ancient usages. 
 The emperor's only right was to adjudge 
 The penalty of death ; he therefore named 
 Some mighty noble as his delegate, 
 That had no stake or interest in the land. 
 He was called in, when doom was to be passed, 
 And, in the face of day, pronounced decree, 
 Clear and distinctly, fearing no man's hate. 
 What traces here, that we are bondsmen? 
 
 Speak, 
 If there be any can gainsay my words ! 
 
 HOFE. No ! You have spoken but the simple truth ; 
 We never stooped beneath a tyrant's yoke. 
 
 STAUFF. Even to the emperor we refused obedience, 
 
 When he gave judgment in the church's favor ; 
 For when the Abbey of Einsiedlen claimed 
 The Alp our fathers and ourselves had grazed, 
 And showed an ancient charter, which bestowed 
 The land on them as being ownerless 
 For our existence there had been concealed 
 What was our answer ? This : " The grant is 
 
 void, 
 No emperor can bestow what is our own : 
 
 * The Heribann was a muster of warriors similar to the arriere ban 
 in France.
 
 WLLHELM TELL. 49 
 
 And if the empire shall deny us justice, 
 
 We can, within our mountains, right ourselves ! " 
 
 Thus spake our fathers ! And shall we endure 
 
 The shame and infamy of this new yoke, 
 
 And from the vassal brook what never king 
 
 Dared in the fulness of his power attempt ? 
 
 This soil we have created for ourselves, 
 
 By the hard labor of our hands ; we've changed 
 
 The giant forest, that was erst the haunt 
 
 Of savage bears, into a home for man ; 
 
 Extirpated the dragon's brood, that wont 
 
 To rise, distent with venom, from the swamps; 
 
 Rent the thick misty canopy that hung 
 
 Its blighting vapors on the dreary waste ; 
 
 Blasted the solid rock ; o'er the abyss 
 
 Thrown the firm bridge for the wayfaring man : 
 
 By the possession of a thousand years 
 
 The soil is ours. And shall an alien lord, 
 
 Himself a vassal, dare to venture here, 
 
 On our own hearths insult us, and attempt 
 
 To forge the chains of bondage for our hands, 
 
 And do us shame on our own proper soil ? 
 
 Is there no help against such wrong as this ? 
 
 \_Great sensation among the people. 
 Yes ! there's a limit to the despot's power ! 
 When the oppressed looks round in vain for 
 
 justice, 
 
 When his sore burden may no more be borne, 
 With fearless heart he makes appeal to Heaven, 
 And thence brings down his everlasting rights, 
 Which there abide, inalienably his, 
 And indestructible as are the stars. 
 Nature's primeval state returns again,. 
 Where man stands hostile to his fellow-man ; 
 And if all other means shall fail his need, 
 One last resource remains his own good sword. 
 Our dearest treasures call to us for aid 
 Against the oppressor's violence ; we stand 
 For country, home, for wives, for children here ! 
 ALL (clashing their swords}. 
 
 Here stand we for our homes, our wives, and 
 
 children.
 
 50 WILHELM TELL. 
 
 ROSSELMANN (stepping into the circle). 
 
 Bethink ye well before ye draw the sword. 
 Some peaceful compromise may yet be made ; 
 Speak but one word, and at your feet you'll 
 
 see 
 
 The men who now oppress you. Take the terms 
 That have been often tendered you ; renounce 
 The empire, and to Austria swear allegiance ! 
 
 MAUEB. What says the priest ? To Austria allegiance ? 
 
 BUHEL. Hearken not to him ! 
 
 WINKELRIED. 'Tis a traitor's counsel, 
 
 His country's foe ! 
 
 REDING. Peace, peace, confederates ! 
 
 SEBVA. Homage to Austria, after wrongs like these ! 
 
 FLUE. Shall Austria exort from us by force 
 
 What we denied to kindness and entreaty? 
 
 MEYER. Then should we all be slaves, deservedly. 
 
 MAUEB. Yes ! Let him forfeit all a Switzer's rights 
 
 Who talks of yielding to the yoke of Austria! 
 I stand on this, Landamman. Let this be 
 The foremost of our laws ! 
 
 MELCHTHAL. Even so ! Whoever 
 
 Shall talk of tamely bearing Austria's yoke, 
 Let him be stripped of all his rights and honors j 
 And no man hence receive him at his hearth ! 
 
 ALL (raising their right hands). 
 
 Agreed ! Be this the law ! 
 
 REDING (after a pause}. The law it is. 
 
 ROSSEL. Now you are free by this law you are free. 
 Never shall Austria obtain by force 
 What she has failed to gain by friendly suit. 
 
 WEIL. On with the order of the day ! Proceed ! 
 
 REDING. Confederates ! Have all gentler means been 
 
 tried ? 
 
 Perchance the emperor knows not of our wrongs, 
 It may not be his will that thus we suffer : 
 Were it not well to make one last attempt, 
 And lay our grievances before the throne, 
 Ere we unsheath the sword ? Force is at best 
 A fearful thing even in a righteous cause ; 
 God only helps when man can help no more.
 
 WILHELM TELL. 52 
 
 STAUFF. (to COXRAD Huxx). 
 
 Here you can give us information. Speak ! 
 
 Huxx. I was at Rheinfeld, at the emperor's palace, 
 Deputed by the Cantons to complain 
 Of the oppression of these governors, 
 And claim the charter of our ancient freedom. 
 Which each new king till now has ratified. 
 I found the envoys there of many a town, 
 From Suabia and the valley of the Rhine, 
 Who all received their parchments as they wished 
 And straight went home again with merry heart. 
 They sent for me, your envoy, to the council, 
 Where I was soon dismissed with empty comfort; 
 " The emperor at present was engaged ; 
 Some other time he would attend to us ! " 
 I turned away, and passing through the hall, 
 With heavy heart in a recess I saw 
 The Grand Duke John * in tears, and by his side 
 The noble lords of Wart and Tegerfeld, 
 Who beckoned me, and said, " Redress your- 
 selves. 
 
 Expect not justice from the emperor. 
 Does he not plunder his own brother's child, 
 And keep from him his just inheritance? 
 The duke claims his maternal property, 
 Urging he's now of age, and 'tis full time 
 That he should rule his people and dominions ; 
 What is the answer made to him ? The king 
 Places a chaplet on his head : " Behold, 
 The fitting ornament," he cries, " of youth ! " 
 
 MAUER. You hear. Expect not from the emperor 
 
 Or right, or justice. Then redress yourselves! 
 
 REDIXG. No other course is left us. Now, advise 
 What plan most likely to insure success. 
 
 FURST. To shake a thraldom off that we abhor, 
 To keep our ancient rights inviolate, 
 As we received them from our forefathers this, 
 Not lawless innovation, is our aim. 
 Let Caesar still retain what is his due ; 
 
 * The Duke of Suabia, who soon afterwards assassinated his uncle, for 
 withholding his patrimony from him.
 
 52 WILHELM TELL. 
 
 And he that is a vassal let him pay 
 
 The service he is sworn to faithfully. 
 MEYER. I hold my land of Austria in fief. 
 FURST. Continue, then, to pay your feudal service. 
 WEIL. I'm tenant of the lords of Rappersweil. 
 FURST. Continue, then, to pay them rent and tithe. 
 ROSSEL. Of Zurich's lady, I'm the humble vassal. 
 FURST. Give to the cloister what the cloister claims. 
 STAUFF. The empire only is my feudal lord. 
 FURST. What needs must be, we'll do, but nothing fur- 
 ther. 
 
 We'll drive these tyrants and their minions 
 hence, 
 
 And raze their towering strongholds to the 
 ground, 
 
 Yet shed, if possible, no drop of blood. 
 
 Let the emperor see that we were driven to cast 
 
 The sacred duties of respect away ; 
 
 And when he finds we keep within our bounds, 
 
 His wrath, belike, may yield to policy; 
 
 For truly is that nation to be feared, 
 
 That, wLen in arms, is temperate in its wrath. 
 REDING. But, prithee, tell us how may this be done? 
 
 The enemy is armed as well as we, 
 
 And, rest assured, he will not yield in peace. 
 STAUFF. He will, whene'er lie sees us up in arms ; 
 
 We shall surprise him, ere he is prepared. 
 MEYER. 'Tis easily said, but not so easily done. 
 
 Two fortresses of strength command the country. 
 
 They shield the foe, and should the king in- 
 vade us, 
 
 The task would then be dangerous indeed. 
 
 Rossberg and Sarnen both must be secured, 
 
 Before a sword is drawn in either Canton. 
 STAUFF. Should we delay, the foe will soon be warned ; 
 
 We are too numerous for secrecy. 
 MEYER. There is no traitor in the Forest States. 
 ROSSEL. But even zeal may heedlessly betray. 
 FURST. Delay it longer, and the keep at Altdorf 
 
 Will be complete, the governor secure. 
 MEYER. You think but of yourselves.
 
 WILHELM TELL. 00 
 
 SACRIST AX. You are unjust ! 
 
 MEYER. Unjust ! said you? Dares Uri taunt us so? 
 
 REDING. Peace, on your oath ! 
 
 MEYER. If Schwytz be leagued with Uri, 
 
 Why then, indeed, we must perforce be silent. 
 
 REDIXG. And let me tell you, in the Diet's name, 
 
 Your hasty spirit much disturbs the peace. 
 Stand we not all for the same common cause? 
 
 WIXK. What, if we delay till Christmas ? 'Tis then 
 The custom for the serfs to throng the castle, 
 Bringing the governor their annual gifts. 
 Thus may some ten or twelve selected men 
 Assemble unobserved within its walls, 
 Bearing about their persons pikes of steel, 
 Which may be quickly mounted upon staves, 
 For arms are not ad mil ted to the fort. 
 The rest can fill the neighboring wood, prepared 
 To sally forth upon a trumpet's blast, 
 Whene'er their comrades have secured the gate; 
 And thus the castle will be ours with ease. 
 
 MKLCH. The Rossberg I will undertake to scale, 
 1 have a sweetheart in the garrison, 
 Whom with some tender words I could persuade 
 To lower me at night a hempen ladder. 
 Once up, my friends will not be long behind. 
 
 REDING. Are all resolved in favor of delay ? 
 
 [ The majority raise their hands. 
 
 STAUFF. (counting them). 
 
 Twenty to twelve is the majority. 
 
 FURST. If on the appointed day the castles fall, 
 
 From mountain on to mountain we shall pass 
 The fiery signal : in the capital 
 Of every Canton quickly rouse the Landsturm.* 
 Then, when these tyrants see our martial front, 
 Believe me, they will never make so bold 
 As risk the conflict, but will gladly take 
 Safe conduct forth beyond our boundaries. 
 
 STAUFF. Not so with Gessler. He will make a stand. 
 Surrounded with his dread array of horse, 
 Blood will be shed before he quits the field. 
 
 * A sort of national militia.
 
 54 WILHELM TELL. 
 
 And even expelled he'd still be terrible. 
 
 Tis hard, indeed 'tis dangerous, to spare him. 
 
 BAUM. Place me where'er a life is to be lost ; 
 I owe my life to Tell, and cheerfully 
 Will pledge it for my country. I have cleared 
 My honor, and my heart is now at rest. 
 
 REDING. Counsel will come with circumstance. Be 
 
 patient. 
 
 Something must still be trusted to the moment. 
 Yet, while by night we hold our Diet here, 
 The morning, see, has on the mountain-tops 
 Kindled her glowing beacon. Let us part, 
 Ere the broad sun surprise us. 
 
 FUEST. Do not fear. 
 
 The night wanes slowly from these vales of ours. 
 [All have it. voluntarily taken off their caps, 
 and contemplate the breaking of day, ab- 
 sorbed in silence. 
 
 ROSSEL. By this fair light, which greeteth us, before 
 Those other nations, that, benenth us far, 
 In noisome cities pent, draw painful breath, 
 Swear we the oath of our confederacy! 
 We swear to be a nation of true brothers, 
 Never to part in danger or in death ! 
 [They repeat his words with three fingers raised. 
 We swear we will be free, as were our sires, 
 And sooner die than live in slavery ! 
 
 [All repeat as before. 
 
 We swear to put our trust in God Most High, 
 And not to quail before the might of man ! 
 [All repeat as before, and embrace each other. 
 
 STAUFP. Now every man pursue his several way 
 
 Back to his friends his kindred, and his home. 
 Let the herd winter up his flock and gain 
 In silence, friends, for our confederacy! 
 What for a time must be endured, endure. 
 And let the reckoning of the tyrants grow, 
 Till the great day arrive, when they shall pay 
 The general and particular debt at once. 
 Let every man control his own just rage, 
 And nurse his vengeance for the public wrongs ;
 
 WILHELM TELL. 55 
 
 For he whom selfish interest now engage 
 Defrauds the general weal of what to it belongs. 
 [As they are going off in profound silence, in 
 three different directions, the orchestra 
 plays a solemn air. The empty scene re- 
 mains open for some time, showing the 
 rays of the sun rising over the glaciers. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 SCENE I. 
 
 Court before TELL'S house. TELL with an axe. HEDWIG engaged 
 in her domestic duties. WALTER and WILHELM in the back- 
 ground playing with a little cross-bow. 
 
 WALTER (sings). 
 
 With his cross-bow and his quiver 
 
 The huntsman speeds his way, 
 Over mountain, dale, and river 
 
 At the dawning of the day. 
 
 As the eagle, on wild pinion, 
 
 Is the king in realms of air ; 
 So the hunter claims dominion 
 
 Over crag and forest lair. 
 
 Far as ever bow can carry 
 
 Through the trackless, airy space, 
 
 All he sees he makes his quarry, 
 Soaring bird and beast of chase. 
 
 WILHELM (runs forward}. 
 
 My string has snapped ! Wilt mend it for rae s 
 father ? 
 
 PELL. Not I ; a true-born archer helps himself. 
 
 [Boys retire. 
 
 HEDW. The boys begin to use the bow betimes. 
 
 TELL. 'Tis early practice only makes the master. 
 
 HEDW. Ah ! Would to heaven they never learnt the art ! 
 
 TELL. But they shall learn it, wife, in all its points. 
 Whoe'er would carve an independent way 
 Through life must learn to ward or plant a blow.
 
 56 
 
 WILHELM TELL. 
 
 TELL 
 
 HEDW. 
 
 HEDW. Alas, alas ! and they will never rest 
 Contentedly at home. 
 
 No more can I ! 
 
 I was not framed by nature for a shepherd. 
 Restless I must pursue a changing course ; 
 I only feel the flush and joy. of life 
 In starting some fresh quarry every day. 
 Heedless the while of all your wife's alarms 
 As she sits watching through long hours at 
 
 home. 
 
 For my soul sinks with terror at the tales 
 The servants tell about your wild adventures. 
 Whene'er we part my trembling heart forebodes 
 That you will ne'er come back to me again. 
 I see you on the frozen mountain steeps, 
 Missing, perchance, your leap from cliff to cliff ; 
 I see the chamois, with a wild rebound. 
 Drag you down with him o'er the precipice. 
 I see the avalanche close o'er your head, 
 The treacherous ice give way, and you sink down 
 Entombed alive within its hideous gulf. 
 Ah ! in a hundred varying forms does death 
 Pursue the Alpine huntsman on his course. 
 That way of life can surely ne'er be blessed, 
 Where life and limb are perilled every hour. 
 
 TELL. The man that bears a quick and steady eye, 
 And trusts to God and his own lusty sinews, 
 Passes, with scarce a scar, through every danger. 
 The mountain cannot awe the mountain child. 
 [Having finished his work, he lays aside his 
 
 tools. 
 
 And now, methinks, the door will hold awhile. 
 The axe at home oft saves the carpenter. 
 
 [ Takes his cap 
 
 HEDW. Whither away ! 
 
 TELL. To Altdorf, to your father. 
 
 HEDW. You have some dangerous enterprise in view? 
 Confess ! 
 
 TELL. Why think you so ? 
 
 HEDWIG. Some scheme's on foot, 
 
 Against the governors. There was a Diet
 
 WILHELM TELL. 
 
 57 
 
 Held on the Rootli that I know and you 
 
 Are one of the confederacy I'm sure. 
 TELL. I was not there. Yet will I not hold back 
 
 Whene'er my country calls me to her aid. 
 HEDW. Wherever danger is, will you be placed. 
 
 On you, as ever, will the burden fall. 
 TEH Each man shall have the post that fits his 
 
 powers. 
 HEDW. You took ay, 'mid the thickest of the storm 
 
 The man of Unterwald across the lake. 
 
 Tis a marvel you escaped. Had you no thought 
 
 Of wife and children then ? 
 TELL. Dear wife, I had ; 
 
 And therefore saved the father for his children. 
 HEDW. To brave the lake in all its wrath ; 'Twos not 
 
 To put your trust in God ! 'Twas tempting him. 
 TELL. The man that's over-cautious will do little. 
 HEDW. Yes, you've a kind and helping hand for all ; 
 
 But be in straits and who will lend you aid? 
 TELL. God grant I ne'er may stand in need of it ! 
 
 [ Takes up his crossbow and arrows. 
 HEDW. Why take your crossbow with you ? Leave it 
 
 here. 
 TELL. I want my right hand when I want my bow. 
 
 [ The boys return. 
 
 WALT. Where, father, are you going? 
 TELL. To'grand-dad, boy 
 
 To Altdorf. Will you go ? 
 
 WALTER. Ay, that I will ! 
 
 HEDW. The viceroy's there just now. Go not to Alt- 
 dorf. 
 
 TELL. He leaves to-day. 
 HEDWIG. Then let him first be gone, 
 
 Cross not his path. You know he bears us 
 
 grudge. 
 TELL. His ill-will cannot greatly injure me. 
 
 I do what's right, and care for no man's hate. 
 HEDW. 'Tis those who do what's right whom he most 
 
 hates. 
 TELL. Because he cannot reach them. Me, I ween, 
 
 His knightship will be glad to leave in peace.
 
 58 
 
 WILHELM TELL. 
 
 HEDW. Ay . Are you sure of that ? 
 
 TELL. Not long ago, 
 
 As I was hunting through the wild ravines 
 Of Shechenthal, untrod by mortal foot, 
 There, as I took my solitary way 
 Along a shelving ledge of rocks, where 'twas 
 Impossible to step on either side; 
 For high above rose, like a giant wall, 
 The precipice's side, and far below 
 The Shechen thundered o'er its rifted bed ; 
 [ The boys press towards him, looking upon 
 
 him with excited curiosity. 
 There, face to face, I met the viceroy. He 
 Alone with me and I myself alone 
 Mere man to man, and near us the abyss. 
 And when his lordship had perused my face, 
 And knew the man he had severely fined 
 On some most trivial ground not long before ; 
 And saw me, with my sturdy bow in hand, 
 Come striding towards him, then his cheek grew 
 
 pale, 
 
 His knees refused their office, and I thought 
 He would have sunk against the mountain side. 
 Then, touched with pity for him, I advanced, 
 Respectfully, and said, " 'Tis I, my lord. '' 
 But ne'er a sound could he compel his lips 
 To frame an answer. Only with his hand 
 He beckoned me in silence to proceed. 
 So I passed on, and sent his train to seek him. 
 
 HEDV. He trembled then before you ? Woe the while 
 You saw his weakness ; that he'll not forgive. 
 
 TELL. I shun him, therefore, and he'll not seek me. 
 
 HEDW. But stay away to day. Go hunting rather ! 
 
 TELL. What do you fear ? 
 
 HEDWIG. I am uneasy. Stay. 
 
 TELL. Why thus distress yourself without a cause? 
 
 HEDW. Because there is no cause. Tell, Tell ! stay here ! 
 
 TELL. Dear wife, I gave my promise I would go. 
 
 HEDW. Must you, then go. But leave the boys with 
 me. 
 
 WALT. No, mother dear, I'm going with my father.
 
 WILHELM TELL. 59 
 
 HEDW,. How, Walter! Will you leave your mother 
 
 then? 
 WALT. I'll bring you pretty things from grandpapa. 
 
 [Exit with his father. 
 WILH. Mother, I'll stay with you ! 
 HEDWIG (embracing him). Yes, yes ! thou art 
 
 My own dear child. Thou'rtall that's left tome. 
 [She goes to the gate of the court, and looks 
 anxiously after TELL and her son for a con- 
 siderable time. 
 
 SCEXE II. 
 
 A retired part of the Forest. Brooks dashing in spray over 
 
 the rocks. 
 
 Enter BERTHA in a hunting dress. Immediately after- 
 wards RUDENZ. 
 
 BERTHA. He follows me. Now to explain myself ! 
 
 RUDENZ (entering hastily}. 
 
 At length, dear lady, we have met alone 
 In this wild dell, with rocks on every side, 
 No jealous eye can watch our interview. 
 Now let my heart throw off this weary silence. 
 
 BERTHA. But are you sure they will not follow us? 
 
 RUD. See, yonder goes the chase. Now, then, or 
 
 never ! 
 
 I must avail me of the precious moment, 
 Must hear my doom decided by thy lips, 
 Though it should part me from thy side forever. 
 Oh, do not arm that gentle face of thine 
 With looks so stern and harsh ! Who who 
 
 am I, 
 
 That dare aspire so high as unto thee? 
 Fame hath not stamped me yet ; nor may I take 
 My place amid the courtly throng of knights, 
 That, crowned with glory's lustre, woo thy 
 
 smiles. 
 
 Nothing have I to offer but a heart 
 That overflows with truth and love for thee. 
 
 BERTHA (sternly and with severity). 
 
 And dare you speak to me of love of truth ?
 
 60 WIM1ELM TELL. 
 
 You, that are faithless to your nearest ties ! 
 You, that are Austria's slave bartered and 
 
 sold 
 To her an alien, and your country's tyrant! 
 
 RUD. How ! This reproach from thee ! Whom do I 
 
 seek 
 On Austria's side, my own beloved, but thee ? 
 
 BERTHA. Think you to find me in the traitor's ranks ? 
 Now, as I live, I'd rather give my hand 
 To Gessler's self, all despot though he be, 
 Than to the Switzer who forgets his birth, 
 And stoops to be the minion of a tyrant. 
 
 RUD. Oh heaven, what must I hear ! 
 
 BERTHA. Say ! what can lie 
 
 Nearer the good man's heart than friends and 
 
 kindred ? 
 
 What dearer duty to a noble soul 
 Than to protect weak, suffering innocence, 
 And vindicate the rights of the oppressed? 
 My very soul bleeds for your countrymen ; 
 I suffer with them, for I needs must love them ; 
 They are so gentle, yet so full of power ; 
 They draw my whole heart to them. Every day 
 I look upon them with increased esteem. 
 But you, whom nature and your knightly vow, 
 Have given them as their natural protector, 
 Yet who desert them and abet their foes, 
 In forging shackles for your native land, 
 You you it is, that deeply grieve and wound me. 
 I must constrain my heart, or I shall hate you. 
 
 RUD. Is not my. country's welfare all my wish? 
 What seek I for her but to purchase peace 
 'Neath Austria's potent sceptre ? 
 
 BERTHA. Bondage, rather I 
 
 You would drive freedom from the last strong- 
 hold 
 
 That yet remains for her upon the earth. 
 The people know their own true interests better : 
 Their simple natures are not warped by show, 
 But round your head a tangling net is wound. 
 
 RUD. Bertha, you hate me you despise me !
 
 WILIIELM TELL. 61 
 
 BERTHA. Nayt 
 
 And if I did, 'twere better for my peace. 
 But to see him despised and despicable, 
 The man whom one might love. 
 
 RUDENZ. Oh, Bertha! You 
 
 Show me the pinnacle of heavenly bliss, 
 Then, in a moment, hurl me to despair ! 
 
 BERTH. No, no! the noble is not all extinct 
 
 Within you. It but slumbers, I will rouse it. 
 It must have cost you many a fiery struggle 
 To crush the virtues of your race within you. 
 But, heaven be praised, 'tis mightier than 
 
 yourself, 
 And you are noble in your own despite ! 
 
 Run. You trust me, then? Oh, Bertha, with thy love 
 What might I not become ? 
 
 BERTHA. Be only that 
 
 For which your own high nature destined you. 
 Fill the position you were born to fill ; 
 Stand by your people and your native land 
 And battle for your sacred rights ! 
 
 RUDENZ. Alas ! 
 
 How can I hope to win you to possess you, 
 If I take arms against the emperor ? 
 Will not your potent kinsman interpose, 
 To dictate the disposal of your hand ? 
 
 BERTH. All my estates lie in the Forest Cantons ; 
 And I am free, when Switzerland is free. 
 
 RUD. Oh ! what a prospect, Bertha, hast thou shown 
 me ! 
 
 BERTH. Hope not to win my hand by Austria's favor ; 
 Fain would they lay their grasp on my estates, 
 To swell the vast domains which now they hold. 
 The selfsame lust of conquest that would rob 
 You of your liberty endangers mine. 
 Oh, friend, I'm marked for sacrifice ; to be 
 The guerdon of some parasite, perchance ! 
 They 11 drag me hence to the imperial court 
 That hateful haunt of falsehood and intrigue ; 
 There do detested marriage bonds await me. 
 Love, love alone, your love can rescue me.
 
 <52 
 
 WILHELM TELL. 
 
 RUD. And thou could'st be content, love, to live here, 
 In my own native land to be my own ? 
 Oh, Bertha, all the yearnings of my soul 
 For this great world and its tumultuous strife, 
 What were they, but a yearning after thee ? 
 In glory's path I sought for thee alone, 
 And all my thirst of fame was only love. 
 But if in this calm vale thou canst abide 
 With me, and bid earth's pomps and pride adieu, 
 Then is the goal of my ambition won ; 
 And the rough tide of the tempestuous world 
 May dash and rave around these firm-set hills ! 
 No wandering wishes more have I to send 
 Forth to the busy scene that stirs beyond. 
 Then may these rocks that girdle us extend 
 Their giants walls impenetrably round, 
 And this sequestered happy vale alone 
 Look up to heaven, and be my paradise ! 
 
 BERTH. Now art thou all my fancy dreamed of thee. 
 My trust has not been given to thee in vain. 
 
 RUD. Away, ye idle phantoms of my folly ! 
 
 In mine own home I'll find my happiness. 
 Here where the gladsome boy to manhood grew, 
 Where every brook, and tree, and mountain 
 
 peak, 
 
 Teems with remembrances of happy hours, 
 In mine own native land thou wilt be mine. 
 Ah, I have ever loved it well, I feel 
 How poor without it were all earthly joys. 
 
 BERTH. Where should we look for happiness on earth, 
 If not in this dear land of innocence ? 
 Here, where old truth hath its familiar home, 
 Where fraud and guile are strangers, envy ne'er 
 Shall dim the sparkling fountain of our bliss, 
 And ever bright the hours shall o'er us glide. 
 There do I see thee, in true manly worth, 
 The foremost o.c the free and of thy peers, 
 Revered with homage pure and unconstrained, 
 Wielding a power that kings might envy thee. 
 
 Run. And thee I see, thy sex's crowning gem, 
 
 With thy sweet woman grace and wakeful love,
 
 WILHELM TELL. 63 
 
 Building a heaven for me within my home, 
 And, as the springtime scatters forth her flowers, 
 Adorning with thy charms my path of life, 
 And spreading joy and sunshine all around. 
 
 BERTH. And this it was, dear friend, that caused my 
 
 grief, 
 
 To see thee blast this life's supremest bliss, 
 With thine own hand. Ah ! what had been my 
 
 fate, 
 
 Had I been forced to follow some proud lord, 
 Some ruthless despot, to his gloomy castle ! 
 Here are no castles, here no bastioned walls 
 Divide me from a people I can bless. 
 
 RUD. Yet, how to free myself ; to loose the coils 
 
 Which I have madly twined around my head? 
 
 BERTH. Tear them asunder with a man's resolve. 
 Whatever the event, stand by the people. 
 It is thy post by birth. 
 
 [Hunting horns are heard in the distance. 
 But hark! The chase! 
 
 Farewell, 'tis needful we should part away ! 
 Fight for thy land ; thou tightest for thy love. 
 One foe fills all our souls with dread ; the blow 
 That makes one free emancipates us all. 
 
 [Exeunt severally. 
 SCENE III. 
 
 A meadow near Altdorf. Trees in the foreground. Al the back 
 of the stage a cap upon a pole. The prospect is bounded by the 
 Bannberg, which is surmounted by a snow-capped mountain. 
 
 FRIESHARDT and LEUTHOLD on guard. 
 
 FRIESS. We keep our watch in vain. There's not a soul 
 Will pass and do obeisance to the cap. 
 But yesterday the place swarmed like a fair ; 
 Now the whole green looks like a very desert, 
 Since yonder scarecrow hung upon the pole. 
 
 LEUTH. Only the vilest rabble show themselves, 
 
 And wave their tattered caps in mockery at us. 
 
 All honest citizens would sooner make 
 
 A tedious circuit over half the town 
 
 Than bend their backs before our master's cap.
 
 FRIESS. They were obliged to pass this way at noon, 
 As they were coming from the council house. 
 I counted then upon a famous catch, 
 For no one thought of bowing to the cnp. 
 But Rossehnann, the priest, was even with me : 
 Coming just then from some sick penitent, 
 He stands before the pole raises the Host 
 The Sacrist, too, must tinkle with his bell 
 When down they dropped on knee myself an 
 
 all 
 In reverence to the Host, but not the cap. 
 
 LEUTH. Hark ye, companion, I've a shrewd suspicion, 
 Our post's no better than the pillory. 
 It is a burning shame, a trooper should 
 Stand sentinel before an empty cap. 
 And every honest fellow must despise us, 
 To do obeisance to a cap, too ! Faith, 
 I never heard an order so absurd ! 
 
 FRIESS. Why not, an't please thee, to an empty cap. 
 
 Thou'st ducked, I'm sure, to many an empty 
 sconce. 
 
 [HlLDEGARD, MECHTHILD, and ELSBETH 
 
 enter icith their children and station 
 themselves around the pole. 
 LEUTH. And thou art an officious sneaking knave, 
 
 That's fond of bringing honest folks to trouble. 
 For my part, he that likes may pass the cap : 
 I'll shut my eyes and take no note of him. 
 MECH. There hangs the viceroy ! Your obeisance, chil- 
 dren ! 
 ELS. I would to God he'd go, and leave his cap ! 
 
 The country would be none the worse for it. 
 FRIESSHARDT (driving them away). 
 
 Out of the way ! Confounded pack of gossips ! 
 Who sent for you ? Go, send your husbands 
 
 here, 
 If they have courage to defy the order. 
 
 [TELL enters with his crossbow, leading his 
 son WALTER by the hand. They pass 
 the hat without noticing it, and advance 
 to the front of the stage.
 
 WILHELM TELL. 65 
 
 WALTER (pointing to the JBaamfarg). 
 
 Father, is't true, that on the mountain there, 
 The trees, if wounded with a hatchet, bleed ? 
 
 TELL. Who says so, boy? 
 
 WALTER. The master herdsman, father ! 
 
 He tells us there's a charm upon the trees, 
 And if a man shall injure them, the hand 
 That struck the blow will grow from out the 
 grave. 
 
 TELL. There is a charm about them, that's the truth. 
 Dost see those glaciers yonder, those white horns, 
 That seem to melt away into the sky ? 
 
 WALT. They are the peaks that thunder so at night, 
 And send the avalanches down upon us. 
 
 TELL. They are ; and Altdorf long ago had been 
 
 Submerged beneath these avalanches' weight, 
 Did not the forest there above the town 
 Stand like a bulwark to arrest their fall. 
 
 WALTER (after musing a little). 
 
 And are there countries with no mountains, 
 father ? 
 
 TELL. Yes, if we travel downwards from our heights, 
 And keep descending in the rivers' courses, 
 We reach a wide and level country, where 
 Our mountain torrents brawl and foam no more, 
 And fair, large rivers glide serenely on. 
 All quarters of the heaven may there be scanned 
 Without impediment. The corn grows there 
 In broad and lovely fields, and all the land 
 Is fair as any garden to the view. 
 
 WALT. But, father, tell me, wherefore haste we not 
 Away to this delightful land, instead 
 Of toiling here, and struggling as we do? 
 
 TELL. The land is fair and bountiful as Heaven ; 
 But they who till it never may enjoy 
 The fruits of what they sow. 
 
 WALTER. Live they not free, 
 
 As you do, on the land their fathers left them ? 
 
 TELL. The fields are all the bishop's or the king's. 
 
 WALT. But they may freely hunt among the woods? 
 
 TELL. The game is all the monarch's bird and beast.
 
 66 
 
 WILHELM TELL. 
 
 WALT But they, at least, may surely fish the streams? 
 TELL. Stream, lake, and sea, all to the king belong 
 WALT. Who is this king, of whom they re so at raid ? 
 TELL. He is the man who fosters and protects them. 
 WALT. Have they not courage to protect themselves? 
 TELL. The neighbor there dare not his neighbor trust. 
 WALT. I should want breathing room in such a land, 
 
 I'd rather dwell beneath the avalanches. 
 TELL. Tis better, child, to have these glacier peaks 
 Behind one's back than evil-minded men! 
 
 [They are about to pass on. 
 WALT. See, father, see the cap on yonder pole ! 
 TELL. What is the cap to us ? Come, let's be gone. 
 
 [As he is going, FBIESSHARDT, presenting his 
 
 pike, stops him. 
 
 FRIESS. Stand, I command you, in the emperor's name. 
 TELL (seizing the pike). 
 
 What would ye ? Wherefore do ye stop my path ? 
 FKIESS. You've broke the mandate, and must go with us. 
 LEUTH. You have not done obeisance to the cap. 
 Friend, let me go. 
 
 Away, away to prison ! 
 Father to prison ! Help ! 
 
 [ Calling to the side scene. 
 
 Tliis way, you men ! 
 Good people, help! They're dragging him to 
 
 prison ! 
 [ROSSELMANN, the priest, and the SACRISTAN, 
 
 with three other men, enter. 
 SACRIS. What's here amiss? 
 
 Ross. Why do you seize this man i 
 
 FUIESS. He is an enemy of the king a traitor! 
 TKLL (seizing him with violence). 
 
 A traitor, I ! 
 ROSSELMANN. Friend, thou art wrong. 'Tis Tell, 
 
 An honest man, and worthy citizen. 
 WALTER (descries FURST, and runs up to him). 
 
 Grandfather, help ! they want to seize my father ! 
 FRIESS. Away to prison ! 
 FURST (running in). Stay ! I offer bail. 
 
 For God's sake, Tell, what is the matter here? 
 [MELCHTHAL and STAUFFAC'HER enter. 
 
 TELL. 
 
 FRIESS. 
 
 WALT.
 
 WILHELM TELL. 67 
 
 LEIJTH. He has contemned the viceroy's sovereign power, 
 
 Refusing flatly to acknowledge it. 
 SIAUFF. Has Tell done this? 
 
 AIiiLCHTHAL. Villain, thou knowest 'tis false ! 
 
 LEUTH. He has not made obeisance to the cap. 
 FCKST. And shall for this to prison ? Come, my friend, 
 
 Take my security, and let him go. 
 FBIESS. Keep your security for yourself you'll need it. 
 
 We only do our duty. Hence with him. 
 MELCHTHAL ( to the country peojtie). 
 
 This is too bad shall we stand by, and see them. 
 Drag him away before our very eyes ? 
 SACRIS. We are the strongest. Don't endure it, friends. 
 
 Our countrymen will back us to a man. 
 FRIESS. Who dares resist the governor's commands ? 
 OTHER THREE PEASANTS (running in). 
 
 We'll help you. What's the matter? Down 
 
 with them ! 
 
 [HiLDEGARD, MscHTHiLD, and ELSBETH return. 
 TELL. Go, go, good people, I can help myself. 
 
 Think you, had I a mind to use my strength, 
 These pikes of theirs should daunt me ? 
 MELCHTHAL (to FRIESSHARDT). Only try 
 
 Try, if you dare, to force him from amongst us. 
 FURST and STAUFFACHER. 
 
 Peace, peace, friends ! 
 
 FRIESSHARDT (loudly). Riot ! Insurrection, ho ! 
 
 [Hunting horns without. 
 WOMEN. The governor ! 
 
 FRIESSHARDT (raising his voice) . Rebellion ! Mutiny ! 
 STAUFF. Roar, till you burst, knave ! 
 ROSSELMANN and "MELCHTHAL. Will you hold your 
 
 tongue ? 
 FRIESSHARDT (calling still louder) . 
 
 Help, help, I say, the servants of the law ! 
 FURST. The viceroy here ! Then we shall smart for thist 
 [Enter GESSLER on horseback, with a falcon 
 on his wrist,' RUDOLPH DER H ARRAS, 
 BERTHA, and RUDEXZ, and a numerous 
 train of armed attendants, who form a 
 circle of lances around the whole stage.
 
 gg WILHELM TELL. 
 
 \ 
 
 II A R. Room for the viceroy ! 
 
 GESSLER. Drive the clowns a P art< 
 
 'Why throng the people thus? Who calls for 
 
 help 9 [ General silence. 
 
 Who was it ? I will know. 
 
 [FRIESSHARDT steps forward. 
 And who art thou ? 
 And why hast thou this man in custody ? 
 
 [ Gives his falcon to an attendant. 
 
 FBI ESS. Dread sir, I am a soldier of your guard, 
 And stationed sentinel beside the cap ; 
 This man I apprehended in the act 
 Of passing it without obeisance due, 
 So I arrested him, as you gave order, ^ 
 Whereon the people tried to rescue him. 
 
 GESSLER (after a pause). 
 
 And do you, Tell, so lightly hold your king, 
 And me, who act as his vicegerent here, 
 That you refuse the greeting to the cap 
 I hung aloft to test your loyalty ? 
 I read in this a disaffected spirit. 
 
 TFLL. Pardon me, good my lord ! The action sprung 
 From inadvertence, not from disrespect. 
 Were I discreet, I were not William Tell. 
 Forgive me now I'll not offend again. 
 
 GKSSLER (after a pause). 
 
 I hear, Tell, you're a master with the bow, 
 And bear the palm away from every rival. 
 
 Wu/r. That must be true, sir! At a hundred yards 
 He'll shoot an apple for you off the tree. 
 Is that boy thine, Tell ? 
 
 Yes, my gracious lord. 
 Hast any more of them ? 
 
 T. LL. Two boys, my lord. 
 
 Gi SSL. And, of the two, which dost thou love the most? 
 
 Ti LL. Sir, both the boys are dear to me alike. 
 
 Gi SSL. Then, Tell, since at a hundred yards thou canst 
 Bring down the apple from the tree, thou shalt 
 Approve thy skill before me. Take thy bow 
 Thou hast it there at hand and make thee 
 ready
 
 WILHELM TELL. 
 
 69 
 
 To shoot an apple from the stripling's head! 
 But take this counsel, look well to thine aim, 
 See that thou hittest the apple at the first, 
 For, shouldst thou miss, thy head shall pay the 
 forfeit. \_All give signs of horror. 
 
 TELL. What monstrous thing, my lord, is this you ask ? 
 That I, from the head of mine own child ! No, no ! 
 It cannot be, kind sir, you meant not that 
 God in His grace forbid ! You could not ask 
 A father seriously to do that thing ! 
 
 GESSL. Thou art to shoot an apple from his head ! 
 I do desire command it so. 
 
 TELL. What, I ! 
 
 Level my crossbow at the darling head 
 Of mine own child ? No rather let me die I 
 
 GESSL. Or thou must shoot, or with thee dies the boy. 
 
 TELL. Shall I become the murderer of my child ! 
 
 You have no children, sir you do not know 
 The tender th robbings of a father's heart. 
 
 GESSL. How now, Tell, so discreet upon a sudden 
 I had been told thou wert a visionary, 
 A wanderer from the paths of common men. 
 Thou lovest the marvellous. So have I now 
 Culled out for thee a task of special daring. 
 Another man might pause and hesitate ; 
 Thou dashest at it, heart and soul, at once. 
 
 BERTH. Oh, do not jest, my lord, with these poor souls! 
 See, how they tremble, and how pale they look, 
 So little used are they to hear thee jest. 
 
 GESSL. Who tells thee that I jest? 
 
 [Grasping a branch above his head. 
 
 Here is the apple. 
 
 Room there, I say ! And let him take his dis- 
 tance 
 
 Just eighty paces as the custom is 
 Not an inch more or less ! Tt was his boast, 
 That at a hundred he could hit his man. 
 Now, archer, to your task, and look you miss not ! 
 
 HAK. Heavens ! this grows serious down, boy, on 
 
 your knees, 
 And beg the governor to spare your life.
 
 70 WILHELM TELL. 
 
 FURST. (aside to MELCHTHAL, who can scarcely restrain 
 
 his impatience). 
 Command yourself be calm, I beg of you ! 
 
 BERTHA (to the governor). 
 
 Let this suffice you, sir ! It is inhuman 
 
 To trifle with a father's anguish thus. 
 
 Although this wretched man had forfeited 
 
 Both life and limb for such a slight offence, 
 
 Already has he suffered tenfold death. 
 
 Send him away uninjured to his home ; 
 
 He'll know thee well in future; and this 
 
 hour 
 He and his children's children will remember. 
 
 GESSL. Open a way there quick ! Why this delay ? 
 Thy life is forfeited ; I might despatch thee, 
 And see I graciously repose thy fate 
 Upon the skill of thine own practised hand. 
 No cause has he to say his doom his harsh, 
 Who's made the master of his destiny. 
 Thou boastest of thy steady eye. 'Tis well ! 
 Now is a fitting time to show thy skill. 
 The mark is worthy, and the prize is great. 
 To hit the bull's-eye in the target ; that 
 Can many another do as well as thou ; 
 But he, methinks, is master of his craft 
 Who can at all times on his skill rely, 
 Nor lets his heart disturb or eye or hand. 
 
 FURST. My lord, we bow to your authority ; 
 
 But, oh, let justice yield to mercy here. 
 Take half my property, nay, take it all, 
 But spare a father this unnatural doom ! 
 
 WALT. Grandfather, do not kneel to that bad man ! 
 Say, where am I to stand ? I do not fear ; 
 My father strikes the bird upon the wing, 
 And will not miss now when 'twould harm his 
 boy! 
 
 STAUFF. Does the child's innocence not touch your heart? 
 
 ROSSEL. Bethink you, sir, there is a God in heaven, 
 
 To whom you must account for all your deeds. 
 
 GESSLER (pointing to the boy). 
 
 Bind him to yonder lime tree straight!
 
 WILHELM TELL. 71 
 
 WALTER. JBind me ? 
 
 No, I will not be bound ! I will be still, 
 
 Still as a lamb nor even draw my breath ! 
 
 But if you bind me I cannot be still. 
 
 Then I shall writhe and struggle with my bonds. 
 HAK. But let your eyes at least be bandaged, boy ! 
 WALT. And why my eyes? No! Do you think I fear 
 
 An arrow from my father's hand ? Not I ! 
 
 I'll wait it firmly, nor so much as wink ! 
 
 Quick, father, show them that thou art an 
 archer ! 
 
 He doubts thy skill he thinks to ruin us. 
 
 Shoot then and hit though but to spite the tyrant ! 
 [He goes to the lime tree, and an apple is 
 
 placed on his head. 
 MELCHTHAL (to the country people}. 
 
 What ! Is this outrage to be perpetrated 
 
 Before our very eyes ? Where is our oath ? 
 STACTFF. 'Tis all in vain. We have no weapons here; 
 
 And see the wood of lances that surrounds us ! 
 MELCH. Oh! would to heaven that we had struck at 
 once! 
 
 God pardon those who counselled the delay ! 
 GESSLEB (to TELL). 
 
 Now, to thy task! Men bear not arms for 
 naught. 
 
 'Tis dangerous to carry deadly weapons, 
 
 And on the archer oft his shaft recoils. 
 
 This right these haughty peasant-churls assume 
 
 Trenches upon their master's privileges. 
 
 None should be armed but those who bear com- 
 mand. 
 
 It pleases you wear the bow and bolt ; 
 
 Well, be it so. I will provide the mark. 
 TELL (bends the bow and fixes the arrow). 
 
 A lane there ! Room ! 
 STAUFFACHER. What, Tell ? You would no, no ! 
 
 You shake your hand's unsteady your knees 
 
 tremble ! 
 TELL (letting the bow sink down). 
 
 There's something swims before mine eyes !
 
 72 WILHELM TELL. 
 
 WOMEN. Great Heaven ! 
 
 TELL. Release me from this shot ! Here is my heart ! 
 
 [ Tears open his breast. 
 Summon your troopers let them strike me 
 
 down ! 
 GESSL. I do not want thy life, Tell, but the shot. 
 
 Thy talent's universal ! Nothing daunts thee ! 
 Thou canst direct the rudder like the bow ! 
 Storms fright not thee when there's a life at 
 
 stake. 
 
 Now, savior, help thyself, thou savest all! 
 [TELL stand's fearfully agitated by contending 
 emotions, his hands moving convulsively, 
 and his eyes turning alternately to the 
 governor and heaven. /Suddenly he takes 
 a second arrow from his quiver and sticks 
 it in his belt. The governor icatches all 
 these motions. 
 WALTER (beneath the lime tree). 
 
 Come, father, shoot ! I'm not afraid ! 
 TELL. It must be ! 
 
 [ Collects himself and levels the bow. 
 RUDENZ (who all the while has been standing in a state 
 of violent excitement, and has with difficulty 
 restrained himself, advances). 
 My lord, you will not urge this matter further. 
 You will not. It was surely but a test. 
 You've gained your object. Rigor pushed too 
 
 far 
 
 Is sure to miss its aim, however good, 
 As snaps the bow that's all too straightly bent. 
 GESSL. Peace, till your counsel's asked for ! 
 RUDENZ. I will speak! 
 
 Ay, and I dare ! I reverence my king; 
 But acts like these must make his name abhorred. 
 He sanctions not this cruelty. I dare 
 Avouch the fact. And you outstep your powers 
 In handling thus an unoffending people. 
 GESSL. Ha ! thou growest bold methinks ! 
 RITHENZ. I have been. dumb 
 
 To all the oppressions I was doomed to see.
 
 WILHELM TELL. 73 
 
 I've closed mine eyes that they might not behold 
 
 them, 
 
 Bade my rebellious, swelling heart be still, 
 And pent its struggles down within my breast. 
 But to be silent longer were to be 
 A traitor to my king and country both. 
 
 BERTHA (casting herself between him and (lie governor). 
 Oh, heavens! you but exasperate his rage! 
 
 RUD. My people I forsook, renounced my kindred 
 Broke all the ties of nature that I might 
 Attach myself to you. I madly thought 
 That I should best advance the general weal, 
 By adding sinews to the emperor's power. 
 The scales have fallen from mine eyes I see 
 The fearful precipice on which I stand. 
 You've led my youthful judgment far astray, 
 Deceived my honest heart. With best intent, 
 I had well nigh achieved my country's-ruin. 
 
 GESSL. Audacious boy, this language to thy lord ? 
 
 RUD. The emperor is my lord, not you ! I'm free 
 As you by birth, and I can cope with you 
 In every virtue that beseems a knight. 
 And if you stood not here in that king's name, 
 Which I respect e'en where 'tis most abused, 
 I'd throw my gauntlet down, and you should give 
 An answer to my gage in knightly fashion. 
 Ay, beckon to your troopers ! Here 1 stand ; 
 But not like these [Pointing to the people. 
 unarmed. I have a sword, 
 Anu he that stirs one step 
 
 STAUFFACHER (exclaims). The apple's down ! 
 
 [ While the attention of the crowd has' ban 
 
 directed to the spot where BERTHA liad cast 
 
 herself between RUDENZ and GESSLER, 
 
 TELL has shot. 
 
 KOSSKL. The boy's alive! 
 
 MANY VOICES. The apple has been struck ! 
 
 [WALTER FURST staggers, and is about lofatt, 
 BERTHA supports him. 
 
 GESSLER (astonished). 
 
 How ? Has he shot ? The madman !
 
 74 WILHELM TELL. 
 
 BERTHA. Worthy father ! 
 
 Pray you compose yourself. The boy's alive ! 
 WALTER (runs in with the apple). 
 
 Here is the apple, father ! Well I knew 
 You would not harm your boy. 
 
 [TELL stands with his body bent forwards, 
 as though he would follow the arrow. His 
 bow drops from his hand. When he sees 
 the boy advancing, he hastens to meet him 
 with open arms, and embracing him pas- 
 sionately sinks down with him quite ex- 
 hausted. All crowd round them deeply 
 affected. 
 
 BERTHA. Oh, ye kind heavens ! 
 
 FURST (to father and son). My children, my dear 
 
 children ! 
 
 STAUFFACHER. God be praised ! 
 
 LEUTH. . Almighty powers ! That was a shot indeed ! 
 
 It will be talked of to the end of time. 
 HAR. This feat of Tell, the archer, will be told 
 
 While yonder mountains stand upon their base. 
 
 [Hands the apple to GESSLER. 
 
 GESSL. By heaven ! the apple's cleft right through the 
 
 core. 
 
 It was a master shot I must allow. 
 ROSSEL. The shot was good. But woe to him who drove 
 
 The man to tempt his God by such a feat! 
 STAUFF. Cheer up, Tell, rise ! You've nobly freed your- 
 self, 
 
 And now may go in quiet to your home. 
 ROSSEL. Come, to the mother let us bear her son ! 
 
 [ They are about to lead him off. 
 GESSL. A word, Tell. 
 TELL. Sir, your pleasure? 
 
 GESSLER. Thou didst place 
 
 A second arrow in thy belt nay, nay ! 
 I saw it well what was thy purpose with it? 
 TELL (confused). It is the custom witli all archers, sir. 
 GESSL. No, Tell, I cannot let that answer pass. 
 
 There was some other motive, well I know. 
 Frankly and cheerfully confess the truth ;
 
 WILHELM TELL. 75 
 
 Whate'er it be I promise thee thy life, 
 Wherefore the second arrow? 
 
 TELL. Well, my lord.. 
 
 Since you have promised not to take my life, 
 I will, without reserve, declare the truth. 
 
 \_He draws the arrow from his belt, and fixes 
 
 his eyes sternly upon the governor. 
 If that my hand had struck my darling child, 
 This second arrow I had aimed at you, 
 And, be assured, I should not then have missed. 
 GESSL. Well, Tell, I promised thou shouldst have thy 
 
 life; 
 
 I gave my knightly word, and I will keep it. 
 Yet, as I know the malice of thy thoughts, 
 I will remove thee hence to sure confinement, 
 Where neither sun nor moon shall reach thine 
 
 eyes, 
 
 Thus from thy arrows I shall be secure. 
 Seize on him, guards, and bind him. 
 
 [ They bind him. 
 
 STAUFFACHER. How, my lord 
 
 How can you treat in such a way a man 
 On whom God's hand has plainly been revealed? 
 GESSL. Well, let us see if it will save him twice ! 
 
 Remove him to my ship; I'll follow straight. 
 In person I will see him lodged at Kilssnacht. 
 ROSSEL. You dare not do it. Nor durst the emperor's self, 
 
 So violate our dearest chartered rights. 
 GESSL. Where are they ? Has the emperor confirmed 
 
 them ? 
 
 He never has. And only by obedience 
 Need you expect to win that favor from him. 
 You are all rebels 'gainst the emperor's power 
 And bear a desperate and rebellious spirit. 
 I know you all I see you through and through. 
 Him do I single from amongst you now, 
 But in his guilt you all participate. 
 The wise will study silence and obedience. 
 [Exit, followed by BKRTHA, RUDENZ, H ARRAS, 
 and attendants. FRIESSHARDT and LEU- 
 THOLD remain.
 
 76 WILHELM TELL. 
 
 FURST (in violent anguish) . 
 
 All's over no\v ! He is resolved to bring 
 Destruction on myself and all my house. 
 
 STAUFF. (to TELL). Oh, why did you provoke the tyrant's 
 
 rage 
 
 TELL. Let him be calm who feels the pangs I felt. 
 STAUFF. Alas ! Alas ! Our hope is gone. 
 
 With you we all are fettered and enchained. 
 COUNTRY PEOPLE (surrounding TELL). 
 
 Our last remaining comfort goes with you ! 
 LEUTH. (approaching him). 
 
 I'm sorry for you, Tell, but must obey. 
 TELL. Farewell ! 
 WALTER TELL (clinging to him in great agony). 
 
 Oh, father, father, my dear father! 
 TELL (pointing to heaven). 
 
 Thy father is on high appeal to him! 
 STAUFF. Hast thou no message, Tell, to send thy wife ? 
 TELL (clasping the boy passionately to his breast). 
 
 The boy's uninjured ; God will succor me ! 
 
 [Tears himself suddenly away, and follows 
 the soldiers of the guard. 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 SCENE I. 
 
 Eastern shore of the lake of Lucerne; rugged and singularly 
 shaped rocks close the prospect to the west. The lake is agitated, 
 violent roaring and rushing of wind, with thunder and lightning 
 at intervals. 
 
 KUNZ OF GERSAU, FISHERMAN, and BOY. 
 
 KUNZ. I saw it with these eyes ! Believe me, friend, 
 It happened all precisely as I've said. 
 
 FISHER. Tell, made a prisoner and borne off to Kiissnacht? 
 The best man in the land, the bravest arm, 
 Had we resolved to strike for liberty ! 
 
 KUNZ. The viceroy takes him up the lake in person : 
 They were about to go on board as I 
 Left Fltielen ; but still the gathering storm,
 
 WILHELM TELL. 
 
 77 
 
 That drove me here to land so suddenly, 
 
 Perchance has hindered their abrupt departure. 
 FISHER. Our Tell in chains, and in the viceroy's power ! 
 
 Oh, trust me, Gessler will entomb him where 
 
 He never more shall see the light of day ; 
 
 For, Tell once free, the tyrant well may dread 
 
 The just revenge of one so deep incensed. 
 Kuxz. The old Landamman, too von Attinghaus 
 
 They say, is lying at the point of death. 
 FISHER. Then the last anchor of our hopes gives way ! 
 
 He was the only man who dared to raise 
 
 His voice in favor of the people's rights. 
 Kuxz. The storm grows worse and worse. So, fare ye 
 well! 
 
 I'll go and seek out quarters in the village. 
 
 There's not a chance of getting off to-day. 
 
 [Exit. 
 FISHER. Tell dragged to prison, and the baron dead ! 
 
 Now, tyranny, exalt thy insolent front 
 
 Throw shame aside ! The voice of truth is 
 silenced, 
 
 The eye that watched for us in darkness closed, 
 
 The arm that should have struck thee down in 
 
 chains ! 
 BOY. 'Tis hailing hard come, let us to the cottage ! 
 
 This is no weather to be out in, father ! 
 FISHER. Rage on, ye winds ! Ye lightnings, flash your 
 fires! 
 
 Burst, ye swollen clouds ! Ye cataracts of 
 heaven, 
 
 Descend, and drown the country ! In the germ, 
 
 Destroy the generations yet unborn ! 
 
 Ye savage elements, be lords of all! 
 
 Return, ye bears ; ye ancient wolves, return 
 
 To this wide, howling waste ! The land is yours. 
 
 Who would live here when liberty is gone ? 
 BOY. Hark ! How the wind whistles and the whirl 
 pool roars; 
 
 I never saw a storm so fierce as this ! 
 FISHER. To level at the head of his own child 1 
 
 Never had father such command before.
 
 78 WILHELM TELL: 
 
 And shall not nature, rising in wild wrath, 
 Revolt against the deed? I should not marvel, 
 Though to the lake these rocks should bow 
 
 their heads, 
 
 Though yonder pinnacles, yon towers of ice, 
 That, since creation's dawn, have known no thaw 
 Should, from their lofty summits, melt a\vay ; 
 Though yonder mountains, yon primeval cliffs, 
 Should topple down, and a new deluge whelm 
 Beneath its waves all living men's abodes ! 
 
 [Hells heard. 
 
 BOY. Hark ! they are ringing on the mountain yonder ! 
 They surely see some vessel in distress, 
 And toll the bell that we may pray for it. 
 
 [Ascends a rock. 
 
 FISHER. Woe to the bark that now pursues its course, 
 
 Rocked in the cradle of these storm-tossed waves. 
 Nor helm nor steersman here can aught avail ; 
 The storm is master. Man is like a ball, 
 Tossed 'twixt the winds and billows. Far or near, 
 No haven offers him its friendly shelter ! 
 Without one ledge to grasp, the sheer, smooth 
 
 rocks 
 
 Look down inhospitably on his despair, 
 And only tender him their flinty breasts. 
 
 BOY (calling from above). 
 
 Father, a ship ; and bearing down from Fltielen. 
 
 FISHER. Heaven pity the poor wretches ! When the storm 
 Is once entangled in this strait of ours, 
 It rages like some savage beast of prey, 
 Struggling against its cage's iron bars. 
 Howling, it seeks an outlet all in vain ; 
 For the rocks hedge it round on every side, 
 Walling the narrow pass as high as heaven. 
 
 \_IIe ascends a cliff. 
 
 BOY. It is the governor of Uri's ship ; 
 
 By its red poop I know it, and the flag. 
 
 FISHER. Judgments of Heaven ! Yes, it is he himself. 
 It is the governor ! Yonder he sails, 
 And with him bears the burden of his crimes! 
 Soon has the arm of the avenger found himj
 
 WILHELM TELL. 79 
 
 Now over him he knows a mightier lord. 
 
 These waves yield no obedience to his voice, 
 
 These rocks bow not their heads before his cap. 
 
 Boy, do not pray ; stay not the Judge's arm ! 
 BOY. I pray not for the governor ; I pray 
 
 For Tell, who is on board the ship with him. 
 FISHER. Alas, ye blind, unreasoning elements ! 
 
 Must ye, in punishing one guilty head, 
 
 Destroy the vessel and the pilot too ? 
 BOY. See, see, they've cleared the Buggisgrat ; * but 
 now 
 
 The blast, rebounding from the Devil's Minster,* 
 
 Has driven them back on the Great Axenberg.* 
 
 I cannot see them now. 
 FISHERMAN. The Hakmesser * 
 
 Is there, that's foundered many a gallant ship. 
 
 If they should fail to double that with skill, 
 
 Their bark will go to pieces on the rocks 
 
 That hide their jagged peaks below the lake. 
 
 They have on board the very best of pilots ; 
 
 If any man can save them, Tell is he ; 
 
 But he is manacled, both hand and foot. 
 
 [Enter WILLIAM TELL, with his crossbow. He 
 enters precipitately, looks irildly round, and 
 testifies the most violent agitation. When 
 he reaches the centre of the stage, he throws 
 himself upon his knees, and stretches out 
 his hands, first towards the earth, then 
 towards heaven. 
 BOY (observing him). 
 
 See, father ! Who is that man, kneeling yonder ? 
 FISHER. He clutches at the earth with both his hands, 
 
 And looks as though he were beside himself. 
 BOY (advancing). 
 
 What do I see? Father, come here, and look ! 
 FISHERMAN (approaches). 
 
 Who is it ? God in heaven ! What ! William Tell, 
 
 How came you hither? Speak, Tell ! 
 BOY. Were you not 
 
 In yonder ship, a prisoner, and in chains ? 
 
 * Rocks on the shore of the Lake of Lucerne.
 
 80 WILHELM TELL. 
 
 FISHER. Were they not bearing you away to Ktissnacht ? 
 
 TELL (rising). I am released. 
 
 FISHERMAN and BOY. Released, oh miracle ! 
 
 BOY. Whence came you here ? 
 
 TELL. From yonder vessel ! 
 
 FISHERMAN. What? 
 
 BOY. Where is the viceroy? 
 
 TELL. Drifting on the waves. 
 
 FISHER. Is't possible ? But you ! How are you here ? 
 
 How 'scaped you from your fetters and the 
 storm ? 
 
 TELL. By God's most gracious providence. Attend. 
 
 FISHER and BOY. Say on, say on ! 
 
 TELL. You know what passed at Altdorf ? 
 
 FISHER. I do say on ! 
 
 TELL. How I was seized and bound, 
 
 And ordered by the governor to Ktissnacht. 
 
 FISHER. And how with you at Fluelen he embarked. 
 
 All this we know. Say, how have you escaped? 
 
 TELL. I lay on deck, fast bound with conls, disarmed, 
 In utter hopelessness. I did not think 
 Again to see the gladsome light of day, 
 Nor the dear faces of my wife and children ; 
 And eyed disconsolate the waste of waters 
 
 FISHER. Oh, wretched man ! 
 
 TELL. Then we put forth ; the viceroy, 
 
 Rudolph der Harras, and their suite. My bow 
 And quiver lay astern beside the helm ; 
 And just as we had reached the corner, near 
 The Little Axen,* heaven ordained it so, 
 That from the Gotthardt's gorge, a hurricane 
 Swept down upon us with such headlong force. 
 That every rower's heart within him sank, 
 And all on board looked for a watery grave. 
 Then heard I one of the attendant tram, 
 Turning to Gessler, in this strain accost him : 
 " You see our danger, and your own, my lord 
 And that we hover on the verge of death. 
 The boatmen there are powerless from fear, 
 Nor are they confident what course to take; 
 
 * A rock on the shore of the lake of Lucerne.
 
 WILHELM TELL. 81 
 
 Now, liere is Tell, a stout and fearless man, 
 . And knows to steer with more than common 
 
 skill. 
 
 How if we should avail ourselves of him 
 In this emergency?" The viceroy then 
 Addressed me thus : "If thou wilt undertake 
 To bring us through this tempest safely, Tell, 
 I might consent to free thee from thy bonds." 
 I answered, " Yes, my lord, with God's assistance, 
 I'll see what can be done, and help us heaven !" 
 On this they loosed me from my bonds, and I 
 Stood by the helm and fairly steered along ; 
 Yet ever eyed my shooting-gear askance, 
 And kept a watchful eye upon the shore, 
 To find some point where I might leap to 
 
 land : 
 
 And when I had descried a shelving crag, 
 That jutted, smooth atop, into the lake 
 
 FISHEE. I know it. 'Tis at foot of the Great Axen ; 
 
 But looks so steep, I never could have dreamed 
 'Twere possible to leap it from the boat. 
 
 TELL. I bade the men put forth ^heir utmost might, 
 Until we came before the shelving crag. 
 For there, I said, the danger will be past ! 
 Stoutly they pulled, and soon we neared the 
 
 point ; 
 
 One prayer to God for his assisting grace, 
 And straining every muscle, I brought round 
 The vessel's stern close to the rocky wall ; 
 Then snatching up my weapons, with a bound 
 I swung myself upon the flattened shelf, 
 And with my feet thrust off, with all my might, 
 The puny bark into the hell of waters. 
 There let it drift about, as heaven ordains ! 
 Thus am I here, delivered from the might 
 Of the dread storm, and man, more dreadful 
 still. 
 
 FISHER. Tell, Tell, the Lord has manifestly wrought 
 A miracle in thy behalf! I scarce 
 Can credit my own eyes. But tell me, now, 
 Whither you purpose to betake yourself?
 
 82 
 
 WILHELM TELL. 
 
 For you will be in peril should the viceroy 
 
 Chance to escape this tempest with his life. 
 TELL. I heard him say, as I lay bound on board, 
 
 His purpose was to disembark at Brunnen j 
 
 And, crossing Schwytz, convey me to his castle. 
 FISHER. Means he to go by land ? 
 TELL. So he intends. 
 
 FISHER. Oh, then, conceal yourself without delay ! 
 
 Not twice will heaven release you from his 
 
 grasp. 
 TELL. Which is the nearest way to Arth and Ktiss- 
 
 nacht ? 
 FISHER. The public road leads by the way of Steinen, 
 
 But there's a nearer road, and more retired, 
 
 That goes by Lowerz, which my boy can show 
 
 you. 
 TELL (gives him his hand). 
 
 May heaven reward your kindness ! Fare ye 
 well! 
 
 [As fie is going he comes back. 
 
 Did not you also take the oath at Rootli? 
 
 I heard your name, methinks. 
 FISHERMAN. . Yes, I was there, 
 
 And took the oath of the confederacy ; 
 TELL. Then do me this one favor ; speed to Btirglen 
 
 My wife is anxious at my absence tell her 
 
 That I am free, and in secure concealment. 
 FISHER. But whither shall I tell her you have fled ? 
 TELL. You'll find her father with her, and some more, 
 
 Who took the oath with you upon the Rootli ; 
 
 Bid them be resolute, and strong of heart, 
 
 For Tell is free and master of his arm ; 
 
 They shall hear further .r>ews of me ere long. 
 FISHER. What have you, then, in view ? Come, tell me 
 
 frankly ! 
 TELL. When once 'tis done 'twill be in every mouth. 
 
 [Exit. 
 FISHER. Show him the way, boy. Heaven be his support ! 
 
 Whate'er he has resolved, he'll execute. 
 
 [Exit.
 
 WILHELM TELL. 83 
 
 SCENE II. 
 
 Baronial mansion of Attinghausen. The BARON upon a couch 
 dying. WALTER FURST, STAUFFACHER, MELCHTIIAL, and 
 BAUMGARTEN attending round him. WALTER TELL kneeling 
 before the dying man. 
 
 FURST. All now is ov r er with him. He is gone. 
 STAUFF. He lies not like one dead. The feather, see, 
 
 Moves on his lips ! His sleep is very calm, 
 
 And on his features plays a placid smile. 
 
 [BAUMGARTEN goes to the door and speaks 
 
 tenth some one. 
 FURST. Who's there ? 
 BAUGMARTEX (returning}. 
 
 Tell's wife, your daughter; she insists 
 
 That she must speak with you, and see her boy. 
 
 [WALTER TELL rises. 
 FURST. I who need comfort can I comfort her? 
 
 Does every sorrow centre on my head ? 
 HEDWIG (forcing her way i>i). 
 
 Where is my child ? Unhand me ! I must see 
 
 him. 
 
 STAUFF. Be calm ! Reflect you're in the house of death ! 
 HEDWIG (falling upon her boy's neck). 
 
 My Walter ! Oh, he yet is mine ! 
 
 WALTER. Dear mother ! 
 
 HEDW. And is it surely so ? Art thou unhurt ? 
 
 [ Gazing at him with anxious tenderness. 
 
 And is it possible he aimed at thee ? 
 
 How could he do it ? Oh, he has no heart 
 
 And he could wing an arrow at his child! 
 FURST. His soul was racked with anguish when he did it 
 
 No choice was left him, but to shoot or die! 
 HEDW. Oh, if he had a father's heart, he would 
 
 Have sooner perished by a thousand deaths ! 
 STAUFF. You should be grateful for God's gracious care, 
 
 That ordered tilings so well. 
 HEDWIG. Can I forget 
 
 What might have been the issue. God of 
 heaven ! 
 
 Were I to live for centuries, I still
 
 84 WILHELM TELL. 
 
 Should see my boy tied up, his father's mark, 
 And still the shaft would quiver in my heart ! 
 
 MELCH. You know not how the viceroy taunted him ! 
 
 HEDW. Oh, ruthless heart of man ! Offend his pride, 
 And reason in his breast forsakes her seat ; 
 In his blind wrath he'll stake upon a cast 
 A child's existence, and a mother's heart ! 
 
 BAUM. Is then your husband's fate not hard enough, 
 That you embitter it by such reproaches? 
 Have you no feeling for his sufferings ? 
 
 HEDWIG (turning to him and gazing f nil upon him). 
 
 Hast thou tears only for thy friend's distress ? 
 Say, where were you when he my noble Tell, 
 Was bound in chains ? Where was your friend- 
 ship, then ? 
 
 The shameful wrong was done before your eyes ; 
 Patient you stood, and let your friend be dragged, 
 Ay, from your very hands. Did ever Tell 
 Act thus to you ? Did he stand whining by 
 When on your heels the viceroy's horsemen 
 
 pressed, 
 
 And full before you roared the storm-tossed lake? 
 Oh, not with idle tears he showed his pity ; 
 Into the boat he sprung, forgot his home, 
 His wife, his children, and delivered thee ! 
 
 FURST. It had been madness to attempt his rescue, 
 Unarmed, and few in numbers as we were. 
 
 HEDWIG (casting herself upon his bosom). 
 
 Oh, father, and thou, too, hast lost my Tell ! 
 The country all have lost him ! All lament 
 His loss ; and, oh, how he must pine for us ! 
 Heaven keep his soul from sinking to despair ! 
 No friend's consoling voice can penetrate 
 His dreary dungeon walls. Should he fall sick; 
 Ah ! In the vapors of the murky vault 
 He must fall sick. Even as the Alpine rose 
 Grows pale and withers in the swampy air, 
 There is no life for him, but in the sun, 
 And in the balm of heaven's refreshing breeze. 
 Imprisoned ? Liberty to him is breath ; 
 He cannot live in the rank dungeon air !
 
 WILHELM TELL. 85 
 
 STAUFF. Pray you be calm ! And, hand in hand, we'll all 
 
 Combine to burst his prison doors. 
 HEDWIG. Without him, 
 
 What have you power to do ? While Tell was 
 free, 
 
 There still, indeed, was hope weak innocence 
 
 Had still a friend, and the oppressed a stay. 
 
 Tell saved you all ! You cannot all combined 
 
 Release him from his cruel prison bonds. 
 
 [The BARON wakes. 
 BAUM. Hush, hush ! He starts ! 
 ATTINGHAUSEN (sitting up). Where is he? 
 STAUFF ACHER. Who ? 
 
 ATTINGHAUSEN. He leaves me, 
 
 In my last moments he abandons me. 
 STAUFF. He means his nephew. Have thev sent for 
 
 him? 
 
 FURST. He has been summoned. Cheerily, sir ! Take 
 comfort ! 
 
 He has found his heart at last, and is our own. 
 ATTING. Say, has he spoken for his native land ? 
 STAUFF. Ay, like a hero ! 
 ATTINGHAUSEN. Wherefore comes he not, 
 
 That he may take my blessing ere I die ? 
 
 I feel my life fast ebbing to a close. 
 STAUFF. Nay, talk not thus, dear sir ! This last short sleep 
 
 Has much refreshed you, and your eye is bright. 
 ATTING. Life is but pain, and even that has left me ; 
 
 My sufferings, like my hopes, have passed away. 
 
 [ Observing the boy. 
 
 What boy is that ? 
 FURST. Bless him. Oh, good my lord ! 
 
 He is my grandson, and is fatherless. 
 
 [HEDWIG kneels with the boy before the 
 
 dying man. 
 ATTING. And fatherless I leave you all, ay, all ! 
 
 Oh, wretched fate, that these old eyes should 
 see 
 
 My country's ruin, as they close in death. 
 
 Must I attain the utmost verge of life, 
 
 To feel my hopes go with me to the grave.
 
 86 WILHELM TELL. 
 
 STAUFFACHKR (to FURST). 
 
 Shall he depart 'mid grief and gloom like this? 
 Shall not his parting moments be illumed 
 By hope's delightful beams ? My noble lord, 
 Raise up your drooping spirit ! We are not 
 Forsaken quite past all deliverance. 
 
 ATTING. Who shall deliver you ? 
 
 FURST. Ourselves. For know 
 
 The Cantons three are to each other pledged 
 To hunt the tyrants from the land. The league 
 Has been concluded, and a sacred oath 
 Confirms our union. Ere another year 
 Begins its circling course the blow shall fall. 
 In a free land your ashes shall repose. 
 
 ATTING. The league concluded ! Is it really so? 
 
 MELCH. On one day shall the Cantons rise together. 
 All is prepared to strike and to this hour 
 The secret closely kept though hundreds share 
 
 it; 
 
 The ground is hollow 'neath the tyrant's feet ; 
 Their days of rule are numbered, and ere long- 
 No trace of their dominion shall remain. 
 
 ATTING. Ay, but their castles, how to master them ? 
 
 MELCH. On the same day they, too, are doomed to fall. 
 
 ATTING. And are the nobles parties to this league ? 
 
 STAUFF. We trust to their assistance should we need 
 
 it; 
 As yet the peasantry alone have sworn. 
 
 ATTING. (raising himself up in great astonishment). 
 And have the peasantry dared such a deed 
 On their own charge without their nobles' aid 
 Relied so much on their own proper strength ? 
 Nay then, indeed, they want our help no more; 
 We may go down to death cheered by the 
 
 thought 
 
 That after us the majesty of man 
 Will live, and be maintained by other hands. 
 \_IIe lays his hand upon the head of the child, 
 
 who is kneeling before him. 
 From this boy's head, whereon the apple lay, 
 Your new and better liberty shall spring ;
 
 WILHELM TELL. 87 
 
 The old is crumbling down the times are 
 
 changing 
 And from the ruins blooms a fairer life. 
 
 STAUFFy DHER (to FURST). 
 
 See, see, what splendor streams around his eye ! 
 This is not nature's last expiring flame, 
 It is the beam of renovated life. 
 
 ATXIN T O From their old towers the nobles are descending, 
 And swearing in the towns the civic oath. 
 In Uechtland and Thurgau the work's begun ; 
 The noble Bern lifts her commanding head, 
 And Freyburg is a stronghold of the free; 
 The stirring Zurich calls her guilds to arms ; 
 And now, behold ! the ancient might of kings 
 Is shivered against her everlasting walls. 
 
 \_IIe speaks what follows with a prophetic 
 tone; his utterance rising into enthu- 
 siasm. 
 
 I see the princes and their haughty peers, 
 Clad all in steel, come striding on to crush 
 A harmless shepherd race with mailed hand. 
 Desperate the conflict : 'tis for life or death ; 
 And many a pass will tell to after years 
 Of glorious victories sealed in foemen's blood.* 
 The peasant throws himself with naked breast, 
 A willing victim on their serried lances. 
 They yield the flower of chivalry's cut down, 
 And freedom waves her conquering banner 
 
 high! 
 
 [Gfrasps the hands of WALTER FURST 
 
 and STAUFFACHER. 
 
 Hold fast together, then forever fast ! 
 Let freedom's haunts be one in heart and 
 
 mind ! 
 Set watches on your mountain-tops, that league 
 
 * An allusion to the gallant self-devotion of Arnold Struthan of Winkel- 
 ried, at the battle of Sempach (9th July, 1386), who broke the Austrian 
 phalanx by rushing on their lances, grasping as many of them as he could 
 reach, and concentrating them upon his breast. The confederates rushed 
 forward through the gap thus opened by tlie sacrifice of their comrade, broke 
 and cut down their enemy's ranks, and soon became the masters of the field. 
 " Dear and faithful confederates. 1 will open you a passage. Protect my 
 wife and children," were the words of Winkelried as he rushed to death.
 
 88 WILHELM TELL. 
 
 May answer league, when comes the hour to 
 strike. 
 
 I3e one be one be one 
 
 \_lle falls b((ck upon the cushion. His life- 
 less hands continue to grasp those of 
 FUKST and STAUFFATHER, who regar<( 
 him for some moments in silence, ami 
 then retire, overcome with sorrow. Mean- 
 while the servants have quietly pressed 
 into the chamber, testifying different 
 degrees of grief . Xome kneel down beside 
 him and weep on his body : while this 
 scene is passing the castle bell tolls. 
 RUDENZ (entering hurriedly] . 
 
 Lives lie? Oh, say, can he still hear my voice? 
 FURST (averting his face). 
 
 You are our seignior and protector now ; 
 Henceforth this castle bears another name. 
 RUDENZ (gazing at the body witlt deep emotion). 
 
 Oh, God ! Is my repentance, then, too late ? 
 Could lie not live some few brief moments more. 
 To see the change that has come o'er my heart ''. 
 Oh, I was deaf to his true counselling voice 
 While yet he walked on earth. Now he is gone ; 
 Gone and forever, leaving me the debt, 
 The heavy debt I owe him undischarged ! 
 Oh, tell me! did he part in anger with me? 
 STAUFF. When dying he was told what you had done, 
 
 And blessed the valor that inspired your words! 
 RUDENZ (kneeling down beside the dead body}. 
 Yes, sacred relics of a man beloved ! 
 Thou lifeless corpse! Here, on thy death-cold 
 
 hand, 
 
 Do I abjure all foreign ties forever ! 
 And to my country's cause devote myself. 
 I am a'Switzer, and will act as one 
 With my whole heart and soul. [Rises. 
 
 Mourn for our friend, 
 
 Our common parent, yet be not dismayed! 
 'Tis not alone his lands that I inherit, 
 His heart his spirit have devolved on me;
 
 WILHELM TELL. 
 
 And my young arm shall execute the task 
 
 For which his hoary age remained your debtor. 
 
 Give me your hands, ye venerable fathers ! 
 
 Thine, Melchthal, too ! Nay, do not hesitate, 
 
 Nor from me turn distrustfully away. 
 
 Accept my plighted vow my knightly oath ! 
 FTJRST. Give him your hands, my friends ! A heart like 
 his 
 
 That sees and owns its error claims our trust. 
 MELCH. You ever held the peasantry in scorn ; 
 
 What surety have we that you mean us fair? 
 Run. Oh, think not of the error of my youth ! 
 STAUFFACHEB (to MELCHTHAL). 
 
 Be one ! They were our father's latest words. 
 
 See they be not forgotten ! 
 MELCH. Take my hand, 
 
 A peasant's hand", and with it, noble sir, 
 
 The gage and the assurance of a man ! 
 
 Without us, sir, what would the nobles be? 
 
 Our order is more ancient, too, than yours ! 
 HUD. I honor it, and with my sword will shield it ! 
 MELCH. The arm, my lord, that tames the stubborn earth, 
 
 And makes its bosom blossom with increase, 
 
 Can also shield a man's defenceless breast. 
 HUD Then you shall shield my breast and I will 
 yours ; 
 
 Thus each be strengthened by the others' aid! 
 
 Yet wherefore talk we while our native land 
 
 Is still to alien tyranny a prey ? 
 
 First let us sweep the foeman from the soil, 
 
 Then reconcile our difference in peace ! 
 
 \_After a momenfs pause. 
 
 How ! You are silent ! Not a word for me ? 
 
 And have I yet no title to your trust? 
 
 Then must I force my way, despite your will, 
 
 Into the league you secretly l.ave formed. 
 
 You've held a Diet on the Rootli, I 
 
 Know this, know all that was transacted 
 there ! 
 
 And though I was not trusted with your secret, 
 
 I still have kept it like a sacred pledge.
 
 90 WILHELM TELL. 
 
 Trust me, I never was my country's foe, 
 
 Nor would I ever have ranged myself against 
 you! 
 
 Yet you did wrong to put your rising off. 
 
 Time presses ! We must strike, and swiftly, 
 too! 
 
 Already Tell has fallen a sacrifice 
 
 To your delay. 
 
 STAUFF. We swore to wait till Christmas. 
 
 KUD. I was not there, I did not take the oath. 
 
 If you delay I will not ! 
 
 MELCHTHAL. What ! You would 
 
 RUD. I count me now among the country's fathers, 
 
 And to protect you is my foremost duty. 
 FURST. Within the earth to lay these dear remains, 
 
 That is your nearest and most sacred duty. 
 RUD. When we have set the country free, we'll place 
 
 Our fresh, victorious wreaths upon his bier. 
 
 Oh, my dear friends, 'tis not your cause alone ! 
 
 I have a cause to battle with the tyrants 
 
 That more concerns myself. Know, that my 
 Bertha 
 
 Has disappeared, been carried off by stealth, 
 
 Stolen from amongst us by their ruffian hands! 
 STAUFF. And has the tyrant dared so fell an outrage 
 
 Against a lady free and nobly born ? 
 RUD. Alas! my friends, I promised help to you, 
 
 And I must first implore it for myself? 
 
 She that I love is stolen is forced away, 
 
 And who knows where the tyrant has concealed 
 her. 
 
 Or with what outrages his ruffian crew 
 
 May force her into nuptials she detests? 
 
 Forsake me not! Oh help me to her rescue ! 
 
 She loves you ! Well, oh well, has she deserved 
 
 That all should rush to arms in her behalf. 
 STAUFF. What course do you propose? 
 RUDENZ. Alas ! I know not. 
 
 In the dark mystery that shrouds her fate, 
 
 In the dread agony of this suspense, 
 
 Where I can grasp at naught of certainty,
 
 W1LHELM TELL. 91 
 
 One single ray of comfort beams upon me. 
 From out the ruins of the tyrant's power 
 Alone can she be rescued from the grave. 
 Their strongholds must be levelled ! Every one, 
 Ere we can pierce into her gloomy prison. 
 
 MELCH. Come, lead us on ! We follow! Why defer 
 Until to-morrow what to-day may do? 
 Tell's arm was free when we at Rootli swore, 
 This foul enormity was yet undone. 
 And change of circumstance brings change of law. 
 Who such a coward as to waver still ? 
 
 RUDENZ (to WALTER FUKST). 
 
 Meanwhile to arms, and wait in readiness 
 The fiery signal on the mountain-tops. 
 For swifter than a boat can scour the lake 
 Shall you have tidings of our victory; 
 And when you see the welcome flames ascend, 
 Then, like the lightning, swoop upon the foe, 
 And lay the despots and their creatures low ! 
 
 SCENE III. 
 
 The pass near Kiissnacht, sloping d<,icn from behind, with rocks 
 on either aide. The traveller* ore viaiole upon the heights, before 
 they appear on the stage. Hocks all round the stage. Upon 
 one of the foremost a projecting cliff overgrown with brushwood. 
 
 TELL (enters icit/t his crossbow). 
 
 Here through this deep defile he needs must pass ; 
 There leads no other road to Ktissnacht ; here 
 I'll do it ; the opportunity is good. 
 Yon alder tree stands well for my concealment, 
 Thence my avenging shaft will surely reach him. 
 The straitness of the path forbids pursuit. 
 No w,Gessler, balance thine account with Heaven! 
 Thou must away from earth, thy sand is run. 
 
 I led a peaceful, inoffensive life ; 
 
 My bow was bent on forest game alone, 
 
 And my pure soul was free from thoughts of 
 
 murder. 
 
 But thou hast scared me from my dream of peace ; 
 The milk of human kindness thou hast turned
 
 92 WILHELM TELL. 
 
 To rankling poison in my breast, and made 
 Appalling deeds familiar to my soul. 
 He who could make his own child's head his mark 
 Can speed his arrow to his foeman's heart. 
 
 My children dear, my loved and faithful wife, 
 Must be protected, tyrant, from thy fury ! 
 When last I drew my bow, with trembling hand, 
 And thou, with murderous joy, a father forced 
 To level at his child; when, all in vain, 
 Writhing before thee, I implored thy mercy, 
 Then in the agony of my soul I vowed 
 A fearful oath, which met God's ear alone, 
 That when my bow next winged an arrow's flight 
 Its aim should be thy heart. The vow I made 
 Amid the hellish torments of that moment 
 I hold a sacred debt, and I will pay it. 
 
 Thou art my lord, my emperor's delegate, 
 
 Yet would the emperor not have stretched his 
 
 power 
 
 So far as thou. He sent thee to these Cantons 
 To deal forth law, stern law, for he is angered ; 
 But not to wanton with unbridled wi-11 
 In every cruelty, with fiendlike joy : 
 There is a God to punish and avenge. 
 
 Come forth, thou bringer once of bitter pangs, 
 My precious jewel now, my chiefest treasure ; 
 A mark I'll set thee, which the cry of grief 
 Could never penetrate, but thou shalt pierce it. 
 And thou, my trusty bowstring, that so oft 
 Has served me faithfully in sportive scenes, 
 Desert me not in this most serious hour 
 Only be true this once, my own good cord, 
 That has so often winged the biting shaft : 
 For shouldst thou fly successless from my hand, 
 I have no second to send after thee. 
 
 [ Travellers pass over the stave. 
 I'll sit me down upon this bench of stone, 
 Hewn for the wayworn traveller's brief repose 
 For here there is no home. Each hurries by
 
 WILHELM TELL. 93 
 
 The other, with quick step and careless look, 
 Nor stays to question of his grief. Here goes 
 The merchant, full of care the pilgrim next, 
 With slender scrip and then the pious monk, 
 The scowling robber, and the jovial player, 
 The carrier with his heavy-laden horse, 
 That comes to us from the far haunts of men ; 
 For every road conducts to the world's end. 
 They all push onwards every man intent 
 On his own several business mine is murder. 
 
 [Sits down. 
 
 Time, was, my dearest children, when with joy 
 You hailed your father's safe return to home 
 From his long mountain toils; for when he came 
 He ever brought some little present with him. 
 A lovely Alpine flower a curious bird 
 Or elf-boat found by wanderers on the hills. 
 But now he goes in quest of other game : 
 In the wild pass he sits, and broods on murder ; 
 And watches for the life-blood of his foe, 
 But still his thoughts are fixed on you alone, 
 Dear children. 'Tis to guard your innocence, 
 To shield you from the tyrant's fell revenge, 
 He bends his bow to do a deed of blood ! 
 
 \_Rises. 
 
 Well I am watching for a noble prey 
 Does not the huntsman, with severest toil, 
 Roam for whole days amid the winter's cold, 
 Leap with a daring bound from rock to rock, 
 And climb the jagged, slippery steeps, to which 
 His limbs are glued by his own streaming blood ; 
 And all this but to gain a wretched chamois. 
 A far more precious prize is now my aim 
 The heart of that dire foe who would destroy me. 
 [Sprightly music heard in the distance, 
 
 which comes gradually nearer. 
 From my first years of boyhood I have used 
 The bow been practised in the archer's feats 1 , 
 The bull's-eye many a time my shafts have hit, 
 And many a goodly prize have I brought home. 
 Won in the games of skill. This day I'll make
 
 94 
 
 WILHELM TELL. 
 
 My master-shot, and win the highest prize 
 Within the whole circumference of the mountains. 
 [VI marriage train passes over the stage, 
 and goes up the pass. TELL gazes at 
 it, leaning on his bow. He is joined 
 by STUSSI, the Hanger. 
 
 STUSSI. There goes the bridal party of the steward 
 Of Morlischachen's cloister. He is rich ! 
 And has some ten good pastures on the Alps. 
 He goes to fetch his bride from Imisee, 
 There will be revelry to-night at Ktissnacht. 
 Come with us every honest man's invited. 
 
 TELL. A gloomy guest fits not a wedding feast. 
 
 STUSSI. If grief oppress you, dash it from your heart ! 
 Bear with your lot. The times are heavy now, 
 And we must snatch at pleasure while we can. 
 Here 'tis a bridal, there a burial. 
 
 TELL. And oft the one treads close upon the other. 
 
 STUSSI. So runs the world at present. Everywhere 
 We meet with woe and misery enough. 
 There's been a slide of earth in Glarus, and 
 A whole side of the Glarniseh has fallen in. 
 
 TELL. Strange ! And do even the hills begin to totter? 
 There is stability for naught on earth. 
 
 STUSSI. Strange tidings, too, we hear from other parts. 
 I spoke with one but now, that came from Baden, 
 Who said a knight was on his way to court, 
 And as he rode along a swarm of wasps 
 Surrounded him, and settling on his horse, 
 So fiercely stung the beast that it fell dead, 
 And he proceeded to the court on foot. 
 
 TELL. Even the weak are furnished with a sting. 
 
 ARMGART {enters with several children, and places her- 
 self at the entrance of the pass). 
 
 STUSSI. 'Tis thought to bode disaster to the country, 
 Some horrid deed against the course of nature. 
 
 TELL. Why, every day brings forth such fearful deeds ; 
 There needs no miracle to tell their coming. 
 
 STUSSI. Too true! He's blessed who tills his field in 
 
 peace, 
 And sits untroubled by his own fireside.
 
 WILHELM TELL. 95 
 
 TELL. The very meekest cannot rest in quiet, 
 
 Unless it suits with his ill neighbor's humor. 
 [TELL looks frequently with restless expecta- 
 tion towards the top of the pass. 
 STUSSI. So fare you well ! You're waiting some one 
 
 here ? 
 
 TELL. I am. 
 
 STUSSI. A pleasant meeting with your friends ! 
 
 You are from Uri, are you not ? His grace 
 The governor's expected thence to-day. 
 TRAVELLER (entering). 
 
 Look not to see the governor to-day. 
 
 The streams are flooded by the heavy rains, 
 
 And all the bridges have been swept away. 
 
 [TELL rises. 
 ARMGART (coming forward}. 
 
 The viceroy not arrived ? 
 
 STUSSI. And do you seek him ? 
 
 ARM. Alas, I do ! 
 STUSSI. But why thus place yourself 
 
 Where you obstruct his passage down the pass? 
 ARM. Here he cannot escape me. He must hear me. 
 FRIESS. (coming hastily down the pass, and calls upon 
 
 the stage). 
 
 Make way, make, way ! My lord, the governor, 
 Is coming down on horseback close behind me. 
 
 \Exit TELL. 
 
 ARMGART (with animation). 
 The viceroy comes! 
 
 [She goes towards the pass with her children. 
 GESSLER and RUDOLPH DER HARRAS ap- 
 pear upon the heights on horseback. 
 STUSSI (to FRIESSHARDT). How got ye through the 
 
 stream 
 
 When all the bridges have been carried down ? 
 FRIESS. We've battled with the billows ; and, my friend, 
 
 An Alpine torrent's nothing after that. 
 STUSSI. How! Were you out, then, in that dreadful 
 
 storm ? 
 
 FRIESS. Ay, that we were ! I shall not soon forget it. 
 STUSSI. Stay, speak
 
 WILHELM TELL. 
 
 FRISSS. 
 
 I cannot. I must to the castle, 
 And tell them that the governor's at hand. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 STUSSI. If honest men, now, had been in the ship, 
 
 It had gone down with every soul on board : - 
 
 Some folks are proof 'gainst fire and water 
 
 both. [Looking round. 
 
 Where has the huntsman gone with whom 1 
 
 spoke? L^ xit - 
 
 Enter GESSLER and RUDOLPH DER HARRAS on horseback. 
 
 GESSL. Say what you please; I am the emperor's 
 
 servant, 
 
 And my first care must be to do his pleasure. 
 He did not send me here to fawn and cringe 
 And coax these boors into good humor. No ! 
 Obedience he must have. We soon shall see 
 If king or peasant is to lord it here ? 
 
 ARM. Now is the moment ! Now for my petition ! 
 
 GESSL. 'Twas not in sport that I set up the cap 
 
 In Altdorf or to try the people's hearts 
 
 All this I knew before. I set it up 
 
 That they might learn to bend those stubborn 
 
 necks 
 
 They carry far too proudly and I placed 
 What well I knew their eyes could never brook 
 Full in the road, which they perforce must 
 
 pass, 
 
 That, when their eyes fell oft it, they might call 
 That lord to mind whom they too much forget. 
 
 HAR. But surely, sir, the people have some rights 
 
 GESSL. This is no time to settle what they are. 
 
 Great projects are at work, and hatching now ; 
 The imperial house seeks to extend its power. 
 Those vast designs of conquests, which the sire 
 Has gloriously begun, the son will end. 
 This petty nation is a stumbling-block 
 One way or other it must be subjected. 
 
 [ They are about to pass on. ARMGART 
 throws herself down before GESSLER. 
 
 ARM. Mercy, lord governor ! Oh, pardon, pardon !
 
 WILHELM TELL. 97 
 
 GESSL. Why do you cross me on the public road ? 
 
 - Stand back, I say. 
 
 ARMGART. My husband lies in prison ; 
 
 My wretched orphans cry for bread. Have 
 
 Pity, ray lord, upon our sore distress ! 
 
 HAR. Who are you, woman ; and who is your husband? 
 
 ARM. A poor wilcl-hay-man of the Rigiberg, 
 
 Kind sir, who on the brow of the abyss, 
 Mows down the grass from steep and craggy 
 
 shelves, 
 To which the very cattle dare not climb. 
 
 HARRAS (to GESSLER). 
 
 By Heaven ! a sad and miserable life ! 
 
 I prithee, give the wretched man his freedom. 
 
 How great soever his offence may be, 
 
 His horrid trade is punishment enough. 
 
 [To ARMGART. 
 
 You shall have justice. To the castle bring 
 Your suit. This is no place to deal with it. 
 
 ARM. No, no, I will not stir from where I stand, 
 Until your grace restore my husband to me. 
 Six months already has he been in prison, 
 And waits the sentence of a judge in vain. 
 
 GESSL. How ! would you force me, woman ? Hence ! 
 Begone ! 
 
 ARM. Justice, my lord ! Ay, justice ! Thou art judge ! 
 The deputy of the emperor of Heaven ! 
 Then do thy duty, as thou hopest for justice 
 From Him who rules above, show it to us ! 
 
 GESSL. Hence! drive this daring rabble from my 
 sight ! 
 
 ARMGART (seizing his horse's reins). 
 
 No, no, by Heaven, I've nothing more to lose. 
 Thou stirrest not, viceroy, from this spot until 
 Thou dost me fullest justice. Knit thy brows, 
 And roll thy eyes ; I fear not. Our distress 
 Is so extreme, so boundless, that we care 
 No longer for thine anger. 
 
 GESSLER. Woman, hence! 
 
 Give way, I say, or I will ride thee down. .
 
 98 WILHELM TELL. 
 
 ARM. Well, do so; there ! 
 
 [Throws her children and herself upon the 
 ground before him. 
 
 Here on the ground I Hi'. 
 
 I and my children. Let the wretched orphans 
 Be trodden by thy horse into the dust! 
 It will not be the worst that thou hast done 
 HAR. Are you mad, woman ? 
 ARMGART (continuing with vehemence). 
 
 Many a day thou hast 
 
 Trampled the emperor's lands beneath thy feet. 
 Oh, I am but a woman ! Were I man, 
 I'd find some better thing to do, than here 
 Lie grovelling in the dust. 
 
 [The music of the wedding party is again 
 heard from the top of the pass, but more 
 softly. 
 
 GESSLER. Where are my knaves ? 
 
 Drag her away, lest I forget myself, 
 And do some deed I may repent hereafter. 
 HAR. My lord, the servants cannot force a passage ; 
 
 The pass is blocked up by a marriage party. 
 GESSL. Too mild a ruler am I to this people, 
 
 Their tongues are all too bold ; nor have they yet 
 Been tamed to due submission, as they shall be. 
 I must take order for the remedy ; 
 I will subdue this stubborn mood of theirs, 
 And crush the soul of liberty within them. 
 I'll publish a new law throughout the land ; 
 I will 
 
 [An arrow pierces him, he puts his hand on 
 his heart, and is about to sink with a 
 feeble voice. 
 
 Oh God, have mercy on my soul ! 
 HAR. My lord! my lord! Oh God! What's this? 
 
 Whence came it? 
 ARMGART (starts up). 
 
 Dead, dead ! He reels, he falls ! 'Tis in his 
 
 heart ! 
 H ARRAS (springs from his horse). 
 
 This is most horrible! Oh Heavens! sir knight,
 
 WILHELM TELL. 99 
 
 Address yourself to God and pray for mercy ; 
 You are a dying man. 
 GESSLER. That shot was Tell's. 
 
 \_He slides from his horse into the arms of 
 RUDOLPH DER HAKRAS, who lays him down 
 upon the bench. TELL appears above, upon 
 the rocks. 
 
 TELL. Thou knowest the archer, seek no other hand. 
 Our cottages are free, and innocence 
 Secure from thee : thou'lt be our curse no more. 
 [TELL disappears. People rush in. 
 
 STUSSI. What is the matter ? Tell me what has hap- 
 pened ? 
 
 ARM. The governor is shot, killed by an arrow! 
 PEOPLE (running in). 
 
 Who has been shot ? 
 
 [ While the foremost of the marriage party are 
 coming on the stage, the hindmost are still 
 upon the heights. The music continues. 
 HARRAS. He's bleeding fast to death. 
 
 Away, for help pursue the murderer! 
 Unhappy man, is't thus that thou must die? 
 Thou wouldst not heed the warnings that I gave 
 
 thee! 
 STUSSI By heaven, his cheek is pale! His life ebbs 
 
 fast. 
 MANY VOICES. 
 
 Who did the deed ? 
 
 HARRAS. What ! Are the people mad 
 
 That they make music to a murder? Silence! 
 [ Music breaks off suddenly. People continue 
 
 to flock in. 
 Speak, if thou canst, my lord. Hast thou no 
 
 charge 
 To intrust me with? 
 
 [GESSLER makes signs with his hand, which he 
 repeats with vehemence, when he finds they 
 are not understood. 
 
 What would you have me do ? 
 Shall I to Kiissnacht? I can't guess your 
 meaning.
 
 100 WILHELM TELL. 
 
 Do not give way to tins impatience. Leave 
 All thoughts of earth and make your peace with 
 
 Heaven. 
 [The whole marriage party gather round tJie 
 
 dying man. 
 
 STUSSI. See there! how pale he grows ! Death's gather- 
 ing now 
 
 About his heart; his eyes grow dim and glazed. 
 ARMGAKT (holds up a child}. 
 
 Look, children, how a tyrant dies ! 
 HARRAS. Mad hag ! 
 
 Have you no touch of feeling that you look 
 On horrors such as these without a shudder? 
 Help me take hold. What, will not one assist 
 To pull the torturing arrow from his breast ? 
 WOMEN. We touch the man whom God's own hand has 
 
 struck ! 
 
 HAR. All curses light on you ! [Draws his sword. 
 
 STUSSI (seizes his arm}. Gently, sir knight ! 
 
 Your power is at an end. 'Twere best forbear. 
 Our country's foe is fallen. We will brook 
 No further violence. We are free men. 
 ALL. The country's free ! 
 
 HARRAS. And is it come to this? 
 
 Fear and obedience at an end so soon ? 
 
 [ To the soldiers of the guard who are throng- 
 ing in. 
 
 You see, my friends, the bloody piece of work 
 They've acted here. 'Tis now too late for 
 
 help, 
 
 And to pursue the murderer were vain. 
 New duties claim our care. Set on to Ktiss- 
 
 nacht, 
 
 And let us save that fortress for the king ! 
 For in an hour like this all ti-s of order, 
 Fealty, and faith are scattered to the winds. 
 No man's fidelity is to be trusted. 
 
 \_As he is going out with the soldiers six 
 
 FRATRES MISERICORDI^E appear. 
 
 ARM. Here come the brotherhood of mercy. Room ! 
 STUSSI. The victim's slain, and now the ravens stoop.
 
 WILIIELM TELL. 101 
 
 BROTHERS OF MERCY (form a semicircle round the body, 
 
 and sing in solemn tones). 
 With hasty step death presses on, 
 
 Nor grants to man a moment's stay, 
 He falls ere half his race be run 
 
 In manhood's pride is swept away ! 
 Prepared or unprepared to die, 
 He stands before his Judge on high. 
 
 [ While they are repeating the last two lines, 
 the curtain falls. 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 SCENE I. 
 
 A common near Altdorf. In the background to the right the 
 keep of Uri, with the scaffold still standing, as in the third 
 scene of the first act. To the left the view opens upon numer- 
 ous mountains, on all of which signal fires are burning. 
 Day is breaking, and bells are heard ringing from various 
 distances. 
 
 RUODI, KUONI, WERNI, MASTER MASON, and many other 
 country people, also women and children. 
 
 RUODI. Look at the fiery signals on the mountains ! 
 MASON. Hark to the bells above the forest there ! 
 RUODI. The enemy's expelled. 
 
 MASON. The forts are taken. 
 
 RUODI. And we of Uri, do we still endure 
 
 Upon our native soil the tyrant's keep? 
 
 Are we the last to strike for liberty ? 
 MASON. Shall the yoke stand that was to bow our necks ? 
 
 Up ! Tear it to the ground ! 
 
 ALL. Down, down with it ! 
 
 RUODI. Where is the Stier of Uri ? 
 URI. Here. What would ye ? 
 
 RUODI. Up to your tower, and wind us such a blast, 
 
 As shall resound afar, from hill to hill ; 
 
 Rousing the echoes of each peak and glen, 
 
 And call the mountain men in haste together! 
 [Exit STIER OF URI enter WALTER FURST.
 
 102 
 
 WILHELM TELL. 
 
 FURST. Stay, stay, ray friends ! As yet we have not 
 
 learned 
 
 What has been done in Unterwald and Schwytz. 
 Let's wait till we receive intelligence ! 
 RUODI. Wait, wait for what ? The accursed tyrant's dead, 
 
 And the bright day of liberty has dawned ! 
 MASOX. How ! Do these flaming signals not suffice, 
 That blaze on every mountain top around ? 
 RUODI. Come all, fall to come, men and women, all ! 
 Destroy the scaffold ! Tear the arches down ! 
 Down with the walls ; let not a stone remain. 
 MASON. Come, comrades, come ! We built it, and we 
 
 know 
 
 How best to hurl it down. 
 
 ALL. Come ! Down with it ! 
 
 [ They fall upon the building at every side. 
 FUKST. The floodgate's burst. They're not to be re- 
 strained. 
 
 [Enter MELCHTHAL and BAUMGARTEN. 
 MELCH. What! Stands the fortress still, when Sarnen 
 
 lies 
 
 In ashes, and when Rossberg is a ruin ? 
 FURST. You, Melchthal, here ? D'ye bring us liberty ? 
 
 Say, have you freed the country of the foe ? 
 MELCH. We've swept them from the soil. Rejoice, my 
 
 friend ; 
 
 Now, at this very moment, while we speak, 
 There's not a tyrant left in Switzerland ! 
 FURST. How did you get the forts into your power? 
 MELCH. Rudenz it was who with a gallant arm, 
 
 And manly daring, took the keep at Sarnen. 
 The Rossberg I had stormed the night before. 
 But hear what chanced. Scarce had we driven 
 
 the foe 
 
 Forth from the keep, and given it to the flames, 
 That now rose crackling upwards to the skies, 
 When from the blaze rushed Diethelm,Gessler's 
 
 page, 
 
 Exclaiming, " Lady Bertha will be burnt ! " 
 FURST. Good heavens ! 
 
 [ The beams of the scaffold are heard falling.
 
 WILHELM TELL. 
 
 103 
 
 MELCH. 'Twas she herself. Here had she been 
 
 Immured in secret by the viceroy's orders. 
 Kudenz sprang up in frenzy. For we heard 
 The beams and massive pillars crashing down, 
 And through the volumed smoke the piteous 
 
 shrieks 
 Of the unhappy lady. 
 
 FURST. Is she saved ? 
 
 .MELCH. Here was a time for promptness and decision ! 
 Had he been- nothing but our baron, then 
 We should have been most chary of our lives ; 
 But he was our confederate, and Bertha 
 Honored the people. So without a thought, 
 We risked the worst, and rushed into the flames. 
 
 FURST. But is she saved ? 
 
 MELCH. She is. Rudenz and I 
 
 Bore her between us from the blazing pile, 
 With crashing timbers toppling all around. 
 And when she had revived, the danger past, 
 And raised her eyes to meet the light of heaven, 
 The baron fell upon my breast ; and then 
 
 A silent vow of friendship passed between us 
 
 A vow that, tempered in yon furnace heat, 
 Will last through every shock of time and fate. 
 
 FURST. Where is the Landenberg? 
 
 MELCH. Across the Briinig. 
 
 No fault of mine it was, that he, who quenched 
 My father's eyesight, should go hence unharmed. 
 He fled I followed overtook and seized 
 
 him, 
 
 And dragged him to my father's feet. The sword 
 Already quivered o'er the caitiff's head, 
 When at the entreaty of the blind old man, 
 1 spared the life for which he basely prayed. 
 He swore Urphede,* never to return : 
 He'll keep his oath, for he has felt our arm. 
 
 FURST. Thank God, our victory's unstained by blood ! 
 
 * The Urphede was an oath of peculiar force. When a man who was at 
 feud with another, invaded his lands and was worsted, he often made tern - 
 with his enemy by swearing the Urphede, by which he bound himself u 
 depart and never to return with a hostile intention.
 
 104 
 
 WILHELM TELL. 
 
 RUODI. 
 BAUM. 
 
 FURST. 
 
 CHILDREN (running across the stage with fragments of 
 
 wood). 
 
 Liberty ! Liberty ! Hurrah, we're free ! 
 FUBST. Oh ! what a joyous scene ! These children will, 
 E'en to their latest day, remember it. 
 
 [ Girls bring in. the cap upon a pole. The whole 
 
 stage is filled with people. 
 Here is the cap, to which we were to bow ! 
 Command us, how we shall dispose of it. 
 Heavens ! 'Twas beneath this cap my grandson 
 
 stood ! 
 SEVERAL VOICES. 
 
 Destroy the emblem of the tyrant's power ! 
 Let it burn ! 
 FURST. No. Rather be preserved ! 
 
 'Twas once the instrument of despots now 
 'Twill be a lasting symbol of our freedom. 
 [Peasants, men, women, and children, some 
 standing, others sitting upon the beams 
 of the shattered scaffold, all picturesquely 
 grouped, in a large semicircle. 
 MELCH. Thus now, my friends, with light and merry 
 
 hearts, 
 
 We stand upon the wreck of tyranny ; 
 And gallantly have we fulfilled the oath, 
 Which we at Rootli swore, confederates! 
 FURST. The work is but begun. We must be firm. 
 For, be assured, the king will make all speed, 
 To avenge his viceroy's death, and reinstate, 
 By force of arms, the tyrant we've expelled. 
 MELCH. Why, let him come, with all his armaments ! 
 The foe within has fled before our arms; 
 We'll give him welcome warmly from without ! 
 The passes to the country are but few ; 
 And these we'll boldly cover with our bodies. 
 We are bound by an indissoluble league, 
 And all his armies shall not make us quail. 
 
 [Enter ROSSELMAN> T and STAUFFACHER. 
 (speaking as he enters). 
 These are the awful judgments of the lord ! 
 PEAS. What is the matter ? 
 
 RUODI. 
 BAUM.
 
 WILHELM TELL. 
 
 105 
 
 ROSSELMANN. In what times we live! 
 
 FURST. Say on, what is't? Ha, Werner, is it you ? 
 
 What tidings ? 
 
 PEASANT. What's the matter? 
 
 ROSSELMANN. Hear and wonder. 
 
 STAUFF. We are released from one great cause of dread. 
 ROSSEL The emperor is murdered. 
 FURST. Gracious heaven ! 
 
 [PEASANTS rise tip and throng round STAUF- 
 
 FACHER. 
 
 ALL. Murdered ! the emperor ? What! The emperor 1 
 Hear ! 
 
 MELCH. Impossible! How came you by the news? 
 
 STAUFF. 'Tis true ! Near Bruck, by the assassin's hand, 
 King Albert fell. A most trustworthy man, 
 John JMiiller, from Schaffhausen, brought the 
 news. 
 
 FURST. Who dared commit so horrible a deed? 
 
 STAUFF. The doer makes the deed more dreadful still ; 
 It was his nephew, his own brother's child, 
 Duke John of Austria, who struck the blow. 
 
 MELCH. What drove him to so dire a parricide ? 
 
 STAUFF. The emperor kept his patrimony back, 
 Despite his urgent importunities; 
 'Twas said, indeed, he never meant to give it, 
 But with a mitre to appease the duke. 
 However this may be, the duke gave ear, 
 To the ill counsel of his friends in arms ; 
 And with the noble lords, Von Eschenbach, 
 Von Tegerfeld, Von Wart, and Palm, resolved, 
 Since his demands for justice were despised, 
 With his own hands to take revenge at least. 
 
 FURST. But say, how compassed he the dreadful deed? 
 
 STAUFF. The king was riding down from Stein to Baden, 
 Upon his way to join the court at Rheinfeld, 
 With him a train of high-born gentlemen, 
 And the young princes, John and Leopold. 
 And when they reached the ferry of the Reuss, 
 The assassins forced their way into the boat, 
 To separate the emperor from his suite. 
 His highness landed, and was riding on
 
 106 WILHELM TELL. 
 
 Across a fresh-ploughed field where once, they 
 
 say, 
 
 A mighty city stood in Pagan times 
 With Hapsburg's ancient turrets full in sight, 
 Where all the grandeur of his line had birth 
 When Duke John plunged a dagger in his 
 
 throat, 
 
 Palm ran him through the body with his lance, 
 Eschenbach cleft his skull at one fell blow, 
 And down he sank, all weltering in his blood, 
 On his own soil, by his own kinsmen slain. 
 Those on the opposite bank, who saw the deed, 
 Being parted by the stream, could only raise 
 An unavailing cry of loud lament. 
 But a poor woman, sitting by the way, 
 Raised him, and on her breast he bled to death. 
 
 MELCH. Thus has he dug his own untimely grave, 
 Who sought insatiably to grasp at all. 
 
 STAUFF. The country round is filled with dire alarm. 
 The mountain passes are blockaded all, 
 And sentinels on every frontier set ; 
 E'en ancient Zurich barricades her gates, 
 That for these thirty years have open stood, 
 Dreading the murderers, and the avengers 
 
 more, 
 
 For cruel Agnes comes, the Hungarian queen, 
 To all her sex's tenderness a stranger, 
 Armed with the thunders of the church to 
 
 wreak 
 
 Dire vengeance for her parent's royal blood, 
 On the whole race of those that murdered him, 
 Upon their servants, children, children's chil- 
 dren, 
 
 Nay' on the stones that build their castle walls. 
 Deep has she sworn a vow to immolate 
 Whole generations on her father's tomb, 
 And bathe in blood as in the dew of May. 
 
 MELCH. Know you which way the murderers have fled? 
 
 STAUFF. No sooner had they done the deed than they 
 Took flight, each following a different route, 
 And parted, ne'er to see each other more.
 
 WILHELM TELL. 107 
 
 Duke John must still be wandering 'in the moun- 
 tains. 
 
 TUKST. And thus their crime has yielded them no fruits. 
 Revenge is barren. Of itself it makes 
 The dreadful food it feeds on ; its delight 
 Is murder its satiety despair. 
 
 STAUFF. The assassins reap no profit by their crime; 
 But we shall pluck with unpolluted hands 
 The teeming fruits of their most bloody deed, 
 For we are ransomed from our heaviest fear ; 
 The direst foe of liberty has fallen, 
 And, 'tis reported, that the crown will pass 
 From Hapsburg's house into another line. 
 The empire is determined to assert 
 Its old prerogative of choice, I hear. 
 
 FURST and several others. 
 
 Has any one been named to you ? 
 
 STAUFFACHEB. The Count 
 
 Of Luxembourg is widely named already. 
 
 FURST. T'is well we stood so stanchly by the empire ! 
 Now we may hope for justice, and with cause. 
 
 STAUFF. The emperor will need some valiant friends, 
 
 And he will shelter us from Austria's vengeance. 
 [ The peasantry embrace. Enter SACRIST, 
 with imperial messenger. 
 
 SACRIST. Here are the worthy chiefs of Switzerland ! 
 
 KOSSELMAXX and several others. 
 Sacrist, what news ? 
 
 SACRISTAN. A courier brings this letter. 
 
 ALL (to WALTER FURST). 
 Open and read it. 
 
 FURST (reading]. " To the worthy men 
 
 Of Uri, Schwytz, and Unterwald, the Queen 
 Elizabeth sends grace and all good wishes ! " 
 
 MANY VOICES. 
 
 What wants the queen with us ? Her reign is dona 
 
 FURST (reads). 
 
 " In the great grief and doleful widowhood, 
 In which the bloody exit of her lord 
 Has plunged her majesty, she still remembers 
 The ancient faith and love of Switzerland."
 
 108 WILHELM TELL. 
 
 MELCH. She ne'er did that in her prosperity. 
 
 ROSSEL. Hush, let us hear. 
 
 FURST (reads). "And she is well assured, 
 
 Her people will in due abhorrence hold 
 The perpetrators of this damned deed. 
 On the three Cantons, therefore, she relies, 
 That they in nowise lend the murderer's aid ; 
 But rather, that they loyally assist 
 To give them up to the avenger's hand, 
 Remembering the love and grace which they 
 Of old received from Rudolph's princely house." 
 [Symptoms of dissatisfaction among the 
 peasantry. 
 
 MANY VOICES. 
 
 The love and grace ! 
 
 STAUFF. Grace from the father we, indeed, received, 
 But what have we to boast of from the son ? 
 Did he confirm the charter of our freedom, 
 As all preceding emperors had done? 
 Did he judge righteous judgment, or afford 
 Shelter or stay to innocence oppressed ? 
 Nay, did he e'en give audience to the envoys 
 We sent to lay our grievances before him? 
 Not one of all these things e'er did the king. 
 And had we not ourselves achieved our rights 
 By resolute valor our necessities 
 Had never touched him. Gratitude to him! 
 Within these vales he sowed not gratitude. 
 He stood upon an eminence he might 
 Have been a very father to his people, 
 But all his aim and pleasure was to raise 
 Himself and his own house : and now may 
 
 those 
 Whom he has aggrandized lament for him ! 
 
 FURST. We will not triumph in his fall, nor now 
 
 Recall to mind the wrongs we have endured. 
 Far be't from us ! Yet, that we should avenge 
 The sovereign's death, who never did us good, 
 And hunt down those who ne'er molested us, 
 Becomes us not, nor is our duty. LOVQ 
 Must bring its offerings free and unconstrained;
 
 WILHELM TELL. 109 
 
 From all enforced duties death absolves 
 
 And unto him we are no longer bound. 
 MELCH. And if the queen laments within her bower, 
 
 Accusing heaven in sorrow's wild despair; 
 
 Here see a people from its anguish freed. 
 
 To that same heaven send up its thankful praise, 
 
 For who would reap regrets must sow affection. 
 [Exit the imperial courier. 
 STAUFFACHER (to the people). 
 
 But where is Tell ? Shall he, our freedom's 
 founder, 
 
 Alone be absent from our festival ? 
 
 He did the most endured the worst of all. 
 
 Come to his dwelling let us all repair, 
 
 And bid the savior of our country hail ! 
 
 [Exeunt omnes. 
 
 SCENE II. 
 
 Interior of TELL'S cottage. A fire burning on the hearth. The 
 open door shows the scene outside. 
 
 HEDWIG, WALTER, and WILHELM. 
 
 HEDW. Boys, dearest boys ! your father comes to-day. 
 
 He lives, is free, and we and all are free ! 
 
 The country owes its liberty to him ! 
 WALT. And I too, mother, bore my part in it ; 
 
 I shall be named with him. My father's shaft 
 
 Went closely by my life, but yet I shook not! 
 HEDWIG {embracing him). 
 
 Yes, yes, thou art restored to me again ! 
 
 Twice have I given thee birth, twice suffered all 
 
 A mother's agonies for thee, my child ! 
 
 But this is past ; I have you both, boys, both ! 
 
 And your dear father will be back to-day. 
 
 [A monk appears at the door. 
 WILH. See, mother, yonder stands a holy friar ; 
 
 He's asking alms, no doubt. 
 HEDWIG. Go lead him in, 
 
 That we may give him cheer, and make him feel 
 
 That he has come into the house of joy. 
 
 [Exit, and returns immediately with a cup.
 
 110 WILHELM TELL. 
 
 WILIIKLM (to the monk). 
 
 Come in, good man. Mother will give you food 
 WALT. Come in, and rest, then go refreshed away ! 
 MONK ((jlnncing round in, terror, with -unquiet looks). 
 
 Where am IV In what country? 
 WALTER. Have you los,, 
 
 Your way, that you are ignorant of this? 
 
 You are at Biirglen, in the land of Uri, 
 
 Just at the entrance of tlie Sheckenthal. 
 MONK (to HEDWIG). 
 
 Are you alone? Your husband, is he here? 
 HEDW. I momently expect him. But what ails you? 
 
 You look as one whose soul is ill at ease. 
 
 Whoe'er you be, you are in want; take that. 
 
 [ Offers him the cup. 
 MONK. Howe'er my sinking heart may yearn for food, 
 
 I will take nothing till you've promised me 
 
 HEDW. Touch not my dress, nor yet advance one step. 
 
 Stand off, I say, if you would have me hear you. 
 MONK. Oh, by this hearth's bright, hospitable blaze, 
 
 By your dear children's heads, which I em- 
 brace [ Grasps the bo>/s. 
 
 HEDW. Stand back, I say ! What is your purpose, man ? 
 
 Back from my boys ! You are no monk, no, no. 
 
 Beneath that robe content and peace should dwell, 
 
 But neither lives within that face of thine. 
 MONK. I am the veriest wretch that breathes on earth. 
 HEDW. The heart is never deaf to wretchedness ; 
 
 But thy look freezes up my inmost soul. 
 WALTER (springs up). 
 
 Mother, my father ! 
 HEDWIG. Oh, my God ! 
 
 \_Is about to follow, trembles and stops. 
 WILHELM (running after his brother). My father ! 
 
 WALTER (loithout). Thou'rt here once more! 
 WILHELM (without). My father, my dear father! 
 
 TELL (without). 
 
 Yes, here I am once more ! Where is your 
 
 mother ? [ They enter. 
 
 WALT. There at the door she stands, and can no further, 
 
 She trembles so with terror and with joy.
 
 WILHELM TELL. Ill 
 
 TELL. Oh Hedwig, Hedwig, mother of my children ! 
 
 God has been kind and helpful in our woes. 
 
 Xo tyrant's hand shall e'er divide us more. 
 HEDWIG (falling on his neck). 
 
 Oh, Tell, what have I suffered for thy sake ! 
 
 [Monk becomes attentive. 
 TELL. Forget it now, and live for joy alone ! 
 
 I'm here again with you ! This is my cot ! 
 
 I stand again on mine own hearth ! 
 WILHELM. But, father, 
 
 Where is your crossbow left ? I see it not. 
 TELL. Nor shalt thou ever see it more, my boy. 
 
 It is suspended in a holy place, 
 
 And in the chase shall ne'er be used again. 
 HEDW. Oh, Tell, Tell ! 
 
 [Steps back, dropping his hand. 
 TELL. What alarms thee, dearest wife ? 
 HEDW. How how dost thou return to me? This 
 hand 
 
 Dare I take hold of it? This hand Oh God! 
 TELL (with firmness and animation). 
 
 Has shielded you and set my country free ; 
 
 Freely I raise it in the face of Heaven. 
 [MONK gives a sudden start he looks at him. 
 
 Who is this friar here ? 
 HEDWIG. Ah, I forgot him. 
 
 Speak thou with him ; I shudder at his presence. 
 MONK (stepping nearer). 
 
 Are you that Tell that slew the governor? 
 TELL. Yes, I am he. I hide the fact from no man. 
 MONK. You are that Tell ! Ah ! it is God's own hand 
 
 That hath conducted me beneath your roof. 
 TELL (examining him closely). 
 
 You are no monk. Who are you ? 
 MONK. You have slain 
 
 The governor, who did you wrong. I too, 
 
 Have slain a foe, who late denied me justice. 
 
 He was no less your enemy than mine. 
 
 I've rid the land of him. 
 TELL (drawing back). Thou art oh horror ! 
 
 In children, children in without a word.
 
 112 WILHELM TELL. 
 
 Go, my dear wife ! Go ! Go ! Unhappy man, 
 Thou shouldst be 
 
 HEDWIG. Heavens, who is it ? 
 
 TELL. Do not ask. 
 
 Away ! away ! the children must not hear it. 
 Out of the house away ! Thou must not rest 
 'Neath the same roof with this unhappy man ! 
 
 HEDW. Alas ! What is it ? Come ! 
 
 \Exit with the children. 
 
 TELL (to the MONK). Thou art the Duke 
 
 Of Austria I know it. Thou hast slain 
 The emperor, thy uncle, and liege lord. 
 
 JOHN. He robbed me of my patrimony. 
 
 TELL. How ! 
 
 Slain him thy king, thy uncle ! And the 
 
 earth 
 
 Still bears thee ! And the sun still shines on 
 thee ! 
 
 JOHN. Tell, hear me, ere you 
 
 TELL. Reeking with the blood 
 
 Of him that was thy emperor and kinsman, 
 Durst thou set foot within my spotless house? 
 Show thy fell visage to a virtuous man, 
 And claim the rites of hospitality ? 
 
 JOHN. I hoped to find compassion at your hands. 
 You also took revenge upon your foe ! 
 
 TELL. Unhappy man ! Arid dar'st thou thus confound 
 Ambition's bloody crime with the dread act 
 To which a father's direful need impelled him ? 
 Hadst thou to shield thy children's darling 
 
 heads? 
 
 To guai'd thy fireside's sanctuary ward off 
 The last, worst doom from all that thou didst 
 
 love ? 
 
 To heaven I raise my unpolluted hands, 
 To curse thine act and thee ! I have avenged 
 That holy nature which thou hast profaned. 
 I have no part with thee. Thou art a murderer; 
 I've shielded all that was most dear to rne. 
 
 JOHN. You cast me off to comfortless despair !. 
 
 TELL. My blood runs cold even while I talk with thee.
 
 WLLHELM TELL. 113 
 
 Away ! Pursue thine awful course ! Nor longer 
 Pollute the cot where innocence abides ! 
 
 [JOHN turns to depart, 
 
 JOHN. I cannot live, and will no longer thus ! 
 
 TELL. And yet my soul bleeds for thee gracious 
 
 heaven ! 
 
 So young, of such a noble line, the grandson 
 Of Rudolph, once my lord and emperor, 
 An outcast murderer standing at my door, 
 The poor man's door a suppliant, in despair! 
 
 [Covers his face. 
 
 JOHN. If thou hast power to weep, oh let my fate 
 Move your compassion it is horrible. 
 I am say, rather was a prince. I might 
 Have been most happy had I only curbed 
 The impatience of my passionate desires; 
 But envy gnawed my heart I saw the youth 
 Of mine own cousin Leopold endowed 
 With honor, and enriched with broad domains, 
 The while myself, that was in years his equal, 
 Was kept in abject and disgraceful nonage. 
 
 TELL. Unhappy man, thy uncle knew thee well, 
 
 When he withheld both land and subjects from 
 
 thee ; 
 
 Thou, by thy mad and desperate act hast set 
 A fearful seal upon his sage resolve. 
 Where are the bloody partners of thy crime ? 
 
 JOHN. Where'er the demon of revenge has borne them ; 
 I have not seen them since the luckless deed. 
 
 TELL. Know'st thou the empire's ban is out, that 
 
 thou 
 
 Art interdicted to thy friends, and given 
 An outlawed victim to thine enemies ! 
 
 JOHN. Therefore I shun all public thoroughfares, 
 And venture not to knock at any door 
 I turn my footsteps to the wilds, and through 
 The mountains roam, a terror to myself. 
 From mine own self I shrink with horror back, 
 Should a chance brook reflect my ill-starred form. 
 
 If thou hast pity for a fellow-mortal 
 
 \_FaUs down before him.
 
 114 WILHELM TELi,. 
 
 TELL. Stand up, stand up ! 
 
 JOHN. Not till thou &ha!t extend 
 
 Thy hand in promise of assistance to me. 
 
 TELL. Can I assist fcheef Can a sinful man ? 
 
 Yet get thee up, how black soe er th^ crimo, 
 Thou art a man. I, too, am one. Fiom Tell 
 Shall no one part uncornforted. I will 
 Do all that lies within my power. 
 
 DUKE JOHN (springs up and grasps him ardently by the 
 
 hand). Oh, Tell, 
 
 You save me from the terrors of despair. 
 
 TELL. Let go my hand ! Thou must away. Thou canst 
 
 not 
 
 Remain here undiscovered, and discovered 
 Thou canst not count on auccor. Which way, 
 
 then, 
 Wilt bend thy steps ? Where dost thou hope to 
 
 find 
 A place of rest ? 
 
 DUKE JOHN. Alas ! alas ! I know not. 
 
 TELL. Hear, then, what heaven suggested to my heart, 
 Thou must to Italy, to Saint Peter's city, 
 There cast thyself at the pope's feet, confess 
 Thy guilt to him, and ease thy laden soul ! 
 
 JOHN. But will he not surrender me to vengeance! 
 
 TELL. Whate'er he does receive as God's decree. 
 
 JOHN. But how am I to reach that unknown land ? 
 
 1 have no knowledge of the way, and dare not 
 Attach myself to other travellers. 
 
 TELL. I will describe the road, and mark me well ! 
 You must ascend, keeping along the Reuss, 
 Which from the mountains dashes wildly down. 
 
 DUKE JOHN (in alarm). 
 
 What ! See the Reuss? The witness of my deed ! 
 
 TELL. The road you take lies through the river's 
 
 gorge, 
 
 And many a cross proclaims where travellers 
 Have perished 'neath the avalanche's fall. 
 
 JOHN. I have no fear for nature's terrors, so 
 I can appease the torments of my soul. 
 
 TELL. At every cross kneel down and expiate
 
 W1LHELM TELL. 
 
 Your crime with burning penitential tears 
 -. And if you 'scape the perils of the pass, 
 
 And are not whelmed beneath the drifted snows 
 That from the frozen peaks come sweeping down, 
 You'll reach the bridge that hangs in drizzling 
 
 spray ; 
 
 Then if it yield not 'neath your heavy guilt, 
 When you have left it safely in your rear, 
 Before you frowns the gloomy Gate of Rocks, 
 Where never sun did shine. Proceed through this, 
 And you will reach a bright and gladsome vale. 
 Yet must you hurry on with hasty steps, 
 For in the haunts of peace you must not linger. 
 
 JOHN. Oh, Rudolph, Rudolph, royal grandsire ! thus 
 Thy grandson first sets foot within thy realms! 
 
 TELL. Ascending still you gain the Gotthardt's heights, 
 On which the everlasting lakes repose, 
 That from the streams of heaven itself are fed, 
 There to the German soil you bid farewell ; 
 And thence, with rapid course, another stream 
 Leads you to Italy, your promised land. 
 
 \_Ranz des Vaches sounded on Alp-horns is 
 
 heard without. 
 But I hear voices ! Hence ! 
 
 HEDWIG (hurrying in). Where art thou, Tell ? 
 
 Our father comes, and in exulting bands 
 All the confederates approach. 
 
 DUKE JOHN (covering himself}. Woe's me ! 
 
 I dare not tarry 'mid this happiness ! 
 
 TELL. Go, dearest wife, and give this man to eat. 
 
 Spare not your bounty. For his road is long, 
 And one where shelter will be hard to find. 
 Quick ! they approach. 
 
 HEDWIG. Who is he ? 
 
 TELL. Do not ask ! 
 
 And when he quits thee, turn thine eyes away 
 That they may not behold the road he takes. 
 [DUKE JOHN advances hastily towards TELL, 
 but he beckons him aside and exit. When 
 both have left the stage, the scene changes, 
 and discloses in
 
 116 
 
 WILHELM TELL. 
 
 SCENE III. 
 
 The whole valley before TELL'S house, the heights which enclose it 
 occupied by peasants, grouped into tableaux. Some are seen 
 crossing a lofty bridge which crosses to the Sechen. WALTER 
 FURST with "the two boys. WERNER and STAUFFACHER come 
 forward. Others throng after them. When TELL appears all 
 receive him with loud cheers. 
 
 ALL. Long live brave Tell, our shield, our liberator. 
 
 [ While those in front are crowding round 
 TELL and embracing him, RUDENZ and 
 BERTHA appear. The former salutes the 
 peasantry, the latter embraces HEDWIO. 
 The music from the mountains continues 
 to play. When it has stopped, BERTHA 
 steps into the centre of the crcncd. 
 BERTH. Peasants ! Confederates ! Into your league 
 Receive me here that happily am the first 
 To find protection in the land of freedom. 
 To your brave hands I now intrust my rights. 
 Will you protect me as your citizen ? 
 PEAS. Ay, that we will, with life and fortune both ! 
 BERTH. 'Tis well! And to this youth I give my hand. 
 
 A free Swiss maiden to a free Swiss man ! 
 RUD. And from this moment all my serfs are free ! 
 
 [Music and the curtain fatts.
 
 DON CARLOS. 
 
 DRAMATIS PERSONS. 
 
 PHILIP THE SECOND, King of Spain. 
 J>oN CARLOS, Prince., Son of Philip. 
 ALEXANDER FARNESE, Prince of 
 
 Parma. 
 
 MARQUIS DE POSA. 
 DUKE OF ALVA. 
 COUNT LKRMA, Colonel of 
 
 the Body Guard, 
 DUKE OF FEKIA, Knight 
 
 of the Golden Fleece, 
 
 e ec, e 
 
 DUKE OF MEDINA Si- \of Spain. 
 
 DONIA, 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. 
 
 Grandees MARCHIONESS DE 
 
 MONDECAR, ; 
 
 PRINCESS EBOLI, l t the 
 
 COUNTESS FUENTES, J v " e< 
 Several Ladies, Xobles, Pages,0jficers 
 
 of the Body-Guard, and mute 
 
 Characters. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 SCENE I. 
 
 The Royal Gardens in Aranjuez. 
 CABLOS 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, rny prince, 
 Break this mysterious and gloomy silence I 
 Open your heart to your own father's heart I 
 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, 
 
 117
 
 118 DON CARLOS. 
 
 When conqtiered 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 ey< 
 
 Confessed, " Now am 1 wholly satisfied ! " 
 
 [CAKLOS 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. 
 
 CAELOS (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,
 
 DON CARLOS. 119 
 
 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.
 
 120 DON CARLOS. 
 
 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). 
 How! 
 
 CARLOS. 
 
 Even so ! Hath he m>t 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;
 
 DON CARLOS. 121 
 
 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. Oil, 1 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. 
 
 [Ex-It 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 !
 
 122 DON CARLOS. 
 
 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 Task 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
 
 DON CARLOS. 123 
 
 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 i'aint 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,
 
 124 DON CARLOS. 
 
 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 oft' 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
 
 DON CARLOS. 125 
 
 u Ain 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. 
 
 1 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,
 
 126 DON CAKLOS. 
 
 And fell half-choked with sobs before my feet : 
 " Carlos," you cried, " rny pride is overcome ; 
 I will repay thee when thou art a king." 
 
 MARQUIS (stretching forth his hand to CAKLOS). 
 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 
 
 CAKLOS. 
 
 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 ! 
 
 CAELOS. 
 
 Nay, no forbearance ! sp'are 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
 
 DON CARLOS. 127 
 
 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. 
 
 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! 
 
 1 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 s:i\v 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.
 
 128 DON CAELOS. 
 
 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, 
 Ox 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? 
 
 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. 
 
 1 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 !
 
 DON CAIiLOS. 129 
 
 Wliate'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. 
 
 [JZceunt severally.
 
 130 DON CARLOS. 
 
 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 
 (he 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 scare* 
 
 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 ?
 
 DON CARLOS. 131 
 
 OLIVAREZ. 
 
 Why, 
 
 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 montb 
 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 ?
 
 132 DON CARLOS. 
 
 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. 
 
 OLIVABEZ. 
 
 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 <!<> 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 !
 
 DON CARLOS. 133 
 
 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. 
 
 OLIVABEZ (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. 
 
 \_Apage 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?
 
 134 DON CARLOS. 
 
 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 MONDI:- 
 CAR, 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 tiling 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.
 
 DON CARLOS. 135 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 Your journey hither 
 
 lias 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 rav of sunshine
 
 136 DON CARLOS. 
 
 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. 
 
 MONDECAB. 
 
 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.
 
 DON CARLOS. 137 
 
 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 :it Matilda's feet 
 The first pure homage of his fervent love. 
 
 [The QUEEX grows more attentive; the MAPQUIS 
 
 continues, after a short pause, addressing 
 
 self 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 love, 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 
 King from the walls of the illumined palace. 
 With faltering stops he mounts the stair; and 
 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.
 
 138 DON CARLOS. 
 
 A single glance revealed what once was his 
 Revealed what now was lost to him forever. 
 
 EBOLI. 
 
 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. 
 
 1 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.
 
 DON CARLOS. 139 
 
 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 ? 
 
 MAKQUIS (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 MON- 
 DECAR. 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.
 
 140 DON CARLOS. 
 
 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 f 
 A moment spent in paradise like this 
 Is not too dearly purchased by a life. 
 
 QUEEN. 
 But then your queen ? 
 
 CARLOS (rising). 
 
 OGod, 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 vour father's ear.
 
 DON CARLOS. 141 
 
 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?
 
 142 DON CARLOS. 
 
 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
 
 DON CARLOS. 143 
 
 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,
 
 144 DON CARLOS. 
 
 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 speech- 
 less. 
 
 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.
 
 DON CARLOS. 145 
 
 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 spleen, and waywardness, and pride, 
 Attract you thus so madly to your mother!
 
 146 DON CARLOS. 
 
 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 swings 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 ather 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 ?
 
 DON CARLOS. 147 
 
 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 LEKMA, 
 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.
 
 148 DON CARLOS. 
 
 KING. 
 
 And was your retinue dismissed for that ? 
 This only clears the lady first in waiting. 
 Where was the second ? 
 
 MONDEOAR (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 to- 
 wards 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. 
 
 [/SJie takes off her girdle and presents it to the MAR- 
 CHIONESS. 
 
 You have displeased the king, 
 Not me. Take this remembrance of my favor, 
 Arid 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.
 
 DON CARLOS. 149 
 
 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 GRANDEES 
 Here stand the assembled vassals of niy 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 'iieath 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 ?
 
 150 DON CARLOS. 
 
 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. 
 
 LEBMA. 
 
 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 restfollmc. 
 
 SCENE VII. 
 
 DON CARLOS (with letters in his hand), and MAEQUIS 
 POSA enter from opposite sides. 
 
 CARLOS. 
 
 I am resolved Flanders shall yet be saved: 
 So runs her suit, and that's enough for me !
 
 DON CARLOS. 151 
 
 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 1 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 icaitingfor him. 
 Proceed, my lord ! I'll follow thee anon.
 
 152 DON CARLOS. 
 
 SCENE IX. 
 DON CARLOS, MARQUIS POSA. 
 
 CARLOS. 
 
 I understood thy hint, :md thank thee for it. 
 A stranger's presence can alone excuse 
 This forced and measured tone. Are we riot brother*' 
 In future, let this puppet-play of rank 
 Be banished from our friendship. Think that we 
 Had met at som? gay masking festival, 
 Thou in the habit of a slave, and I 
 Robed, for a jest, in the imperial purple. 
 Throughout the revel \ve respect the cheat, 
 And pl.iy 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 gulp 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 slavey
 
 DON CARLOS. 153 
 
 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 tierce 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 2 
 
 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 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 ? 
 
 MARQUIS. 
 
 Caring ; yield ! 
 Here is my ham*
 
 154 DON CARLOS. 
 
 CARLOS. 
 
 Is it mine own 
 
 MARQUIS. 
 
 Forever 
 In the most pi-egnant meaning of the word! 
 
 CARLOS. 
 
 And wilt thou prove hereafter to the king 
 As true and warm as to the prince to-day? 
 
 MARQUIS. 
 I swear ! 
 
 CARLOS. 
 
 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 ear. 
 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 ? 
 
 MARQUIS. 
 
 I will. 
 
 CARLOS. 
 
 And now one other favor let me beg. 
 
 Do call me thou'f 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 ? 
 
 MARQUIS. 
 
 Yes ; thy brother, yes! 
 
 CARLOS. 
 
 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. [Exeunt,
 
 DON CARLOS. 155 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 SCENE I. 
 The royal palace at Madrid. 
 
 KING PHILIP under a canopy ; DUKE ALVA at some 
 distance, with his head covered ; CARLOS. 
 
 CARLOS. 
 
 The kingdom takes precedence willingly 
 
 Doth Carlos to the minister give place 
 
 He speaks for Spain ; I am but of the household. 
 
 \_Hoics and steps backward 
 
 KING. 
 
 The duke remains the Infanta may proceed. 
 
 CARLOS (turning to ALVA). 
 Then must I put it to your honor, sir, 
 To yield my father for a while to me. 
 A son, you know, may to a father's ear 
 Unbosom much, in fulness of his heart, 
 That not befits a stranger's ear. The king 
 Shall not be taken from you, sir I seek 
 The father only for one little hour. 
 
 KING. 
 
 Here stands his friend. 
 
 CARLOS. 
 
 And have I e'er deserved 
 To think the duke should be a friend of mine ? 
 
 KING. 
 
 Or tried to make him one? I scarce can love 
 
 Those sons who choose more wisely than their fathers. 
 
 CARLOS. 
 
 And can Duke Alva's knightly spirit brook 
 To look on such a scene? Now, as I live, 
 I would not play the busy meddler's part, 
 Who thrusts himself, unasked, 'twixt sire and son, 
 And there intrudes without ablush, condemned 
 By his own conscious insignificance, 
 No, not, by heaven, to win a diadem !
 
 156 DON CARLOS. 
 
 KING (rising, with an angry look at the Prince). 
 
 Retire, my lord ! 
 
 [ALVA goes to the principal door, through which 
 CARLOS had entered, the KING points to the other. 
 
 No, to the cabinet, 
 Until I call you. 
 
 SCKNE II. 
 
 KING PHILIP. DON CARLOS. 
 
 CARLOS (as soon as the DUKE has left the apartment, 
 advances to the KING, throws himself at his feet, and 
 then, wit/i great emotion). 
 
 My father once again ! 
 
 Thanks, endless thanks, for this unwonted favor! 
 Your hand, my father ! O delightful day ! 
 The rapture of this kiss has long been strange 
 To your poor Carlos. Wherefore have I been 
 Shut from my father's heart ? What have I done ? 
 
 KING. 
 
 Carlos, thou art a novice in these arts 
 P"orbear, I like them not 
 
 CARLOS (rising). 
 
 And is it so ? 
 
 I hear your courtiers in those words, my father ! 
 All is not well, by heaven, all is not true, 
 That a priest says, and a priest's creatures plot. 
 I am not wicked, father; ardent blood 
 Is all my failing; all my crime is youth ; 
 Wicked I am not no, in truth, not wicked ; 
 Though many an impulse wild assails my heart, 
 Yet is it still untainted. 
 
 KING. 
 
 Ay, 'tis pure 
 I know it like thy prayers 
 
 CARLOS. 
 
 Now, then, or never! 
 We are, for once, alone the barrier 
 Of courtly form, that severed sire and son,
 
 DON CARLOS. 157 
 
 FTas fallen ! Now a golden ray of hope 
 Illumes rny soul a sweet presentment 
 Pervades my heart and heaven itself inclines, 
 With choirs of joyous angels, to the earth, 
 And full of soft emotion, the thrice blest 
 Looks down upon this great, this glorious scene ! 
 Pardon, my father ! 
 
 \_IIe falls on his knees before him 
 
 KING. 
 
 Rise, and leave me. 
 
 CARLOS. 
 
 Father 
 KING (tearing himself from him). 
 
 This trifling grows too bold. 
 
 CARLOS. 
 
 A son's devotion 
 Too bold! Alas! 
 
 KING. 
 
 And, to crown all, in tears ! 
 Degraded boy ! Away, and quit my sight ! 
 
 CARLOS. 
 Now, then, or never ! pardon, O my father ! 
 
 KING. 
 
 Away, and leave my sight ! Return to me 
 Disgraced, defeated, from the battle-field, 
 Thy sire shall meet thee with extended arms: 
 But thus in tears, I spurn thee from my feet. 
 A coward's guilt alone should wash its stains 
 In such ignoble streams. The man who weeps 
 Without a blush will ne'er want cause for tears ! 
 
 CARLOS. 
 
 Who is this man? By what mistake of nature 
 Has he thus strayed amongst mankind ? A tear 
 Is man's unerring, lasting attribute. 
 Whose eye is dry was ne'er of woman born ! 
 Oh, teach the eye that ne'er hath overflowed,
 
 158 DON CARLOS. 
 
 The timely science of a tear thou'lt need 
 The moist relief in some dark hour of woe. 
 
 KING. 
 
 Think'st thou to shake thy father's strong mistrust 
 With specious words? 
 
 CARLOS. 
 
 Mistrust ! Then I'll remove it 
 Here will I hang upon my father's breast, 
 Strain at his heart with vigor, till each shred 
 Of that mistrust, which, with a rock's endurance, 
 Clings firmly round it, piecemeal fall away. 
 And who are they who drive me from the king 
 My father's favor ? What requital hath 
 A monk to give a father for a son ? 
 What compensation can the duke supply 
 For a deserted and a childless age? 
 Would'st thou be loved ? Here in this bosom springs 
 A fresher, purer fountain, than e'er flowed 
 From those dark, stagnant, muddy reservoirs, 
 Which Philip's gold must first unlock. 
 
 KING. 
 
 No more, 
 
 Presuming boy ! For know the hearts thou slanderest 
 Are the approved, true servants of my choice. 
 'Tis meet that thou do honor to them. 
 
 CARLOS. 
 
 Never ! 
 
 I know my worth all that your Alva dares 
 That, and much more, can Carlos. What cares he, 
 A hireling ! for the welfare of the realm 
 That never can be his ? What careth he 
 If Philip's hair grow gray with hoary age? 
 Your Carlos would have loved you : Oh, I dread 
 To think that you the royal throne must fill 
 Deserted and alone. 
 
 KING (seemingly struck by this idea, stands in deep 
 thought; after a pause). 
 
 I am alone !
 
 DON CARLOS. 159 
 
 CARLOS (approaching him with eagerness). 
 
 You "have been so till now. Hate me no more, 
 
 And I will love you dearly as a son : 
 
 But hate me now no longer ! Oh, how sweet, 
 
 Divinely sweet it is to feel our being 
 
 Reflected in another's beauteous soul ; 
 
 To see our joys gladden another's cheek, 
 
 Our pains bring anguish to another's bosom, 
 
 Our sorrows till another's eye with tears! 
 
 How sweet, how glorious is it, hand in hand, 
 
 With a dear child, in inmost soul beloved, 
 
 To tread once more the rosy paths of youth, 
 
 And dream life's fond illusions o'er again ! 
 
 How proud to live through endless centuries 
 
 Immortal in the virtues of a son ; 
 
 How sweet to plant what his dear hand shall reap 
 
 To gather what will yield him rich return, 
 
 And guess how high his thanks will one day rise ! 
 
 My father of this early paradise 
 
 Your monks most wisely speak not. 
 
 KING (not without emotion). 
 
 Oh, my son, 
 
 Thou hast condemned thyself in painting thus 
 A bliss this heart hath ne'er enjoyed from thee. 
 
 CARLOS. 
 
 The Omniscient be my judge! You till this hour 
 Have still debarred me from your heart, and all 
 Participation in your royal cares. 
 The heir of Spain has been a very stranger 
 In Spanish land a prisoner in the realm 
 Where he must one day rule. Say, was this just. 
 Or kind? And often have I blushed for shame, 
 An;l stood with eyes abashed, to learn perchance 
 From foreign envoys, or the general rumor, 
 Thy courtly doings at Aranjuez. 
 
 KIXG. 
 
 Thy blood flows far too hotly in thy vehis. 
 Thou would'st but ruki all.
 
 DON CARLOS. 
 CARLOS. 
 
 But try me, father . 
 
 'Tis true my blood flows hotly in my veins. 
 Full three-and-twenty years I now have lived, 
 And naught achieved for immortality. 
 I am aroused I feel my inward powers 
 My title to the throne arouses me 
 P>om slumber, like an angry creditor ; 
 And all the misspent hours of early youth, 
 Like debts of honor, clamor in mine ears. 
 It conies at length, the glorious moment comes 
 That claims full interest on the intrusted talent 
 The annals of the world, ancestral fame, 
 And glory's echoing trumpet urge me on. 
 Now is the blessed hour at length arrived 
 That opens wide to me the list of honor. 
 My king, my father ! dare I utter now 
 The suit which led me hither ? 
 
 KING. 
 
 Still a suit? 
 Unfold it. 
 
 CARLOS. 
 
 The rebellion in Brabant 
 Increases to a height the traitor's madness 
 By stern, but prudent, vigor must be met. 
 The duke, to quell the wild enthusiasm, 
 Invested with the sovereign's power, will lead 
 An army into Planders. Oh, how full 
 Of glory is such office ! and how suited 
 To open wide the temple of renown 
 To me, your son ! To my hand, then, O king, 
 Intrust the army ; in thy Flemish lands 
 I am well loved, and I will freely gage 
 My life for their fidelity and truth. 
 
 KING. 
 
 Thou speakest like a dreamer. This high office 
 Demands a man and not a stripling's arm. 
 
 CARLOS. 
 
 It but demands a human being, father: 
 And that is what Duke Alva ne'er hath been.
 
 DON CARLOS. 161 
 
 KING. 
 
 Terror alone can tie rebellion's hands : 
 Humanity were madness. Thy soft soul 
 Is tender, son : they'll tremble at the duke. 
 Desist from thy request. 
 
 CARLOS. 
 
 Despatch me, sire, 
 
 To Flanders with the army dare rely 
 E'en on my tender soul. The name of prince, 
 The royal name emblazoned on my standard, 
 Conquers where Alva's butchers but dismay. 
 Here on my knees I crave it this the first 
 Petition of my life. Trust Flanders to me. 
 
 KING (contemplating CARLOS with a piercing look). 
 
 Trust my best army to thy thirst for rule, 
 And put a dagger in my murderer's hand ! 
 
 CARLOS. 
 
 Great God ! and is this all is this the fruit 
 Of a momentous hour so long desired ! 
 
 \_After some thought, in a milder tone. 
 Oh, speak to me more kindly send me not 
 Thus comfortless away dismiss me not 
 With this afflicting answer, oh, my father! 
 Use me more tenderly, indeed, I need it. 
 This is the last resource of wild despair 
 it conquers every power of firm resolve 
 To bear it as a man this deep contempt 
 My every suit denied : Let me away 
 Unheard and foiled in all my fondest hopes, 
 I take my leave, Now Alva and Domingo 
 May proudly sit in triumph where your son 
 Lies weeping in the dust. Your crowd of courtiers, 
 And your long train of cringing, trembling nobles, 
 Your tribe of sallow monks, so deadly pale, 
 All witnessed how you granted me this audience. 
 Let me not be disgraced. Oh, strike me not 
 With this most deadly wound nor lay me bare 
 To sneering insolence of menial taunts !
 
 162 DON CARLOS. 
 
 " That strangers riot on your bounty, whilst 
 Curios, your son, may supplicate in vain." 
 And as a pledge that you would have rue honored, 
 Despatch me straight to Flanders with the army. 
 
 KING. 
 
 Urge thy request no farther as thou wouldst 
 Avoid the king's displeasure. 
 
 CARLOS. 
 
 I must brave 
 
 My king's displeasure, and prefer my suit 
 Once more, it is the last. Trust Flanders to me ! 
 I must away from Spain. To linger here 
 Is to draw breath beneath the headsman's axe : 
 The air lies heavy on me in Madrid 
 Like murder on a guilty soul a change, 
 AD instant change of clime alone can cure me. 
 If you would save my life, despatch me straight 
 Without delay to Flanders. 
 
 KING (with affected coldness). 
 
 Invalids, 
 
 Like thee, my son need not be tended close, 
 And ever watched by the physician's eye 
 Thou stayest in Spain the duke will go to Flanders. 
 
 CARLOS (wildly). 
 Assist me, ye good angels ! 
 
 KING (starting). 
 
 Hold, what mean 
 These looks so wild ? 
 
 CARLOS. 
 
 Father, do you abide 
 Immovably by this determination ? 
 
 KING. 
 
 It was the king's. 
 
 CARLOS. 
 
 Then my commission's done. 
 
 [Exit in violent emotion.
 
 DON CARLOS. 163 
 
 SCENE III. 
 
 King, sunk in gloomy contemplation, walks a few steps up and 
 down ; Alva approaches with embarrassment^ 
 
 KING. 
 
 Hold yourself ready to depart for Brussels 
 Upon a moment's notice. 
 
 ALVA. 
 All is prepared, ray liege. 
 
 KING. 
 
 And your credentials 
 Lie ready sealed within my cabinet, 
 Meanwhile obtain an audience of the queen, 
 And bid the prince farewell. 
 
 ALVA. 
 
 As I came in 
 
 I met him with a look of frenzy wild 
 Quitting the chamber; and your majesty 
 Is strangely moved, methinks, and bears the marks 
 Of deep excitement can it be the theme 
 
 Of your discourse 
 
 KING. 
 
 Concerned the Duke of Alva. 
 [ The KING keeps his eye steadfastly fixed on him. 
 I'm pleased that Carlos hates my councillors, 
 But I'm disturbed that he despises them. 
 
 [ALVA, coloring deeply, is about to speak. 
 No answer now : propitiate the prince. 
 
 ALVA. 
 Sire! 
 
 KING. 
 
 Tell me who it was that warned me first 
 Of my son's dark designs? I listened then 
 To you, and not to him. I will have proof. 
 And for the future, mark me, Carlos stands 
 Nearer the throne now duke you may retire. 
 [ The KING retires into his cabinet. Exit DUKE by 
 another door.
 
 164 DON CARLOS. 
 
 SCENE IV. 
 
 The antechamber to the QUEEN'S apartments. DON CARLOS 
 enters in conversation with a PAGE. The attendants retire at 
 his approach. 
 
 CAELOS. 
 
 For me this letter ? And a key ! How's this ? 
 
 And both delivered with such mystery ! 
 
 Come nearer, boy : from whom didst thou receive them ? 
 
 PAGE (mysteriously). 
 
 It seemed to me the lady would be guessed 
 Rather than be described. 
 
 CARLOS (starting). 
 
 The lady, what ! 
 Who art thou, boy ? [Looking earnestly at the PAGE. 
 
 PAGE. 
 
 A page that serves the queen. 
 
 CARLOS (affrighted, putting his hand to the PAGE'S mouth). 
 Hold, on your life ! I know enough : no more. 
 
 \_He tears open the letter hastily, and retires to read 
 it; meanwhile DUKE ALVA comes, and passing the 
 Prince, goes unperceived by him into the QUEEN'S 
 apartment, CARLOS trembles violently and changes 
 color ; when, he has read the letter he remains a long 
 time speechless, his eyes steadfastly fixed on it; at 
 last he turns to the PAGE. 
 She gave you this herself ? 
 
 PAGE. 
 
 With her own hands. 
 CARLOS. 
 
 She gave this letter to you then herself ? 
 Deceive me not : I ne'er have seen her writing, 
 And I must credit thee, if thou canst swear it; 
 But if thy tale be false, confess it straight, 
 Nor put this fraud on me. 
 
 PAGE. 
 
 This fraud, on whom ?
 
 DON CARLOS. 165 
 
 OARLOS (looking once more at the letter, then at the PAGE 
 
 with doubt and earnestness). 
 
 Your parents are they living? and your father 
 Serves he the king ? Is he a Spaniard born ? 
 
 PAGE. 
 
 He fell a colonel on St. Quentin's field, 
 Served in the cavalry of Savoy's duke 
 His name Alonzo, Count of Henarez. 
 
 CARLOS (taking his hand, and looking fixedly in his eyes). 
 The king gave you this letter? 
 
 PAGE (with emotion). 
 
 Gracious prince, 
 Have I deserved these doubts ? 
 
 CARLOS (reading the letter). 
 
 " This key unlocks 
 
 The back apartments in the queen's pavilion, 
 The furthest room lies next a cabinet 
 Wherein no listener's foot dare penetrate; 
 Here may the voice of love without restraint 
 Confess those tender feelings, which till now 
 The heart with silent looks alone hath spoken. 
 The timid lover gains an audience here, 
 And sweet reward repays his secret sorrow." 
 
 [As if awakening from a revene. 
 I am not in a dream, I do not rave, 
 This is my right hand, this my sword and these 
 A/e written words. 'Tis true it is no dream. 
 I am beloved, I feel I am beloved. 
 
 [ Unable to contain himself, he rushes hastily through 
 the room, and raises his arms to heaven. 
 
 PAGE. 
 Follow me, prince, and I will lead the way. 
 
 CARLOS. 
 
 Then let me first collect my scattered thoughts. 
 The alarm of joy still trembles in my bosom. 
 Did I e'er lift my fondest hopes so high, 
 Or trust my fancy to so bold a flight?
 
 i6 DOX CARLOS. 
 
 Show me the man can learn thus suddenly 
 
 To be a god. I am not what I was. 
 
 I feel another heaven another sun 
 
 That was not here before. She loves she loves rnel 
 
 PAGE (leading him forward). 
 But this is not the place : prince ! you forget. 
 
 CARLOS. 
 The king ! My father ! 
 
 [His arms sink, he casts a timid look around, then 
 collecting himself. 
 
 This is dreadful ! Yes, 
 
 You're right, my friend. I thank you : I was not 
 Just then myself. To be compelled to silence, 
 And bury in my heart this mighty bliss, 
 Is terrible ! 
 
 [ Taking the PAGE by the hand, and leading him aside. 
 
 Now here ! What thou hast seen, 
 And what not seen, must be within thy breast 
 Entombed as in the grave. So now depart ; 
 I shall not need thy guidance ; they must not 
 Surprise us here ! Now go. 
 
 [The PAGE is about to depart. 
 
 Yet hold, a word ! 
 [ The PAGE returns. CARLOS lays his hand on his 
 
 shoulder, and looks him steadily in the face. 
 A direful secret hast thou in thy keeping, 
 Which, like a poison of terrific power, 
 Shivers the cup that holds it into atoms. 
 Guard every look of thine, nor let thy head 
 Guess at thy bosom's secret. Be thou like 
 The senseless speaking-trumpet that receives 
 And echoes back the voice, but hears it not. 
 Thou art a boy ! Be ever so ; continue 
 The pranks of youth. My correspondent chose 
 Her messenger of love with prudent skill! 
 The king will ne'er suspect a serpent here. 
 
 PAGE. 
 
 And I, my prince, shall feel right proud to know 
 I am one secret richer than the king.
 
 DON CARLOS. 167 
 
 CARLOS. 
 
 Vain, foolish boy! 'tis this should make thee tremble. 
 
 Approach me ever with a cold respect: 
 
 Ne'er be induced by idle pride to boast 
 
 How gracious is the prince ! No deadlier sin 
 
 Canst thou commit, my son, than pleasing me. 
 
 Whate'er thou hast in future for my ear, 
 
 Give not to words ; intrust not to thy lips, 
 
 Ne'er on that common high road of the thoughts 
 
 Permit thy news to travel. Speak with an eye, 
 
 A finger; I will answer with a look. 
 
 The very air, the light, are Philip's creatures, 
 
 And the deaf walls around are in his pay. 
 
 Some one approaches; fly, we'll meet again. 
 
 \_Tlie QUEEN'S chamber opens, and DUKE ALVA 
 comes out. 
 
 PAGE. 
 Be careful, prince, to find the right apartment. \_Exit 
 
 CARLOS. 
 It is the duke ! Fear not, I'll find the way. 
 
 SCENE V. 
 DON CARLOS. DUKE OP ALVA. 
 
 ALVA (meeting him). 
 Two words, most gracious prince. 
 CARLOS. 
 
 Some other time. [ Going 
 ALVA. 
 
 The place is not the fittest, I confess ; 
 Perhaps your royal highness may be pleased 
 To grant me audience in your private chamber. 
 
 CARLOS. 
 For what ? And why not here ? Only be brief. 
 
 ALVA. 
 
 The special object which has brought me hither, 
 Is to return your highness lowly thanks 
 For your good services.
 
 168 DON CARLOS. 
 
 CARLOS. 
 
 Thanks ! thanks to me 
 For what ? Duke Alva's thanks ! 
 
 ALVA. 
 
 You scarce had left 
 His majesty, ere I received in form 
 Instructions to depart for Brussels. 
 
 CAELOS. 
 
 What! 
 For Brussels ! 
 
 ALVA. 
 
 And to what, most gracious prince, 
 Must I ascribe this favor, but to you 
 Your intercession with the king ? 
 
 CAKLOS. 
 
 Oh, no ! 
 
 Not in the least to me ; but, duke, you travel, 
 So Heaven be with your grace ! 
 
 ALVA. 
 
 And is this all ? 
 
 It seems, indeed, most strange ! And has your highness 
 No further orders, then, to send to Flanders ? 
 
 CARLOS. 
 What should I have ? 
 
 ALVA. 
 
 Not long ago, it seemed, 
 That country's fate required your presence. 
 
 CARLOS. 
 
 How? 
 
 But yes, you're right, it was so formerly ; 
 But now this change is better as it is. 
 
 ALVA. 
 I am amazed 
 
 CARLOS. 
 
 You are an able general, 
 
 No one doubts that envy herself must own it- 
 For me, I'm but a youth so thought the king.
 
 DON CARLOS. 169 
 
 The king was right, quite right. I see it now 
 Myself, and am content and so no more. 
 God speed your journey, as you see, just now 
 My hands are full, and weighty business presses. 
 The rest to-morrow, or whene'er you will, 
 Or when you come from Brussels. 
 
 ALVA. 
 
 What is this? 
 
 CARLOS. 
 
 The season favors, and your route will lie 
 Through Milan, Lorraine. Burgundy, and on 
 To Germany ! What, Germany ? Ay, true, 
 In Germany it was they know you there. 
 'Tis April now, May, June, in July, then, 
 Just so! or, at the latest, soon in August, 
 You will arrive in Brussels, and no doubt 
 We soon shall hear of your victorious deeds. 
 You know the way to win our high esteem, 
 And earn the crown of fame. 
 
 ALVA (s ign ifican tly) . 
 
 Indeed ! condemned 
 By my own conscious insignificance! 
 
 CARLOS. 
 
 You're sensitive, my lord, and with some cause, 
 I own it was not fair to use a weapon 
 Against your grace you were unskilled to wield. 
 
 ALVA. 
 Unskilled ! 
 
 CARLOS. 
 
 'Tis pity I've no leisure now 
 To fight this worthy battle fairly out : 
 But at some other time, we 
 
 ALVA. 
 
 Prince, we both 
 
 Miscalculate but still in opposite ways. 
 You, for example, overrate your age 
 By twenty years, whilst on the other hand, 
 I, by as many, underrate it
 
 170 DON CARLOS. 
 
 CARLOS. 
 
 Well 
 
 ALVA. 
 
 And this suggests the thought, how many nights 
 
 Beside this lovely Lusitanian bride 
 
 Your mother would the king right gladly give 
 
 To buy an arm like this, to aid his crown. 
 
 Full well he knows, far easier is the task 
 
 To make a monarch than a monarchy ; 
 
 Far easier too, to stock the world with kings 
 
 Than frame an empire for a king to rule. 
 
 CARLOS. 
 Most true, Duke Alva, yet 
 
 ALVA. 
 
 And how much blood, 
 
 Your subjects' dearest blood, must flow in streams 
 Before two drops could make a king of you. 
 
 CARLOS. 
 
 Most true, by heaven ! and in two words comprised, 
 All that the pride of merit has to urge 
 Against the pride of fortune. But the moral 
 Now, Duke Alva ! 
 
 ALVA. 
 
 Woe to the nursling babe 
 Of royalty that mocks the careful hand 
 Which fosters it ! How calmly it may sleep 
 On the soft cushion of our victories ! 
 The monarch's crown is bright with sparkling gems, 
 But no eye sees the woun.ls 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. 
 
 CAULOS. 
 
 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
 
 DON CARLOS. 171 
 
 Whereof the memory pains me. I respect 
 
 My father's choice, my father needs an Alva ! 
 
 But that he needs him is not just the point 
 
 I envy in him : a great man you are, 
 
 This may be true, and I well nigh believe it, 
 
 Only I fear your mission is begun 
 
 Some thousand years too soon. Alva, methinks, 
 
 Were just the man to suit the end of time. 
 
 Then when the giant insolence of vice 
 
 Shall have exhausted Heaven's enduring patience, 
 
 And the rich waving harvest of misdeeds 
 
 Stand in full ear, and asks a matchless reaper, 
 
 Then should you fill the post. O God ! my paradise ! 
 
 My Flanders ! But of this I must not think. 
 
 'Tis said you carry with you a full store 
 
 Of sentences of death already signed. 
 
 This shows a prudent foresight ! No more need 
 
 To fear your foes' designs, or secret plots : 
 
 Oh, father ! ill indeed I've understood thee. 
 
 Calling thee harsh, to save me from a post, 
 
 Where Alva's self alone can fitly shine ! 
 
 'Twas an unerring token of your love. 
 
 ALVA. 
 These words deserve 
 
 CARLOS. 
 What! 
 
 ALVA. 
 
 But your birth protects you. 
 
 CARLOS (seizing his sicord). 
 That calls for blood ! Duke, draw your sword ! 
 
 ALVA (slightingly). 
 
 On whom ? 
 CARLOS (pressing upon him). 
 
 Draw, or I run you through. 
 ALVA. 
 
 Then be it so. [ They fight.
 
 172 DON CARLOS. 
 
 SCENE VI. 
 
 The QUEEN, DON CARLOS, DUKE ALVA. 
 QUEEN (coming from her room alarmed}. 
 How! naked swords? 
 
 [ To the PRINCE in an indignant and commanding 
 tone. 
 
 Prince Carlos ! 
 
 CARLOS (agitated at the QUEEN'S look, drops his arm, 
 stands motionless, then rushes to the DUKE, and 
 embraces him. 
 
 Pardon, duke ! 
 Your pardon, sir ! Forget, forgive it all ! 
 
 [ Throics himself in silence at the QUEEN'S feet, then 
 rising suddenly, departs in confusion. 
 
 ALVA. 
 By heaven, 'tis strange ! 
 
 QUEEN (remains a few moments as if in doubt, then retir- 
 ing to her apartment). 
 
 A word with you, Duke Alva. 
 
 {Exit, followed by the DUKE. 
 
 SCENE VII. 
 The PRINCESS EBOLI'S apartment. 
 
 The PRINCESS in a simple, but elegant dress, playing on the lute. 
 The QUEEN'S PAGE enters. 
 
 PRINCESS (starting up suddenly) 
 He comes ! 
 
 PAGE (abruptly). 
 
 Are you alone ? I wonder much 
 He is not here already ; but he must 
 Be here upon the instant. 
 
 PRINCESS. 
 
 Do you say must ! 
 Then he will come, this much is certain then.
 
 DON CARLOS. 173 
 
 PAGE. 
 
 He's close upon my steps. You are beloved, 
 Adored, and with more passionate regard 
 Than mortal ever was, or can be loved. 
 Oh ! what a scene I witnessed ! 
 
 PRINCESS (impatiently draws him to her). 
 
 Quick, you spoke 
 
 With him ! What said he ? Tell me straight 
 How did he look? what were his words? And say 
 Did he appear embarrassed or confused ? 
 And did he guess who sent the key to him ? 
 Be quick ! or did lie not ? He did not guess 
 At all, perhaps ! or guessed amiss ! Come, speak, 
 How ! not a word to answer me ? Oh, fie ! 
 You never were so dull so slow before, 
 'Tis past all patience. 
 
 PAGE. 
 
 Dearest lady, hear me ! 
 
 Both key and note I placed within his hands, 
 In the queen's antechamber, and he started 
 And gazed with wonder when I told him that 
 A lady sent me ! 
 
 PRINCESS. 
 
 Did he start ? go on ! 
 That's excellent. Proceed, what next ensued ? 
 
 PAGE. 
 
 I would have told him more, but he grew pale, 
 And snatched the letter from my hand, and said 
 With look of deadly menace, he knew all. 
 He read the letter with confusion through, 
 And straight began to tremble. 
 
 PRINCESS. 
 
 He knew all ! 
 He knew it all? Were those his very words? 
 
 PAGE. 
 
 He asked me, and again he asked, if you 
 With your own hands had given me the letter?
 
 174 DON CARLOS. 
 
 PRINCESS. 
 
 If I? Then did he mention me by name? 
 
 PAGE. 
 
 By name ! no name he mentioned : there might be 
 Listeners, he said, about the palace, who 
 Might to the king disclose it. 
 
 PRINCESS (surprised). 
 
 Said he that? 
 
 PAGE. 
 
 He further said, it much concerned the king; 
 Deeply concerned to know of that same letter. 
 
 PRINCESS. 
 
 The king ! Nay, are yon sure you heard him right ? 
 The king! Was that the very word lie used ? 
 
 PAGE. 
 
 It was. He called it a most perilous secret, 
 And warned me to be strictly on my guard, 
 Never with word or look to give the king 
 Occasion for suspicion. 
 
 PRINCESS (after a pause, with astonishment). 
 
 All agrees! 
 
 It can be nothing else he must have heard 
 The tale 'tis very strange ! Who could have told him, 
 I wonder who ? The eagle eye of love 
 Alone could pierce so far. But tell me further 
 He read the letter. 
 
 Which, he said, conveyed 
 Such bliss as made him tremble, and till then 
 He had not dared to drenm of. As he spoke 
 The duke, by evil chance, approached the room, 
 And this compelled us 
 
 PRINCESS (angrily). 
 
 What in all the world 
 
 Could bring the duke to him at such a time ? 
 What can detain him ? Why appears he not?
 
 DON CARLOS. 175 
 
 See how you've been deceived ; how truly blest 
 Might he have been already in the time 
 You've taken to describe his wishes to me ! 
 
 PAGE. 
 
 The duke, I fear 
 
 PRINCESS. 
 
 Again, the duke ! What can 
 
 The duke want here ? What should a warrior want 
 With my soft dreams of happiness? He should 
 Have left him there, or sent him from his presence. 
 Where is the man may not be treated thus? 
 But Carlos seems as little versed in love 
 As in a woman's heart lie little knows 
 What minutes are. But hark ! I hear a step ; 
 Away, away ! [PAGE hastens out. 
 
 Where have I laid my lute? 
 I must not seem to wait for him. My song 
 Shall be a signal to him. 
 
 SCENE VIII. 
 
 The PRINCESS, DON CARLOS. 
 
 The PRINCESS has thrown herself upon an ottoman, and 
 plays. 
 
 CARLOS (rushes in; he recognizes the PRINCESS, and stands 
 th under s trucJc) . 
 
 Gracious Heaven ! 
 Where am I ? 
 
 PRINCESS (lets her lute fall, and meeting him). 
 
 What? Prince Carlos! yes, in truth, 
 
 CARLOS. 
 
 Where am I ? Senseless error ; I have missed 
 The right apartment. 
 
 PRINCESS. 
 
 With what dexterous skill 
 Carlos contrives to hit the very room 
 Where ladies sit alone ! 
 
 CARLOS. 
 
 Your pardon, princess ! 
 I found I found the antechamber open.
 
 176 DON CARLOS. 
 
 PRINCESS. 
 
 Can it be possible ? I fastened it 
 Myself ; at least I thought so 
 
 CARLOS. 
 
 Ay ! you thought, 
 
 You only thought so ; rest assured you did not. 
 You meant to lock it, that I well believe : 
 But most assuredly it was not locked. 
 A lute's sweet sounds attracted me, some hand 
 Touched it with skill ; say, was it not a lute ? 
 
 [Looking round inquiringly. 
 
 Yes, there it lies, and Heaven can bear me witness 
 I love the lute to madness. I became 
 All ear, forgot myself in the sweet strain, 
 And rushed into the chamber to behold 
 The lovely eyes of the divine musician 
 Who charmed me with the magic of her tones. 
 
 PRINCESS. 
 
 Innocent curiosity, no doubt ! 
 But it was soon appeased, as I can prove. 
 
 [After a short silence, significantly. 
 I must respect the modesty that has, 
 To spare a woman's blushes, thus involved 
 Itself in so much fiction. 
 
 CARLOS (with sincerity). 
 
 Nay, I feel 
 
 I but augment my deep embarrassment, 
 In vain attempt to extricate myself. 
 Excuse me for a part I cannot play. 
 In this remote apartment, you perhaps 
 Have sought a refuge from the world, to pour 
 The inmost wishes of your secret heart 
 Remote from man's distracting eye. By me, 
 Unhappy that I am, your heavenly dreams 
 Are all disturbed, and the atonement now 
 Must be my speedy absence. [ Going. 
 
 PRINCESS (surprised and confused, but immediately 
 recovering herself). 
 
 Oh! that step 
 Were cruel, prince, indeed !
 
 DON CARLOS. 177 
 
 CARLOS. 
 
 Princess, I feel 
 
 What such a look in such a place imports : 
 This virtuous embarrassment has claims 
 To which my manhood never can be deaf. 
 Woe to the wretch whose boldness takes new fire 
 From the pure blush of maiden modesty ! 
 I am a coward when a woman trembles. 
 
 PRINCESS. 
 
 Is't possible ? such noble self-control 
 In one so young, and he a monarch's son ! 
 Now, prince, indeed you shall remain with me, 
 It is my own request, and you must stay. 
 Near such high virtue, every maiden fear 
 Takes wing at once ; but your appearance here 
 Disturbed me in a favorite air, and now 
 Your penalty shall be to hear me sing it. 
 
 CARLOS (sits down near the PRINCESS, not without 
 reluctance). 
 
 A penalty delightful as the sin ! 
 And sooth to say, the subject of the song 
 Was so divine, again and yet again 
 I'd gladly hear it. 
 
 PRINCESS. 
 
 What! you heard it all? 
 
 Nay, that was too bad, prince. It was, I think, 
 A song of love. 
 
 CARLOS. 
 
 And of successful love, 
 If I mistake not dear delicious theme 
 From those most beauteous lips but scarce so true, 
 Methinks, as beautiful. 
 
 PRINCESS. 
 
 What ! not so true ? 
 Then do you doubt the tale ? 
 
 CARLOS. 
 
 I almost doubt 
 That Carlos and the Princess Eboli,
 
 178 DON CARLOS. 
 
 When they discourse on such a theme as love, 
 May not quite understand each other's* hearts. 
 
 [ The PRINCESS starts ; he observes it, and con- 
 tinues with play fid gallantry. 
 Who would believe those rosy-tinted cheeks 
 Concealed a heart torn by the pangs of love. 
 Is it within the range of wayward chance 
 That the fair Princess Eboli should sigh 
 Unheard unanswered ? Love is only known 
 By him who hopelessly persists in love. 
 
 PRINCESS (with all her former vivacity). 
 
 Hush ! what a dreadful thought ! this fate indeed 
 Appears to follow you of all mankind, 
 Especially to-day. 
 
 {Taking his hand irith 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 a flame ; 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 w r ith gifts 
 To render thousands happy, gift*} which she 
 Bestows on few that such a man as this 
 Should know what misery is ! Thou, gracious Heaver, 
 That gavest him all those blessings, why deny 
 Him eyes to see the conquests he has made ?
 
 DON CARLOS. 179 
 
 CARLOS (who has been lost in absence of mind, suddenly 
 recovers himself by the silence of the PRINCESS, and 
 starts up). 
 
 Charming! inimitable! Princess, sing 
 That passage, pray, again. 
 
 PRINCESS (looking at him with astonishment). 
 
 Where, Carlos, were 
 Your thoughts the while ? 
 
 CARLOS (jumps up). 
 
 By heaven, you do remind me 
 In proper time I must away and quickly. 
 
 PRINCESS (holding him back). 
 Whither away ? 
 
 CARLOS. 
 
 Into the open air. 
 
 Nay, do not hold me, princess, for I feel 
 As though the world behind me were in flames. 
 
 PRINCESS (holding him forcibly back). 
 
 What troubles you ? Whence comes these strange, these 
 
 wild, 
 Unnatural looks ? Nay, answer me ! 
 
 [CARLOS stops to reflect, she draws him to the sofa 
 to her. 
 
 Dear Carlos, 
 
 You need repose, your blood is feverish. 
 Come, sit by me : dispel these gloomy fancies. 
 Ask yourself frankly can your head explain 
 The tumult of your heart and if it can 
 Say, can no knight be found in all the court, 
 No lady, generous as fair, to cure you 
 Rather, I should have said, to understand you ? 
 What, no one ? 
 
 CARLOS (hastily, without thinking). 
 If the Princess Eboli 
 
 PRINCESS (delighted, quickly). 
 Indeed !
 
 180 DON CARLOS. 
 
 CARLOS. 
 
 Would write a letter for me, a few words 
 
 Of kindly intercession to my father ; 
 
 They say your influence is great. 
 
 PRINCESS. 
 
 Who says so ? 
 Ha! was it jealousy that held thee mute! \_Aside 
 
 CARLOS. 
 
 Perchance my story is already public. 
 I had a sudden wish to visit Brabant 
 Merely to win my spurs no more. The king, 
 Kind soul, is fearful the fatigues of war 
 Might spoil my singing ! 
 
 PRINCESS. 
 
 Prince, you play me false ! 
 Confess that by this serpent subterfuge 
 You would mislead me. Look me in the face, 
 Deceitful one ! and say would he whose thoughts 
 Were only bent on warlike deeds would he 
 E'er stoop so low as, with deceitful hand, 
 To steal fair ladies' ribbons when they drop, 
 And then your pardon! hoard them with such care? 
 [ With light action she opens his shirt-frill, and 
 seizes a ribbon ichich is there concealed. 
 
 CARLOS (drawing back with amazement}. 
 Nay, princess that's too much I am betrayed. 
 You're not to be deceived. You are in league 
 With spirits and with demons ! 
 
 PRINCESS. 
 
 Are you then 
 
 Surprised at this ? What will you wager, Carlos 
 But I recall some stories to your heart ? 
 Nay, try it with me ; ask whate'er you please, 
 And if the triflings of my sportive fancy 
 The sound half-uttered by the air absorbed 
 The smile of joy checked by returning gloom 
 
 If motions looks from your own soul concealed
 
 DON CARLOS. 181 
 
 Have not escaped ray notice judge if I 
 
 Can- err when thou wouldst have me understand thee ? 
 
 CARLOS. 
 
 Why, this is boldly ventured ; I accept 
 The \vager, princess. Then you undertake 
 To make discoveries in my secret heart 
 Unknown even to myself. 
 
 PRINCESS (displeased, but earnestly). 
 
 Unknown to thee ! 
 
 Reflect a moment, prince ! Nay, look around ; 
 This boudoir's not the chamber of the queen, 
 Where small deceits are practised with full license. 
 You start, a sudden blush o'erspreads your face. 
 Who is so bold, so idle, you would ask, 
 As to watch Carlos when lie deems himself 
 From scrutiny secure ? Who was it, then, 
 At the last palace-ball observed you leave 
 The queen, your partner, standing in the dance, 
 And join, with eager haste, the neighboring couple, 
 To offer to the Princess Eboli 
 
 The hand your royal partner should have claimed? 
 An error, prince, his majesty himself, 
 Who just then entered the apartment, noticed. 
 
 CARLOS (with ironical smile). 
 
 His majesty? And did he really so? 
 Of all men he should not have seen it. 
 
 PRINCESS. 
 
 Nor yet that other scene within the chapel, 
 Which doubtless Carlos hath long since forgotten. 
 Prostrate before the holy Virgin's image, 
 You lay in prayer, when suddenly you heard 
 'T\vas 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 ectasy of passion, prince the scene 
 Was truly touching for you seized the hand,
 
 182 DON CARLOS. 
 
 The blessed Virgin's cold and holy hand, 
 
 And showered your burning kisses on the marble. 
 
 CAKLOS. 
 Princess, you wrong me : that was pure devotion ! 
 
 PRINCESS. 
 
 Indeed ! that's quite another thing. Perhaps 
 It was the fear of losing, then, at cards, 
 When you were seated with the queen and me, 
 And you with dexterous skill purloined my glove. 
 
 [CARLOS starts surprised. 
 That prompted you to play it for a card ? 
 
 CARLOS. 
 
 What words are these ? O Heaven, what have I done ? 
 PRINCESS. 
 
 Nothing I hope of which you need repent ! 
 How pleasantly was I surprised to find 
 Concealed within the glove a little note, 
 Full of the warmest tenderest romance, 
 
 CARLOS (interrupting her suddenly). 
 Mere poetry ! no more. My fancy teems 
 With idle bubbles oft, which break as soon 
 As they arise and this was one of them; 
 So, prithee, let us talk of it no more. 
 
 PRINCESS (leaving him with astonishment, and regarding 
 
 him for some time at a. distance. 
 I am exhausted all attempts are vain 
 To hold this youth. He still eludes my grasp. 
 
 [Remains silent a few moments. 
 But stay ! Perchance 'tis man's unbounded pride, 
 That thus to add a zest to my delight. 
 Assumes a mask of timid diffidence. 
 'Tis so. 
 
 [She approaches the PRINCE again, and* looks at 
 Mm doubtingly. 
 
 Explain yourself, prince, I entreat you. 
 For here I stand before a magic casket, 
 Which all my keys are powerless to unlock.
 
 DON CARLOS. 183 
 
 CARLOS. 
 
 As I before you stand. 
 
 PRINCESS (leaves him suddenly, walks a few steps up and 
 down in silence, apparently lost in deep thought. Ajler 
 a pause, gravely and solemnly). 
 
 Then thus at last 
 
 I must resolve to speak, and Carlos, you 
 Shall be my judge. Yours is a noble nature, 
 You are a prince a knight a man of honor. 
 I throw myself upon your heart protect me : 
 Or if I'm lost beyond redemption's power, 
 Give me your tears in pity for my fate. 
 
 [ The PRINCE draws nearer. 
 A daring favorite of the king demands 
 My hand his name Ruy Gomez, Count of Silva, 
 The king consents the bargain has been struck, 
 And I am sold already to his creature. 
 
 CARLOS (with evident emotion). 
 Sold ! you sold ! Another bargain, then, 
 Concluded by this royal southern trader ! 
 
 PRINCESS. 
 
 No ; but hear all 'tis not enough that I 
 Am sacrificed to cold state policy, 
 A snare is laid to entrap my innocence. 
 Here is a letter will unmask the saint ! 
 
 [CARLOS takes the paper, and without reading it 
 
 listens with impatience to her recital. 
 Where shall I find protection, prince? Till now 
 My virtue was defended by my pride, 
 
 At length 
 
 CARLOS. 
 
 At length you yielded ! Yielded ? No. 
 For God's sake say not so ! 
 
 PRINCESS. 
 
 Yielded ! to whom ? 
 
 Poor piteous reasoning. Weak beyond contempt 
 Your haughty minds, who hold a woman's favor, 
 And love's pure joys, as wares to traffic for !
 
 184 DON CARLOS. 
 
 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 unen joyed like that proud merchant 
 Whom not the wealth of all the rich Kialto 
 Could tempt a great rebuke to kings ! to save 
 From the deep ocean waves his matchless pearl, 
 Too proud to barter it beneath its worth ! 
 
 CARLOS (aside). 
 Now, by great heaven, this woman's beautiful, 
 
 PRINCESS. 
 
 Call it caprice or pride, I ne'er will make 
 Division of my joys. To him, alone, 
 I choose as mine, I give up all forever. 
 One only sacrifice I make ; but that 
 Shall be eternal. One true heart alone 
 My love shall render happy : but that one 
 I'll elevate to God. The keen delight 
 Of mingling souls the kiss the swimming joys 
 Of that delicious hour when lovers meet, 
 The magic power of heavenly beauty all 
 Are sister colors of a single ray 
 Leaves of one single blossom. Shall I tear 
 One petal from this sweet, this lovely flower, 
 With reckless hand, and mar its beauteous chalice? 
 Shall I degrade the dignity of woman, 
 The masterpiece of the Almighty's hand, 
 To charm the evening of a reveller ? 
 
 CARLOS. 
 
 Incredible! that in Madrid should dwell 
 This matchless creature ! and unknown to me 
 Until this day. 
 
 PRINCESS. 
 
 Long since had I forsaken 
 
 This court the world and in some blest retreat 
 Immured myself; but one tie binds me still 
 Too firmly to existence. Perhaps alas !
 
 DON CARLOS. 185 
 
 'Tis but a phantom but 'tis dear to me. 
 I love but am not loved in turn. 
 
 CAKLOS (full of ardor, going towards her). 
 
 You are ! 
 
 As true as God is throned in heaven ! I swear 
 You are you are unspeakably beloved. 
 
 PRINCESS. 
 
 You swear it, you ! sure 'twas an angel's voice. 
 Oh, it' you swear it, Carlos, I'll believe it. 
 Then I am truly loved ! 
 
 CARLOS (embracing her with tenderness). 
 
 Bewitching maid, 
 Thou creature worthy of idolatry ! 
 I stand before thee now all eye, all ear, 
 All rapture and delight. What eye hath seen thee 
 Under yon heaven what eye could e'er have seen thee, 
 And boast he never loved ? What dost thou here 
 In Philip's royal court ! Thou beauteous angel ! 
 Here amid monks and all their princely train. 
 This is no clime for such a lovely flower 
 They fain would rifle all thy sweets full well 
 I know their hearts. But it shall never be 
 Not whilst I draw life's breath. I fold thee thus 
 Within my arms, and in these hands I'll bear thee 
 E'en through a hell replete with mocking fiends. 
 Let me thy guardian angel prove. 
 
 PRINCESS (with a countenance full of love). 
 
 O Carlos ! 
 
 How little have I known thee ! and how richly 
 With measureless reward thy heart repays 
 The weighty task of comprehending thee ! 
 
 [She takes his hand and is about to kiss it. 
 
 CARLOS (drawing it back), 
 Princess ! What mean you ? 
 
 PRINCESS (with tendernesss and grace, looking at his hand 
 attentively). 
 
 Oh, this beauteous hand! 
 How lovely 'tis, and rich ! This hand has yet
 
 186 DON CARLOS. 
 
 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 ! 'Tvvere better, prince, 
 Then to divide the treasure and at once 
 What says my prince ? Have you done so already? 
 Have you in truth? And do I know the blest one? 
 
 CARLOS. 
 
 Thou shalt. I will unfold myself to thee, 
 
 To thy unspotted innocence, dear maid, 
 
 Thy pure, unblemished nature. In this court 
 
 Thou art the worthiest first the only one 
 
 To whom this soul has stood revealed. Then, yes I 
 
 I will not now conceal it yes, I love ! 
 
 PRINCESS. 
 
 Oh, cruel heart! Does this avowal prove 
 So painful to thee ? Must I first deserve 
 Thy pity ere I hope to win thy love? 
 
 CAKLOS (starting). 
 What say'st thou ? 
 
 PRINCESS. 
 
 So to trifle with me, prince ! 
 Indeed it was not well and to deny 
 The key ! 
 
 CARLOS. 
 
 The key ! the key ! Oh yes, 'tis so ! 
 
 \_After a dead silence. 
 I see it all too plainly ! Gracious heaven ! 
 
 [His knees totter, he leans against a chair, and covers 
 his face with his hands. A long silence on both 
 sides. The PRINCESS screams and falls. 
 
 PRINCESS. 
 
 Oh, horrible ! What have I done !
 
 DON CARLOS. 187 
 
 CARLOS. 
 
 Hurled down 
 So far from all my heavenly joys ! 'Tis dreadful ! 
 
 PRINCESS (hiding her face in the cushion). 
 Oh, God ! What have I said ? 
 
 CARLOS (kneeling before her). 
 
 I am not guilty. 
 
 My passion an unfortunate mistake 
 By heaven, I am not guilty 
 
 PRINCESS (pushing him from her). 
 
 Out of my sight, 
 For heaven's sake ! 
 
 CARLOS. 
 
 No, I will not leave thee thus. 
 In this dread anguish leave thee 
 
 PRINCESS (pushing him forcibly away). 
 
 Oh, in pity 
 
 For mercy's sake, away out of my sight ! 
 Wouldst thou destroy me? How I hate thy presence! 
 
 [CARLOS going. 
 
 Give, give me back the letter and the key. 
 Where is the other letter ? 
 
 CARLOS. 
 
 The other letter ? 
 What other ? 
 
 PRINCESS. 
 
 That from the king, to me 
 
 CARLOS (terrified). 
 
 From whom? 
 PRINCESS. 
 
 The one I just now gave you. 
 
 CARLOS. 
 
 From the king ! 
 To you!
 
 188 DON CARLOS. 
 
 PRINCESS. 
 
 Oh, heavens, how dreadfully have I 
 Involved myself ! The letter, sir ! I must 
 Have it again. 
 
 CARLOS. 
 
 The letter from the king ! 
 To you ! 
 
 PRINCESS. 
 
 The letter ! give it, I implore you 
 By all that's sacred ! give it. 
 
 CARLOS. 
 
 What, the letter 
 That will unmask the saint ! Is this the letter ? 
 
 PRINCESS. 
 Now I'm undone ! Quick, give it me 
 
 CARLOS. 
 
 The letter 
 
 PRINCESS (wringing her hands in despair). 
 What have I done ? O dreadful, dire imprudence ! 
 
 CARLOS. 
 
 This letter comes, then, from the king ! Princess, 
 That changes all indeed, and quickly, too. 
 This letter is beyond all value priceless! 
 All Philip's crowns are worthless, and too poor 
 To win it from my hands. I'll keep this letter. 
 
 PRINCESS (throwing herself prostrate before him as 
 
 he is going). 
 Almighty Heaven ! then I am lost forever. 
 
 {Exit CARLOS, 
 
 SCENE IX. 
 The PRINCESS alone. 
 
 She seems overcome with surprise, and is confounded. 
 After CARLOS' departure she hastens to call him back. 
 
 PRINCESS. 
 
 Prince, but one word ! Prince, hear me. He is gone. 
 And this, too, I am doomed to bear his scorn \
 
 DON CAELOS. 189 
 
 And I am left in lonely wretchedness, 
 Rejected and despised ! 
 
 [Sinks down upon a chair. After a pause 
 
 And yet not so ; 
 
 I'm but displaced supplanted by some wanton. 
 He loves ! of that no longer doubt is left ; 
 He has himself confessed it but my rival 
 Who can she be? Happy, thrice happy one! 
 This much stands clear : he loves where he should not 
 He dreads discovery, and from the king 
 He hides his guilty passion ! Why from him 
 Who would so gladly hail it? Or, is it not 
 The father that he dreads so in the parent? 
 When the king's wanton purpose was disclosed, 
 His features glowed witli triumph, boundless joy 
 Flashed in his eyes, his rigid virtue fled ; 
 Why was it mute in such a cause as this? 
 Why should he triumph? What hath he to gain 
 
 If Philip to his queen 
 
 [She stops suddenly, as if struck by a thought, 
 then drawing hastily from her bosom the rib- 
 bon which she had taken from CARLOS, she 
 seems to recognize it. 
 
 Fool that I am ! 
 
 At length 'tis plain. Where have my senses been ? 
 My eyes are opened now. They loved each other 
 Long before Philip wooed her, and the prince 
 Ne'er saw me but with her ! She, she alone 
 Was in his thoughts when I believed myself 
 The object of his true and boundless love. 
 O matchless error ! and have I betrayed 
 My weakness to her ? [Pauses. 
 
 Should his love prove hopeless? 
 Who can believe it ? Would a hopeless love 
 Persist in such a struggle ? Called to revel 
 In joys for which a monarch sighs in vain ! 
 A hopeless love makes no such sacrifice. 
 What fire was in his kiss ! How tenderly 
 He pressed my bosom to his beating heart! 
 Well nigh the trial had proved dangerous 
 To his romantic, unrequited passion!
 
 190 DON CARLOS. 
 
 With joy he seized the key he fondly thought 
 
 The queen had sent: in this gigantic stride 
 
 Of love he puts full credence and he comes 
 
 In very truth conies here and so imputes 
 
 To Philip's wife a deed so madly rash. 
 
 And would he so, had love not made him bold ? 
 
 'Tis clear as day his suit is heard she loves! 
 
 By heaven, this saintly creature burns with passion ; 
 
 How subtle, too, she is ! With fear I trembled 
 
 Before this lofty paragon of virtue ! 
 
 She towered beside me, an exalted being, 
 
 And in her beams I felt myself eclipsed ; 
 
 I envied her the lovely, cloudless calm, 
 
 That kept her soul from earthly tumults free. 
 
 And was this soft serenity but show ? 
 
 Would she at both feasts revel, holding up 
 
 Her virtue's godlike splendor to our gaze, 
 
 And riot in the secret joys of vice ? 
 
 And shall the false dissembler cozen thus, 
 
 And win a safe immunity from this 
 
 That no avenger comes ? By heavens she shall not ! 
 I once adored her, that demands revenge: 
 The king shall know her treachery the king ! 
 
 [After a pause. 
 'Tis the sure way to win the monarch's ear ! \_Exit. 
 
 SCENE X. 
 
 A chamber in the royal palace. 
 DUKE OF ALVA, FATHER DOMINGO. 
 
 DOMINGO. 
 Something to tell me ! 
 
 ALVA. 
 
 Ay ! a thing of moment, 
 Of which I made discovery to-day, 
 And I would have your judgment on it. 
 
 DOMINGO. 
 
 How! 
 Discovery ! To what do you allude ?
 
 DON CARLOS. 191 
 
 ALVA. 
 
 Prince Carlos and myself this morning met 
 
 In the queen's antechamber. I received 
 
 An insult from him we were both in heat 
 
 The strife grew loud and we had drawn our swords. 
 
 Alarmed, from her apartments rushed the queen. 
 
 She stepped between us, with commanding eye 
 
 Of conscious power, she looked upon the prince. 
 
 'Twas but a single glance, but his arm dropped, 
 
 He fell upon my bosom gave me then 
 
 A warm embrace, and vanished. 
 
 DOMIXGO (after a pause). 
 
 This seems strange. 
 
 It brings a something to my mind, my lord ! 
 And thoughts like these I own have often sprung 
 Within my breast ; but I avoid such fancies 
 To no one have I e'er confided them. 
 There are such things as double-edged swords 
 And untrue friends, I fear them both. 'Tis hard 
 To judge among mankind, but still more hard 
 To know them thoroughly. Words slipped at random 
 Are confidants offended therefore I 
 Buried my secret in my breast, till time 
 Should drag it forth to light. 'Tis dangerous 
 To render certain services to kings. 
 They are the bolts, which if they miss the mark, 
 Recoil upon the archer ! I could swear 
 Upon the sacrament to what I saw. 
 Yet one eye-witness one word overheard 
 A scrap of paper would weigh heavier far 
 Than my most strong conviction ! Cursed fate 
 That we are here in Spain ! 
 
 ALVA. 
 
 And why in Spain? 
 DOMIXGO. 
 
 There is a chance in every court but this 
 For passion to forget itself, and fall. 
 Here it is warned by ever-wakeful laws. 
 Our Spanish queens would find it hard to sin-*
 
 192 DON CARLOS. 
 
 And only there do they meet obstacles, 
 
 Where best 'twould serve our purpose to surprise them. 
 
 ALVA. 
 
 But listen further : Carlos had to-day 
 An audience of the king; the interview 
 Lusted an hour, and earnestly he sought 
 The government of Flanders for himself. 
 Loudly he begged, and fervently. I heard him 
 In the adjoining cabinet. His eyes 
 Were red with tears when I encountered him. 
 At noon he wore a look of lofty triumph, 
 And vowed his joy at the king's choice of me. 
 He thanked the king. "Matters are changed," he said, 
 "And things go better now." He's no dissembler: 
 How shall I reconcile such contradictions? 
 The prince exults to see himself rejected, 
 And I receive a favor from the king 
 With marks of anger! What must I believe? 
 In truth this new-born dignity doth sound 
 Much more like banishment than royal favor! 
 
 DOMIXGO. 
 
 And is it come to this at last ? to this ? 
 And has one moment crumbled into dust 
 What cost us years to build ? And you so calm, 
 So perfectly at ease ! Know you this youth ? 
 Do you foresee the fate we may expect 
 Should he attain to power? The prince! No foe 
 Am I of his. Far other cares than these 
 Gnaw at my rest cares for the throne for God, 
 And for his holy church! The royal prince 
 (I know him, I can penetrate his soul), 
 Mas formed a horrible design, Toledo ! 
 The wild design to make himself the regent, 
 And set aside our pure and sacred faith. 
 His bosom glows with some new-fangled virtue, 
 Which, proud and self-sufficient, scorns to rest 
 For strength on any creed. He dares to think ! 
 His brain is all on fire with wild chimeras; 
 He reverences the people ! And is this 
 A man to be our king?
 
 DON CARLOS. 193 
 
 ALVA. 
 
 Fantastic dreams ! 
 
 No more. A boy's ambition, too, perchance 
 To play some lofty part! What can he less? 
 These thoughts will vanish when he's called to rule. 
 
 DOMINGO. 
 
 I doubt it ! Of his freedom he is proud, 
 And scorns those strict restraints all men must bear 
 Who hope to govern others. Would he suit 
 Our throne ? His bold gigantic mind 
 
 O O 
 
 Would burst the barriers of our policy. 
 
 In vain I sought to enervate his soul 
 
 In the loose joys of this voluptuous age. 
 
 He stood the trial. Fearful is the spirit 
 
 That rules this youth ; and Philip soon will see 
 
 His sixtieth year. 
 
 ALVA. 
 Your vision stretches far I 
 
 DOMINGO. 
 
 He and the queen are both alike in this. 
 Already works, concealed in either breast, 
 The poisonous wish for change and innovation. 
 Give it but way, 'twill quickly reach the throne. 
 I know this Valois ! We may tremble for 
 The secret vengeance of this quiet foe 
 If Philip's weakness hearken to her voice ! 
 Fortune so far hath smiled upon us. Now 
 We must anticipate the foe, and both 
 Shall fall together in one fatal snare. 
 Let but a hint of such a thing be dropped 
 Before the king, proved or unproved, it recks not 
 Our point is gained if he but waver. We 
 Ourselves have not a doubt ; and once convinced, 
 'Tis easy to convince another's mind. 
 Be sure we shall discover more if we 
 Start with the faith that more remains concealed. 
 
 ALVA. 
 
 But soft ! A vital question ! Who is he 
 Will undertake the task to tell the king?
 
 194 DON CARLOS. 
 
 DOMINGO. 
 
 Nor you, nor I ! Now shall you learn, what long 
 
 My busy spirit, full of its design, . 
 
 Has been at work with, to achieve its ends. 
 
 Still is there wanting to complete our league 
 
 A third important personage. The king 
 
 Loves the young Princess Eboli and I 
 
 Foster this passion for my own designs. 
 
 I am his go-between. She shall be schooled 
 
 Into our plot. If my plan fail me not, 
 
 In this young lady shall a close ally 
 
 A very queen, bloom for us. She herself 
 
 Asked me, but now, to meet her in this chamber. 
 
 I'm full of hope. And in one little night 
 
 A Spanish maid may blast this Valois lily. 
 
 ALVA. 
 
 What do you say! Can I have heard aright? 
 By Heaven ! I'm all amazement. Compass this, 
 And I'll bow down to thee, Dominican ! 
 The day's our own. 
 
 DOMINGO. 
 
 Soft ! Some one comes : 'tis she 
 'Tis she herself 1 
 
 ALVA. 
 Fm in the adjoining room 
 
 If you should 
 
 DOMINGO. 
 Be it so : I'll call you in. [Exit ALVA. 
 
 SCENE XI. 
 PRINCESS, DOMINGO. 
 
 DOMINGO. 
 At your command, princess. 
 
 PRINCESS. 
 
 We are perhaps 
 Not quite alone ? \JLooking inquisitively after the DUKE. 
 
 You have, as I observe, 
 A witness still by you.
 
 DON CARLOS. 195 
 
 DOMINGO. 
 
 How? 
 
 PRINCESS. 
 
 Who was he, 
 That left your side but now ? 
 
 DOMINGO. 
 
 It was Duke Alva. 
 
 Most gracious princess, he requests you will 
 Admit him to an audience after me. 
 
 PRINCESS. 
 
 Duke Alva ! How ? What can he want with me ? 
 You can, perhaps, inform me? 
 
 DOMINGO. 
 
 I? and that 
 
 Before I learn to what important chance 
 I owe the favor, long denied, to stand 
 Before the Princess Eboli once more ? 
 
 [Pauses awaiting her answer. 
 Has any circumstance occured at last 
 To favor the king's wishes ? Have my hopes 
 Been not in vain, that more deliberate thought 
 Would reconcile you to an offer which 
 Caprice alone and waywardness could spurn? 
 I seek your presence full of expectation 
 
 PRINCESS. 
 
 Was my last answer to the king conveyed ? 
 DOMINGO. 
 
 I have delayed to inflict this mortal wound. 
 There still is time, it rests with you, princess, 
 To mitigate its rigor. 
 
 PRINCESS. 
 
 Tell the king 
 That I expect him. 
 
 DOMINGO. 
 
 May I, lovely princess, 
 Indeed accept this as your true reply?
 
 196 DON CARLOS. 
 
 PRINCESS. 
 
 I do not jest. By heaven, you make me tremble ! 
 What have I done to make e'en you grow pale ? 
 
 DOMINGO. 
 
 Nay, lady, this surprise so sudden I 
 Can scarcely comprehend it. 
 
 PRINCESS. 
 
 Reverend sir ! 
 
 You shall not comprehend it. Not for all 
 The world would 1 you comprehended it. 
 Enough for you it is so spare yourself 
 The trouble to investigate in thought, 
 Whose eloquence hath wrought this wondrous change. 
 But for your comfort let me add, you have 
 No hand in this misdeed, nor has the church. 
 Although you've proved that cases might arise 
 Wherein the church, to gain some noble end, 
 Might use the persons of her youthful daughters ! 
 Such reasonings move not me ; such motives, pure, 
 Right reverend sir, are far too high for me. 
 
 
 
 DOMINGO. 
 
 When they become superfluous, your grace, 
 I willingly retract them. 
 
 PRINCESS. 
 
 Seek the king, 
 
 And ask him as from me, that he will not 
 Mistake me in this business. What I have been 
 That am I still. 'Tis but the course of things 
 Has changed. When I in anger spurned his suit, 
 I decMned him truly happy in possessing 
 Earth's fairest queen. I thought his faithful wife 
 Deserved my sacrifice. 1 thought so then, 
 But now I'm undeceived. 
 
 DOMINGO. 
 
 Princess, go on ! 
 I hear it all we understand each other.
 
 DON CARLOS. 197 
 
 PKINCESS. 
 
 Enough. She is found out. I will not spare her. 
 
 The hypocrite's unmasked ! She has deceived 
 
 The kiug, all Spain, and me. She loves, I know 
 
 She loves ! I can bring proofs that w ill make you tremble. 
 
 The king has been deceived but he shall not, 
 
 By heaven, go unrevenged ! The saintly mask 
 
 Of pure and superhuman self-denial 
 
 I'll tear from her deceitful brow, that all 
 
 May see the forehead of the shameless sinner. 
 
 'Twill cost me dear, but here my triumph lies, 
 
 That it will cost her infinitely more. 
 
 DOMINGO. 
 
 Now all is ripe, let me call in the duke. 
 
 [ Goes out. 
 PRINCESS (astonished). 
 
 What means all this ? 
 
 SCENE XII. 
 The PBINCESS, DUKE ALVA, DOMINGO. 
 
 DOMINGO (leading the DUKE in). 
 
 Our tidings, good my lord, 
 Come somewhat late. The Princess Eboli 
 Reveals to us a secret we had meant 
 Ourselves to impart to her. 
 
 ALVA. 
 
 My visit, then, 
 
 Will not so much surprise her, but I never 
 Trust my own eyes in these discoveries. 
 They need a woman's more discerning glance. 
 
 PRINCESS. 
 Discoveries ! How mean you ? 
 
 DOMINGO. 
 
 Would we knew 
 What place and fitter season you
 
 198 DON CARLOS. 
 
 PRINCESS. 
 
 Just so! 
 
 To-morrow noon I will expect you both. 
 Reasons I have why this clandestine guilt 
 Should from the king no longer be concealed. 
 
 ALVA. 
 
 'Tis this that brings us here. The king must know it 
 And he shall hear the news from you, princess, 
 From you alone : for to what tongue would he 
 Afford such ready credence as to yours, 
 Friend and companion ever of his spouse? 
 
 DOMINGO. 
 
 As yours, who more than any one at will 
 Can o'er him exercise supreme command. 
 
 . ALVA. 
 
 I am the prince's open enemy. 
 DOMINGO. 
 
 And that is what the world believes of me. 
 
 The Princess Eboli's above suspicion. 
 
 We are compelled to silence, but your duty, 
 
 The duty of your office, calls on you 
 
 To speak. The king shall not escape our hands. 
 
 Let your hints rouse him, we'll complete the work. 
 
 ALVA. 
 
 It must be done at once, without delay ; 
 Each moment now is precious. In an hour 
 The order may arrive for my departure. 
 
 DOMINGO (after a short pause, turns to the PRINCESS). 
 
 Cannot some letters be discovered ? Truly, 
 An intercepted letter from the prince 
 
 Would work with rare effect. Ay ! let me see 
 
 Is it not so? You sleep, princess, I think, 
 In the same chamber with her majesty? 
 
 PRINCESS. 
 The next to hers. But of what use is that?
 
 DON CARLOS. 199 
 
 DOMINGO. 
 
 Oh, for some skill in locks ! Have you observed 
 Where she is wont to keep her casket key ? 
 
 PRINCESS (in thought). 
 
 Yes, that might lead to something; yes, I think 
 The key is to be found. 
 
 DOMINGO. 
 
 Letters, you know, 
 
 Need messengers. Her retinue is large ; 
 Who do you think could put us on the scent ? 
 Gold can do much. 
 
 ALVA. 
 
 Can no one tell us whether 
 The prince has any trusty confidant ? 
 
 DOMINGO. 
 Not one ; in all Madrid not one. 
 
 ALVA. 
 
 That's strange ! 
 DOMINGO. 
 
 Rely on me in this. He holds in scorn 
 The universal court. I have my proofs. 
 
 ALVA. 
 
 Stay ! It occurs to me, as I was leaving 
 The queen's apartments, I beheld the prince 
 In private conference with a page of hers. 
 
 PRINCESS (suddenly interrupting). 
 O no ! that must have been of something else. 
 
 DOMINGO. 
 
 Could we not ascertain the fact? It seems 
 Suspicious. [ To the DUKE. 
 
 Did you know the page, my lord ! 
 
 PRINCESS. 
 
 Some trifle ; what else could it be ? Enough, 
 I'm sure of that. So we shall meet again 
 Before I see the king ; and by that time 
 We may discover much.
 
 200 DON CARLOS. 
 
 DOMINGO (leading her aside). 
 
 What of the king? 
 
 Say, may he hope ? May I assure him so ? 
 And the entrancing hour which shall fulfil 
 His fond desires, what shall I say of that ? 
 
 PRINCESS. 
 
 In a few days I will feign sickness, and 
 Shall be excused from waiting on the queen. 
 Such is, you know, the custom of the court, 
 And I may then remain in my apartment. 
 
 DOMINGO. 
 
 "Pis well devised ! Now the great game is won, 
 And we may bid defiance to all queens ! 
 
 PRINCESS. 
 
 Hark ! I am called. I must attend the queen, 
 So fare you well. \JExit, 
 
 SCENE XIII. 
 ALVA and DOMINGO. 
 
 DOMINGO {after a pause, during which he has watched 
 the PRINCESS). 
 
 My lord ! these roses, and 
 
 Your battles 
 
 ALVA. 
 
 And your God why, even so ! 
 Thus we'll await the lightning that shall scathe us ! 
 
 \_Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE XIV. 
 
 A Carthusian Convent. 
 
 DON CARLOS and the PRIOR. 
 
 CARLOS (to the PRIOR, as he comes in). 
 
 Been here already ? I am sorry for it. 
 
 PRIOR. 
 
 Yes, thrice since morning. 'Tis about an hour 
 Since he went hence.
 
 DON CARLOS. 201 
 
 CARLOS. 
 
 But he will sure return. 
 Has he not left some message ? 
 
 PRIOR. 
 
 Yes; he promised 
 To come again at noon. 
 
 CARLOS (going to a window, and looking round the 
 country). 
 
 Your convent lies 
 
 Far from the public road. Yonder are seen 
 The turrets of Madrid just so and there 
 The Mansanares flows. The scenery is 
 Exactly to my wish, and all around 
 Is calm and still as secrecy itself. 
 
 PRIOR. 
 
 Or as the entrance to another world. 
 
 CARLOS. 
 
 Most worthy sir, to your fidelity 
 And honor, have I now intrusted all 
 I hold most dear and sacred in the world. 
 No mortal man must know, or even suspect, 
 With whom I here hold secret assignation. 
 Most weighty reasons prompt me to deny, 
 To all the world, the friend whom I expect, 
 There-fore I choose this convent. Are we safe 
 From traitors and surprise ? You recollect 
 What you have sworn. 
 
 PRIOR. 
 
 Good sir, rely on us. 
 
 A king's suspicion cannot pierce the grave, 
 And curious ears haunts only those resorts 
 Where wealth and passion dwell but from these walls 
 The world's forever banished. 
 
 CARLOS. 
 
 You may think, 
 
 Perhaps, beneath this seeming fear and caution 
 There lies a guilty conscience ?
 
 202 DON CARLOS. 
 
 PRIOR. 
 
 I think nothing. 
 CARLOS. 
 
 If you imagine this, most holy father, 
 
 You err indeed you err. My secret shuns 
 
 The sight of man but not the eye of God. 
 
 PRIOR. 
 
 Such things concern us little. This retreat 
 To guilt, and innocence alike, is open, 
 And whether thy designs be good or ill, 
 Thy purpose criminal or virtuous, that 
 We leave to thee to settle with thy heart. 
 
 CARLOS (with warmth). 
 
 Our purpose never can disgrace your God. 
 'Tis his own noblest work. To you indeed, 
 I may reveal it. 
 
 PRIOR. 
 
 To what end, I pray ? 
 
 Forego, dear prince, this needless explanation. 
 The world and all its troubles have been long 
 Shut from my thoughts in preparation for 
 My last long journey. Why recall them to me 
 For the brief space that must precede my death ? 
 'Tis little for salvation that we need 
 But the bell rings, and summons me to prayer. 
 
 [Exit PRIOR. 
 
 SCENE XV. 
 DON CARLOS ; the MARQUIS POSA enters. 
 
 CARLOS. 
 At length once more, at length 
 
 MARQUIS. 
 
 Oh, what a trial 
 
 For the impatience of a friend ! The sun 
 Has risen twice twice set since Carlos' fate 
 Has been resolved, and am I only now 
 To learn it : speak, you're reconciled !
 
 DON CARLOS. 
 CARLOS. 
 
 With whom ? 
 
 MARQUIS. 
 
 The king ! And Flanders, too, its fate is settled ! 
 
 CARLOS. 
 
 The duke sets out to-morrow. That is fixed 
 
 MARQUIS. 
 
 That cannot be it is not surely so. 
 
 Can all Madrid be so deceived? 'Tis said 
 
 You had a private audience, and the king 
 
 CARLOS. 
 
 Remained inflexible, and we are now 
 Divided more than ever. 
 
 MARQUIS. 
 
 Do you go 
 To Flanders ? 
 
 CARLOS. 
 
 No! 
 
 MARQUIS. 
 
 Alas! my blighted hopes! 
 
 CARLOS. 
 
 Of this hereafter. Oh, Roderigo ! since 
 We parted last, what have I not endured ? 
 But first thy counsel? I must speak with her! 
 
 MARQUIS. 
 Your mother? No! But wherefore? 
 
 CARLOS. 
 
 I have hopes 
 
 But you turn pale ! Be calm I should be happy. 
 And I shall be so : but of this anon 
 Advise me now, how I may speak with her. 
 
 MARQUIS. 
 What mean you ? What new feverish dream is this ?
 
 204 DON CARLOS. 
 
 CARLOS. 
 By the great God of wonders 'tis no dream ! 
 
 'Tis truth, reality 
 
 [ Taking out the KING'S letter to the PRINCESS EBOLI. 
 
 Contained in this 
 
 Important paper yes, the queen is free, 
 Free before men and in the eyes of heaven ; 
 There read, and cease to wonder at my words. 
 
 MARQUIS (opening the letter). 
 What do I here behold ? The king's own hand ! 
 
 [After he has read it. 
 To whom addressed ? 
 
 CARLOS. 
 
 To Princess Eboli. 
 
 Two days ago, a page who serves the queen, 
 Brought me, from unknown hands, a key and letter, 
 Which said that in the left wing of the palace, 
 Where the queen lodges, lay a cabinet, 
 That there a lady whom I long had loved 
 Awaited me. I straight obeyed the summons. 
 
 MARQUIS. 
 Fool ! madman ! you obeyed it 
 
 CARLOS. 
 
 Not that I 
 
 The writing knew ; but there was only one 
 Such woman, who could think herself adored 
 By Carlos. With delight intoxicate 
 I hastened to the spot. A heavenly song, 
 Re-echoing from the innermost apartment, 
 Served me for guide. I reached the cabinet 
 I entered and beheld conceive my wonder ! 
 
 MARQUIS. 
 
 1 guess it all 
 
 CARLOS. 
 
 I had been lost forever, 
 But that I fell into an angel's hands ! 
 She, hapless chance, by my imprudent looks, 
 Deceived, had yielded to the sweet delusion
 
 DON CARLOS. 205 
 
 And deemed herself the idol of my soul. 
 Moved by the silent anguish of my breast, 
 With thoughtless generosity, her heart 
 Nobly determined to return my love ; 
 Deeming respectful fear had caused my silence, 
 She dared to speak, and all her lovely soul 
 Laid bare before me. 
 
 MARQUIS. 
 
 And with calm composure, 
 You tell this tale ! The Princess Eboli 
 Saw through your heart ; and doubtless she has pierced 
 The inmost secret of your hidden love. 
 You've wronged her deeply, and she rules the king. 
 
 CARLOS (confidently). 
 
 But she is virtuous ! 
 
 MARQUIS. 
 
 She may be so 
 
 From love's mere selfishness. But much I fear 
 Such virtue well I know it : know how little 
 It hath the power to soar to that ideal, 
 Which, first conceived in sweet and stately grace, 
 From the pure soul's maternal soil, puts forth 
 Spontaneous shoots, nor asks the gardener's aid 
 To nurse its lavish blossoms into life. 
 'Tis but a foreign plant, with labor reared, 
 And warmth that poorly imitates the south, 
 In a cold soil and an unfriendly clime. 
 Call it what name you will or education, 
 
 Or principle, or artificial virtue 
 
 Won from the heat of youth by art and cunning, 
 
 In conflicts manifold all noted down 
 
 With scrupulous reckoning to that heaven's account, 
 
 Which is its aim, and will requite its pains. 
 
 Ask your own heart ! Can she forgive the queen 
 
 That you should scorn her dearly-purchased virtue, 
 
 To pine in hopeless love for Philip's wife. 
 
 CARLOS. 
 Knowest thou the princess, then, so well ?
 
 206 DON CARLOS. 
 
 MARQUIS. 
 
 Not I 
 
 I've scarcely seen her twice. And yet thus much 
 I may remark. To me she still appears 
 To shun alone the nakedness of vice, 
 Too weakly proud of her imagined virtue. 
 And then I mark the queen. How different, Carlos, 
 Is everything that I behold in her ! 
 In native dignity, serene and calm, 
 Wearing a careless cheerfulness unschooled 
 In all the trained restraints of conduct, far 
 Removed from boldness and timidity, 
 With firm, heroic step, she walks along 
 The narrow middle path of rectitude, 
 Unconscious of the worship she compels, 
 Where she of self-approval never dreamed. 
 Say, does my Carlos in this mirror trace 
 The features of his Eboli ? The princess 
 Was constant while she loved ; love was the price, 
 The understood condition of her virtue. 
 You failed to pay that price 'twill therefore fall. 
 
 CARLOS (with warmth). 
 No, no ! [ Hastily pacing the apartment, 
 
 I tell thee, no ! And, Roderigo, 
 111 it becomes thee thus to rob thy Carlos 
 Of his high trust in human excellence, 
 His chief, his dearest joy ! 
 
 MARQUIS. 
 
 Deserve I this? 
 
 Friend of my soul, this would I never do 
 By heaven I would not. Oh, this Eboli ! 
 She were an angel to me, and before 
 Her glory would I bend me prostrate down, 
 In reverence deep as thine, if she were not 
 The mistress of thy secret. 
 
 CARLOS. 
 
 See how vain, 
 
 How idle are thy fears ! What proofs has she 
 That will not stamp her maiden brow with shame?
 
 DON CARLOS. 207 
 
 Say, will she purchase with her own dishonor 
 The wretched satisfaction of revenge ? 
 
 MARQUIS. 
 
 Ay ! to recall a blush, full many a one 
 Has doomed herself to infamy. 
 
 CARLOS (with increased vehemence). 
 
 Nay, that 
 
 Is far too harsh and cruel ! She is proud 
 And noble ; well I know her, and fear nothing. 
 Vain are your efforts to alarm my hopes. 
 I must speak to my mother. 
 
 MARQUIS. 
 
 Now ? for what ? 
 
 CARLOS. 
 
 Because I've nothing more to care for now. 
 And I must know my fate. Only contrive 
 That I may speak with her. 
 
 MARQUIS. 
 
 And wilt thou show 
 This letter to her? 
 
 CARLOS. 
 
 Question me no more, 
 But quickly find the means that I may see her. 
 
 MARQUIS (significantly). 
 
 Didst thou not tell me that thou lov'st thy mother? 
 And wouldst thou really show this letter to her? 
 
 [CARLOS fixes his eyes on the ground, and remains 
 
 silent. 
 
 I read a something, Carlos, in thy looks 
 Unknown to me before. Thou turn'st thine eyes 
 Away from me. Then it is true, and have I 
 Judged thee aright ? Here, let me see that paper. 
 
 [CARLOS gives him the letter, and the MARQUIS tears it. 
 
 CARLOS. 
 
 What ! art thou mad ? [Moderating his warmth. 
 
 In truth I must confess it, 
 That letter was of deepest moment to me.
 
 208 DON CARLOS. 
 
 MARQUIS. 
 
 So it appeared : on that account I tore it. 
 
 [ The MARQUIS casts a penetrating look on the PRINCE, 
 
 who surveys him with doubt and surprise. A long 
 
 silence. 
 
 Now speak to me with candor, Carlos. What 
 Have desecrations of the royal bed 
 To do with thee thy love? Dost thou fear Philip? 
 How are a husband's violated duties 
 Allied with thee and thy audacious hopes ? 
 Has he sinned there, where thou hast placed thy love ? 
 Now then, in truth, I learn to comprehend thee 
 How ill till now I've understood thy love ! 
 
 CARLOS. 
 What dost thou think, Roderigo ? 
 
 MARQUIS. 
 
 Oh, I feel 
 
 From what it is that I must wean myself. 
 Once it was otherwise ! Yes, once thy soul 
 Was bounteous, rich, and warm, and there was room 
 For a whole world in thy expanded heart. 
 Those feelings are extinct all swallowed up 
 In one poor, petty, selfish passion. Now 
 Thy heart is withered, dead ! No tears hast them 
 For the unhappy fate of wretched Flanders 
 No, not another tear. Oh, Carlos ! see 
 How poor, how beggarly, thou hast become, 
 Since all thy love has centered in thyself ! 
 
 CARLOS (flings himself into a chair. After a pause, with 
 
 scarcely suppressed tears). 
 Too well I know thou lovest me no more ! 
 
 MARQUIS. 
 
 Not so, my Carlos. Well I understand 
 This fiery passion : 'tis the misdirection 
 Of feelings pure and noble in themselves. 
 The queen belonged to thee : the king, thy father, 
 Despoiled thee of her yet till now thou hast 
 Been modestly distrustful of thy claims.
 
 DON CARLOS. 209 
 
 Philip, perhaps, was worthy of her ! Thou 
 Scarce dared to breathe his sentence in a whisper 
 This letter has resolved thy doubts, and proved 
 Thou art the worthier man. With haughty joy 
 Thou saw'st before thee rise the doom that waits 
 On tyranny convicted of a theft, 
 But thou wert proud to be the injured one : 
 Wrongs undeserved great souls can calmly suffer, 
 Yet here thy fancy played thee false : thy pride 
 Was touched with satisfaction, and thy heart 
 Allowed itself to hope : I plainly saw 
 This time, at least, thou didst not know thyself. 
 
 CARLOS (with emotion). 
 
 Thou'rt wrong, Roderigo ; for my thoughts were far 
 Less noble than thy goodness would persuade me. 
 
 MARQUIS. 
 
 And am I then e'en here so little known ? 
 See, Carlos, when thou errest, 'tis my way, 
 Amid a hundred virtues, still to find 
 That one to which I may impute thy fall. 
 Now, then, we understand each other better, 
 And thou shalt have an audience of the queen. 
 
 CARLOS (falling on his neck). 
 Oh, how I blush beside thee ! 
 
 MARQUIS. 
 
 Take my word, 
 
 And leave the rest to me. A wild, bold thought, 
 A happy thought is dawning in my mind ; 
 And thou shalt hear it from a fairer mouth, 
 I hasten to the queen. Perhaps to-morrow 
 Thy wish may be achieved. Till then, my Carlos, 
 Forget not this " That a design conceived 
 Of lofty reason, which involves the fate, 
 The sufferings of mankind, though it be baffled 
 Ten thousand times, should never be abandoned." 
 Dost hear ? Remember Flanders. 
 
 CARLOS. 
 
 Yes! all, all 
 That thou and virtue bid me not forget.
 
 210 DON CARLOS. 
 
 MARQUIS (going to a window). 
 The time is up I hear thy suite approaching. 
 
 [ They embrace* 
 Crown prince again, and vassal. 
 
 CARLOS. 
 
 Dost thou go 
 Straight to Madrid ? 
 
 MARQUIS. 
 
 Yes, straight. 
 
 CARLOS. 
 
 Hold ! one word more. 
 
 How nearly it escaped me ! Yet 'twas news 
 Of deep importance. " Every letter now 
 Sent to Brabant is opened by the king ! " 
 So be upon thy guard. The royal post 
 Has secret orders. 
 
 MARQUIS. 
 
 How have you learned this ? 
 
 CARLOS. 
 Don Raymond Taxis is my trusty friend. 
 
 MARQUIS (after a pause). 
 Well ! then they may be sent through Germany. 
 
 [Exeunt on different sides. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 SCENE I. 
 
 TJie king's bedchamber. On the toilet two burning lights. In the 
 background several pages asleep resting on their knees. The 
 KING, in half undress, stands before the table, with one arm 
 bent over the chair, in a reflecting posture. Before him is a 
 medallion and papers. 
 
 KING. 
 
 Of a warm fancy she has ever been ! 
 Who can deny it ? I could never love her, 
 Yet has she never seemed to miss my love. 
 And so 'tis plain she's false ! 
 
 [Makes a movement which brings him to himself. 
 He looks round -with surprise.
 
 DON CAKLOS. 211 
 
 Where have I been ? 
 
 Is no one watching here, then, save the king ? 
 The light's burnt out, and yet it is not day. 
 I must forego my slumbers for to-night. 
 Take it, kind nature, for enjoyed ! No time 
 Have monarchs to retrieve the nights they lose. 
 I'm now awake, and day it shall be. 
 
 \_IIeputs out the candles, and draws aside the win- 
 dow-curtain. He observes the sleeping pages 
 remains for some time standing before them 
 then rings a bell. 
 
 All 
 Asleep within the antechamber, too ? 
 
 SCENE II. 
 
 The KING, COUNT LERMA. 
 LERMA (surprised at seeing the KING). 
 Does not your majesty feel well ? 
 
 KING. 
 
 The left 
 
 Pavilion of the palace was in flames : 
 Did you not hear the alarum ? 
 
 LERMA. 
 
 No, my liege. 
 
 KING. 
 
 No ! What ? And did I only dream it then ? 
 'Twas surely real ! Does not the queen sleep there ? 
 
 LERMA. 
 She does, your majesty. 
 
 KING. 
 
 This dream affrights me ! 
 In future let the guards be doubled there 
 As soon as it grows dark. Dost hear ? And yet 
 
 Let it be done in secret. I would not 
 
 Why do you gaze on me ? 
 
 LERMA. 
 
 Your bloodshot eyes, 
 I mark, that beg repose. Dare I remind
 
 212 DON CARLOS. 
 
 My liege of an inestimable life, 
 And of your subjects, who with pale dismay 
 Would in such features read of restless nights: 
 But two brief hours of morning sleep would 
 
 KING (with troubled look). 
 
 Sleep! 
 
 Shall I find sleep within the Escurial? 
 Let the king sleep, and he may lose his crown, 
 The husband, his wife's heart. But no! not so; 
 This is but slander. Was it not a woman 
 Whispered the crime to me ? Woman, thy name 
 Is calumny? The deed I'll hold unproved, 
 Until a man confirms the fatal truth ! 
 
 [ To the pages, who in the meamchile have awaked. 
 Summon Duke Alva ! [Pages go. 
 
 Count, come nearer to me. 
 [Fixes a searching look on the COUNT. 
 Is all this true ? Oh for omniscience now, 
 Though but so long as a man's pulse might beat. 
 Is it true? Upon your oath ! Am I deceived? 
 
 LBRMA. 
 My great, my best of kings ! 
 
 KING (drawing back). 
 
 King ! naught but king ! 
 And king again ! No better answer than 
 Mere hollow echo ! When I strike this rock 
 For water, to assuage my burning thirst, 
 It gives me molten gold. 
 
 LERMA. 
 
 What true, my liege ? 
 
 KING. 
 
 Oh, nothing, nothing ! Leave me ! Get thee gone ! 
 
 [ The COUNT going, the KING calls him back again, 
 Say, are you married ? and are you a father ? 
 
 LERMA. 
 I am, your majesty.
 
 DON CARLOS. 213 
 
 KING. 
 
 What ! married yet 
 
 You dare to watch a night here with your king! 
 Your hair is gray, and yet you do not blush 
 To think your wife is honest. Get thee home ; 
 You'll find her locked, this moment, in your son's 
 Incestuous embrace. Believe your king. 
 Now go ; you stand amazed ; you stare at me 
 With searching eye, because of my gray hairs. 
 Unhappy man, reflect. Queens never taint 
 Their virtue thus : doubt it, and you shall die ! 
 
 LERMA (icith warmth). 
 
 Who dare do so? In all my monarch's realms 
 Who has the daring hardihood to breathe 
 Suspicion on her angel purity ? 
 To slander thus the best of queens 
 
 KING. 
 
 The best! 
 
 The best, from you, too ! She has ardent friends, 
 I find, around. It must have cost her much 
 More than methinks she could afford to give. 
 You are dismissed ; now send the duke to me. 
 
 LERMA. 
 
 I hear him in the antechamber. [ Going. 
 
 KING (with a milder tone). 
 
 Count, 
 
 What you observed is very true. My head 
 Burns with the fever of this sleepless night ! 
 What I have uttered in this waking dream, 
 Mark you, forget! I am your gracious king! 
 
 [Presents his hand to kiss. Exit LERMA, opening 
 the door at the same time to DUKE ALVA. 
 
 SCENE III. 
 
 The KING and DUKE ALVA. 
 
 ALVA (approaching the KING with an air of doubt). 
 This unexpected order, at so strange
 
 214 DON CARLOS. 
 
 An hour ! [Starts on looking closer at the KING. 
 
 And then those looks ! 
 
 KING (has seated himself \ and taken hold of the medallion 
 on the table. Looks at the DUKE for some time in 
 silence. 
 
 And is it true 
 
 I have no faithful servant ! 
 
 ALVA. 
 How? 
 
 KING. 
 
 A blow 
 
 Aimed at ray life in its most vital part ! 
 Full well 'twas known, yet no one warned me of it. 
 
 ALVA (with a look of astonishment). 
 A blow aimed at your majesty ! and yet 
 Escape your Alva's eye ? 
 
 KING (showing him letters). 
 
 Know you this writing? 
 
 ALVA. 
 It is the prince's hand. 
 
 KING (a pause watches the DUKE closely}. 
 
 Do you suspect 
 
 Then nothing? Often have you cautioned me 
 'Gainst his ambition. Was there nothing more 
 Than his ambition should have made me tremble? 
 
 ALVA. 
 
 Ambition is a word of largest import, 
 And much it may comprise. 
 
 KING. 
 
 And had you naught 
 Of special purport to disclose ? 
 
 ALVA (after a pause, mysteriously}. 
 
 Your majesty 
 
 Hath given the kingdom's welfare to my charge: 
 On this my inmost, secret thoughts are bent,
 
 DON CARLOS. 215 
 
 And my best vigilance. Beyond this charge 
 What I may think, suspect, or know belongs 
 To me alone. These are the sacred treasures 
 Which not the vassal only, but the slave, 
 The very slave, may from a king withhold. 
 Not all that to my mind seems plain is yet 
 Mature enough to meet the monarch's ear. 
 Would he be answered then must I implore 
 He will not question as a king. 
 
 KING (handing the letters). 
 
 Read these. 
 
 ALVA (reads them, and turns to the KING with a look 
 
 of terror). 
 
 Who was the madman placed these fatal papers 
 In my king's hands ? 
 
 KING. 
 
 You know, then, who is meant? 
 No name you see is mentioned in the paper. 
 
 ALVA (stepping back confused). 
 
 I was too hasty ! 
 
 KING. 
 But you know ! 
 
 ALVA (after some consideration). 
 
 'Tis spoken! 
 
 The king commands, I dare not now conceal. 
 I'll not deny it I do know the person. 
 
 KING (starting up in violent emotion). 
 
 God of revenge ! inspire me to invent 
 Some new, unheard-of torture ! Is their crime 
 So clear, so plain, so public to the world, 
 That without e'en the trouble of inquiry 
 The veriest hint suffices to reveal it ? 
 This is too much ! I did not dream of this! 
 I am the last of all, then, to discern it 
 The last in all my realm ?
 
 216 DON CARLOS. 
 
 ALVA (throwing himself at the KING'S feet). 
 
 Yes, I confess 
 
 My guilt, most gracious monarch. I'm ashamed 
 A coward prudence should have tied my tongue 
 When truth, and justice-, and my sovereign's honoi 
 Urged me iO speak. But since all else are silent 
 And since the magic spell of beauty binds 
 All other tongues, I dare to give it voice; 
 Though well I know a son's warm protestations, 
 A wife's seductive charms and winning tears 
 
 KING (suddenly with warmth). 
 Rise, Alva! thou hast now my royal promise; 
 Rise, and speak fearlessly ! 
 
 ALVA (rising). 
 
 Your majesty, 
 
 Perchance, may bear in your remembrance still 
 What happened in the garden at Aranjuez. 
 You found the queen deserted by her ladies, 
 With looks confused alone, within a bower, 
 
 KING. 
 
 Proceed. What further have I yet to hear? 
 
 ALVA. 
 
 The Marchioness of Mondecar was banished 
 Because she boldly sacrificed herself 
 To save the queen ! It has been since discovered 
 She did no more than she had been commanded. 
 Prince Carlos had been there. 
 
 KING (starting). 
 
 The prince ! What more 
 
 ALVA. 
 
 Upon the ground the footsteps of a man 
 Were traced, till finally they disappeared 
 Close to a grotto, leftward of the bower, 
 Where lay a handkerchief the prince had dropped. 
 This wakened our suspicions. But besides, 
 The gardener met the prince upon the spot, 
 Just at the time, as near as we can guess, 
 Your majesty appeared within the walk.
 
 DON CARLOS. 217 
 
 KING (recovering from gloomy thought). 
 
 And yet she wept when I but seemed to doubt ! 
 She made me blush before the assembled court, 
 Blush to my very self ! By heaven ! I stood 
 In presence of her virtue, like a culprit. 
 
 \_A long and deep silence. He sits down and hide^ 
 
 his face. 
 
 Yes, Alva, you are right ! All this may lead 
 To something dreadful leave me for a moment 
 
 ALVA. 
 But, gracious sire, all this is not enough 
 
 KING (snatching up the papers). 
 
 Nor this, nor this ? nor all the harmony 
 
 Of these most damning proofs? 'Tis clear as day 
 
 I knew it long ago their heinous guilt 
 
 Began when first I took her from your hands, 
 
 Here in Madrid. I think I see her now, 
 
 With look of horror, pale as midnight ghost, 
 
 Fixing her eyes upon my hoary hair ! 
 
 'Twas then the treacherous game began ! 
 
 ALVA. 
 
 The prince, 
 
 In welcoming a mother lost his bride! 
 Long had they nursed a mutual passion, long 
 Eacli other's ardent feelings understood, 
 Which her new state forbade her to indulge. 
 The fear which still attends love's first avowal 
 Was long subdued. Seduction, bolder grown, 
 Spoke in those forms of easy confidence 
 Which recollections of the past allowed. 
 Allied by harmony of souls and years, 
 And now by similar restraints provoked, 
 They readily obeyed their wild desires. 
 Reasons of state opposed their early union 
 But can it, sire, be thought she ever gave 
 To the state council such authority? 
 That she subdued the passion of her soul 
 To scrutinize with more attentive eye
 
 218 DON CARLOS. 
 
 The election of the cabinet. Her heart 
 Was bent on love, and won a diadem. 
 
 KING (offended, and with bitterness). 
 
 You are a nice observer, duke, and I 
 Admire your eloquence. I thank you truly. 
 
 [-Rising coldly and haughtily. 
 But you are right. The queen has deeply erred 
 In keeping from me letters of such import, 
 And in concealing the intrusive visit 
 The prince paid in the garden : from a false 
 Mistaken honor she has deeply erred 
 And I shall question further. [Ringing the bell. 
 
 Who waits now 
 
 Within the antechamber ? You, Duke Alva, 
 I need no longer. Go. 
 
 ALVA. 
 
 And has my zeal 
 A second time displeased your majesty ? 
 
 KING (to a page who enters}. 
 Summon Domingo. Duke, I pardon you 
 For having made me tremble for a moment, 
 With secret apprehension, lest yourself 
 'Might fall a victim to a foul misdeed. [Exit ALVA. 
 
 SCENE IV. 
 
 The KING, DOMINGO. 
 
 KING walks up and down the room to collect his thoughts. 
 
 DOMINGO (after contemplating the KING for some time 
 
 with a respectful silence). 
 How joyfully surprised I am to find 
 Your majesty so tranquil and collected. 
 
 KING. 
 
 Surprised ! 
 
 DOMINGO. 
 
 And heaven be thanked my fears were groundless.' 
 Now may I hope the best.
 
 DON CARLOS. 219 
 
 KING. 
 
 Your fears ! What feared you ? 
 
 DOMINGO. 
 
 I dare not hide it from your majesty 
 That I had learned a secret 
 
 KING (gloomily). 
 
 And have I 
 
 Expressed a wish to share your secret with you ? 
 Who ventures to anticipate me thus? 
 Too forward, by mine honor! 
 
 DOMINGO. 
 
 Gracious monarch ! 
 
 The place, the occasion, seal of secrecy 
 'Neath which I learned it free me from this charge. 
 It was intrusted to me at the seat 
 Of penitence intrusted as a crime 
 That deeply weighe.d upon the tender soul 
 Of the fair sinner who confessed her guilt, 
 And sought the pardon of offended heaven. 
 Too late the princess weeps a foul misdeed 
 That may involve the queen herself in ruin. 
 
 KING. 
 
 Indeed ! Kind soul ! You have correctly guessed 
 The occasion of your summons. You must guide me 
 Through this dark labyrinth wherein blind zeal 
 Has tangled me. From you I hope for truth. 
 Be candid with me; what must I believe, 
 And what determine? From your sacred office 
 I look for strictest truth. 
 
 DOMINGO. 
 
 And if, my liege, 
 
 The mildness ever incident to this 
 My holy calling, did not such restraint 
 Impose upon me, still I would entreat 
 Your majesty, for your own peace of mind, 
 To urge no further this discovery, 
 And cease forever to pursue a secret 
 Which never can be happily explained.
 
 220 DON CARLOS. 
 
 All that is yet discovered may be pardoned. 
 Let the king say the word and then the queen 
 Has never sinned. The monarch's will bestows 
 Virtue and fortune, both with equal ease. 
 And the king's undisturbed tranquillity 
 Is, in itself, sufficient to destroy 
 The rumors set on foot by calumny. 
 
 KING. 
 
 What! Rumors! and of me! among my subjects ! 
 DOMINGO. 
 
 All falsehood, sire ! Naught but the vilest falsehood ! 
 I'll swear 'tis false ! Yet what's believed by all, 
 Groundless and unconfirmed although it be, 
 Works its effect, as sure as truth itself. 
 
 KING. 
 
 Not in this case, by heaven ! 
 
 DOMINGO. 
 
 A virtuous name 
 
 Is, after all, my liege, the only prize 
 Which queens and peasants' wives contest together. 
 
 KING. 
 
 For which I surely have no need to tremble. 
 
 [He looks doubtinyly at DOMINGO. After a pause 
 Priest, thou hast something fearful to impart. 
 Delay it not. I read it plainly stamped 
 In thy ill-boding looks. Then out with it, 
 Whate'er it be. Let me no longer tremble 
 Upon the rack. What do the people say ? 
 
 DOMINGO. 
 
 The people, sire, are liable to err, 
 Nay err assuredly. What people think 
 Should not alarm the king. Yet that they should 
 Presume so far as to indulge such thoughts 
 
 o o 
 
 KING. 
 
 Why must I beg this poisonous draught so long?
 
 DON CARLOS. 221 
 
 DOMINGO. 
 
 The people often muse upon that month 
 Which brought your majesty so near the grave, 
 From that time, thirty weeks had scarce elapsed, 
 Before the queen's delivery was announced. 
 
 [The KING rises and rings the bell. DUKE ALV^ 
 
 enters. DOMINGO alarmed. 
 am amazed, your majesty ! 
 
 KING (going towards ALVA). 
 
 Toledo ! 
 You are a man defend me from this priest ! 
 
 DOMINGO (he and DUKE ALVA exchange embarrassed looks 
 
 After a pause). 
 
 Could we have but foreseen that this occurrence 
 Would be avenged upon its mere relater. 
 
 KING. 
 
 Said you a bastard ? I had scarce, you say, 
 Escaped the pangs of death when first she felt 
 She should, in nature's time, become a mother. 
 Explain how this occurred ! 'Twas then, if I 
 Remember right, that you, in every church, 
 Ordered devotions to St. Dominick, 
 For the especial wonder he vouchsafed. 
 On one side or the other, then, you lie ! 
 What would you have me credit? Oh, I see 
 Full plainly through you now ! If this dark plot 
 Had then been ripe your saint had lost his fame. 
 
 ALVA. 
 
 This plot ? 
 
 KING. 
 
 How can you with a harmony 
 So unexampled in your very thoughts 
 Concur, and not have first conspired together? 
 Would you persuade me thus? Think you that I 
 Perceived not with what eagerness you pounced 
 Upon your prey? With what delight you fed 
 Upon my pain, my agony of grief ? 
 Full well I marked the ardent, burning zeal
 
 222 DON CARLOS. 
 
 With which the duke forestalled the mark of grace 
 
 I destined for my son. And how this priest 
 
 Presumed to fortify his petty spleen 
 
 With my wrath's giant arm ! I am, forsooth, 
 
 A bow which each of you may bend at pleasure 
 
 But I have yet a will. And if I needs 
 
 Must doubt perhaps I may begin with you. 
 
 ALVA. 
 
 Reward like this our truth did ne'er expect. 
 
 KING. 
 
 Your truth ! Truth warns of apprehended danger. 
 'Tis malice that speaks only of the past. 
 What can I gain by your officiousness ? 
 Should your suspicion ripen to full truth, 
 What follows but the pangs of separation, 
 The melancholy triumphs of revenge ? 
 But no: you only fear you feed me with 
 Conjectures vague. To hell's profound abyss 
 You lead me on, then flee yourself away. 
 
 DOMINGO. 
 
 What other proofs than these are possible, 
 When our own eyes can scarcely trust themselves ? 
 
 KING (after a long pause, turning earnestly and solemnly 
 towards DOMINGO). 
 
 The grandees of the realm shall be convened, 
 
 And I will sit in judgment. Then step forth 
 
 In front of all, if you have courage for it, 
 
 And charge her as a strumpet. She shall die 
 
 Die without mercy and the prince, too, with her ! 
 
 But mark me well : if she but clear herself 
 
 That doom shall fall on you. Now, dare you show 
 
 Honor to truth by such a sacrifice ? 
 
 Determine. No, you dare not. You are silent. 
 
 Such is the zeal of liars ! 
 
 ALVA (who has stood at a distance, answers coldly and 
 calmly). 
 
 I will do it.
 
 DON CARLOS. 223 
 
 KING (turns round with astonishment and looks at the 
 DUKE for a long time without moving). 
 
 That's boldly said ! But thou hast risked thy life 
 
 In stubborn conflicts for far less a prize. 
 
 Has risked it with a gamester's recklessness 
 
 For honor's empty bubble. What is life 
 
 To thee? I'll not expose the royal blood 
 
 To such a madman's power, whose highest hope 
 
 Must be to yield his wretched being up 
 
 With some renown. I spurn your offer. Go ; 
 
 And wait my orders in the audience chamber. 
 
 [JSsceunt. 
 
 SCENE V. 
 The KING alone. 
 
 Now give me, gracious Providence ! a man. 
 
 Thou'st given me much already. Now vouchsafe me 
 
 A man ! for thou alone canst grant the boon. 
 
 Thine eye doth penetrate all hidden things 
 
 Oh ! give me but a friend : for I am not 
 
 Omniscient like to thee. The ministers 
 
 Whom thou hast chosen for me thou dost know 
 
 And their deserts : and as their merits claim, 
 
 I value them. Their subjugated vices, 
 
 Coerced by rein severe, serve all my ends, 
 
 As thy storms purify this nether world. 
 
 I thirst for truth. To reach its tranquil spring, 
 
 Through the dark heaps of thick surrounding error, 
 
 Is not the lot of kings. Give me the man, 
 
 So rarely found, of pure and -open heart, 
 
 Of judgment clear, and eye unprejudiced, 
 
 To aid me in the search. I cast the lots. 
 
 And may I find that man, among the thousands 
 
 Who flutter in the sunshine of a court. 
 
 [lie opens an escritoire and takes out a portfolio. 
 
 After turning over the leaves a long time. 
 Nothing but names, mere names are here: no note 
 E'en of the services to which they owe 
 Their place upon the roll ! Oh, what can be 
 Of shorter memory than gratitude !
 
 224 DON CARLOS. 
 
 Here, in this other list, I read each fault 
 Most accurately marked. That is not well ! 
 Can vengeance stand in need of such a help ? 
 
 \_He reads further. 
 
 Count Egmont ! What doth he here ? Long ago 
 The victory of St. Quentin is forgotten. 
 I place him with the dead. 
 
 \_He effaces this name and writes it on the othet 
 roll after he has read further. 
 
 The Marquis Posa! 
 
 The Marquis Posa ! I can scarce recall 
 This person to mind. And doubly marked ! 
 A proof I destined him for some great purpose. 
 How is it possible ? This man, till now, 
 Has ever shunned my presence still has fled 
 His royal debtor's eye ? The only man, 
 By heaven, within the compass of my realm, 
 Who does not court my favor. Did he burn 
 With avarice, or ambition, long ago 
 He had appeared before my throne. I'll try 
 This wondrous man. He who can thus dispense 
 Witli royalty will doubtless speak the truth. 
 
 SCENE VI. 
 The Audience Chamber. 
 
 DON CARLOS in conversation with the PRINCE OF PARMA 
 DUKES ALVA, FERIA, and MEDINA SIDONIA, COUNT 
 LERMA, and other GRANDEES, tcith papers in their 
 hands, awaiting the KING. 
 
 MEDINA SIDONIA (seems to be shunned by all the GRANDEES, 
 turns towards DUKE ALVA, who, alone and absorbed in 
 himself, walks up and down) . 
 
 Duke, you have had an audience of the king? 
 How did you find him minded ? 
 
 ALVA. 
 
 Somewhat ill 
 For you, and for the news you bring.
 
 DON CARLOS. 225 
 
 MEDINA SIDONIA. 
 
 My heart 
 
 Was lighter 'mid the roar of English caunon 
 Than here on Spanish ground. 
 
 [CARLOS, who had regarded him with silent sym- 
 pathy^ now approaches him and presses his hand. 
 
 My warmest thanks, 
 
 . Prince, for this generous tear. You may perceive 
 How all avoid me. Now my fate is sealed. 
 
 CARLOS. 
 
 Still hope the best both from my father's favor, 
 And your own innocence. 
 
 MEDINA SIDONIA. 
 
 Prince, I have lost 
 
 A fleet more mighty than e'er ploughed the waves. 
 And what is such a head as mine to set 
 'Gainst seventy sunken galleons ? And therewith 
 Five hopeful sons ! Alas ! that breaks my heart. 
 
 SCENE VII. 
 
 The KING enters from his chamber, attired. The former all un- 
 cover and make room on both sides, while they form a semicircle 
 round him. Silence. 
 
 KING (rapidly surveying the whole circle). 
 Be covered, all. 
 
 [DoN CARLOS and the PRINCE OF PARMA approach 
 first and kiss the KING'S hand: he turns with 
 friendly mien to the latter, taking no notice of 
 his son. 
 
 Your mother, nephew, fain 
 Would be informed what favor you have won 
 Here in Madrid. 
 
 PARMA. 
 
 That question let her ask 
 When I have fought my maiden battle, sire. 
 
 KING. 
 
 Be satisfied ; your turn will come at last, 
 When these old props decay. 
 
 [ To the DUKE OF FERIA. 
 What brings you here?
 
 226 DON CARLOS. 
 
 FERIA (kneeling to the KING). 
 
 The master, sire, of Calatrava's order 
 This morning died. I here return his cross. 
 KING (takes the order and looks round the whole circle). 
 And who is worthiest after him to wear it ? 
 
 [He beckons to DUKE ALVA, icho approaches and 
 bends on one knee. The KING hangs the order 
 on his neck. 
 
 You are my ablest general ! Ne'er aspire 
 To more, and, duke, my favors shall not fail you. 
 
 \_IIe perceives the DUKE of MEDINA SIDONIA. 
 My admiral ! 
 
 MEDINA SIDONIA. 
 
 And here you see, great king, 
 All that remains of the Armada's might, 
 And of the flower of Spain. 
 
 KING (after a pause). 
 
 God rules above us ! 
 
 I sent you to contend with men, and not 
 With rocks and storms. You're welcome to Madrid. 
 [Extending his hand to him to kist 
 I thank you for preserving in yourself 
 A faithful servant to me. For as such 
 I value him, my lords ; and 'tis my will 
 That you should honor him. 
 
 [He motions him to rise and cover himself, then 
 turns to the others. 
 
 What more remains ? 
 
 [To DON CARLOS and the PRINCE OF PARMA. 
 Princes, I thank you. 
 
 [They retire; the other GRANDEES approach, and 
 kneeling, hand their papers to the KING. He 
 looks over them rapidly, and hands them to 
 DUKE ALVA. 
 
 Duke, let these be laid 
 Before me in the council. Who waits further ? 
 
 [No one answers, 
 
 How comes it that amidst my train of nobles 
 The Marquis Posa ne'er appears ? I know
 
 DON CARLOS. 227 
 
 This Marquis Posa served me with distinction. 
 Does he still live ? Why is he not among you ? 
 
 LERMA. 
 
 The chevalier is just returned from travel, 
 Completed through all Europe. He is now 
 Here in Madrid, and waits a public day 
 To cast himself before his sovereign's feet. 
 
 ALVA. 
 
 The Marquis Posa ? Right, he is the same 
 Bold Knight of Malta, sire, of whom renown 
 Proclaims this gallant deed. Upon a summons 
 Of the Grand Master, all the valiant knights 
 Assembled in their island, at that time 
 Besieged by Soliman. This noble youth, 
 Scarce numbering eighteen summers, straightway fled 
 From Alcala, where he pursued his studies, 
 And suddenly arrived at La Valette. 
 " This Cross," he said, " was bought for me ; and no\* 
 To prove I'm worthy of it." He was one 
 Of forty knights who held St. Elmo's Castle, 
 At midday, 'gainst Piali, Ulucciali, 
 And Mustapha, and Hassem ; the assault 
 Being thrice repeated. When the castle fell, 
 And all the valiant knights were killed around him. 
 He plunged into the ocean, and alone 
 Reached La Valette in safety. Two months after 
 The foe deserts the island, and the knight 
 Returned to end his interrupted studies. 
 
 FERIA. 
 
 It was the Marquis Posa, too, who crushed 
 The dread conspiracy in Catalonia; 
 And by his marked activity preserved 
 That powerful province to the Spanish crown. 
 
 KING. 
 
 I am amazed ! What sort of man is this 
 Who can deserve so highly, yet awake 
 No pang of envy in the breasts of three 
 Who speak his praise ? The character he owns
 
 228 DON CARLOS. 
 
 Must be of noble stamp indeed, or else 
 
 A very blank. I'm curious to behold 
 
 This wondrous man. [ To DUKE ALVA. 
 
 Conduct him to the council 
 When mass is over. 
 
 [Exit DUKE. The KING calls FERIA. 
 
 And do you preside 
 
 Here in my place. [Exit, 
 
 FERIA. 
 
 The king is kind to-day. 
 
 MEDINA SIDONIA. 
 
 Call him a god ! So he has proved to me ! 
 FEEIA. 
 
 You well deserve your fortune, admiral ! 
 You have my warmest wishes; 
 
 ONE OF THE GRANDEES. 
 
 Sir, and mine. 
 
 A SECOND. 
 
 And also mine ! 
 
 A THIRD. 
 
 My heart exults with joy 
 So excellent a general ! 
 
 THE FIRST. 
 
 The king 
 Showed you no kindness, 'twas your strict desert. 
 
 LERMA (to MEDINA SIDONIA, taking leave}. 
 Oh, how two little words have made your fortune ! 
 
 [Exeunt all. 
 
 SCENE VIII. 
 
 The KING'S Cabinet. 
 
 MARQUIS POSA and DUKE ALVA. 
 
 MARQUIS (as he enters). 
 
 Does he want me? What, me ? Impossible ! 
 You must mistake the name. What can he want 
 With me?
 
 DON CARLOS. 229 
 
 ALVA. 
 
 To know you. 
 
 MABQUIS. 
 
 Curiosity ! 
 
 Xo more ; and I regret the precious minutes 
 That I must lose : time passes swiftly by. 
 
 ALVA. 
 
 I now commend you to your lucky stars. 
 The king is in your hands. Employ this moment 
 To your own best advantage; for, remember, 
 If it is lost, you are alone to blame. 
 
 SCENE IX. 
 The MARQUIS alone. 
 
 MARQUIS. 
 
 Duke, 'tis well spoken ! Turn to good account 
 The moment which presents itself but once ! 
 Truly this courtier reads a useful lesson : 
 If not in his sense good, at least in mine. 
 
 [ Walks a few steps backwards and forwards. 
 How came I here ? Is it caprice or chance 
 That shows me now my image in this mirror ? 
 Why, out of millions, should it picture me 
 The most unlikely and present my form 
 To the king's memory ? Was this but chance ? 
 Perhaps 'twas something more ! what else is chance 
 But the rude stone which from the sculptor's hand 
 Receives its life ? Chance comes from Providence, 
 And man must mould it to his own designs. 
 What the king wants with me but little matters; 
 I know the business I shall have witli him. 
 Were but one spark of truth with boldness flung 
 Into the despot's soul, how fruitful 'twere 
 In the kind hand of Providence; and so 
 What first appeared capricious act of chance, 
 May be designed for some momentous end. 
 Whate'er it be, I'll act on this belief. 
 
 \_IIe takes a few turns in the room, and stands at last 
 in tranquil contemplation before a painting. The
 
 230 DON CARLOS. 
 
 KING appears in the neighboring room, where he 
 gives some orders. He then enters and stands mo- 
 tionless at the door, and contemplates the MARQUIS 
 for some time without being observed. 
 
 SCENE X. 
 The KING, and MARQUIS POSA. 
 
 The MARQUIS, as soon as he observes the KING, comes 
 forward and sinks on one knee ; then rises and re- 
 mains standing before him without any sign of con- 
 fusion. 
 
 KING (looks at him with surprise). 
 We've met before then ? 
 
 MARQUIS. 
 
 No. 
 
 KING. 
 
 You did my crown 
 
 Some service? Why then do you shun rny thanks? 
 My memory is thronged with suitor's claims. 
 One only is omniscient. 'Twas your duty 
 To seek your monarch's eye ! Why did you not ? 
 
 MARQUIS. 
 
 Two days have scarce elapsed since my return 
 From foreign travel, sire. 
 
 KING. 
 
 I would not stand 
 Indebted to a subject ; ask some favor 
 
 MARQUIS. 
 I enjoy the laws. 
 
 KING. 
 So does the murderer! 
 
 MARQUIS. 
 
 Then how much more the honest citizen I 
 My lot contents me, sire.
 
 DON CARLOS. 231 
 
 KING (aside). 
 
 By heavens ! a proud 
 
 And dauntless mind ! That was to be expected. 
 Proud I would have my Spaniards. Better far 
 The cup should overflow than not be full. 
 They say you've left my service ? 
 
 MARQUIS. 
 
 To make way 
 For some one worthier, I withdrew. 
 
 KING. 
 
 'Tis pity. 
 
 When spirits such as yours make holiday, 
 The state must suffer. But perchance you feared 
 To miss the post best suited to your merits. 
 
 MARQUIS. 
 
 Oh, no ! I doubt not the experienced judge, 
 In human nature skilled his proper study, 
 Will have discovered at a glance wherein 
 I may be useful to him, wherein not. 
 With deepest gratitude, I feel the favor 
 Wherewith, by so exalted an opinion, 
 Your majesty is loading me ; and yet [He pauses. 
 
 KING. 
 
 You hesitate ? 
 
 MARQUIS. 
 
 I am, I must confess, 
 
 Sire, at this moment, unprepared to clothe 
 My thoughts, as the world's citizen, in phrase 
 Beseeming to your subject. When I left 
 The court forever, sire, I deemed myself 
 Released from the necessity to give 
 My reasons for this step. 
 
 KING. 
 
 Are they so weak ? 
 What do you fear to risk by their disclosure ? 
 
 MARQUIS. 
 
 My life at farthest, sire, were time allowed 
 For me to weary you but this denied
 
 232 DON CARLOS. 
 
 Then truth itself must suffer. I must choose 
 'Twixt your displeasure and contempt. And if 
 I must decide, I rather would appear 
 Worthy of punishment than pity. 
 
 KING (with a look of expectation). 
 
 Well? 
 
 MARQUIS. 
 
 I cannot be the servant of a prince. 
 
 [ The KING looks at him with astonishment 
 I will not cheat the buyer. Should you deem 
 Me worthy of your service, you prescribe 
 A course of duty for me ; you command 
 My arm in battle and my head in council. 
 Then, not my actions, but the applause they meet 
 At court becomes their object. But for me 
 Virtue possesses an intrinsic worth. 
 I would, myself, create that happiness 
 A monarch, with my hand, would seek to plant, 
 And duty's task would prove an inward joy, 
 And be my willing choice. Say, like you this ? 
 And in your own creation could you bear 
 A new creator ? For I ne'er could stoop 
 To be the chisel where I fain would be 
 The sculptor's self. I dearly love mankind, 
 My gracious liege, but in a monarchy 
 I dare not love another than myself. 
 
 KING. 
 
 This ardor is most laudable. You wish 
 
 To do good deeds to others ; how you do them 
 
 Is but of small account to patriots, 
 
 Or to the wise. Choose then within these reafms - 
 
 The office where you best may satisfy 
 
 This noble impulse. 
 
 MARQUIS. 
 
 'Tis not to be found. 
 
 KING. 
 How!
 
 DON CARLOS. 233 
 
 MARQUIS. 
 
 What your majesty would spread abroad, 
 Through these my hands is it the good of men ? 
 Is it the happiness that my pure love 
 Would to mankind impart? Before such bliss 
 Monarclis would tremble. No! Court policy 
 Has raised up new enjoyments for mankind. 
 Which she is always rich enough to grant; 
 And wakened, in the hearts of men, new wishes 
 Which such enjoyments only can content. 
 In her own mint she coins the truth such truth ! 
 As she herself can tolerate : all forms 
 Unlike her own are broken. But is that 
 Which can content the court enough for me? 
 Must my affection for my brother pledge 
 Itself to work my brother injury ? 
 To call him happy when he dare not think? 
 Sire, choose not me to spread the happiness 
 Which you have stamped for us. I must decline 
 To circulate such coin. I cannot be 
 The servant of a prince. 
 
 KING (suddenly). 
 
 You are, perhaps, 
 A Protestant ? 
 
 MARQUIS (after some reflection). 
 
 Our creeds, my liege, are one. 
 
 \_Apau*e. 
 
 I am misunderstood. I feared as much. 
 You see the veil torn by ray hand aside 
 From all the mysteries of majesty. 
 Who can assure you I shall still regard 
 As sacred that which ceases to alarm me ? 
 I may seem dangerous, because I think 
 Above myself. I am not so, my liege ; 
 My wishes lie corroding here. The rage 
 
 [Laying his hand on his breast. 
 For innovation, which but serves to increase 
 The heavy weight of chains it cannot break, 
 Shall never fire my blood ! The world is yet
 
 234 DON CARLOS. 
 
 Unripe for my ideal ; and I live 
 
 A citizen of ages yet to come. 
 
 But does a fancied picture break your rest? 
 
 A breach of yours destroys it. 
 
 KING. 
 
 Say, am I 
 The first to whom your views are known? 
 
 MARQUIS. 
 
 You are. 
 KING (rises, walks a few paces and then stops opposite the 
 
 MARQUIS aside). 
 
 This tone, at least, is new ; but flattery 
 Exhausts itself. And men of talent still 
 Disdain to imitate. So let us test 
 Its opposite for once. Why should I not ? 
 There is a charm in novelty. Should we 
 Be so agreed, I will bethink me now 
 Of some new state employment, in whose duties 
 Your powerful mind 
 
 MARQUIS. 
 
 Sire, I perceive how small, 
 How mean, your notions are of manly worth. 
 Suspecting, in an honest man's discourse, 
 Naught but a flatterer's artifice methinks 
 I can explain the cause of this your error. 
 Mankind compel you to it. With free choice 
 They have disclaimed their true nobility, 
 Lowered themselves to their degraded state. 
 Before man's inward worth, as from a phantom, 
 They fly in terror and contented with 
 Their poverty, they ornament their chains 
 With slavish prudence; ami they call it virtue 
 To bear them with a show of resignation. 
 Thus did you find the world, mid thus it was 
 By your great father handed o'er to you. 
 In this debased conection how could you 
 Respect mankind ? 
 
 KING. 
 Your words contain some truth.
 
 DOX CARLOS. 235 
 
 MARQUIS. 
 
 Alas ! that when from the Creator's hand 
 You took mankind, and moulded him to suit 
 Your own ideas, making yourself the god 
 Of this new creature, you should overlook 
 That you yourself remained a human being 
 A very man, as from God's hands you came. 
 Still did you feel a mortal's wants and pains. 
 You needed sympathy ; but to a God 
 One can but sacrifice, and pray, and tremble 
 Wretched exchange ! Perversion most unblest 
 Of sacred nature! Once degrade mankind, 
 And make him but a thing to play upon, 
 Who then can share the harmony with you ? 
 
 KING (aside). 
 By heaven, he moves me ! 
 
 MARQUIS. 
 
 But this sacrifice 
 
 To you is valueless. You thus become 
 A thing apart, a species ot your own. 
 This is the price you pay for being a god ; 
 Twere dreadful were it not so, and if you 
 Gained nothing by the misery of millions! 
 And if the very freedom you destroyed 
 Were the sole blessing that could make you happy. 
 Dismiss me, sire, I pray you ; for my theme 
 Bears me too far ; my heart is full ; too strong 
 The charm, to stand before the only man 
 To whom I may reveal it. 
 
 [The COU.VT LERMA enters, and whispers a few 
 words to the KING, who signs him to inthdraw, 
 and continues sitting in his former posture. 
 KING (to the MARQUIS, after LERMA is gone). 
 
 Nay, continue. 
 MARQUIS (after a pause). 
 I feel, sire all the worth 
 
 KING. 
 
 Proceed ; you had 
 
 Yet more to say to me.
 
 236 DON CARLOS. 
 
 MARQUIS. 
 
 Your majesty, 
 
 I lately passed through Flanders and Brabant, 
 So many rich and blooming provinces, 
 Filled with a valiant, great, and honest people. 
 To be the father of a race like this 
 I thought must be divine indeed ; and then 
 I stumbled on a heap of burnt men's bones. 
 
 [He stops, he fixes a penetrating look on the KING, 
 who endeavors to return his glance / but he looks 
 on the ground, embarrassed and confused. 
 True, you are forced to act so ; but that you 
 Could dare fulfil your task this fills my soul 
 With shuddering horror! Oh, 'tis pity that 
 The victim, weltering in his blood, must cease 
 To chant the praises of his sacrificer ! 
 And that mere men not beings loftier far 
 Should write the history of the world. But soon 
 A milder age will follow that of Philip, 
 An age of truer wisdom; hand in hand, 
 The subjects' welfare and the sovereign's greatness 
 Will walk in union. Then the careful state 
 Will spare her children, and necessity 
 No longer glory to be thus inhuman. 
 
 KING. 
 
 When, think you, would that blessed age arrive, 
 If I had shrunk before the curse of this ? 
 Behold my Spain, see here the burgher's good 
 Blooms in eternal and unclouded peace. 
 A peace like this will I bestow on Flanders. 
 
 MARQUIS (hastily). 
 
 The churchyard's peace ! And do you hope to end 
 
 What you have now begun ? Say, do you hope 
 
 To check the ripening change of Christendom, 
 
 The universal spring, that shall renew 
 
 The earth's fair form? Would you alone, in Europe, 
 
 Fling yourself down before the rapid wheel 
 
 Of destiny, which rolls its ceaseless course, 
 
 And seize its spokes with human arm. Vain thought !
 
 DON CARLOS. 237 
 
 Already thousands have your kingdom fled 
 In joyful poverty : the honest burgher 
 For his faith exiled, was your noblest subject ! 
 See ! with a mother's arms, Elizabeth 
 Welcomes the fugitives, and Britain blooms 
 In rich luxuriance, from our country's arts. 
 Bereft of the new Christian's industry, 
 Granada lies forsaken, and all Europe 
 Exulting, sees his foe oppressed with wounds, 
 By its own hands inflicted ! 
 
 [ The KING is moved; the MARQUIS observes it, 
 and advances a step nearer. 
 
 You would plant 
 
 For all eternity, and yet the seeds 
 You sow around you are the seeds of death ! 
 This hopeless task, with nature's laws at strife, 
 Will ne'er survive the spirit of its founder. 
 You labor for ingratitude ; in vain, 
 With nature you engage in desperate struggle 
 In vain you waste your high and royal life 
 In projects of destruction. Man is greater 
 Than you esteem him. He will burst the chains 
 Of a long slumber, and reclaim once more 
 His just and hallowed rights. With Nero's name, 
 And fell Busiris', will he couple yours; 
 And ah ! you once deserved a better fate. 
 
 KING. 
 
 How know you that ? 
 
 MARQUIS. 
 
 In very truth you did 
 Yes, I repeat it by the Almighty power! 
 Restore us all you have deprived us of, 
 And, generous as strong, let happiness 
 Flow from your horn of plenty let man's mind 
 Ripen in your vast empire give us back 
 All you have taken from us and become, 
 Amidst a thousand kings, a king indeed ! 
 
 [He advances boldly, and fixes on him a look of 
 
 earnestness and enthusiasm. 
 Oh, that the eloquence of all those myriads,
 
 238 DON CARLOS. 
 
 Whose fate depends on this momentous hour, 
 Could hover on my lips, and fan the spark 
 That lights thine eye into a glorious flame ! 
 Renounce the mimicry of godlike powers 
 Which level us to nothing. Be, in truth, 
 An image of the Deity himself! 
 Never did mortal man possess so much 
 For purpose so divine. The kings of Europe 
 Pay homage to the name of Spain. Be you 
 The leader of these kings. One pen-stroke now, 
 One motion of your hand, can new create 
 The earth ! but grant us liberty of thought. 
 
 [ Casts himself at. his feet 
 
 KING (surprised^ turns aicay his face, then again 
 
 looks toicards the MARQUIS). 
 Enthusiast most strange ! arise ; but I 
 
 MARQUIS. 
 
 Look round on all the glorious face of nature, 
 On freedom it is founded see how rich, 
 Through freedom it has grown. The great Creator 
 Bestows upon the worm its drop of dew, 
 And gives free-will a triumph in abodes 
 Where lone corruption reigns. See your creation, 
 How small, how poor ! The rustling of a leaf 
 Alarms the mighty lord of Christendom. 
 Each virtue makes you quake with fear. While he, 
 Not to disturb fair freedom's blest appearance, 
 Permits the frightful ravages of evil 
 To waste his fair domains. The great Creator 
 We see not he conceals himself within 
 His own eternal laws. The sceptic sees 
 Their operation, but beholds not Him. 
 " Wherefore a God ! " he cries, " the world itself 
 Suffices for itself !" And Christian prayer 
 Ne'er praised him more than doth this blasphemy. 
 
 KING. 
 
 And will you undertake to raise up this 
 Exalted standard of weak human nature 
 In my dominions ?
 
 DON CARLOS. 239 
 
 MARQUIS. 
 
 You can do it, sire . 
 
 Wbo else ? Devote to your own people's bliss 
 The kipgly power, which has too long enriched 
 The greatness of the throne alone. Restore 
 The prostrate dignity of human nature, 
 And let ihe subject be, what once he was, 
 The end and object of the monarch's care, 
 Bound by no duty, save a brother's love. 
 And when mankind is to itself restored, 
 Roused to a sense of its own innate worth, 
 When freedom's lofty virtues proudly flourish 
 Then, sire, when you have made your own wide realms 
 The happiest in the world, it then may be 
 Your duty to subdue the universe. 
 
 KING (after a long pau?6). 
 
 I've heard you to the end. Far differencly 
 
 I find, than in the minds of other men, 
 
 The world exists in yours. And you shall not 
 
 By foreign laws be judged. I am the first 
 
 To whom you have your secret self disclosed ; 
 
 I know it so believe it for the sake 
 
 Of this forbearance that you have till now 
 
 Concealed these sentiments, although embraced 
 
 With so much ardor, for this cautious prudence. 
 
 I will forget, young man, that I have learned them. 
 
 And how I learned them. Rise! I will confute 
 
 Your youthful dreams by my matured experience, 
 
 Not by my power as king. Such is my will, 
 
 And therefore act I thus. Poison itself 
 
 May, in a worthy nature, be transformed 
 
 To some benignant use. But, sir, beware 
 
 My Inquisition! 'Twould afflict me much 
 
 MARQUIS. 
 Indeed ! 
 
 KING (lost in surprise). 
 Ne'er met I such a man as that ! 
 No, marquis, no ! you wrong me ! Not to you 
 Will I become a Nero not to you !
 
 240 DON CARLOS. 
 
 All happiness shall not be blasted round me, 
 And you at least, beneath my very eyes, 
 May dare continue to remain a man. 
 
 MARQUIS (quickly). 
 
 And, sire, my fellow-subjects? Not for me, 
 
 Nor my own cause, I pleaded. Sire ! your subjects 
 
 KING. 
 
 Nay, if you know so well how future times 
 Will judge me, let them learn at least from you, 
 That when I found a man, I could respect him. 
 
 MARQUIS. 
 
 Oh, let not the most just of kings at once 
 
 Be the most unjust ! In your realm of Flanders 
 
 There are a thousand better men than I. 
 
 But you sire ! may I dare to say so much 
 
 For the first time, perhaps, see liberty 
 
 In milder form portrayed. 
 
 KING (with gentle severity). 
 
 No more of this, 
 
 Young man ! You would, I know, think otherwise 
 Had you but learned to understand mankind 
 As I. But truly I would not this meeting 
 Should prove our last. How can I hope to win you ? 
 
 MARQUIS. 
 
 Pray leave me as I am. What value, sire, 
 Should I be to you were you to corrupt me ? 
 
 KING. 
 
 This pride I will not bear. From this day forth 
 
 I hold you in my service. No remonstrance 
 
 For I will have it so. [After a pau*e. 
 
 But how is this ? 
 
 What would I now ? Was it not truth I wished ? 
 But here is something more. Marquis, so far 
 You've learned to know me as a king; but yet 
 You know me not as man 
 
 [ The MARQUIS seems to meditate.
 
 DON CARLOS. 241 
 
 I understand you 
 Were I the most unfortunate of fathers, 
 Yet as a husband may I not be blest ? 
 
 MARQUIS. 
 
 If the possession of a hopeful son, 
 
 And a most lovely spouse, confer a claim 
 
 On mortal to assume that title, sire, 
 
 In both respects, you are supremely blest. 
 
 KING (icith a serious look). 
 
 That am I not and never, till this hour, 
 Have I so deeply felt that I am not so. 
 
 [ Contemplating the MARQUIS with a look oj 
 melancholy. 
 
 MARQUIS. 
 
 The prince possesses a right noble mind. 
 I ne'er have known him otherwise. 
 
 KING. 
 
 I have ! 
 
 The treasure he has robbed me of, no crown 
 Can e'er requite. So virtuous a queen ! 
 
 MARQUIS. 
 Who dare assert it, sire ? 
 
 KING. 
 
 The world ! and scandal ! 
 And I myself ! Here lie the damning proofs 
 Of doubtless guilt and others, too, exist, 
 From which I fear the worst. But still 'tis hard 
 To trust one proof alone. Who brings the charge ? 
 And oh ! if this were possible that she, 
 The queen, so foully could pollute her honor, 
 Then how much easier were it to believe 
 An Eboli may be a slanderer! 
 Does not that priest detest my son and her? 
 And can I doubt that Alva broods revenge? 
 My wife has higher worth than all together.
 
 242 DON CARLOS. 
 
 MARQUIS. 
 
 And there exists besides in woman's soul 
 A treasure, sire, beyond all outward show, 
 Above the reach of slander female virtue! 
 
 KING. 
 
 Marquis ! those thoughts are mine. It costs too much 
 To sink so low as they accuse the queen. 
 The sacred ties of honor are not broken 
 With so much ease, as some would fain persuade me. 
 Marquis, you know mankind. Just such a man 
 As you I long have wished for you are kind 
 Cheerful and deeply versed in human nature 
 Therefore I've chosen you 
 
 MARQUIS (surprised and alarmed). 
 
 Me, sire ! 
 KING. 
 
 You stand 
 
 Before your king and ask no special favor 
 For yourself nothing! that is new to me 
 You will be just ne'er weakly swayed by passion. 
 Watch ray son close search the queen's inmost heart. 
 You shall have power to speak with her in private. 
 Retire. \_He rings a bell. 
 
 MARQUIS. 
 
 And if with but one hope fulfilled 
 I now depart, then is this day indeed 
 The happiest of my life. 
 
 KING (holds out his hand to him to kiss). 
 
 I hold it not 
 Amongst my days a lost one. 
 
 [ The MARQUIS rises and goes. COUNT LERMA 
 enters, 
 
 Count, in future, 
 The marquis is to enter, unannounced.
 
 DON CARLOS. 243 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 SCENE I. 
 The Queen's Apartment. 
 
 QUEEN, DUCHESS OLIVABEZ, PRINCESS EBOLI, COUNTESS 
 FUENTES. 
 
 QUEEN (to the first lady as she rises). 
 And so the key has not been found ! My casket 
 Must be forced open then and that at once. 
 
 [She observes PRINCESS EBOLI, who approaches and 
 
 kisses her hand. 
 
 Welcome, dear princess ! I rejoice to see you 
 So near recovered. But you still look pale. 
 
 FUENTES (with malice). 
 The fault of that vile fever which affects 
 The nerves so painfully. Is't not, princess ? 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 I wished to visit you, dear Eboli, 
 But dared not. 
 
 OLIVABEZ. 
 
 Oh ! the Princess Eboli 
 Was not in want of company. 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 Why, that 
 I readily believe, but what's the matter ? 
 
 You tremble 
 
 PRINCESS. 
 
 Nothing nothing, gracious queen. 
 Permit me to retire. 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 You hide it from us 
 
 And are far worse than you would have us think. 
 Standing must weary you. Assist her, countess, 
 And let her rest awhile upon that seat. 
 
 PRINCESS (going). 
 I shall be better in the open air.
 
 244 DON CARLOS. 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 Attend her, countess. What a sudden illness ! 
 
 [A PAGE enters and speaks to the DUCHESS, who then 
 addresses the QUEEN. 
 
 OLIVAREZ. 
 
 The Marquis Posa waits, your majesty, 
 With ovders from the king. 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 Admit him then. 
 [PAGE admits the MARQUIS and exit. 
 
 SCENE II. 
 MARQUIS POSA. The former. 
 
 The MARQUIS falls on one knee before the QUEEN, who 
 signs to him to rise. 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 What are my lord's commands ? And may I dare 
 Thus publicly to hear - 
 
 MARQUIS. 
 
 My business is 
 In private with your royal majesty. 
 
 [ The ladies retire on a signal from the QUEEN. 
 
 III. 
 
 The QUEEN, MARQUIS POSA. 
 QUEEN (full of astonishment). 
 
 How ! Marquis, dare I trust my eyes ? Are you 
 Commissioned to me from the king ? 
 
 MARQUIS. 
 
 Does this 
 
 Seem such a wonder to your majesty? 
 To me 'tis otherwise.
 
 DOX CARLOS. 245 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 The world must sure 
 
 Have wandered from its course ! That you and he 
 I must confess 
 
 MARQUIS. 
 
 It does sound somewhat strange 
 But be it so. The present times abound 
 In prodigies. 
 
 QUEEN. 
 But none can equal this. 
 
 MARQUIS. 
 
 Suppose I had at last allowed myself 
 To be converted, and had weary grown 
 Of playing the eccentric at the court 
 Of Phi'lip. The eccentric! What is that? 
 He who would be of service to mankind 
 Must first endeavor to resemble them. 
 What end is gained by the vain-glorious garb 
 Of the sectarian? Then suppose for who 
 From vanity is so completely free 
 As for his creed to seek no proselytes ? 
 Suppose, I say, I had it in my mind 
 To place my own opinions on the throne ! 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 No, marquis! no! Not even in jest could I 
 Suspect you of so wild a scheme as this ; 
 No visionary you ! to undertake 
 What you can ne'er accomplish. 
 
 MARQUIS. 
 
 But that seems 
 To be the very point at issue. 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 What 
 
 I chiefly blame you, marquis, for, and what 
 Could well estrange me from you is 
 
 MARQUIS. 
 
 Perhaps 
 Duplicity !
 
 246 DON CARLOS. 
 
 QUEEX. 
 
 At least a want of candor. 
 Perhaps the king himself has no desire 
 You should impart what now you mean to tell me 
 
 MARQUIS. 
 No. 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 And can evil means be justified 
 By honest ends ? And pardon me the doubt 
 Can your high bearing stoop to such an office ? 
 I scarce can think it. 
 
 MARQUIS. 
 
 Nor, indeed, could I, 
 
 Were my sole purpose to deceive the king. 
 'Tis not my wish I mean to serve him now 
 More honestly than he himself commands. 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 'Tis spoken like yourself. Enough of this 
 What would the king? 
 
 MARQUIS. 
 
 The king? I can, it seems, 
 Retaliate quickly on my rigid judge : 
 And what I have deferred so long to tell, 
 Your majesty, perhaps, would willingly 
 Longer defer to hear. But still it must 
 Be heard. The king requests your majesty 
 Will grant no audience to the ambassador 
 Of France to-day. Such were my high commands 
 They're executed. 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 Marquis, is that all 
 You have to tell me from him? 
 
 MARQUIS. 
 
 Nearly all 
 That justifies me thus to seek your presence. 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 Well, marquis, I'm contented not to hear 
 What should, perhaps, remain a secret from me.
 
 DON CARLOS. 247 
 
 MARQUIS. 
 
 True, queen ! though were you other than yourself, 
 I should inform you straight of certain things 
 Warn you of certain men but this to you 
 Were a vain office. Danger may arise 
 And disappear around you, unperceived. 
 You will not know it of too little weight 
 To chase the slumber from your angel brow. 
 But 'twas not this, in sooth, that brought me hither, 
 
 Prince Carlos 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 What of him ? How have you left him ? 
 
 MARQUIS. 
 
 E'en as the only wise man of his time, 
 
 In whom it is a crime to worship truth 
 
 And ready, for his love to risk his life, 
 
 As the wise sage for his. I bring few words 
 
 But here he is himself. 
 
 [ Giving the QUEEN a letter. 
 
 QUEEN (after she has read it). 
 
 He says he must 
 
 Speak with ine 
 
 MARQUIS. 
 
 So do I. 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 And will he thus 
 
 Be happy when he sees with his own eyes, 
 That I am wretched ? 
 
 MARQUIS. 
 
 No ; but more resolved, 
 More active. 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 How? 
 
 MARQUIS. 
 
 Duke Alva is appointed 
 To Flanders.
 
 248 DON CARLOS. 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 Yes, appointed so I hear. 
 
 MARQUIS. 
 
 The king cannot retract : we know the king. 
 This much is clear, the prince must not remain 
 Here in Madrid, nor Flanders be abandoned. 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 And can you hinder it ? 
 
 MAKQUIS. 
 
 Perhaps I can, 
 
 But then the means are dangerous as the evil 
 Rash as despair and yet I know no other. 
 
 QUEEN. 
 Name them. 
 
 MARQUIS. 
 
 To you, and you alone, my queen, 
 Will I reveal them ; for from you alone, 
 Carlos will hear them named without a shudder. 
 The name they bear is somewhat harsh. 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 Rebellion ! 
 MARQUIS. 
 
 He must prove faithless to the king, and fly 
 With secrecy to Brussels, where the Flemings 
 Wait him with open arms. The Netherlands 
 Will rise at his command. Our glorious cause 
 From the king's son will gather matchless strength, 
 The Spanish throne shall tremble at his arms, 
 And what his sire denied him in Madrid, 
 That will he willingly concede in Brussels. 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 You've spoken with the king to-day and yet 
 Maintain all this. 
 
 MARQUIS. 
 
 Yes, I maintain it all, 
 Because I spoke with him.
 
 DON CARLOS. 249 
 
 QUEEN (after a pause). 
 
 The daring plan 
 
 Alarms and pleases me. You may be right 
 The thought is bold, and that perhaps enchants me. 
 Let it but ripen. Does Prince Carlos know it? 
 
 MARQUIS. 
 
 It was my wish that he should hear it first 
 From your own lips. 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 The plan is doubtless good, 
 But then the prince's youth 
 
 MARQUIS. 
 
 No disadvantage! 
 
 He there will find the bravest generals 
 Of the Emperor Charles an Egmont and an Orange 
 In battle daring, and in council wise. 
 
 QUEEN (with vivacity). 
 True the design is grand and beautiful! 
 The prince must act; I feel it sensibly. 
 The part he's doomed to play here in Madrid 
 Has bowed me to the dust on his account. 
 I promise him the aid of France and Savoy ; 
 I think with you, lord marquis he must act 
 But this design needs money 
 
 MAKQUIS. 
 
 It is ready. 
 QUEEN. 
 I, too, know means. 
 
 MARQUIS. 
 
 May I then give him hopes 
 Of seeing you ? 
 
 QUEEN. 
 I will consider it. 
 
 MARQUIS. 
 
 The prince, my queen, is urgent for an answer. 
 I promised to procure it. 
 
 [Presenting his writing tablet to the QUEEN. 
 
 Two short lines 
 Will be enough.
 
 250 DON CARLOS. 
 
 QUEEN (after she has written). 
 
 When do we meet again? 
 
 MARQUIS. 
 Whene'er you wish. 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 Whene'er I wish it, marquis ! 
 How can I understand this privilege? 
 
 MARQUIS. 
 
 As innocently, queen, as e'er you may. 
 But we enjoy it that is sure enough. 
 
 QUEEN (interrupting). 
 
 How will my heart rejoice should this become 
 A refuge for the liberties of Europe, 
 And this through him ! Count on my silent aid ! 
 
 MARQUIS (with animation). 
 
 Right well I knew your heart would understand me. 
 [ The DUCHESS OLIVAREZ enters, 
 
 QUEEN (coldly to the MARQUIS). 
 My lord ! the king's commands I shall respect 
 As law. Assure him of the queen's submission. 
 
 [She makes a sign to him. Exit MARQUIS. 
 
 SCENE IV. 
 A Gallery. 
 
 DON CARLOS, COUNT LERMA. 
 CARLOS. 
 
 Here we are undisturbed. What would you now 
 Impart to me ? 
 
 LERMA. 
 
 Your highness has a friend 
 Here at the court. 
 
 CARLOS (starting). 
 
 A frieml ' I knew it not ! 
 But what's your meaning?
 
 DON CARLOS. 251 
 
 LEKMA. 
 
 I must sue for pardon 
 
 That I am learned in more than I should know. 
 But for your highness' comfort I've received it 
 From one I may depend upon in short, 
 I have it from myself. 
 
 CARLOS. 
 Whom speak you of ? 
 
 LEKMA. 
 
 The Marquis Posa. 
 
 CARLOS. 
 
 What ! 
 
 LEKMA. 
 
 And if your highness 
 
 Has trusted to him more of what concerns you 
 Than every one should know, as I am led 
 To fear 
 
 CARLOS. 
 
 You fear ! 
 
 LERMA. 
 
 He has been with the king, 
 
 CARLOS. 
 Indeed ! 
 
 LERMA. 
 
 Two hours in secret converse too. 
 
 CARLOS. 
 
 Indeed ! 
 
 LERMA. 
 
 The subject was no trifling matter. 
 
 CARLOS. 
 That I can well believe. 
 
 LERMA. 
 
 And several times 
 I heard your name. 
 
 CARLOS. 
 
 That's no bad sign, I hope.
 
 252 DON CARLOS. 
 
 LKRMA. 
 
 And then, this morning, in the king's apartment, 
 The queen was spoken of mysteriously. 
 
 CARLOS (starts back astonished). 
 Count Lerma ! 
 
 LERMA. 
 
 When the marquis had retired 
 I was commanded to admit his lordship 
 In future unannounced. 
 
 CAKLOS. 
 
 Astonishing ! 
 
 LERMA. 
 
 And without precedent do I believe, 
 Long as I served the king 
 
 CARLOS. 
 
 'Tis strange, indeed ! 
 How did you say the queen was spoken of? 
 
 LERMA (steps back). 
 No, no, my prince ! that were against my duty. 
 
 CARLOS. 
 
 'Tis somewhat strange ! One secret you impart. 
 The other you withhold. 
 
 LERMA. 
 
 The first was due 
 To you, the other to the king. 
 
 CARLOS. 
 
 You're right. 
 
 LERMA. 
 
 And still I've thought you, prince, a man of honor. 
 
 CARLOS. 
 Then you have judged me truly. 
 
 LERMA. 
 
 But all virtue 
 Is spotless till it's tried.
 
 DON CARLOS. 253 
 
 CARLOS. 
 
 Some stand the trial. 
 
 LERMA. 
 
 A powerful monarch's favor is a prize 
 Worth seeking for ; and this alluring bait 
 Has ruined many a virtue. 
 
 CARLOS. 
 
 Truly said ! 
 
 LERMA. 
 
 And oftentimes 'tis prudent to discover 
 What scarce can longer be concealed. 
 
 CARLOS. 
 
 Yes, prudent 
 
 It may be, but you say you've ever known 
 The marquis prove himself a man of honor. 
 
 LERMA. 
 
 And if he be so still my fears are harmless, 
 And you become a double gainer, prince. [Going. 
 
 CARLOS (follows him with emotion, and presses his hand). 
 Trebly I gain, upright and worthy man, 
 I gain another friend, nor lose the one 
 Whom I before possessed. [Exit LERMA. 
 
 SCENE V. 
 MARQUIS POSA comes through the gallery. CARLOS. 
 
 MARQUIS. 
 
 Carlos ! My Carlos ! 
 CARLOS. 
 
 Who calls me? Ah ! 'tis thou I was in haste 
 To gain the convent ! You will not delay. [ Going, 
 
 MARQUIS. 
 Hold ! for a moment. 
 
 CARLOS. 
 We may be observed.
 
 254 DON CARLOS. 
 
 MARQUIS. 
 
 No chance of that. 'Tis over now. The queen 
 
 CARLOS. 
 You've seen my father. 
 
 MARQUIS. 
 
 Yes! he sent for me. 
 
 CARLOS (full of expectation). 
 Well! 
 
 MARQUIS. 
 
 'Tis all settled you may see the queen. 
 
 CARLOS. 
 Yes ! but the king ! What said the king to you? 
 
 MARQUIS. 
 
 Not much. Mere curiosity to learn 
 
 My history. The zeal of unknown friends 
 
 I know not what. He offered me employment. 
 
 CARLOS. 
 Which you, of course, rejected ? 
 
 MARQUIS. 
 
 Yes, of course ! 
 
 CARLOS. 
 
 How did you separate ? 
 
 MARQUIS. 
 
 Oh, well enough ! 
 
 CARLOS. 
 And was I mentioned ? 
 
 MARQUIS. 
 
 Yes ; in general terms. 
 
 [Taking out a pockeibook and giving it to the PRINCE 
 See here are two lines written by the queen, 
 To-morrow I will settle where and how. 
 
 CARLOS (reads it carelessly, puts the tablet in his pocket, 
 
 and is going.) 
 You'll meet me at the prior's ?
 
 DON CARLOS. 255 
 
 MAKQUIS. 
 
 Yes ! But stay 
 
 Why in such haste ? No one is coming hither. 
 
 CARLOS (with a forced smile). 
 Have we in truth changed characters? To-day 
 You seem so bold and confident. 
 
 MARQUIS. 
 
 To-day, 
 Wherefore to-day ? 
 
 CARLOS. 
 
 What writes the queen to me? 
 
 MARQUIS. 
 
 Have you not read this instant ? 
 
 CARLOS. 
 
 I? Oh yes. 
 
 MARQUIS. 
 
 What is't disturbs you now ? 
 
 CAELOS (reads the tablet again, delighted and fervently) 
 
 Angel of Heaven ! 
 
 I will be so, I will be worthy of thee. 
 Love elevates great minds. So come what may, 
 Whatever thou commandest, I'll perform. 
 She writes that I must hold myself prepared 
 For a great enterprise ! What can she mean? 
 Dost thou not know? 
 
 MARQUIS. 
 
 And, Carlos, if I knew. 
 Say, art thou now prepared to hear it from me? 
 
 CARLOS. 
 
 Have I offended thee? I was distracted. 
 Roderigo, pardon me. 
 
 MARQUIS. 
 Distracted ! How ? 
 
 CARLOS. 
 I scarcely know ! But may I keep this tablet?
 
 256 DON CARLOS. 
 
 MARQUIS. 
 
 Not so ! I came to ask thee for thine own. 
 
 CARLOS. 
 
 My tablet! Why? 
 
 MARQUIS. 
 
 And whatsoever writing? 
 You have, unfit to meet a stranger's eye 
 Letters or memorandums, and in short, 
 Your whole portfolio. 
 
 CARLOS. 
 Why? 
 
 MARQUIS. 
 
 That we may be 
 
 Prepared for accidents. Who can prevent 
 Surprise ? They'll never seek them in my keeping. 
 Here, give them to me 
 
 CARLOS (uneasy). 
 
 Strange ! What can it mean ? 
 MARQUIS. 
 
 Be not alarmed ! 'Tis. nothing of importance ! 
 A mere precaution to prevent surprise. 
 You need not be alarmed ! 
 
 CARLOS (gives him. the portfolio). 
 
 Be careful of it. 
 
 MARQUIS. 
 Be sure I will. 
 
 CARLOS (looks at him significantly). 
 
 I give thee much, Roderigo ! 
 
 MARQUIS. 
 
 Not more than I have often had from thee. 
 The rest we'll talk of yonder. Now farewell. [ Going. 
 
 CARLOS (struggling with himself ^ then calls him bacJc). 
 Give me my letters back ; there's one amongst them 
 The queen addressed to me at Alcala, 
 When I was sick to death. Still next my heart
 
 DON CARLOS. 257 
 
 I carry it ; to take this letter from me 
 Goes to my very soul. But leave me that, 
 And take the rest. 
 
 [He takes it out, and returns the portfolio. 
 
 MARQUIS. 
 
 I yield unwillingly 
 
 For 'twas that letter which I most required. 
 
 CABLOS. 
 Farewell ! 
 
 [He goes aicay slowly, stops a moment at the door, turns 
 back again, and brings him the letter. 
 
 You have it there. 
 
 [His hand trembles, tears start from his eyes, befalls 
 on the neck of the MARQUIS, and presses his face to 
 his bosom. 
 
 Oh, not my father, 
 Could do so much, Roderigo ! Not my father ! 
 
 [Exit hastily. 
 
 SCENE VI. 
 
 MARQUIS (looks after him with astonishment). 
 
 And is this possible ! And to this hour 
 
 Have I not known him fully ? In his heart 
 
 This blemish has escaped my eye. Distrust 
 
 Of me his friend ! But no, 'tis calumny ! 
 
 What hath he done that I accuse him thus 
 
 Of weakest weakness. I myself commit 
 
 The fault I charge on him. What have I done 
 
 Might well surprise him ! When hath he displayed 
 
 To his best friend such absolute reserve ? 
 
 Carlos, I must afflict thee there's no help 
 
 And longer still distress thy noble soul. 
 
 In me the king hath placed his confidence, 
 
 His holiest trust reposed as in a casket, 
 
 And this reliance calls for gratitude. 
 
 How can disclosure serve thee when my silence 
 
 Brings thee no harm serves thee, perhaps ? Ah ! why 
 
 Point to the traveller the impending storm ?
 
 258 DOX CARLOS. 
 
 Enough, if I direct its anger past thee ! 
 
 And when thou wakest the sky's again serene. [Exit 
 
 SCENE VII. 
 
 The KING'S Cabinet. 
 
 The KING seated, near him the INFANTA CLARA EUGENIA. 
 
 KING (after a deep silence). 
 
 No she is sure my daughter or can nature 
 
 Thus lie like truth ! Yes, that blue eye is mine! 
 
 And I am pictured in thy every feature. 
 
 Child of my love ! for such thou art I fold thee 
 
 Thus to my heart ; thou art my blood. [/Starts and pauses. 
 
 My blood 
 
 What's worse to fear? Are not my features his ? 
 
 [ Takes the miniature in his hand and looks first at 
 the portrait, then at the mirror opposite ; at last he 
 throws it on the (/round, rises hastily, and pushes 
 the INFANTA from him. 
 
 Away, away ! I'm lost in this abyss. 
 
 SCENE VIII. 
 COUNT LERMA and the KING. 
 
 LERMA. 
 Her majesty is in the antechamber. 
 
 KING. 
 What! Now? 
 
 LERMA. 
 
 And begs the favor of an audience. 
 
 KING. 
 
 Now! At this unaccustomed hour! Not now 
 I cannot see her yet. 
 
 LERMA. 
 
 Here comes the queen. 
 
 \Exit LERMA.
 
 DON CARLOS. 25& 
 
 SCENE IX. 
 The KING, the QUEEN enters, and the INFANTA. 
 
 The INFANTA runs to meet the QUEEN and clings to 
 her; the QUEEN falls at the KING'S feet, who is silent, 
 and appears confused and embarrassed. 
 QUEEN. 
 
 My lord ! My husband ! I'm constrained to seek 
 
 Justice before the throne ! 
 
 KING. 
 
 What? Justice! 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 Yes! 
 
 I'm treated with dishonor at the court ! 
 My casket has been rifled. 
 
 KING. 
 What ! Your casket ? 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 And things I highly value have been plundered. 
 
 KING. 
 Things that you highly value. 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 From the meaning 
 Which ignorant men's officiousness, perhaps, 
 
 Might give to them 
 
 KING. 
 
 What's this ? Officiousnesa, 
 And meaning ! How ? But rise. 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 Oh no, my husband ! 
 
 Not till you bind yourself by sacred promise, 
 By virtue of your own authority, 
 To find the offender out, and grant redress, 
 Or else dismiss my suite, which hides a thief. 
 
 KING. 
 But rise ! In such a posture ! Pray you, rise.
 
 260 DON CARLO?. 
 
 QUEEN (rises). 
 
 'Tis some one of distinction I know well; 
 My casket held both diamonds and pearls 
 Of matchless value, but he only took 
 My letters. 
 
 KING. 
 
 May I ask 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 Undoubtedly, 
 
 My husband. They were letters from the prince : 
 His miniature as well. 
 
 KING. 
 From whom? 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 The prince, 
 Your son. 
 
 KINO. 
 To you? 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 Sent by the prince to me. 
 
 KING. 
 What ! From Prince Carlos ! Do you tell me that ? 
 
 QUEEN. 
 Why not tell you, my husband ? 
 
 KING. 
 
 And not blush. 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 What mean you? You must surely recollect 
 
 T : ie letters Carlos sent me to St. Germains, 
 
 With both courts' full consent. Whether that leave 
 
 Extended to the portrait, or alone 
 
 His hasty hope dictated such a step, 
 
 I cannot now pretend to answer ; but 
 
 If even rash, it may at least be pardoned 
 
 For thus much I may be his pledge that then 
 
 He never thought the gift was for his mother. 
 
 [ Observes the agitation of the KING, 
 What moves you ? What's the matter?
 
 DON CARLOS. 261 
 
 INFANTA (who has found the miniature on the ground, 
 and has been playing with it, brings it to the QUEEN. 
 
 Look, dear mother ! 
 See what a pretty picture ! 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 What then my 
 
 [She recognizes the miniature, and remains in speech- 
 less astonishment. They both gaze at each other. 
 After a long pause. 
 
 In trutn, this mode of trying a wife's heart 
 Is great and royal, sire! But I should wish 
 To ask one question ? 
 
 KING. 
 'Tis for me to question. 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 Let my suspicions spare the innocent. 
 And if by your command this theft was done 
 
 KING. 
 
 It was so done ! 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 Then I have none to blame, 
 And none to pity other than yourself 
 Since you possess a wife on whom such schemes 
 Are thrown away. 
 
 KING. 
 
 This language is not new 
 Nor shall you, madam, now again deceive me 
 As in the gardens of Aranjuez 
 My queen of angel purity, who then 
 So haughtily my accusation spurned 
 I know her better now. 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 What mean you, sire? 
 
 KING. 
 
 Madam ! thus briefly and without reserve 
 Say is it true? still true, that you conversed 
 With no one there? Is really that the truth?
 
 262 DON CARLOS. 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 I spoke there with the prince. 
 
 KING. 
 
 Then it is clear 
 As day ! So daring ! heedless of mine honor ! 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 Your honor, sire ! If that be now the question, 
 A greater honor is, methinks, at stake 
 Than Castile ever brought me as a dowry. 
 
 KING. 
 Why did you then deny the prince's presence ? 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 Because I'm not accustomed to be questioned 
 
 Like a delinquent before all your courtiers; 
 
 I never shall deny the truth when asked 
 
 With kindness and respect. Was that the tone 
 
 Your majesty used towards me in Aranjuez ? 
 
 Are your assembled grandees the tribunal 
 
 Queens must account to for their private conduct? 
 
 I gave the prince the interview he sought 
 
 With earnest prayer, because, my liege and lord, 
 
 I the queen wished and willed it, and because 
 
 I never can admit that formal custom 
 
 Should sit as judge on actions that are guiltless; 
 
 And I concealed it from your majesty 
 
 Because I chose not to contend with you 
 
 About this right in presence of your courtiers. 
 
 KING. 
 
 You speak with boldness, madam ! 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 I may add, 
 
 Because the prince, in his own father's heart, 
 Scarce finds that kindness he so well deserves. 
 
 KING. 
 
 So well deserves !
 
 DON CARLOS. 263 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 Why, sii'e ! should I conceal it ! 
 Highly do I esteem him yes ! and love him 
 As a most dear relation, who was once 
 Deemed worthy of a dearer tenderer title. 
 I've yet to learn that he, on this account, 
 Should be estranged from me beyond all others, 
 Because he once was better loved than they. 
 Though your state policy may knit together 
 What bands it pleases 'tis a harder task 
 To burst such ties ! I will not hate another 
 For any one's command and since I must 
 So speak such dictates I will not endure. 
 
 KING. 
 
 Elizabeth ! you've seen me in weak moments 
 And their remembrance now emboldens you. 
 On that strong influence you now depend, 
 Which you have often, with so much success, 
 Against my firmness tried. But fear the more ! 
 The power which has seduced me to be weak 
 May yet inflame me to some act of madness. 
 
 QUEEN. 
 What have I done ? 
 
 KING (takes her hand). 
 
 If it should prove but so 
 And is it not already ? If the full 
 Accumulated measure of your guilt 
 Become but one breath heavier should I be 
 
 Deceived [Lets her hand go, 
 
 I can subdue these last remains 
 Of weakness can and will then woe betide 
 Myself and you, Elizabeth ! 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 What crime 
 Have I committed ? 
 
 Shall blood be shed. 
 
 KING. 
 
 On my own account then
 
 264 DON CARLOS. 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 And has it come to this? 
 Oh, Heaven ! 
 
 KING. 
 
 I shall forget myself I shall 
 Regard no usage and no voice of nature 
 Not e'en the law of nations. 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 Oh, how much 
 I pity you ! 
 
 KING. 
 The pity of a harlot ! 
 
 INFANTA (clinging to her mother in terror). 
 The king is angry, and my mother weeps. 
 
 [KiNG pushes the child violently from the QUEEN. 
 
 QUEEN (with mildness and dignity, but with faltering 
 
 voice). 
 
 This child I must protect from cruelty 
 Come with me, daughter. [-Takes her in her arms. 
 
 If the king no more 
 
 Acknowledge thee beyond the Pyrenees 
 I'll call protectors to defend our cause. [ Going. 
 
 KING (embarrassed). 
 Queen ! 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 I can bear no more it is too much ! 
 [Hastening to the door^ she falls with her child on 
 the threshold. 
 
 KING (running to her assistance). 
 Heavens ! What is that? 
 
 INFANTA (cries out with terror). 
 
 She bleeds! My mother bleeds ! 
 [Runs out. 
 
 KING (anxiously assisting her). 
 Oh, what a fearful accident ! You bleed ; 
 Do I deserve this cruel punishment ? 
 Rise and collect yourself rise, they are coming !
 
 DON CARLOS. 265 
 
 They will surprise us ! Shall the assembled court 
 Divert themselves with such a spectacle ? 
 Must I entreat you ? Rise. 
 
 [She rises, supported by the KINO 
 
 SCENE X. 
 
 The former, ALVA, DOMINGO entering, alarmed, ladies 
 follow. 
 
 KING. 
 
 Now let the queen 
 Be led to her apartment; site's unwell. 
 
 \_Exit the QUEEN, attended by her ladies. ALVA and 
 DOMINGO come forward. 
 
 ALVA. 
 The queen in tears, and blood upon her face ! 
 
 KING. 
 Does that surprise the devils who've misled me? 
 
 ALVA and DOMINGO. 
 We? 
 
 KING. 
 
 You have said enough to drive me mad. 
 But nothing to convince me. 
 
 ALVA. 
 
 We gave you 
 What we ourselves possessed. 
 
 KING. 
 
 May hell reward you ! 
 
 I've done what I repent of ! Ah ! was hers 
 The language of a conscience dark with guilt ? 
 
 MAKQUIS POSA (from without), 
 Say, can I see the king? 
 
 SCENE XI. 
 
 The former, MARQUIS POSA. 
 
 KING (starts up at the sound of his voice, and advances 
 some paces to meet him). 
 
 Ah ! here he comes.
 
 266 DON CARLOS. 
 
 Right welcome, marquis ! Duke ! I need you now 
 No longer. Leave us. 
 
 [ALVA and DOMINGO look at each other with silent 
 astonishment and retire. 
 
 SCENE XII. 
 The KING, and MARQUIS POSA. 
 
 MARQUIS. 
 
 That old soldier, sire, 
 
 Who has faced death, in twenty battles, for you, 
 Must hold it thankless to be so dismissed. 
 
 KING. 
 
 'Tis thus for you to think for me to act ; 
 In a few hours you have been more to me 
 Than that man in a lifetime. Nor shall I 
 Keep my content a secret. On your brow 
 The lustre of my high and royal favor 
 Shall shine resplendent I will make that man 
 A mark for envy whom I choose my friend. 
 
 MARQUIS. 
 
 What if the veil of dark obscurity 
 Were his sole claim to merit such a title? 
 
 KING. 
 What come you now to tell me ? 
 
 MARQUIS. 
 
 As I passed 
 
 Along the antechamber a dread rumor 
 Fell on my ear, it seemed incredible, 
 Of a most angry quarrel blood the queen 
 
 KING. 
 Come you from her? 
 
 MARQUIS. 
 
 I should be horrified 
 
 Were not the rumor false : or should perhaps 
 Your majesty meantime have done some act 
 Discoveries of importance I have made, 
 Which wholly change the aspect of affairs.
 
 DON CARLOS. 267 
 
 KING. 
 
 How now? 
 
 MARQUIS. 
 
 I found an opportunity 
 To seize your son's portfolio, with his letters, 
 
 Which, as I hope, may throw some light 
 
 \_He gives the PRINCE'S portfolio to the KING. 
 
 KING (looks through it eagerly). 
 
 A letter 
 
 From the emperor, my father. How ! a letter 
 Of which I ne'er remember to have heard. 
 
 \_He reads it through, puts it aside, and goes to the 
 
 other papers. 
 A drawing of some fortress detached thoughts 
 
 O O 
 
 From Tacitus and what is here ? The hand 
 I surely recognize it is a lady's. 
 
 [He reads it attentively, partly to himself, and partly 
 
 aloud. 
 
 "This key the farthest chamber of the queen's 
 Pavilion ! " Ha ! what's this ? " The voice of love, 
 The timid lover may. a rich reward." 
 Satanic treachery ! I see it now. 
 'Tis she 'tis her own writing ! 
 
 MARQUIS. 
 
 The queen's writing ! 
 Impossible ? 
 
 KING. 
 
 The Princess Eboli's. 
 
 MARQUIS. 
 
 Then, it was true, what the queen's page confessed, 
 Not long since that he brought this key and letter. 
 
 KING (grasping the MARQUIS' hand in great emotion). 
 
 Marquis ! I see that I'm in dreadful hands. 
 This woman I confess it 'twas this woman 
 Forced the queen's casket : and my first suspicions 
 Were breathed by her. Who knows how deep the priest 
 May be engaged in this? I am deceived 
 By cursed villany.
 
 268 DON CARLOS. 
 
 MARQUIS. 
 
 Then it was lucky 
 
 KING. 
 
 Marquis ! O marquis ! I begin to fear 
 I've wronged ray wife. 
 
 MARQUIS. 
 
 If there exist between 
 
 The prince and queen some secret understandings, 
 They are of other import, rest assured, 
 Than those they charge her with. I know, for certain, 
 The prince's prayer to be despatched to Flanders 
 Was by the queen suggested. 
 
 KING. 
 
 I have thought so. 
 
 MARQUIS. 
 
 The queen's ambitious. Dare I speak more fully? 
 
 She sees, with some resentment, her high hopes 
 
 All disappointed, and herself shut out 
 
 From share of empire. Your son's youthful ardor 
 
 Offers itself to her far-reaching views, 
 
 Her heart ! I doubt if she can love. 
 
 KING. 
 
 Her schemes 
 Of policy can never make me tremble. 
 
 MARQUIS. 
 
 Whether the Infant loves her whether we 
 Have something worse to fear from him, are things 
 Worthy our deep attention. To these points 
 Our strictest vigilance must be directed. 
 
 KING. 
 
 You must be pledge for him. 
 MARQUIS. 
 
 And if the king 
 
 Esteem me capable of such a task, 
 I must entreat it be intrusted to me 
 Wholly without conditions.
 
 DON CARLOS. 269 
 
 KING. 
 
 So it shall. 
 
 MARQUIS. 
 
 That in the steps which I may think required, 
 I may be thwarted by no coadjutors, 
 Whatever name they bear. 
 
 KING. 
 
 I pledge my word 
 
 You shall not. You have proved my guardian angel. 
 How many thanks I owe you for this service ! 
 
 [LERMA enters the KING to him. 
 How did you leave the queen ? 
 
 LERMA. 
 
 But scarce recovered 
 From her deep swoon. 
 
 [He looks at the MARQUIS doubtfully ', and exit. 
 
 MARQUIS (to the KING, after a pause}. 
 
 One caution yet seems needful, 
 The prince may be advised of our design, 
 For he has many faithful friends in Ghent, 
 And may have partisans among the rebels. 
 Fear may incite to desperate resolves ; 
 Therefore I counsel that some speedy means 
 Be taken to prevent this fatal chance. 
 
 KING. 
 You are quite right but how ? 
 
 MARQUIS. 
 
 Your majesty 
 
 May sign a secret warrant of arrest 
 And place it in my hands, to be employed, 
 As may seem needful, in the hour of danger. 
 
 [ The KING appears thoughtful. 
 This step must be a most profound state secret 
 Until 
 
 KING (going to his desk and writing the warrant of arrest). 
 
 The kingdom is at stake, and now 
 The pressing danger sanctions urgent measures. 
 Here marquis! I need scarcely say use prudence.
 
 270 DON CARLOS. 
 
 MARQUIS (taking the warrant}. 
 'Tis only for the last extremity. 
 
 KING (laying his hand on the shoulder of the MARQUIS). 
 Go ! Go, dear marquis ! Give this bosom peace, 
 And bring back slumber to my sleepless pillow. 
 
 [Exeunt at different sides. 
 
 SCENE XIII. 
 A Gallery. 
 
 CAKLOS entering in extreme agitation, COUNT LERMA 
 meeting him. 
 
 CARLOS. 
 I have been seeking you. 
 
 LERMA. 
 
 And I your highness. 
 CARLOS. 
 For heaven's sake is it true ? 
 
 LERMA. 
 
 What do you mean ? 
 CARLOS. 
 
 That the king drew his dagger, and that she 
 Was borne, all bathed in blood, from the apartment? 
 Now answer me, by all that's sacred ; say, 
 What, am I to believe? What truth is in it? 
 
 LERMA. 
 
 She fainted, and so grazed her skin in falling : 
 That is the whole. 
 
 CARLOS. 
 
 Is there no further danger? 
 Count, answer on your honor. 
 
 LERMA. 
 
 For the queen 
 No further danger ; for yourself there's much !
 
 DON CARLOS. 271 
 
 CARLOS. 
 
 None for my mother. Then, kind Heaven, I thank thee. 
 A dreadful rumor reached me that the king 
 Raved against child and mother, and that some 
 Dire secret was discovered. 
 
 LERMA. 
 
 And the last 
 31 ay possibly be true. 
 
 CARLOS. 
 Be true ! What mean you ? 
 
 LERMA. 
 
 One warning have I given you, prince, already, 
 And that to-day, but you despised it ; now 
 Perhaps you'll protit better by a second. 
 
 CARLOS. 
 Explain yourself. 
 
 LERMA. 
 
 If I mistake not, prince, 
 A few days since I noticed in your hands 
 An azure-blue portfolio, worked in velvet 
 And chased with gold. 
 
 CARLOS (with anxiety). 
 
 Yes, I had such a one. 
 LERMA. 
 
 And on the cover, if I recollect, 
 A portrait set in pearls ? 
 
 CARLOS. 
 
 'Tis right ; go on. 
 
 LERMA. 
 
 I entered the king's chamber on a sudden, 
 And in his hands I marked that same portfolio, 
 The Marquis Posa standing by his side. 
 
 CARLOS (after a short silence of astonishment, hastily). 
 'Tis false ! 
 
 LERMA (warmly). 
 Then I'm a traitor !
 
 272 DON CARLOS. 
 
 CAKLOS (looking steadfastly at him). 
 
 That you are ! 
 
 LERMA. 
 
 Well, I forgive you. 
 
 CARLOS (paces the apartment in extreme agitation, at 
 length stands still before hitn). 
 
 Has he injured thee? 
 
 What have our guiltless ties of friendship done, 
 That with a demon's zeal thou triest to rend them ? 
 
 LERMA. 
 
 Prince, I respect the grief which renders you 
 So far unjust. 
 
 CARLOS. 
 Heaven shield me from suspicion ! 
 
 LERMA. 
 
 And I remember, too, the king's own words. 
 Just as I entered he addressed the marquis : 
 " How many thanks I owe you for this news." 
 
 CARLOS. 
 Oh, say no more ! 
 
 LERMA. 
 
 Duke Alva is disgraced ! 
 
 The great seal taken from the Prince Ruy Gomez, 
 And given to the marquis. 
 
 CARLOS (lost in deep thought). 
 
 And from me 
 Has he concealed all this ? And why from me ? 
 
 LERMA. 
 
 As minister all-powerful, the court 
 Looks on him now as favorite unrivalled ! 
 
 CARLOS. 
 
 He loved me loved me greatly : I was dear 
 As his own soul is to him. That I know 
 Of that I've had a thousand proofs. But should 
 The happiness of millions yield to one? 
 Must not his country dearer to him prove
 
 DON CARLOS. 273 
 
 Than Carlos ? One friend only is too few 
 
 For his capacious heart. And not enough 
 
 Is Carlos' happiness to engross his love. 
 
 He offers me a sacrifice to virtue ; 
 
 And shall I murmur at him ? Now 'tis certain 
 
 I have forever lost him. 
 
 [He steps aside and covers his face. 
 
 LERMA. 
 
 Dearest prince ! 
 How can I serve you ? 
 
 CAELOS (without looking at him). 
 Get you to the king ; 
 Go and betray me. I have naught to give. 
 
 LERMA. 
 Will you then stay and brave the ill that follows ? 
 
 CARLOS (leans on a balustrade and looks forward with a 
 
 vacant gaze). 
 
 I've lost him now, and I am destitute ! 
 LERMA (approaching him with sympathizing emotion). 
 And will you not consult your safety, prince ? 
 
 CARLOS. 
 My safety ! Generous man ! 
 
 LERMA. 
 
 And is there, then, 
 No other person you should tremble for ? 
 
 CARLOS (starts up). 
 
 Heavens ! you remind me now. Alas ! My mother ! 
 The letter that I gave him first refused 
 Then after gave him ! 
 
 [He paces backwards and forwards with agitation, 
 wringing his hands. 
 
 Has she then deserved 
 
 This blow from him ? He should have spared her, Lerma. 
 
 [In a hasty, determined tone. 
 But I must see her warn her of her danger 
 I must prepare her, Lerma, dearest Lerma!
 
 274 DON CARLOS. 
 
 Whom shall I send ? Have I no friend remaining ? 
 Yes ! Heaven be praised ! I still have one ; and now 
 The worst is over. [Exit quickly 
 
 LEEMA (folloics, and calls after him). 
 Whither, whither, prince ? 
 
 SCENE IV. 
 
 The QUEEN, ALVA, DOMINGO. 
 ALVA. 
 
 If we may be permitted, gracious queen 
 
 .QUEEN. 
 What are your wishes? 
 
 DOMINGO. 
 
 A most true regard 
 For your high majesty forbids us now 
 To watch in careless silence an event 
 Pregnant with danger to your royal safety. 
 
 ALVA. 
 
 We hasten, by a kind and timely warning, 
 To counteract a plot that's laid against you. 
 
 DOMINGO. 
 
 And our warm zeal, and our best services, 
 To lay before your feet, most gracious queen ! 
 
 QUEEN (looking at them with astonishment). 
 Most reverend sir, and you, my noble duke, 
 You much surprise me. Such sincere attachment, 
 In truth, I had not hoped for from Domingo, 
 Nor from Duke Alva. Much I value it. 
 A plot you mention, menacing my safety 
 Dare I inquire by whom 
 
 ALVA. 
 
 We must entreat 
 
 You will beware a certain Marquis Posa. 
 He has of late been secretly employed 
 In the king's service.
 
 DON CARLOS. 275 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 With delight I hear 
 
 The king has made so excellent a choice. 
 Report, long since, has spoken of the marquis 
 As a deserving, great, and virtuous man 
 The royal grace was ne'er so well bestowed ! 
 
 DOMINGO. 
 So well bestowed ! We think far otherwise. 
 
 ALVA. 
 
 It is no secret now, for what designs 
 This man has been employed. 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 How ! What designs ? 
 You put my expectation on the rack. 
 
 DOMINGO. 
 
 How long is it since last your majesty 
 Opened your casket ? 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 Why do you inquire ? 
 DOMINGO. 
 Did you not miss some articles of value ? 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 Why these suspicions ? What I missed was then 
 Known to the court ! But what of Marquis Posa? 
 Say, what connection has all this with him? 
 
 ALVA. 
 
 The closest, please your majesty the prince 
 Has lost some papers of importance; 
 And they were seen this morning with the king 
 After the marquis had an audience of him. 
 
 QUEEN (after some consideration). 
 This news is strange indeed inexplicable 
 To find a foe where I could ne'er have dreamed it, 
 And two warm friends I knew not I possessed ! 
 
 [Fixing her eyes steadfastly upon them.
 
 276 DON CARLOS. 
 
 And, to speak truth, I had well nigh imputed 
 To you the wicked turn my husband served me. 
 
 ALVA. 
 To us! 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 To you yourselves ! 
 
 DOMINGO. 
 
 . To us ! Duke Alva ! 
 
 QUEEN (her eyes still fastened on them). 
 
 I am glad to be so timely made aware 
 
 Of my rash judgment else had I resolved 
 
 This very day to beg his majesty 
 
 Would bring me face to face with my accusers. 
 
 But I'm contented now. I can appeal 
 
 To the Duke Alva for his testimony. 
 
 ALVA. 
 For mine ? You would not sure do that ! 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 Why not ? 
 
 ALVA. 
 
 'T would counteract the services we might 
 Render in secret to you. 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 How ! in secret ? 
 
 [ With stern dignity. 
 
 I fain would know what secret projects, duke, 
 Your sovereign's spouse can have to form with you, 
 Or, priest ! with you her husband should not know ? 
 Think you that I am innocent or guilty ? 
 
 DOMINGO. 
 Strange question ! 
 
 ALVA. 
 
 Should the monarch prove unjust 
 And at this time
 
 DON CARLOS. 277 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 Then I must wait for justice 
 Until it come and they are happiest far 
 Whose consciences may calmly wait their right. 
 
 \_oics to them and exit. DOMINGO and ALVA 
 exeunt on the opposite side. 
 
 SCENE XV. 
 
 Chamber of PRINCESS EBOLI. 
 PRINCESS EBOLI. CARLOS immediately after. 
 
 EBOLI. 
 
 Is it then true the strange intelligence, 
 That fills the court with wonder ? 
 
 CARLOS (enters). 
 
 Do not fear 
 Princess ! I shall be gentle as a child. 
 
 EBOLI. 
 Prince, this intrusion ! 
 
 CARLOS. 
 Are you angry still ? 
 
 Offended still with me 
 
 EBOLI. 
 
 Prince ! 
 
 CARLOS (earnestly). 
 
 Are you angry ? 
 I pray you answer me. 
 
 EBOLI. 
 
 What can this mean? 
 You seem, prince, to forget what would you with me? 
 
 CARLOS (seizing her hand with warmth). 
 Dear maiden ! Can you hate eternally ? 
 Can injured love ne'er pardon ? 
 
 EBOLI (disengaging herselj). 
 
 Prince ! of what 
 Would you remind me?
 
 278 DON CARLOS. 
 
 CAELOS. 
 
 Of your kindness, dearest ! 
 And of my deep ingratitude. Alas, 
 Too well I know it ! deeply have I wronged thee 
 Wounded thy tender heart, and from thine eyes, 
 Thine angel eyes, wrung precious tears, sweet maid ! 
 But ah ! 'tis not repentance leads me hither. 
 
 EBOLI. 
 Prince ! leave me I 
 
 CARLOS. 
 
 I come to thee, because 
 Thou art a maid of gentle soul because 
 I trust thy heart thy kind and tender heart. 
 Think, dearest maiden ! think, I have no friend, 
 No friend but thee, in all this wretched world 
 Thou who wert once so kind wilt not forever 
 Hate me, nor will thy anger prove eternal. 
 
 EBOLI (turning away her face). 
 
 cease ! No more! for heaven's sake! leave me, prince 
 
 CAELOS. 
 
 Let me remind thee of those golden hours 
 Let me remind thee of thy love, sweet maid 
 That love which I so basely have offended ! 
 Oh, let me now appear to thee again 
 As once I was and as thy heart portrayed me. 
 Yet once again, once only, place my image, 
 As in days past, before thy tender soul, 
 And to that idol make a sacrifice 
 Thou canst not make to me. 
 
 EBOH. 
 
 Oh, Carlos, cease ! 
 Too cruelly thou sportest with my feelings ! 
 
 CARLOS. 
 
 Be nobler than thy sex ! Forgive an insult ! 
 Do what no woman e'er has done before thee, 
 And what no woman, after thee, can equal. 
 
 1 ask of thee an unexampled favor.
 
 DON CARLOS. 279 
 
 Grant me upon my knees I ask of thee 
 
 Grant me two moments with the queen, my mother ! 
 
 \_He casts himself at her feet. 
 
 SCENE XVI. 
 
 The former. MAEQUIS POSA rushes in ; behind him two 
 officers of the Queen^s Guard. 
 
 MARQUIS (breathless and agitated, rushing between CABLOS 
 
 and the PRINCESS) . 
 Say, what has he confessed ? Believe him not ! 
 
 CARLOS (still on his knees, with loud voice). 
 By all that's holy - 
 
 MARQUIS (interrupting him with vehemence). 
 He is mad ! He raves ! 
 Oh, listen to him not ! 
 
 CAP.LOS (louder and more urgent). 
 
 It is a question 
 Of life and death ; conduct me to her straight. 
 
 MARQUIS (dragging the PRINCESS/TOW him by force). 
 You die, if you but listen. 
 
 [ To one of the officers, showing an order. 
 
 Count of Cordova! 
 
 In the king's name, Prince Carlos is your prisoner. 
 [CARLOS stands bewildered. The PRINCESS utters a 
 cry of horror, and tries to escape. The officers are 
 astounded. A long and deep pause ensues. The 
 MARQUIS trembles violently, and with difficulty 
 preserves his composure. [ To the PRINCE. 
 
 I beg your sword The Princess Eboli 
 
 Remains [ To the officers. 
 
 And you, on peril of your lives, 
 Let no one with his highness speak no person 
 Not e'en yourselves. 
 
 [He whispers a few words to one officer, then turns 
 to the other. 
 
 I hasten, instantly,
 
 280 DON CARLOS. 
 
 To cast myself before our monarch's feet, 
 
 And justify this step [ To the PRINCE 
 
 And prince ! for you 
 Expect me in an hour. 
 
 [CAKLOS permits himself to be led away without am, 
 signs of consciousness, except that -in passing I < 
 casts a languid^ dying look on the MARQUIS. Tin. 
 PRINCESS endeavors again to escape; the MAR- 
 QUIS pulls her back by the arri. 
 
 SCENE XVII. 
 PRINCESS EBOLI, MARQUIS POSA. 
 
 EBOLI. 
 For Heaven's sake let me leave this place 
 
 MARQUIS (leads her forward with dreadful earnestness). 
 
 Thou w retell ! 
 What has he said to thee? 
 
 EBOLI. 
 
 Oh, leave me! Nothing. 
 MARQUIS (icith earnestness ; holding her back by force). 
 
 How much has he imparted to thee? Here 
 No way is left thee to escape. To none 
 In this world shall thou ever tell it. 
 
 EBOLI (looking at him with terror). 
 
 Heavens ! 
 What would you do? Would you then murder me? 
 
 MARQUIS (drawing a dagger). 
 Yes, that is my resolve. Be speedy ! 
 
 EBOLI. 
 
 Mercy ! 
 What have I then committed ? 
 
 MARQUIS (looking towards heaven, points the dagger to 
 her breast). 
 
 Still there's time 
 The poison has not issued from these lips.
 
 DON CARLOS. 281 
 
 Dash but the bowl to atoms, all remains 
 Still as before ! The destinies of Spain 
 Against a woman's life ! 
 
 [Remains doubtingly in this position. 
 
 EBOLI (having sunk dcnon beside him, looks in his face). 
 
 Do not delay 
 
 Why do yon hesitate ? I beg no mercy 
 I have deserved to die, and I am ready. 
 
 MARQUIS (letting his hand drop slowly after some 
 
 reflection). 
 
 It were as cowardly as barbarous. 
 No ! God be praised ! another way is left. 
 
 [He lets the dagger fall and hurries out. The 
 PRINCESS hastens out through another door. 
 
 SCENE XVIII. 
 
 A Chamber of the Queen. 
 
 The QUEEN to the COUNTESS FUENTES. 
 
 What means this noisy tumult in the palace? 
 Each breath to-day alarms me ! Countess ! see 
 What it portends, and hasten back with speed. 
 
 [Exit COUNTESS FUENTES the PRINCESS EBOLI 
 rushes in. 
 
 SCENE XIX. 
 
 The QUEEN, PRINCESS EBOLI. 
 
 EBOLI (breathless, pale, and wild, falls before the QUEEN). 
 Help ! Help ! O Queen ! he's seized ! 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 Who? 
 
 EBOLI. 
 
 He's arrested 
 By the king's orders given to Marquis Posa. 
 
 QUEEN. 
 Who is arrested ? Who ? 
 
 EBOLI. 
 
 The prince !
 
 282 DON CARLOS. 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 Thou ravest ! 
 
 EBOLI. 
 
 This moment they are leading him away. 
 
 QUEEN. 
 And who arrested him ? 
 
 EBOLI. 
 
 The Marquis Posa. 
 
 QUEEN. 
 Then heaven be praised ! it was the marquis seized him ! 
 
 EBOLI. 
 
 Can you speak thus, and with such tranquil mien? 
 Oh, heavens ! you do not know you cannot think 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 The cause of his arrest ! some trifling error, 
 Doubtless arising from his headlong youth! 
 
 EBOLI. 
 
 No ! no ! I know far better. No, my queen ! 
 Remorseless treachery ! There's no help for him. 
 He dies ! 
 
 QUEEN. 
 He dies ! 
 
 EBOLI. 
 And I'm his murderer ! 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 What ! Dies ? Thou ravest ! Think what thou art 
 saying ? 
 
 EBOLI. 
 
 And wherefore wherefore dies he ? Had I known 
 That it would come to this ! 
 
 QUEEN (takes her affectionately by the hand). 
 Oli, dearest princess, 
 Your senses are distracted, but collect 
 Your wandering spirits, and relate to me 
 More calmly, not in images of horror
 
 DON CARLOS. 283 
 
 That fright my inmost soul, whate'or you know ! 
 Say, what has happened? 
 
 BBOLI. 
 
 Oh, display not, queen, 
 
 Such heavenly condescension ! Like hot flames 
 This kindness sears my conscience. I'm not worthy 
 To \ iew thy purity with eyes profane. 
 Oil, crush the wretch, who, agonized by shame, 
 Remorse, and self-reproach writhes at thy feet! 
 
 QUEEN. 
 Unhappy woman ! Say, what is thy guilt? 
 
 EBOLI. 
 
 Angel of light ! Sweet saint ! thou little knowest 
 The demon who has won thy loving smiles. 
 Know her to-day ; I was the wretched thief 
 Who plundered thee. 
 
 QUEEN. 
 What! Thou? 
 
 EBOLI. 
 
 And gave thy letters 
 Up to the king ? 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 What ! Thou ? 
 
 EBOLI. 
 
 And dared accuse thee ! 
 QUEEN. 
 
 Thou ! Couldst thou this ? 
 
 EBOLI. 
 
 Revenge and madness love 
 I hated thee, and loved the prince ! 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 And did 
 His love so prompt thee ? 
 
 But met with no return. 
 
 EBOLI. 
 I had owned my love,
 
 284 DON CARLOS. 
 
 QUEEN (after a pause). 
 
 Now all's explained ! 
 
 Rise up ! you loved him I have pardoned you ! 
 I have forgotten all. Now, princess, rise. 
 
 \Holding out her hand to the PRINCESS. 
 
 EBOLI. 
 
 No, no ; a foul confession still remains. 
 I will not rise, great queen, till I 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 Then speak ! 
 What have I yet to hear ? 
 
 EBOLI. 
 
 The king ! Seduction ! 
 Oh, now you turn away. And in your eyes 
 I read abhorrence. Yes ; of that foul crime 
 I charged you with, I have myself been guilty. 
 
 [She presses her burning face to the ground. -Exit 
 QUEEN. A long pause. The COUNTESS OLIVA- 
 REZ, after some minutes, comes out of the cabinet, 
 into which the QUEEN entered, and finds the PRIX- 
 CESS still lying in the above posture- She ap- 
 proaches in silence. On hearing a noise, the latter 
 looks up and becomes like a mad person when she 
 misses the QUEEN. 
 
 SCENE XX. 
 PRINCESS EBOLI, COUNTESS OLIVAREZ. 
 
 EBOLI. 
 Heavens ! she has left me. I am now undone ! 
 
 OLIVAREZ (approaching her). 
 
 My princess Eboli ! 
 
 EBOLI. 
 
 I know your business, 
 
 Duchess, and you come hither from the queen, 
 To speak my sentence to me ; do it quickly.
 
 DON CARLOS. 285 
 
 OL1VAREZ. 
 
 I am commanded by your majesty 
 To take your cross and key. 
 
 EBOLI (takes from her breast a golden cross, and gives it 
 to the DUCHESS). 
 
 And but once more 
 May I not kiss my gracious sovereign's hand 
 
 OLIVAREZ. 
 
 In holy Mary's convent shall you learn 
 Your fate, princess. 
 
 EBOLI (with a flood of tears) . 
 Alas ! then I no more 
 Shall ever see the queen. 
 
 OLIVAEEZ (embraces her with her face turned away). 
 
 Princess, farewell. 
 
 [She goes hastily away. The PRINCESS folloics 
 her as far as the door of the cabinet, which is 
 immediately locked after the DUCHESS. /She 
 remains a few minutes silent and motionless on 
 her knees before it. She then rises and hastens 
 away, covering her face. 
 
 SCENE XXI. 
 QUEEN, MARQUIS POSA. 
 
 QUEEN. 
 Ah, marquis, I am glad you're come at last ! 
 
 MARQUIS (pale, with a disturbed countenance and trembling 
 voice, in solemn, deep agitation, during the whole scene). 
 And is your majesty alone ? Can none 
 Within the adjoining chamber overhear us? 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 No one ! But why? What news would you impart? 
 
 [Looking at him closely, and drawing back alarmed 
 And what has wrought this change in you ? Speak, 
 
 marquis,
 
 286 DON CARLOS. 
 
 You make me tremble all your features seem 
 So marked with death ! 
 
 MARQUIS. 
 You know, perhaps, already. 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 That Carlos is arrested and they add, 
 
 By you ! Is it then true ? From no one else 
 
 Would I believe it but yourself. 
 
 MARQUIS. 
 
 Tis true. 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 By you ? 
 
 MAEQUIS. 
 Byrne? 
 
 QUEEN (looks at him for some time doubtingly). 
 
 I still respect your actions 
 E'en when I comprehend them not. In this 
 Pardon a timid woman ! I much fear 
 You play a dangerous game. 
 
 MARQUIS. 
 
 And I have lost it. 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 Merciful heaven 1 
 
 MARQUIS. 
 
 Queen, fear not ! He is safe, 
 But I am lost myself. 
 
 QUEEN. ' 
 
 What do I hear? 
 
 MARQUIS. 
 
 Who bade me hazard all on one chance throw ? 
 
 All? And with rash, foolhardy confidence, 
 
 Sport with the power of heaven ? Of bounded mind, 
 
 Man, who is not omniscient, must not dare 
 
 To guide the helm of destiny. 'Tis just ! 
 
 But why these thoughts of self. This hour is precious 
 
 As life can be to man : and \\\\o can tell
 
 DON CARLOS. 287 
 
 Whether the parsimonious hand of fate 
 
 May not have measured my last drops of life ? 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 The hand of fate! What means this solemn tone? 
 I understand these words not but I shudder. 
 
 MARQUIS. 
 
 He's saved ! no matter at what price he's saved! 
 But only for to-day a few short hours 
 Are his. Oh, let him husband them ! This night 
 The prince must leave Madrid. 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 This very night? 
 MARQUIS. 
 
 All measures are prepared. The post will meet hirr 
 At the Carthusian convent, which has served 
 So long as an asylum to our friendship. 
 Here will he find, in letters of exchange, 
 All in the world that fortune gifts me with. 
 Should more be wanting, you must e'en supply it. 
 In truth, I have within my heart full much 
 To unburden to my Carlos it may chance 
 I shall want leisure now to tell him all 
 In person but this evening you will see him, 
 And therefore I address myself to you. 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 Oh, f >r my peace of mind, dear marquis, speak ! 
 Explain yourself more clearly! Do not use 
 This dark, and fearful, and mysterious language ! 
 Say, what has happened ? 
 
 MARQUIS. 
 
 I have yet one thing, 
 A matter of importance on my mind : 
 In your hands I deposit it. My lot 
 Was such as few indeed have e'er enjoyed 
 I loved a prince's son. My heart to one 
 To that one object given embraced the world ! 
 I have created in my Carlos' soul, 
 A paradise for millions ! Oh, my dream
 
 288 DON CARLOS. 
 
 Was lovely ! But the will of Providence 
 
 Has summoned me away, before my hour, 
 
 From this my beauteous work. His Roderigo 
 
 Soon shall be his no more, and friendship's claim 
 
 Will be transferred to love. Here, therefore, here, 
 
 Upon this sacred altar on the heart 
 
 Of his loved queen I lay rny last bequest 
 
 A precious legacy he'll find it here, 
 
 When I shall be no more. 
 
 [He turns away, his voice choked icith grief. 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 This is the language 
 Of a dying man it surely emanates 
 But from your blood's excitement or does sense 
 Lie hidden in your language ? 
 
 MARQUIS (has endeavored to collect himself, and continue*, 
 in a solemn voice"). 
 
 Tell the prince, 
 
 That he must ever bear in mind the oath 
 We swore, in past enthusiastic days, 
 Upon the sacred host. I have kept mine 
 I'm true to him till death 'tis now his turn 
 
 QUEEN. 
 Till death? 
 
 MARQUIS. 
 
 Oh, bid him realize the dream, 
 The glowing vision which our friendship painted, 
 Of a new perfect realm ! And let him lay 
 The first hand on the rude, unshapened stone. 
 Whether he fail or prosper ail alike 
 Let him commence the work. When centuries 
 Have rolled away shall Providence again 
 Raise to the throne a princely youth like him, 
 And animate again a favorite son 
 Whose breast shall burn with like enthusiasm. 
 Tell him, in manhood, he must still revere 
 The dreams of early youth, nor ope the heart 
 Of heaven's all-tender flower to canker-worms 
 Of boasted reason, nor be led astray
 
 DON CARLOS. 289 
 
 When, by the wisdom of the dust, he hears 
 Enthusiasm, heavenly-born, blasphemed. 
 I have already told him. 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 Whither, marquis ? 
 Whither does all this tend ? 
 
 MARQUIS. 
 
 And tell him further, 
 I lay upon his soul the happiness 
 Of man that with my dying breath I claim, 
 Demand it of him and with justest title. 
 I had designed a new, a glorious morn, 
 To waken in these kingdoms : for to me 
 Philip had opened all his inmost heart 
 Called me his son bestowed his seals upon me 
 And Alva was no more his counsellor. 
 
 [He pauses, and looks at the QUEEN for a few 
 
 moments in silence. 
 
 You weep ! I know those tears, beloved soul ! 
 Oh, they are tears of joy ! but it is past 
 Forever past ! Carlos or I ? The choice 
 Was prompt and fearful. One of us must perish ! 
 And I will be that one. Oh, ask no more ! 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 Now, now, at last, I comprehend your meaning, 
 Unhappy man ! What have you done ? 
 
 MARQUIS. 
 
 Cut off 
 
 Two transient hours of evening to secure 
 A Ions?, bright summer-day ! I now give up 
 The king forever. What were I to the king? 
 In such cold soil no rose of mine could bloom ; 
 Ir my great friend must Europe's fortune ripen. 
 Spain I bequeath to him, still bathed in blood 
 From Philip's iron hand. But woe to him, 
 Woe to us both, if I have chosen wrong ! 
 But no oh, no ! I know my Carlos better
 
 290 DON CARLOS. 
 
 'Twill never come to pass ! for this, my queen, 
 
 You stand rny surety. [After a silence, 
 
 Yes ! I saw his love 
 
 In its first blossom saw his fatal passion 
 Take root in his young heart. I had full power 
 To check it ; but I did not. The attachment 
 Which seemed to me not guilty, I still nourished. 
 The world may censure me, but I repent not, 
 Nor does my heart accuse me. I saw life 
 Where death appeared to others. In a flame 
 So hopeless I discerned hope's golden beam. 
 I wished to lead him to the excellent 
 To exalt him to the highest point of beauty. 
 Mortality denied a model to me, 
 And language, words. Then did I bend his views 
 To this point only and my whole endeavor 
 Was to explain to him his love. 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 Your friend, 
 
 Marquis ! so wholly occupied your mind, 
 That for his cause you quite forgot my own 
 Could you suppose that I had thrown aside 
 All woman's weaknesses, that you could dare 
 Make me his angel, and confide alone 
 In virtue for his armor ? You forget 
 What risks this heart must run, when we ennoble 
 Passion with such a beauteous name as this. 
 
 MARQUIS. 
 
 Yes, in all other women but in one, 
 One only, 'tis not so. For you, I swear it. 
 And should you blush to indulge the pure desire 
 To call heroic virtue into life ? 
 Can it affect King Philip, that his works 
 Of noblest art, in the Escurial, raise 
 Immortal longings in the painter's soul 
 Who stands entranced before th te ,n ? Db rhe soutdf 
 That slumber in the lute, be^ng nlone 
 To him who buys the chords ':* With ear unmoved 
 He may preserve hit treasure : he has bought 
 The wretched right to shiver it to atoms,
 
 DON CARLOS. 291 
 
 But not the power to wake its silver tones, 
 
 Or, in the magic of its sounds, dissolve. 
 
 Truth is created for the sage, as beauty 
 
 Is for the feeling heart. They own each other. 
 
 And this belief, no coward prejudice 
 
 JSl.all make me e'er disclaim. Then promise, queen, 
 
 That you will ever love him. That false shame, 
 
 Or fancied dignity, shall never make you 
 
 Yield to the voice of base dissimulation : 
 
 That you will love him still, unchanged, forever. 
 
 Promise me this, oh, queen! Here solemnly 
 
 Say, do you promise ? 
 
 QUEE'N. 
 
 That my heart alone 
 Shall ever vindicate my love, I promise 
 
 MARQUIS (dratcing his hand back). 
 Now I die satisified my work is done. 
 
 \_He bows to the QUEEX, and is about to go 
 
 QUEEN (follows him with her eyes in silence) . 
 You are then going, marquis, and have not 
 Told me how soon and when we meet again ? 
 
 MARQUIS (comes back once more, his face turned away). 
 Yes, we shall surely meet again ! 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 Now, Posa, 
 I understand you. Why have you done this? 
 
 MARQUIS. 
 Carlos or I myself ! 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 No ! no ! you rush 
 
 Headlong into a deed you deem sublime. 
 Do not deceive yourself : I know you well : 
 Long have you thirsted for it. If your pride 
 But have its fill, what matters it to you 
 Though thousand hearts should break. Oh ! now, at 
 
 length, 
 
 I comprehend your feelings 'tis thfe love 
 Of admiration which has won your heart
 
 292 DON CARLOS. 
 
 MARQUIS (surprised, aside). 
 
 No! I was not prepared for this 
 
 QUEEN ( after a pause). 
 
 Oh, marquis ! 
 Is there no hope of preservation ? 
 
 MARQUIS. 
 
 None. 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 None ? Oh, consider well ! None possible ! 
 Not e'en by me ? 
 
 MARQUIS. 
 
 Not even, queen, by thee. 
 
 QUEEN. 
 You but half know me I have courage, marquis 
 
 MARQUIS. 
 I know it 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 And no means of safety? 
 
 MARQUIS. 
 
 None ! 
 
 QUEEN (turning away and covering her face). 
 Go ! Never more shall I respect a man 
 
 MARQUIS (casts himself on his knees before her in evident 
 
 emotion). 
 O queen ! O heaven ! how lovely still is life ! 
 
 \_He starts up and rushes out. The QUEEN retires 
 into her cabinet. 
 
 SCENE XXII. 
 
 DUKE ALVA and DOMINGO walking up and down in silence and 
 separately. COUNT LERMA comes out of the KING'S cabinet, 
 and afterwards DON RAYMOND OF TAXIS, the Postmaster- 
 Oeneral. 
 
 LERMA. 
 
 Has not the marquis yet appeared ?
 
 DON CARLOS. 293 
 
 ALVA. 
 
 Not yet. 
 [LERMA about to re-enter the cabinet. 
 
 TAXIS (enters). 
 Count Lerma ! Pray announce me to the king ? 
 
 LERMA. 
 His majesty cannot be seen. 
 
 TAXIS. 
 
 But say 
 
 That I must see him ; that my business is 
 Of urgent import to his majesty. 
 Make haste it will admit of no delay. 
 
 [LERMA enters the cabinet. 
 
 ALVA. 
 
 Dear Taxis, you must learn a little patience 
 You cannot see the king. 
 
 TAXIS. 
 
 Not see him ! Why ? 
 
 ALVA. 
 
 You should have been considerate, and procured 
 Permission from the Marquis Posa first 
 Who keeps both son and father in confinement. 
 
 TAXIS. 
 
 The Marquis Posa ! Right that is the man 
 From whom I bring this letter. 
 
 ALVA. 
 
 Ha! What letter? 
 TAXIS. 
 
 A letter to be forwarded to Brussels. 
 
 ALVA (attentively). 
 To Brussels ? 
 
 TAXIS. 
 
 And I bring it to the king. 
 
 ALVA. 
 Indeed ! to Brussels ! Heard you that, Domingo ?
 
 2D4 DON CAELOS. 
 
 DOMINGO {joining them). 
 Full of suspicion ! 
 
 TAXIS. 
 
 And with anxious mien, 
 And deep embarrassment he gave it to me. 
 
 DOMINGO. 
 Embarrassment ! To whom is it directed ? 
 
 TAXIS. 
 The Prince of Orange and Nassau. 
 
 ALVA. 
 
 To William ! 
 There's treason here, Domingo! 
 
 DOMINGO. 
 
 Nothing less! 
 
 In truth this letter must, without delay, 
 Be laid before the king. A noble service 
 You render, worthy man to be so firm 
 In the discharge of duty. 
 
 TAXIS. 
 
 Reverend sir ! 
 'Tis but my duty. 
 
 ALVA. 
 
 But you do it well. 
 
 LERMA (coming out of the cabinet, addressing TAXIS). 
 The king will see you. [TAXIS (joes in 
 
 Is the marquis come ? 
 
 DOMINGO. 
 He has been sought for everywhere. 
 
 ALVA. 
 
 'Tis strange ! 
 
 The prince is a state prisoner ! And the king 
 Knows not the reason why ! 
 
 DOMINGO. 
 
 He never came 
 To explain the business here.
 
 DON CARLOS. 295 
 
 ALVA. 
 
 What says the king ? 
 LERMA. 
 
 The king spoke not a word. \_A noise in the cabinet 
 
 ALVA. 
 
 What noise is that? 
 
 TAXIS (coming out of the cabinet). 
 
 Count Lerma ! [Both enter. 
 
 ALVA (to DOMINGO). 
 
 What so deeply can engage them. 
 
 DOMINGO. 
 
 That look of fear ! This intercepted letter ! 
 It augurs nothing good. 
 
 ALVA. 
 
 He sends for Lerma ! 
 
 Yet he must know full well that you and I 
 Are both in waiting. 
 
 DOMINGO. 
 
 Ah ! our day is over ! 
 
 ALVA. 
 
 And am I not the same to whom these doors 
 Flew open once? But, ah ! how changed is all 
 Around me and how strange! 
 
 [DOMINGO approaches the cabinet door softly, and re- 
 mains listening before it. 
 
 ALVA (after a pause). 
 
 Hark ! All is still 
 And silent as the grave ! I hear them breathe. 
 
 DOMINGO. 
 The double tapestry absorbs the sounds ! 
 
 ALVA. 
 
 Away ! there's some one coming. All appears 
 So solemn and so still as if this instant 
 Some deep momentous question were decided.
 
 296 DON CARLOS. 
 
 SCENE XXIII. 
 
 The PRINCE OF PARMA, the DUKES OF FERTA and MEDINA 
 SIDONIA, with other GRANDEES enter the preceding. 
 
 PARMA. 
 Say, can we see the king ? 
 
 ALVA. 
 No! 
 
 PARMA. 
 
 Who is with him ? 
 
 FERIA. 
 
 The Marquis Posa, doubtless ? 
 
 ALVA. 
 
 Every instant 
 He is expected here. 
 
 PARMA. 
 
 This moment we 
 
 Arrive from Saragossa. Through Madrid 
 Terror prevails ! Is the announcement true ? 
 
 DOMINGO. 
 Alas, too true ! 
 
 FERIA. 
 
 That he has been arrested. 
 By the marquis ! 
 
 ALVA. 
 Yes. 
 
 PARMA. 
 
 And wherefore ? What's the cause ? 
 
 ALVA. 
 
 Wherefore ? That no one knows, except the king 
 And Marquis Posa. 
 
 PARMA. 
 
 And without the warrant 
 Of the assembled Cortes of the Realm ? 
 
 FERIA. 
 
 That man shall suffer, who has lent a hand 
 To infringe the nation's rights.
 
 DON CARLOS. 297 
 
 ALVA. 
 
 And so say I ! 
 
 MEDINA SIDONIA. 
 
 And I! 
 
 THE OTHER GRANDEES. 
 
 And all of us ! 
 
 ALVA. 
 
 Who'll follow me 
 
 Into the cabinet ? I'll throw myself 
 Before the monarch's feet. 
 
 LERMA (rushing out of the cabinet). 
 
 The Duke of Alva ! 
 
 DOMINGO. 
 
 Then God be praised at last ! 
 
 LERMA. 
 
 When Marquis Posa 
 Conies, say the king's engaged and he'll be sent for. 
 
 DOMINGO (to LERMA ; all the others having gathered round 
 
 him, full of anxious expectation). 
 Count ! What has happened ? You are pale as death ! 
 
 LERMA (hastening away). 
 Fell villany ! 
 
 PARMA and FERIA. 
 
 What! what! 
 
 MEDINA SIDONIA. 
 
 How is the king ? 
 DOMINGO (at the same time). 
 Fell villany ! Explain 
 
 LERMA. 
 
 The king shed tears ! 
 
 DOMINGO. 
 Shed tears ! 
 
 ALL (together with astonishment). 
 
 The king shed tears ! 
 [ The bell rings in the cabinet, COUNT LERMA hastens in.
 
 298 DON CARLOS. 
 
 DOMINGO. 
 
 Count, yet one word. 
 Pardon ! He's gone ! We're fettered in amazement. 
 
 SCENE XXIV. 
 
 PRINCESS EBOLI, FERIA, MEDINA SIDONIA, PARMA, 
 DOMINGO, and other grandees. 
 
 EBOLI (hurriedly and distractedly}. 
 Where is the king? Where ? I must speak with him. 
 
 [ To FERIA. 
 Conduct me to him, duke ! 
 
 FERIA. 
 
 The monarch is 
 
 Engaged in urgent business. No one now 
 Can be admitted. 
 
 EBOLI. 
 
 Has lie signed, as yet, 
 The fatal sentence ? He has been deceived. 
 
 DOMINGO (giving her a significant look at a distance). 
 The Princess Eboli ! 
 
 EBOLI (going to him}. 
 
 What ! you here, priest ? 
 The very man I want! You can confirm 
 My testimony ! 
 
 [/She seizes his hand and would drag him into the 
 cabinet. 
 
 DOMINGO. 
 
 I ? You rave, princess ! 
 
 FERIA. 
 
 Hold back. The king cannot attend you now. 
 
 EBOLI. 
 
 But he must hear me; lie must hear the truth 
 The truth, were he ten times a deity. 
 
 DOMIXGO. 
 Away ! You hazard everything. Stand back.
 
 DON CARLOS. 299 
 
 EBOLT. 
 
 Man, tremble at the anger of thy idol. 
 
 I have naught left to hazard. 
 
 [Attempts to enter the cabinet; ALVA rushes out, 
 his eyes sparkling, triumph in his gait. He 
 hastens to DOMINGO, and embraces him. 
 
 ALVA. 
 
 Let each church 
 
 Resound with high Te Deums. Victory 
 At length is ours. 
 
 DOMINGO. 
 
 What ! Ours ? 
 
 ALVA (to DOMINGO and the other GRANDEES). 
 
 Now to the king. 
 You shall hereafter hear the sequel from me. 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 SCENE I. 
 
 A chamber in tlie royal palace, separated from a large fore-court 
 by an iron-barred gate. Sentinels walking up and down. CAR- 
 LOS sitting at a table, with his head leaning fonoard on his arms, 
 as if he were asleep. In the background of the chamber are 
 some officers, confined with him. The MARQUIS POSA enters, 
 unobserved by him, and whispers to the officers, who immediately 
 withdraw. He himself steps close up to CARLOS, and looks at 
 him for a few minutes in silent sorrow. At last he makes a 
 motion which awakens him out of his stupor. CARLOS rises, 
 and seeing the MARQUIS, starts back. He regards him for some 
 time with fixed eyes, and draws his hand over his forehead as if 
 he wished to recollect something. 
 
 MARQUIS. 
 
 Carlos ! 'tis I. 
 
 CARLOS (gives him his hand). 
 Comest thou to me again ? 
 'Tis friendly of thee, truly. 
 
 MARQUIS. 
 
 Here I thought 
 Thou mightest need a friend.
 
 300 DON CARLOS. 
 
 CARLOS. 
 
 Indeed ! was that 
 
 Thy real thought? Oh, joy unspeakable ! 
 Right well I knew thou still wert true to me. 
 
 MARQUIS. 
 I have deserved this from thee. 
 
 CARLOS. 
 
 Hast thou not ? 
 
 And now we understand each other fully, 
 It joys my heart. This kindness, this forbearance 
 Becomes our noble souls. For should there be 
 One rash, unjust demand amongst my wishes, 
 Wouldst thou, for that, refuse me what was just? 
 Virtue I know may often be severe, 
 But never is she cruel and inhuman. 
 Oh ! it hath cost thee much ; full well I know 
 How thy kind heart with bitter anguish bled 
 As thy hands decked the victim for the altar. 
 
 MARQUIS. 
 What meanest thou, Carlos ? 
 
 CARLOS. 
 
 Thou, thyself, wilt now 
 Fulfil the joyous course I should have run. 
 Thou wilt bestow on Spain those golden days 
 She might have hoped in vain to win from me. 
 I'm lost, forever lost ; thou saw'st it clearly. 
 This fatal love has scattered, and forever, 
 All the bright, early blossoms of my mind. 
 To all the great, exalted hopes I'm dead. 
 Chance led thee to the king or Providence, 
 It cost thee but my secret and at once 
 He was thine own thou may'st become his angel: 
 But I am lost, though Spain perhaps may flourish. 
 Well, there is nothing to condemn, if not 
 My own mad blindness. Oh, I should have known 
 That thou art no less great than tender-hearted. 
 
 MARQUIS. 
 
 No ! I foresaw not, I considered not 
 That friendship's generous heart would lead thee on
 
 DON CARLOS. 301 
 
 Beyond ray worldly prudence. I have erred, 
 My fabric's shattered I forgot thy heart. 
 
 CAKLOS. 
 
 Yet, if it had been possible to spare 
 Her fate oh, how intensely I had thanked thee ! 
 Could I not bear the burden by myself ? 
 And why must she be made a second victim ? 
 But now no more, I'll spare thee this reproach. 
 What is the queen to thee ? Say, dost thou love her? 
 Could thy exalted virtue e'er consult 
 The petty interests of my wretched passion ? 
 Oh, pardon me ! I was unjust 
 
 MARQUIS. 
 
 Thou art so ! 
 
 But not for this reproach. Deserved I one, 
 I merit all and then I should not stand 
 Before you as I do. \_Jfe takes out his portfolio. 
 
 I have some letters 
 To give you back of those you trusted to me. 
 
 CARLOS (looks first at the letters, then at the MARQUIS, in 
 
 astonishment). 
 How! 
 
 MARQUIS. 
 
 I return them now because they may 
 Prove safer in thy custody than mine. 
 
 CARLOS. 
 
 What meanest thou ? Has his majesty not read them ? 
 Have they not been before him ? 
 
 MARQUIS. 
 
 What, these letters ! 
 
 CARLOS. 
 
 Thou didst not show them all, then. 
 
 MARQUIS. 
 
 Who has said 
 That ever I showed one ? 
 
 CARLOS (astonished). 
 
 Can it be so ? 
 Count Lerma
 
 302 DON CARLOS. 
 
 MARQUIS. 
 
 He ! he told thee so ! Now all 
 Is clear as day. But who could have foreseen it ? 
 Lerma! Oh, no, he hath not learned to lie. 
 "Pis true, the king has all the other letters. 
 
 CARLOS (looks at him long with speechless astonishment). 
 But wherefore am I here ? 
 
 MARQUIS. 
 
 For caution's sake, 
 
 Lest thou should chance, a second time, to make 
 An Eboli thy confidant. 
 
 CARLOS (as if waking from a dream). 
 
 Ha ! Now 
 I see it all all is explained. 
 
 MARQUIS (goes to the door). 
 
 Who's there? 
 
 SCENE II. 
 DUKE ALVA. The former. 
 
 ALVA (approaching the PRIXCE with respect, but turning 
 
 his back on the MARQUIS during the whole scene. 
 Prince, you are free. Deputed by the king 
 I come to tell you so. 
 
 [CARLOS looks at the MARQUIS with astonishment. 
 General silence. 
 
 And I, in truth, 
 Am fortunate to have this honor first 
 
 CARLOS (looking at both with extreme amazement, after a 
 
 pause, to the DUKE). 
 
 I am imprisoned, duke, and set at freedom, 
 Unconscious of the cause of one or other. 
 
 ALVA. 
 
 As far as I know, prince, 'twas through an error, 
 To which the king was driven by a traitor. 
 
 CARLOS. 
 Then am I here by order of the king ?
 
 DON CARLOS. 303 
 
 ALVA. 
 
 Yes, through an error of his majesty. 
 CARLOS. 
 
 That gives me pain, indeed. But when the king 
 Commits an error, 'twould beseem the king, 
 Methinks, to remedy the fault in person. 
 I am Don Philip's son and curious eyes 
 And slanderous looks are on me. What the king 
 Hath done from sense of duty ne'er will I 
 Appear to owe to your considerate favor. 
 I am prepared to appear before the Cortes, 
 And will not take my sword from such a hand. 
 
 ALVA. 
 
 The king will never hesitate to grant 
 Your highness a request so just. Permit 
 That I conduct you to him. 
 
 CARLOS. 
 
 Here I stay 
 
 Until the king or all Madrid shall come 
 To lead me from my prison. Take my answer. 
 
 [ALVA withdraws. lie is still seen for some time linger- 
 ing in the court and giving orders to the guards. 
 
 SCENE III. 
 CARLOS and MARQUIS POSA. 
 
 CARLOS (after the departure of the DUKE, full of expecta- 
 tion and astonishment, to the MARQUIS). 
 What means all this? Inform me, Roderigo 
 Art thou not, then, the minister? 
 
 MARQUIS. 
 
 I was, 
 
 As thou canst well perceive 
 
 [ Going to him with great emotion, 
 
 O Carlos ! Now 
 
 I have succeeded yes it is accomplished 
 'Tis over now Omnipotence be praised, 
 To whom I owe success.
 
 304 DON CARLOS. 
 
 CARLOS. 
 
 Success ! What mean you ? 
 Thy words perplex me. 
 
 MARQUIS (takes his hand). 
 
 Carlos ! thou art saved 
 
 Art free but I [He stops short. 
 
 CARLOS. 
 But thou 
 
 MARQUIS. 
 
 Thus to my breast 
 
 I press thee now, with friendship's fullest right, 
 A right I've bought with all I hold most dear. 
 How great, how lovely, Carlos, is this moment 
 Of self-approving joy ? 
 
 CARLOS. 
 
 What sudden change 
 I mark upon thy features ! Proudly now 
 Thy bosom heaves, thine eyes dart vivid fire ! 
 
 MARQUIS. 
 
 We must say farewell, Carlos ! Tremble not, 
 But be a man ! And what thou more shalt hear, 
 Promise me, not by unavailing sorrow, 
 Unworthy of great souls, to aggravate 
 The pangs of parting. I am lost to thee, 
 Carlos, for many years fools say forever. 
 
 [CARLOS withdraws his hand, but makes no reply 
 Be thou a man : I've reckoned much on thee 
 I have not even shunned to pass with thee 
 This awful hour which men, in words of fear, 
 Have termed the final one. I own it, Carlos, 
 I joy to pass it thus. Come let us sit 
 I feel myself grown weary and exhausted. 
 
 [He approaches CARLOS, who is in a lifeless stupor, 
 
 and allows himself to be involuntarily drawn down 
 
 by him. 
 
 Where art thou ? No reply ! I must be brief. 
 Upon the day that followed our last meeting 
 At the Carthusian monastery the king 
 Called me before him. What ensued thou knowest,
 
 DON CARLOS. 305 
 
 And all Madrid. Thou hast not heard, however, 
 Thy secret even then had reached his ears 
 That letters in the queen's possession found 
 Had testified against thee. This I learned 
 From his own lips I was his confidant. 
 
 [He pauses for CARLOS' answer, but he still remains 
 
 silent. 
 
 Yes, Carlos, with rny lips I broke my faith 
 Guided the plot myself that worked thy ruin. 
 Thy deed spoke trumpet-tongued ; to clear thee fully 
 'Twas now too late : to frustrate his revenge 
 Was all that now remained for me ; and so 
 I made myself thy enemy to serve thee 
 With fuller power dost thou not hear me, Carlos, 
 
 CARLOS 
 Go on ! go on ! I hear thee. 
 
 MARQUIS. 
 
 To this point 
 
 I'm guiltless. But the unaccustomed beams 
 Of royal favor dazzled me. The rumor, 
 As I had well foreseen, soon reached thine ears 
 But by mistaken delicacy led, 
 And blinded by my vain desire to end 
 My enterprise alone, I kept concealed 
 From friendship's ear my hazardous design. 
 This was my fatal error ! Here I failed ! 
 I know it. My self-confidence was madness. 
 Pardon that confidence 'twas founded, Carlos, 
 Upon our friendship's everlasting base. 
 
 [He pauses. CARLOS passes from torpid silence to 
 
 violent agitation. 
 
 That which I feared befel. Unreal dangers 
 Alarmed your mind. The bleeding queen the tumult 
 Within the palace Lerma's interference 
 And, last of all, my own mysterious silence, 
 Conspired to overwhelm thy heart with wonder. 
 Thou wavered'st, though t'st me lost ; but far too noble 
 To doubt thy friend's integrity, thy soul 
 Clothed his defection with a robe of honor,
 
 306 DON CARLOS. 
 
 Nor judged him faithless till it found a motive 
 
 To screen and justify his breach of faith. 
 
 Forsaken by thy only friend twas then 
 
 Thou sought'st the arras of Princess Eboli 
 
 A demon's arms ! 'Twas she betrayed thee, Carlos ! 
 
 I saw thee fly to her a dire foreboding 
 
 Struck on my heart I followed thee too late ! 
 
 Already wert thou prostrate at her feet, 
 
 The dread avowal had escaped thy lips 
 
 No way was left to save thee. 
 
 CARLOS. 
 
 No ! her heart 
 Was moved, thou dost mistake, her heart was moved, 
 
 MARQUIS. 
 
 Night overspread my mind. No remedy, 
 
 No refuge, no retreat was left to me 
 
 In nature's boundless compass. Blind despair 
 
 Transformed me to a fury to a tiger 
 
 I raised my dagger to a woman's breast. 
 
 But in that moment in that dreadful moment 
 
 A radiant sunbeam fell upon my soul. 
 
 " Could I mislead the king ! Could I succeed 
 
 In making him think me the criminal ! 
 
 However improbable, the very guilt 
 
 Will be enough to win the king's belief. 
 
 I'll dare the task a sudden thunderbolt 
 
 May make the tyrant start what want I further? 
 
 He stops to think, and Carlos thus gains time 
 
 To fly to Brussels." 
 
 CARLOS. 
 
 And hast thou done this ? 
 
 MARQUIS. 
 
 I have despatched a letter to Prince William, 
 Saying I loved the queen, and had escaped 
 The king's mistrust in the unjust suspicion 
 Which falsely fell on thee that I had found 
 Means, through the monarch's favor, to obtain 
 Free access to the queen. I added, further,
 
 DON CARLOS. 307 
 
 That I was fearful of discovery 
 
 That thou hadst learned my secret, and hadst sped 
 
 To Princess Eboli, with hopes through her 
 
 To warn the queen that I had made thee prisoner 
 
 And now that all seemed lost, I had resolved 
 
 To fly to Brussels. This same letter 1 
 
 CARLOS (interrupts him, terrified). 
 
 Hast surely not intrusted to the post! 
 
 Thou knowest that letters to Brabant and Flanders 
 
 MARQUIS. 
 
 Are given to the king ; and as things go 
 Taxis would seem to have discharged his duty. 
 
 CARLOS. 
 Heavens ! then I'm lost. 
 
 MARQUIS. 
 
 How lost ? What meanest thou ? 
 CARLOS. 
 
 And thou, alas ! art lost together with me 
 This dreadful fraud my father ne'er will pardon. 
 
 MARQUIS. 
 This fraud ! Thou'rt mad ! Who will disclose it to him ? 
 
 CARLOS (regards him with a fixed look). 
 Who ! Dost thou ask ? I will myself. 
 
 MABQUIS. 
 
 Thou ravest 1 
 
 Stand back 
 
 CARLOS. 
 
 Away ! For heaven's sake hold me not. 
 While I stay here, he's hiring the assassins. 
 
 MARQUIS. 
 
 Then is our time more precious and we still 
 Have much to say.
 
 308 DON CARLOS. 
 
 CARLOS. 
 
 What ! Before all is finished ? 
 [He makes another effort to go. The MAKQUIS hold* 
 him by the arm, and looks at Mm impressively. 
 
 MARQUIS. 
 
 Carlos ! was I so scrupulous so eager 
 When thou, a boy, didst shed thy blood for me? 
 
 CARLOS (with emotion, and full of admiration). 
 
 Kind Providence! 
 
 MARQUIS. 
 
 Reserve thyself for Flanders ! 
 The kingdom is thy destiny 'tis mine 
 To give my life for thee. 
 
 CARLOS (takes his hand with deep sensibility). 
 
 No, no! he will not, 
 Cannot resist a virtue so sublime. 
 I will conduct thee to him, and together, 
 Ann linked in arm, will we appear before him. 
 Then thus will I address him : " Father, see, 
 This is the way a friend acts towards his friend." 
 Trust me, 'twill move him it will touch his heart. 
 He's not without humanity, my father. 
 Yes, it will move him. With hot tears, his eyes 
 Will overflow and he will pardon us. 
 
 \_A shot is fired through the iron grating. CARLOS 
 leaps up. 
 
 CARLOS. 
 Whom was that meant for ? 
 
 MARQUIS (sinking down). 
 
 I believe for me. 
 
 CA.RLOS (falling to the earth with a loud cry of grief). 
 
 God of mercy ! 
 
 MARQUIS. 
 
 He is quick the king. 
 
 1 had hoped a little longer Carlos think
 
 DON CARLOS. 309 
 
 Of means of flight dost hear me ? of thy flight. 
 
 Thy mother knows it all I can no more. [Dies. 
 
 [CARLOS remains by the corpse, like one bereft of 
 life. After some time the KING enters, accom- 
 panied by many GRANDEES ; and starts, panic- 
 struck, at the sight. A. general and deep silence. 
 The GRANDEES range themelves in a semi-circle 
 round them both, and regard the KING and his 
 SON alternately. Tlie latter continues without 
 any sign of life. The KING regards him in 
 thoughtful silence. 
 
 SCENE IV. 
 
 The KING, CARLOS, the DUKES ALVA, FERIA, and 
 MEDINA SIDONIA, PRINCE OF PARMA, COUNT LERMA, 
 DOMINGO, and numerous GRANDEES. 
 
 KING (in a gentle tone). 
 
 Thy prayer hath met a gracious hearing, prince, 
 
 And here I come, with all the noble peers 
 
 Of this rny court, to bring thee liberty. 
 
 [CARLOS raises his eyes and looks around him like 
 one awakened from a dream. His eyes are fixed 
 now on the KING, now on the corpse ; he gives no 
 answer. 
 
 Receive thy sword again. We've been too rash ! 
 
 \_He approaches him, holds out his hand, and as- 
 sists him to rise. 
 
 My son's not in his place; Carlos, arise! 
 
 Come to thy father's arms ! His love awaits thee. 
 
 CARLOS (receives the embrace of the KING without any 
 consciousness. Suddenly recollects himself, pauses 
 and looks fixedly at him). 
 
 Thou smell'st of blood no, T cannot embrace thee ! 
 
 [Pushes his father back. All the GRANDEES are 
 
 in commotion. CARLOS to them : 
 Nay, stand not there confounded and amazed ! 
 What monstrous action have T done? Defiled 
 The anointed of the Lord ! Oh, fear me not,
 
 310 DON CAKLOS. 
 
 I would not lay a hand on him. Behold, 
 Stamped on his forehead is the damning brand ! 
 The hand of God hath marked him ! 
 
 KING (about to go quickly). 
 
 Nobles ! follow. 
 CARLOS. 
 
 Whither ? You stir not from this spot. 
 
 [Detaining the KING forcibly with both hands, while 
 with one he manages to seize the sword which the 
 KING has brought with him, and it comes from the 
 scabbard. 
 
 KING. 
 
 What! Draw 
 A sword upon thy father? 
 
 ALL THE GRANDEES (drawing their swords). 
 Regicide ! 
 
 CARLOS (holding the KING firmly with one hand, the 
 naked sword in the other). 
 
 Put up your swords ! What ! Think you I am mad ? 
 
 I am not so : or you were much to blame 
 
 Thus to remind me, that upon the point 
 
 Of this my sword, his trembling life doth hover. 
 
 I pray you, stand aloof ; for souls like mine 
 
 Need soothing. There hold back ! And with the king 
 
 What I have yet to settle touches not 
 
 Your loyalty. See there his hand is bloody ! 
 
 Do you not see it ? And now look you here ! 
 
 [Pointing to the corpse 
 This h.ath he done with a well-practised hand. 
 
 KING (to the GRANDEES, who press anxiously around him). 
 Retire ! Why do you tremble ? Are we not 
 Father and son ? 1 will yet wait and see 
 To what atrocious crime his nature 
 
 CARLOS. 
 
 Naturt 
 
 I know her not. Murder is now the word! 
 The bonds of all humanity are severed,
 
 DON CARLOS. 311 
 
 Thine own hands have dissolved them through the realm. 
 
 Shall I respect a tie which thou hast scorned ? 
 
 Oh, see ! see here ! the foulest deed of blood 
 
 That e'er the world beheld. Is there no God 
 
 That kings, in his creation, work such havoc? 
 
 Is there no God, J ask ? Since mother's wombs 
 
 Bore children, one alone and only one 
 
 So guiltlessly hath died. And art thou sensible 
 
 \V hat thou hast done ? Oh, no ! he knows it not : 
 
 Knows not that he has robbed despoiled the world 
 
 Of a more noble, precious, dearer life 
 
 Than he and all his century can boast. 
 
 KrvG (with a tone of softness). 
 If I have been too hasty, Carlos thou 
 For whom I have thus acted, should at least 
 Not call me to account. 
 
 CARLOS. 
 
 Is't possible ! 
 
 Did you then never guess how dear to me 
 Was he who here lies dead ? Thou lifeless corpse ! 
 Instruct him aid his wisdom, to resolve 
 This dark enigma now. He was my friend. 
 And would you know why he has perished thus? 
 He gave his life for me. 
 
 KING. 
 
 Ha ? my suspicions ! 
 
 CARLOS. 
 
 Pardon, thou bleeding corpse, that I profane 
 Thy virtue to such ears. But let him blush 
 With deep-felt shame, the crafty politician, 
 That his gray-headed wisdom was o'erreached, 
 E'en by the judgment of a youth. Yes, sire, 
 We two were brothers ! Bound by nobler bands 
 Than nature ties. His whole life's bright career 
 Was love. His noble death was love for me. 
 E'en in the moment when his brief esteem 
 Exalted you, he was my own. And wheii 
 With fascinating tongue he sported with 
 Your haughty, giant mind, 'twas your conceit
 
 312 DON CARLOS. 
 
 To bridle him ; but you became yourself 
 
 The pliant tool of his exalted plans. 
 
 That I became a prisoner, my arrest, 
 
 Was his deep friendship's meditated work. 
 
 That letter to Prince William was designed 
 
 To save my life. It was the first deceit 
 
 He ever practised. To insure my safety 
 
 He rushed on death himself, and nobly perished. 
 
 You lavished on him all your favor ; yet 
 
 For me he died. Your heart, your confidence, 
 
 You forced upon him. As a toy he held 
 
 Your sceptre and your power ; he cast them from him, 
 
 And gave his life for me. 
 
 [ The KING stands motionless, with eyes fixed on 
 
 the ground; all the GRANDEES regard him with 
 
 surprise and alarm., 
 
 How could it be 
 
 That you gave credit to this strange deceit? 
 Meanly indeed he valued you, to try 
 By such coarse artifice to win his ends. 
 You dared to court his friendship, but gave way 
 Before a test so simple. Oh, no ! never 
 For souls like yours was such a being formed. 
 That well he knew himself, when he rejected 
 Your crowns, your gifts your greatness, and yourself. 
 This fine-toned lyre broke in your iron hand, 
 And you could do no more than murder him. 
 
 ALVA (never having taken his eyes from the KING, and 
 observing his emotion with uneasiness, approaches 
 him with apprehension). 
 
 Keep not this deathlike silence, sire. Look round, 
 And speak at least to us. 
 
 CARLOS. 
 
 Once you were not 
 Indifferent to him. And deeply once 
 You occupied his thoughts. It might have been 
 His lot to make you happy. His full heart 
 Might have enriched you ; with its mere abundance 
 An atom of his soul had been enough
 
 DON CARLOS. 313 
 
 To make a god of you. You've robbed yourself 
 Plundered yourself and me. What could you give, 
 To raise again a spirit like to this ? 
 
 \_Deep silence. Many of the GRANDEES turn 
 away, or conceal their faces in their mantles. 
 Oh, ye who stand around with terror dumb, 
 And mute surprise, do not condemn the youth 
 Who holds this language to the king, his father. 
 Look on this corpse. Behold ! for me he died. 
 If ye have tears if in your veins flow blood, 
 Not molten brass, look here, and blame me not. 
 
 \_IIe turns to the KING with more self-possession 
 
 and calmness. 
 
 Doubtless you wait the end of this rude scene? 
 Here is my sword, for you are still my king. 
 Think not I fear your vengeance. Murder me, 
 As you have murdered this most noble man. 
 My life is forfeit; that I know full well. 
 But what is life to me ? I here renounce 
 All that this world can offer to my hopes. 
 Seek among strangers for a son. Here lies 
 My kingdom. 
 
 [He sinks down on the corpse, and takes no part in 
 what follows. A confused tumult and the noise 
 of a croicd is heard 'in the distance. All is deep 
 silence round the KING. His eyes scan the 
 circle over, but no one returns his looks. 
 
 What ! Will no one make reply? 
 Each eye upon the ground, each look abashed ! 
 My sentence is pronounced. I read it here 
 Proclaimed in all this lifeless, mute demeanor. 
 My vassals have condemned me. 
 
 [Silence as he/ore. The tumult grows louder. A 
 murmur is heard among the GRANDEES. They 
 exchange embarrassed looks. COUNT LERMA at 
 length gently touches ALVA. 
 
 LERMA. 
 
 Here's rebellion !
 
 314 DON CARLOS. 
 
 ALVA (in a low voice). 
 I fear it. 
 
 LERMA. 
 
 It approaches ! They are coming ! 
 
 SCENE V. 
 An officer of the JBody Guard. The former. 
 
 OFFICER (urgently}. 
 
 Rebellion ! Where's the king ? 
 
 \_He makes his way through the crowd up to the KING. 
 
 Madrid's in arms ! 
 
 To thousands swelled, the soldiery and people 
 Surround the palace ; and reports are spread 
 That Carlos is a prisoner that his life 
 Is threatened. And the mob demand to see 
 Him living, or Madrid will be in flames. 
 
 THE GRANDEES (icitfi excitement). 
 Defend the king ! 
 
 ALVA (to the KING, who remains quiet and unmoved). 
 
 Fly, sire ! your life's in danger. 
 As yet we know not who has armed the people. 
 
 KING (rousing from his stupor, and advancing with 
 dignity among them). 
 
 Stands my throne firm, and am I sovereign yet 
 Over this empire ? No ! I'm king no more. 
 These cowards weep moved by a puny boy. 
 They only wait the signal to desert me. 
 I am betrayed by rebels ! 
 
 ALVA. 
 
 Dreadful thought ! 
 
 KING. 
 
 There ! fling yourselves before him down before 
 The young, the expectant king; I'm nothing now 
 But a forsaken, old, defenceless man !
 
 DON CARLOS. 315 
 
 ALVA. 
 
 Spaniards ! is't come to this ? 
 
 [All crowd round the KING, and fatt on their knees 
 before him with drawn swords. CAKLOS remains 
 alone with the corpse, deserted by all. 
 
 KING (tearing off his mantle and throwing it from him). 
 
 There ! clothe him now 
 With this my royal mantle ; and on liigli 
 Bear him in triumph o'er my trampled corpse! 
 
 [Befalls senseless in ALVA'S and LERMA'S arms. 
 
 LERMA. 
 
 For heaven's sake, help ! 
 
 FERIA. 
 
 Oh, sad, disastrous chance ! 
 
 LERMA. 
 
 He faints ! 
 ALVA (leaves the KING in LERMA'S and FERIA'S hands). 
 
 Attend his majesty ! whilst I 
 Make it my aim to tranquillize Madrid. 
 
 [Exit ALVA. The KING is borne off] attended by all 
 the grandees. 
 
 SCENE VI. 
 
 CARLOS remains behind with the corpse. After a few moments 
 Louis MERCADO appears, looks cautiously round him. and 
 stands a long time silent behind the PRINCE, who does not 
 observe him. 
 
 MERCADO. 
 
 I come, prince, from her majesty the queen. 
 
 [CARLOS turns away and makes no reply. 
 
 My name, Mercado, I'm the queen's physician : 
 See my credentials. 
 
 [Shows the PRINCE a signet ring. CARLOS remains 
 still silent. 
 
 And the queen desires 
 To speak with you to-day on weighty business. 
 
 CARLOS. 
 Nothing is weighty in this world .to me.
 
 316 DON CARLOS. 
 
 MERC ADO. 
 
 A charge the Marquis Posa left with her. 
 CARLOS (looking up quickly). 
 Indeed ! I come this instant. 
 
 MERC ADO. 
 
 No, not yet, 
 
 Most gracious prince ! you must delay till night. 
 Each avenue is watched, the guards are doubled, 
 You ne'er could reach the palace unperceived ; 
 You would endanger everything. 
 
 CARLOS. 
 
 And yet 
 
 MERCADO. 
 
 I know one means alone that can avail us. 
 
 'Tis the queen's thought, and she suggests it to you ; 
 
 But it is bold, adventurous, and strange ! 
 
 CARLOS. 
 
 What is it ? 
 
 MERCADO. 
 
 A report has long prevailed 
 That in the secret vaults, beneath the palace, 
 At midnight, shrouded in a monk's attire, 
 The emperor's departed spirit walks. 
 The people still give credit to the tale, 
 And the guards watch the post with inward terror. 
 Now, if you but determine to assume 
 This dress, you may pass freely through the guards, 
 Until you reach the chamber of the queen, 
 Which this small key will open. Your attire 
 Will save you from attack. But on the spot, 
 Prince ! your decision must be made at once. 
 The requisite apparel and the mask 
 Are ready in your chamber. I must haste 
 And take the queen your answer. 
 
 CARLOS. 
 
 And the hour ? 
 
 MERCADO. 
 
 It is midnight.
 
 DON CARLOS. 317 
 
 CARLOS. 
 Then inform her I will come. 
 
 \_Exit MERCADO. 
 SCENE VII. 
 
 CARLOS awe? COUNT LERMA. 
 
 LERMA. 
 
 Save yourself, prince ! The king's enraged against you. 
 Your liberty, if not your life's in danger ! 
 Ask me no further I have stolen away 
 To give you warning fly this very instant 
 
 CARLOS. 
 Heaven will protect me ! 
 
 LERMA. 
 
 As the queen observed 
 
 To me, this moment, you must leave Madrid 
 This very day, and fly to Brussels, prince. 
 Postpone it not, I pray you. The commotion 
 Favors your flight. The queen, with this design, 
 Has raised it. No one will presume so far 
 As to lay hand on you. Swift steeds await you 
 At the Carthusian convent, and behold, 
 Here are your weapons, should you be attacked. 
 
 [LERMA gives him a dagger and pistols. 
 
 CARLOS. 
 Thanks, thanks, Count Lerma ! 
 
 LERMA. 
 
 This day's sad event 
 
 Has moved my inmost soul ! No faithful friend 
 Will ever love like him. No patriot breathes 
 But weeps for you. More now I dare not say. 
 
 CARLOS. 
 
 Count Lerma ! he who's gone considered you 
 A man of honor. 
 
 LERMA. 
 
 Farewell, prince, again ! 
 
 Success attend you ! Happier times will come 
 But I shall be no more. Receive my homage ! 
 
 [Fatts on one knee.
 
 318 'DON CARLOS. 
 
 CARLOS (endeavors to prevent him, with much emotion). 
 
 Not so not so, count ! I am too much moved 
 I would not be unmanned ! 
 
 LEKMA (kissing his hand with feeling). 
 
 My children's king ! 
 To die for you will be their privilege ! 
 It is not mine, alas! But in those children 
 Remember me ! Return in peace to Spain. 
 May you on Philip's throne feel as a man, 
 For you have learned to suffer ! Undertake 
 No bloody deed against your father, prince! 
 Philip compelled his father to yield up 
 The throne to him ; and this same Philip now 
 Trembles at his own son. Think, prince, of that ! 
 And may Heaven prosper and direct your path ! 
 
 \_Exit quickly. CARLOS, about to hasten away by 
 another side, but turns rapidly round, and throics 
 himself down before the corpse, which he again 
 folds in his arms. He then hurries from the 
 room. 
 
 SCENE VIII. 
 
 The KING'S Antechamber. 
 
 DUKE ALVA and DUKE FERIA enter in conversatio?i. 
 
 ALVA. 
 The town is quieted. How is the king? 
 
 FERIA. 
 
 In the most fearful state. Within his chamber 
 
 He is shut up, and whatso'er may happen 
 
 He will admit no person to his presence. 
 
 The treason of the marquis has at once 
 
 Changed his whole nature. We no longer know him. 
 
 ALVA. 
 
 I must go to him, nor respect his feelings. 
 A great discovery which I have made 
 
 FERIA. 
 
 A new discovery !
 
 DON CARLOS. 319 
 
 ALVA. 
 
 A Carthusian monk 
 
 My guards-observed, with stealthy footsteps, creep 
 Into the prince's chamber, and inquire 
 With anxious curiosity, about 
 
 The Marquis Posa's death. They seized him straight 
 And questioned him. Urged by the fear of death, 
 He made confession that lie bore about him 
 Papers of high importance, which the marquis 
 Enjoined him to deliver to the prince, 
 If, before sunset, he should not return. 
 
 FERIA. 
 Well, and what further ? 
 
 ALVA. 
 
 These same letters state 
 That Carlos from Madrid must fly before 
 The morning dawn. 
 
 FEKIA. 
 Indeed ! 
 
 ALVA. 
 
 And that a ship at Cadiz lies 
 Ready for sea, to carry him to Flushing. 
 And that the Netlierlands but wait his presence, 
 To shake the Spanish fetters from their arms. 
 
 FERIA. 
 Can this be true ? 
 
 ALVA. 
 
 And other letters say 
 A fleet of Soliman's will sail for Rhodes, 
 According to the treaty, to attack 
 The Spanish squadron in the Midland seas. 
 
 FERIA. 
 
 Impossible. 
 
 ALVA. 
 
 And hence I understand 
 The object of the journeys, which of late 
 The marquis made through Europe. 'Twas no less 
 Than to rouse all the northern powers to arms 
 In aid of Flanders' freedom.
 
 320 DON CARLOS. 
 
 FEKIA. 
 
 Was it so? 
 
 ALVA. 
 
 There is besides appended to these letters 
 The full concerted plan of all the war 
 Which is to disunite from Spain's control 
 The Netherlands forever. Naught omitted ; 
 The power and opposition closj compared; 
 All the resources accurately noted, 
 Together with the maxims to be followed, 
 And all the treaties which they should conclude. 
 The plan is fiendish, but 'tis no less splendid 
 
 FERIA. 
 The deep, designing traitor ! 
 
 ALVA. 
 
 And, moreover, 
 
 There is allusion made, in these same letters, 
 To some mysterious conference the prince 
 Must with his mother hold upon the eve 
 Preceding his departure. 
 
 FERIA. 
 
 That must be 
 This very day. 
 
 ALVA. 
 
 At midnight. But for this 
 I have already taken proper steps. 
 You see the case is pressing. Not a moment 
 Is to be lost. Open the monarch's chamber. 
 
 FERIA. 
 Impossible ! All entrance is forbidden. 
 
 ALVA. 
 
 I'll open then myself ; the increasing danger 
 Must justify my boldness. 
 
 [As he is on the point of approaching the door it 
 opens, and the KING comes out. 
 
 FERIA. 
 
 'Tis himself !
 
 DON CARLOS. 321 
 
 SCENE IX. 
 The KING. Ilie preceding. 
 
 All are alarmed at his appearance, fall back, and let him pass 
 through them. He appears to be in a leaking dream, like a 
 sleep-walker. His dress and figure indicate the disorder 
 caused by his late fainting. With alow steps he walks past the 
 GRANDEES and looks at each with a fixed eye, but without rec- 
 ognizing any of them. At last he stands still, wrapped in 
 thought, his eyes fixed on the ground, till the emotions of his 
 mind gradually express themselves in words. 
 
 KING. 
 
 Restore me back the dead ! Yes, I must have him. 
 
 DOMINGO (whispering to ALVA). 
 Speak to him, duke. 
 
 KING. 
 
 He died despising me! 
 
 Have him again I must, and make him think 
 More nobly of me. 
 
 ALVA (approaching with fear). 
 Sire! 
 
 KING (looking round the circle). 
 
 Who speaks to me ! 
 
 Have you forgotten who I am? Why not 
 Upon your knees, before your king, ye creatures ! 
 Am I not still your king? I must command 
 Submission from you. Do you all then slight me 
 Because one man despised me ? 
 
 ALVA. 
 
 Gracious king ! 
 
 No more of him : a new and mightier foe 
 Arises in the bosom of your realm. 
 
 FERIA. 
 
 Prince Carlos 
 
 KING. 
 
 Had a friend who died for him ; 
 For him ! With me he might have shared an empire.
 
 322 DON CARLOS. 
 
 How he looked down upon me ! From the throne 
 Kings look not down so proudly. It was plain 
 How vain his conquest made him. His keen sorrow 
 Confessed how great his loss. Man weeps not so 
 For aught that's perishable. Oh, that he might 
 But live again ! I'd give my Indies for it ! 
 Omnipotence ! thou bring'st no comfort to me : 
 Thou canst not stretch thine arm into the grave 
 To rectify one little act, committed 
 With hasty rashness, 'gainst the life of man. 
 The dead return no more. Who dare affirm 
 That I am happy ? In the tomb he dwells, 
 Who scorned to flatter me. What care I now 
 For all who live ? One spirit, one free being, 
 And one alone, arose in all this age ! 
 He died despising me ! 
 
 ALVA. 
 
 Our lives are useless ! 
 
 Spaniards, let's die at once ! E'en in the grave 
 This man still robs us of our monarch's heart. 
 
 KING (sits down, and leans his head on his arm). 
 Oh ! had he died for me ! I loved him, too, 
 And much. Dear to me was he as a son. 
 In his young mind there brightly rose for me 
 A new and beauteous morning. Who can say 
 What I had destined for him? He to me 
 Was a first love. All Europe may condemn me, 
 Europe may overwhelm me with its curse, 
 But I deserved his thanks. 
 
 DOMINGO. 
 
 What spell is this ? 
 
 KING. 
 
 And, say, for whom did he desert me thus? 
 
 A boy, my son ? Oh, no, believe it not ! 
 
 A Posa would not perish for a boy ; 
 
 The scanty flame of friendship could not fill 
 
 A Posa's heart. It beat for human kind. 
 
 His passion was the world, and the whole course 
 
 Of future generations yet unborn.
 
 DON CARLOS. 323 
 
 To do them service he secured a throne 
 And lost it. Such high treason 'gainst mankind 
 Could Posa e'er forgive himself ? Oh, no ; 
 I know his feelings better. Not that he 
 Carlos preferred to Philip, but the youth 
 The tender pupil, to the aged monarch. 
 The father's evening sunbeam could not ripen 
 His novel projects. He reserved for this 
 The young son's orient rays. Oh, 'tis undoubted, 
 They wait for my decease. 
 
 ALVA. 
 
 And of your thoughts, 
 Read in these letters strongest confirmation. 
 
 KING. 
 
 'Tis possible he may miscalculate. 
 
 I'm still myself. Thanks, Nature, for thy gifts ; 
 
 I feel within my frame the strength of youth ; 
 
 I'll turn their schemes to mockery. His virtue 
 
 Shall be an empty dream his death, a fool's. 
 
 His fall shall crush his friend and age together. 
 
 We'll test it now how they can do without me. 
 
 The world is still for one short evening mine, 
 
 And this same evening will I so employ, 
 
 That no reformer yet to come shall reap 
 
 Another harvest, in the waste I'll leave, 
 
 For ten long generations after me. 
 
 He would have offered me a sacrifice 
 
 To his new deity humanity ! 
 
 So on humanity I'll take revenge. 
 
 And with his puppet I'll at once commence. 
 
 [ To the DUKE ALVA. 
 
 What you have now to tell me of the prince, 
 Repeat. What tidings do these letters bring? 
 
 ALVA. 
 
 These letters, sire, contain the last bequest 
 Of Posa to Prince Carlos.
 
 324 BOX CARLOS. 
 
 KINO, (reads the papers, watched by all present. He then 
 lays them aside and icalks in silence up and down the 
 room). 
 
 Summon straight 
 The cardinal inquisitor ; and beg 
 lie will bestow an hour upon the king, 
 This very night! 
 
 TAXIS. 
 
 Just on the stroke of two 
 The horses must be ready and prepared, 
 At the Carthusian monastery. 
 
 ALVA. 
 
 Spies 
 
 Despatched by me, moreover, have observed 
 Equipments at the convent for a journey, 
 On which the prince's arms were recognized. 
 
 FERIA. 
 
 And it is rumored that large sums are raised 
 In the queen's name, among the Moorish agents, 
 Destined for Brussels. 
 
 KING. 
 
 Where is Carlos? 
 
 ALVA. 
 
 Vith Posa's body. 
 
 KING. 
 
 And there are lights as yet 
 Within the queen's apartments ? 
 
 ALVA. 
 
 Everything 
 
 Is silent there. She has dismissed her maids 
 Far earlier than as yet has been her custom. 
 The Duchess of Arcos, who was last with her, 
 Left her in soundest sleep. 
 
 [An officer of the Body Guard enters, takes the DUKE 
 OF FERIA aside, and iohispers to him. The latter, 
 struck with surprise, turns to DUKE ALVA. The 
 others crowd round /dm, and a murmuring noise 
 arises.
 
 DON CARLOS. 325 
 
 FEBIA, TAXIS, and DOMINGO (at the same time). 
 'Tis wonderful! 
 
 KING. 
 
 What is the matter ! 
 
 FEBIA. 
 
 News scarce credible ! 
 
 DOMINGO. 
 
 Two soldiers, who have just returned from duty, 
 Report but oh, the tale's ridiculous ! 
 
 KING. 
 
 What do they say ? 
 
 ALVA. 
 
 They say, in the left wing 
 Of the queen's palace, that the emperor's ghost 
 Appeared before them, and with solemn gait 
 Passed on. This rumor is confirmed by all 
 The sentinels, who through the whole pavilion 
 Their watches keep. And they, moreover, add, 
 The phantom in the queen's apartment vanished. 
 
 KING. 
 And in what shape appeared it? 
 
 OFFICER. 
 
 In the robes, 
 
 The same attire he in Saint Justi wore 
 For the last time, apparelled as a monk. 
 
 KING. 
 
 A monk ! And did the sentries know his person 
 Whilst he was yet alive ? They could not else 
 Determine that it was the emperor. 
 
 OFFICER. 
 
 The sceptre which he bore was evidence 
 It was the emperor. 
 
 DOMINGO. 
 
 And the story goes 
 He often has been seen in this same dress.
 
 326 DON CARLOS. 
 
 KING. 
 Did no one speak to him ? 
 
 OFFICER. 
 
 No person dared. 
 The sentries prayed, and let him pass in silence. 
 
 KING. 
 
 The phantom vanished in the queen's apartments ! 
 
 OFFICER. 
 In the queen's antechamber. [ General silence 
 
 KING (turns quickly round}. 
 
 What say you ? 
 ALVA. 
 Sire ! we are silent. 
 
 KING (after some thought, to the OFFICER). 
 
 Let my guards be ready 
 And under arms, and order all approach 
 To that wing of the palace to be stopped. 
 I fain would have a word with this same ghost. 
 
 \_Exit OFFICER. Enter a PAGE. 
 
 PAGE. 
 
 The cardinal inquisitor. 
 
 KING (to all present). 
 
 Retire ! 
 
 [ The CARDINAL INQUISITOR, an old man of ninety, and 
 blind, enters, supported on a staff, and led by two 
 Dominicans. The GRANDEES fall on their knees as 
 he passes, and touch the hem of his garment. He 
 gives them his blessing, and they depart. 
 
 SCENE X. 
 The KING and the GRAND INQUISITOR. A long silence. 
 
 GRAND INQUISITOR. 
 
 Say, do I stand before the king ? 
 
 KING. 
 
 You do.
 
 DON CARLOS. 327 
 
 GBAND INQUISITOR. 
 
 I never thought it would be so again ! 
 
 KINO. 
 
 I now renew the scenes of early youth, 
 
 When Philip sought his sage instructor's counsel. 
 
 GRAND INQUISITOR. 
 
 Your glorious sire, my pupil, Charles the Fifth, 
 Nor sought or needed counsel at my hands. 
 
 KING. 
 
 So much happier he! I, cardinal, 
 Am guilty of a murder, and no rest 
 
 GRAND INQUISITOR. 
 
 What was the reason for this murder? 
 
 KING. 
 
 'Twas 
 A fraud unparalleled 
 
 GRAND INQUISITOR. 
 
 I know it all. 
 
 KING. 
 
 What do you know? Through whom, and since what 
 time? 
 
 GRAND INQUISITOR. 
 
 For years what you have only learned since sunset. 
 
 KING (with astonishment). 
 You know this man then ! 
 
 GRAND INQUISITOR. 
 
 All his life is noted 
 
 From its commencement to its sudden close, 
 In Santa Casa's holy registers. 
 
 KING. 
 Yet he enjoyed his liberty ! 
 
 GRAND INQUISITOR. 
 
 The chain 
 
 With which he struggled, but which held him bound, 
 Though long, was firm, nor easy to be severed.
 
 328 DON CARLOS. 
 
 KING. 
 
 He has already been beyond the kingdom. 
 
 GRAND INQUISITOR. 
 
 Where'er he travelled I was at his side. 
 
 KING (walks backwards and forwards in displeasure). 
 You knew the hands, then, I had fallen into; 
 And yet delayed to warn me ! 
 
 GRAND INQUISITOR. 
 
 This rebuke 
 
 I pay you back. Why did you not consult us 
 Before you sought the arms of such a man ? 
 You knew him : one sole glance unmasked him to you. 
 Why did you rob the office of its victim ? 
 Are we thus trifled with ! When majesty 
 Can stoop to such concealment, and in secret, 
 Behind our backs, league with our enemies, 
 What must our fate be then ? If one be spared 
 What plea can justify the fate of thousands ? 
 
 KING. 
 
 But he, no less, has fallen a sacrifice. 
 
 GRAND INQUISITOR. 
 
 No ; he is murdered basely, foully murdered. 
 The blood that should so gloriously have flowed 
 To honor us has stained the assassin's hand. 
 What claim had you to touch our sacred rights? 
 He but existed, by our hands to perish. 
 God gave him to this age's exigence, 
 To perish, as a terrible example, 
 And turn high-vaunting reason into shame. 
 Such was my long-laid plan behold, destroyed 
 In one brief hour, the toil of many years. 
 We are defrauded, and your only gain- 
 Is bloody hands. 
 
 KING. 
 
 Passion impelled me to it. 
 Forgive me.
 
 DON CARLOS. 329 
 
 GRAND INQUISITOR. 
 
 Passion ! And does royal Philip 
 Thus answer me ? Have I alone grown old ? 
 
 [Shaking his head angrily. 
 
 Passion ! Make conscience free within your realms, 
 If you're a slave yourself. 
 
 KING. 
 
 In things like this 
 I'm but a novice. Bear in patience with me. 
 
 GRAND INQUISITOR. 
 
 No, I'm ill pleased with you to see you thus 
 Tarnish the bygone glories of your reign. 
 Where is that Philip, whose unchanging soul, 
 Fixed as the polar star in heaven above, 
 Round its own axis still pursued its course? 
 Is all the memory of preceding years 
 Forever gone ? And did the world become 
 New moulded when you stretched your hand to him ? 
 Was poison no more poison? Did distinction 
 'Twixt good and evil, truth and falsehood, vanish? 
 What then is resolution ? What is firmness? 
 What is the faith of man, if in one weak, 
 Unguarded hour, the rules of threescore years 
 Dissolve in air, like woman's fickle favor ? 
 
 KING. 
 
 I looked into his eyes. Oh, pardon me 
 This weak relapse into mortality. 
 The world has one less access to your heart ; 
 Your eyes are sunk in night. 
 
 GRAND INQUISITOR. 
 
 What did this man 
 
 Want with you? What new thing could lie adduce, 
 You did not know before? And are you versed 
 So ill with fanatics and innovators? 
 Docs the reformer's vaunting language sound 
 So novel to your ears ? If the firm edifice 
 Of your conviction totters to mere words, 
 Should you not shudder to subscribe the fate
 
 330 DON CARLOS. 
 
 Of many thousand poor, deluded souls 
 
 Who mount the flaming pile for nothing worse? 
 
 KING. 
 I sought a human being. These Domingos 
 
 GRAND INQUISITOR. 
 
 How ! human beings ! What are they to you ? 
 
 Cyphers to count withal no more ! Alas ! 
 
 And must I now repeat the elements 
 
 Of kingly knowledge to my gray-haired pupil? 
 
 An earthly god must learn to bear the want 
 
 Of what may be denied him. When you whine 
 
 For sympathy is not the world your equal ? 
 
 What rights should you possess above your equals ? 
 
 KING (throwing himself into a chair). 
 I'm a mere suffering mortal, that I feel ; 
 And you demand from me, a wretched creature, 
 What the Creator only can perform. 
 
 GRAND INQUISITOR. 
 
 No, sire ; I am not thus to be deceived. 
 I see you through. You would escape from us. 
 The church's heavy chains pressed hard upon you ; 
 You would be free, and claim your independence. 
 
 [He pauses. The KING is silent. 
 We are avenged. Be thankful to the church, 
 That checks you with the kindness of a mother. 
 The erring choice you were allowed to make 
 Has proved your punishment. You stand reproved ! 
 Now you may turn to us again. And know 
 If I, this day, had not been summoned here, 
 By Heaven above ! before to-morrow's sun, 
 You would yourself have stood at my tribunal ! 
 
 KING. 
 
 Forbear this language, priest. Restrain thyself. 
 I'll not endure it from thee. In such tones 
 No tongue shall speak to me. 
 
 GRAND INQUISITOR. 
 
 Then why, O king ! 
 Call up the ghost of Samuel? I've anointed
 
 DON CARLOS. 331 
 
 Two monarchs to tlie throne of Spain. I hoped 
 
 To leave behind a firm-established work. 
 
 I see the fruit of all my life is lost. 
 
 Don Philip's hands have shattered what I built. 
 
 But tell me, sire, wherefore have I been summoned ? 
 
 What do I hear? I am not minded, king, 
 
 To seek such interviews again. 
 
 KING. 
 
 But one 
 
 One service more the last and then in peace 
 Depart. Let all the past be now forgotten 
 Let peace be made between us. We are friends. 
 
 GRAND INQUISITOR. 
 
 When Philip bends with due humility. 
 
 KING (after a pause). 
 My son is meditating treason. 
 
 GRAND INQUISITOR, 
 
 Well! 
 And what do you resolve ? 
 
 KING, 
 
 On all, or nothing. 
 
 GRAND INQUISITOR. 
 
 What mean you by this all ? 
 
 KING. 
 
 He must escape, 
 Or die. 
 
 GRAND INQUISITOR. 
 
 Well, sire! decide. 
 
 KING. 
 
 And can you not 
 
 Establish some new creed to justify 
 The bloody murder of one's only son ? 
 
 GRAND INQUISITOR. 
 
 To appease eternal justice God's own Son 
 Expired upon the cross.
 
 332 DON CARLOS. 
 
 KING. 
 
 And can you spread 
 This creed throughout all Europe ? 
 
 GBAND INQUISITOR. 
 
 Ay, as far 
 As the true cross is worshipped. 
 
 KING. 
 
 But I sin 
 
 Sin against nature. Canst thou, by thy power, 
 Silence her mighty voice. 
 
 GBAND INQUISITOR. 
 
 The voice of nature 
 Avails not over faith. 
 
 KING. 
 
 My right to judge 
 
 I place within your hands. Can I retrace 
 The step once taken ? 
 
 GRAND INQUISITOR. 
 
 Give him to me ! 
 
 KING. 
 
 My only son ! For whom then have I labored ? 
 
 GRAND INQUISITOR. 
 
 For the grave rather than for liberty ! 
 
 KING (rising up). 
 We are agreed. Come with me. 
 
 GRAND INQUISITOR. 
 
 Monarch ! Whither ! 
 KING. 
 
 From his own father's hands to take the victim. 
 
 [ Leads him away.
 
 DON CARLOS. 333 
 
 SCENE XT. 
 Queen's Apartment. 
 
 CARLOS. The QUEEN. Afterwards the KING and attendants. 
 CARLOS in monk's attire, a mask over his face, which he is just 
 taking off"; under his arm a naked sword. It is quite dark. 
 He approaches a door, which is in the act of opening. The 
 QUEEN comes uut in her night-dress with a lighted candle. CAR- 
 LOS falls on one knee before her. 
 
 CARLOS. 
 Elizabeth ! 
 
 QUEEN (regarding him with silent sorrow). 
 Do we thus meet again ? 
 
 CARLOS. 
 'Tis thus we meet again ! [A silence. 
 
 QUEEN (endeavoring to collect herself). 
 
 Carlos, arise ! 
 
 We must not now unnerve each other thus. 
 The mighty dead will not be honored now 
 By fruitless tears. Tears are for petty sorrows ! 
 He gave himself for thee ! With his dear life 
 He purchased thine. And shall this precious blood 
 Flow for a mere delusion of the brain ? 
 Oh, Carlos, 1 have pledged myself for thee. 
 On that assurance did he flee from hence 
 More satisfied. Oh, do not falsify 
 My word. 
 
 CARLOS (with animation) 
 
 To him I'll raise a monument 
 Nobler than ever honored proudest monarch, 
 And o'er his dust a paradise shall bloom ! 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 Thus did I hope to find thee ! This was still 
 The mighty purpose of his death. On me 
 Devolves the last fulfilment of his plans, 
 And I will now fulfil my solemn oath. 
 Yet one more legacy your dying friend 
 Bequeathed to me. I pledged my word to him,
 
 334 DON CARLOS. 
 
 And wherefore should I now conceal it from you ? 
 
 To me did he resign his Carlos I 
 
 Defy suspicion, and no longer tremble 
 
 Before mankind, but will for once assume 
 
 The courage of a friend. My heart shall speak. 
 
 He called our passion virtue ! I believe him, 
 
 And will my heart no longer 
 
 CARLOS. 
 
 Hold, O queen ! 
 
 Long was I sunk in a delusive dream. 
 I loved, but now I am at last awake : 
 Forgotten be the past. Here are your letters, 
 Destroy my own. Fear nothing from my passion, 
 It is extinct. A brighter flame now burns, 
 And purifies my being. All my love 
 Lies buried in the grave. No mortal wish 
 Finds place within this bosom. 
 
 [After a pause, taking her hand. 
 
 I have come 
 
 To bid farewell to you, and I have learned 
 There is a higher, greater good, my mother, 
 Than to call thee mine own. One rapid night 
 Has winged the tardy progress of my years, 
 And prematurely ripened me to manhood. 
 I have no further business in the world, 
 But to remember him. My harvest now 
 Is ended. 
 
 \_He approaches the QUEEN, icho conceals hey face, 
 Mother ! will you not reply ! 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 Carlos ! regard not these my tears. I cannot 
 Restrain them. But believe me I admire you. 
 
 CARLOS. 
 
 Thou wert the only partner of our league : 
 And by this name thou shalt remain to me 
 The most beloved object in this world. 
 No other woman can my friendship share, 
 More than she yesterday could win my love.
 
 DON CARLOS. 335 
 
 But sacred shall the royal widow be, 
 
 Should Providence conduct me to the throne. 
 
 [ The KING, accompanied by the GRAND INQUISITOR, 
 appears in the background without being observed. 
 I hasten to leave Spain, and never more 
 Shall I behold my father in this world. 
 Xo more I love him. Nature is extinct 
 Within this breast. Be you again his wife 
 His son's forever lost to him ! Return 
 Back to your course of duty I must speed 
 To liberate a people long oppressed 
 From a fell tyrant's hand. Madrid shall hail 
 Carlos as king, or ne'er behold him more. 
 And now a long and last farewell \_JJe kisses her. 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 Oh, Carlos ! 
 
 How you exalt me ! but I dare not soar 
 To such a height of greatness : yet I may 
 Contemplate now your noble mind with wonder. 
 
 CARLOS. 
 
 Am I not firm, Elizabeth ? I "hold thee 
 
 Thus in my arms and tremble not. The fear 
 
 Of instant death had, yesterday, not torn me 
 
 From this dear spot. \_JIe leaves her. 
 
 All that is over now, 
 And I defy my mortal destinies. 
 I've held thee in these arms and wavered not. 
 Hark ! Heard you nothing ! \_A clock strikes. 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 Nothing but the bell 
 That tolls the moment of our separation. 
 
 CARLOS. 
 
 Good night, then, mother ! And you shall, from Ghent, 
 
 Receive a letter, which will first proclaim 
 
 Our secret enterprise aloud. I go 
 
 To dare King Philip to an open contest. 
 
 Henceforth there shall be naught concealed between us !
 
 336 DON CAKLOS. 
 
 You need not shun the aspect of the world. 
 Be this my last deceit. 
 
 [About to take up the mask the KING stands between 
 them. 
 
 KING. 
 It is thy last. 
 
 [ The QUEEN falls senseless. 
 
 CARLOS (hastens to her and supports her in his arms). 
 Is the queen dead ? Great heavens ! 
 
 KING (coolly and quietly to the GRAND INQUISITOR). 
 
 Lord Cardinal ! 
 I've done my part. Go now, and do your own. [Exit.
 
 DEMETRIUS 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 SCENE I. 
 THE DIET AT CRACOW. 
 
 On the rising of the curtain the Polish Diet is discovered, seated 
 in the great senate hall. On a raised platform, elevated by three 
 steps, and surmounted by a canopy, is the imperial throne, the 
 escutcheons of Poland and Lithuania suspended on each side. 
 The KING seated upon the throne; on his right and left hand 
 his ten royal officers standing on the platform. Below the 
 platform the BISHOPS, PALATINES, and CASTELLANS seated on 
 each side of the stage. Opposite to these stand the Provincial 
 DEPUTIES, m a double line, uncovered. All armed. The ARCH- 
 BISHOP OF GNESEN, as the primate of the kingdom, is seated 
 next the proscenium ; his chaplain behind him, bearing a golden 
 cross. 
 
 ARCHBISHOP OF GNESEN. 
 
 Thus then hath this tempestuous Diet been 
 
 Conducted safely to a prosperous close; 
 
 And king and commons part as cordial friends. 
 
 The nobles have consented to disarm, 
 
 And straight disband the dangerous Rocoss;* 
 
 Whilst our good king his sacred word has pledged, 
 
 That every just complaint shall have redress. 
 
 And now that all is peace at home, we may 
 
 Look to the things that claim our care abroad. 
 
 Is it the will of the most high Estates 
 
 That Prince Demetrius, who hath advanced 
 
 A claim to Russia's crown, as Ivan's son, 
 
 Should at their bar appear, and in the face 
 
 Of this august assembly prove his right ? 
 
 * An insurrectionary muster of the nobles. 
 
 337
 
 338 DEMETRIUS. 
 
 CASTELLAN OF CRACOW. 
 
 Honor and justice both demand he should; 
 It were unseemly to refuse his prayer. 
 BISHOP OF WERMELAND. 
 
 The documents on which he rests have been 
 Examined, and are found authentic. We 
 May give him audience. 
 
 SEVERAL DEPUTIES. Nay ! We must we must ! 
 
 LEO SAPTEHA. 
 
 To hear is to admit his right. 
 ODOWALSKY. And not 
 
 To hear is to reject his claims unheard. 
 ARCHBISHOP OF GNESEN. 
 
 Is it your will that he have audience ? 
 I ask it for the second time and third. 
 IMPERIAL CHANCELLOR. 
 
 Let him stand forth before our throne ! 
 SENATORS. And speak ! 
 
 DEPUTIES. Yes, yes ! Let him be heard ! 
 
 [ The Imperial GRAND MARSHAL beckons with his baton 
 
 to the doorkeeper, who goes out. 
 LEO SAPIEHA (to the CHANCELLOR). 
 
 Write down, my lord, 
 That here I do protest against this step, 
 And all that may ensue therefrom, to mar 
 The peace of Poland's state and Moscow's crown. 
 \_Enters DEMETRIUS. Advances some steps towards the 
 throne, and makes three bows with his head un- 
 covered, first to the KING, next to the SENATORS, 
 and then to the DEPUTIES, who all severally answer 
 with an inclination of the head. He then takes H^ 
 his position so as to keep within his eye a great 
 portion of the assemblage, and yet not to turn his 
 back upon the throne. 
 ARCHBISHOP OF GNESEN. 
 
 Prince Dmitri, son of Ivan ! if the pomp 
 
 Of this great Diet scare thee, or a sight 
 
 So noble and majestic chain thy tongue, 
 
 Thou may'st for this the senate have allowed 
 
 Choose thee a proxy, wlieresoe'er thou list, 
 
 And do thy mission by another's lips.
 
 DEMETRIUS. 339 
 
 DEMETRIUS. 
 
 My lord archbishop, I stand here to claim 
 
 A kingdom, and the state of royalty. 
 
 'T would ill beseem me should I quake before 
 
 A noble people, and its king and senate. 
 
 I ne'er have viewed a cii-cle so august, 
 
 But the sight swells my heart within my breast 
 
 And not appals me. The more worthy ye, 
 
 To me ye are more welcome ; I can ne'er 
 
 Address my claim to nobler auditory. 
 
 ARCHBISHOP OF GNESEN. 
 
 The august republic 
 Is favorably bent. 
 
 DEMETRIUS. 
 
 Most puissant king ! Most worthy and most potent 
 
 Bishops and palatines, and my good lords, 
 
 The deputies of the august republic! 
 
 It gives me pause and wonder to behold 
 
 Myself, Czar Ivan's son, now stand before 
 
 The Polish people in their Diet here. 
 
 Both realms were sundered by a bloody hate, 
 
 And, whilst my father lived, no peace might be. 
 
 Yet now hath Heaven so ordered these events, 
 
 That I, his blood, who with my nurse's milk 
 
 Imbibed the ancestral hate, appear before you 
 
 A fugitive, compelled to seek my rights 
 
 Even here in Poland's heart. Then, ere I speak, 
 
 Forget magnanimously all rancors past, 
 
 And that the Czar, whose son I own myself, 
 
 Rolled war's red billows to your very homes. 
 
 I stand before you, sirs, a prince despoiled. 
 
 I ask protection. The oppressed may urge 
 
 A sacred claim on every noble breast. 
 
 And who in all earth's circuit shall be just, 
 
 If not a people great and valiant, one 
 
 In plenitude of power so free, it needs 
 
 To render 'count but to itself alone, 
 
 And may, unchallenged, lend an open ear 
 
 And aiding hand to fair humanity. 
 
 ARCHBISHOP OP GNESEN. 
 
 You do allege you are Czar Ivan's son;
 
 340 DEMETRIUS. 
 
 And truly, nor your bearing nor you: speech 
 Gainsays the lofty title that you urge, 
 But shows us that you are indeed his son. 
 And you shall find that the republic bears 
 A generous spirit. She has never quailed 
 To Russia in the field ! She loves, alike, 
 To be a noble foe a cordial friend. 
 
 DEMETRIUS. Ivan Wasilowitch, the mighty Czar 
 Of Moscow, took five spouses to his bed, 
 In the long years that spared him to the throne 
 The first, a lady of the heroic line 
 Of Romanoff, bare him Feodor, who reigned 
 After his father's death. One only son, 
 Dmitri, the last blossom of his strength, 
 And a mere infant when his father died, 
 Was born of Marfa, of Nagori's line. 
 Czar Feodor, a youth, alike effeminate 
 In mind and body, left the reins of power 
 To his chief equerry, Boris Godunow, 
 Who ruled his master with most crafty skill. 
 Feodor was childless, and his barren bride 
 Denied all prospect of an heir. Thus, when 
 The wily Boiar, by his fawning arts, 
 Had coiled himself into the people's favor, 
 His wishes soared as high as to the throne. 
 Between him and his haughty hopes there stood 
 A youthful prince, the young Demetrius 
 Iwanowitsch, who with his mother lived 
 At Uglitsch, where her widowhood was passed. 
 Now, when his fatal purpose was matured, 
 He sent to Uglitsch ruffians, charged to put 
 The Czarowitsch to death. 
 
 One night, when all was hushed, the castle's wing, 
 Where the young prince, apart from all the rest, 
 With his attendants lay, was found on fire. 
 The raging flames ingulfed the pile; the prince 
 Unseen, unheard, was spirited away, 
 And all the world lamented him as dead. 
 All Moscow knows these things to be the truth. 
 
 ARCHBISHOP OF GNESEN. 
 
 Yes, these are facts familiar to us all.
 
 DEMETRIUS. 341 
 
 The rumor ran abroad, both far and near, 
 
 That Prince Demetrius perished in the flames 
 
 When Uglitsch was destroyed. And, as his death 
 
 Raised to the throne the Czar who fills it now, 
 
 Fame did not hesitate to charge on him 
 
 This murder foul and pitiless. But yet, 
 
 His death is not the business now in hand ! 
 
 This prince is living still ! He lives in you! 
 
 So runs your plea. Now bring us to the proofs ! 
 
 Whereby do you attest that you are he ? 
 
 What are the signs by which you shall be known? 
 
 How 'scaped you those were sent to hunt you 
 
 down 
 
 And now, when sixteen years are passed, and you 
 Well nigh forgot, emerge to light once more? 
 
 DEMETRIUS. 
 
 'Tis scarce a year since I have known myself; 
 I lived a secret to myself till then, 
 Surmising naught of my imperial birth. 
 I was a monk with monks, close pent within 
 The cloister's precints, when I first began 
 To waken to a consciousness of self. 
 My impetuous spirit chafed against the bars, 
 And the high blood of princes began to course 
 In strange unbidden moods along my veins. 
 At length I flung the monkish cowl aside, 
 And fled to Poland, where the noble Prince 
 Of Sendomir, the generous, the good, 
 Took me as guest into his princely house, 
 And trained me up to noble deeds of arms. 
 
 ARCHBISHOP OF GNESEX. 
 
 How? You still ignorant of what you were? 
 
 Yet ran the rumor then on every side, 
 
 That Prince Demetrius was still alive. 
 
 Czar Boris trembled on his throne, and sent 
 
 His sassafs to the frontiers, to keep 
 
 Sharp watch on every traveller that stirred. 
 
 Had not the tale its origin with you ? 
 
 Did you not give the rumor birth yourself ? 
 
 Had you not named to any that you were 
 
 Demetrius ?
 
 342 DEMETRIUS. 
 
 DEMETRIUS. I relate that which I know. 
 
 If a report went forth I was alive, 
 Then had some god been busy with the fame. 
 Myself I knew not. In the prince's house, 
 And in the throng of his retainers lost, 
 I spent the pleasant springtime of my youth. 
 
 In silent homage 
 
 My heart was vowed to his most lovely daughter. 
 Yet in those days it never dreamed to raise 
 Its wildest thoughts to happiness so high. 
 My passion gave offence to her bethrothed, 
 The Castellan of Lemberg. He with taunts 
 Chafed me, and in the blindness of his rage 
 Forgot himself so wholly as to strike me. 
 Thus savagely provoked, I drew my sword ; 
 He, blind with fury, rushed upon the blade, 
 And perished there by my unwitting hand. 
 
 MEISCHEK. 
 
 Yes, it was even so. 
 
 DEMETRIUS. 
 
 Mine was the worst mischance ! A nameless youth, 
 
 A Russian and a stranger, I had slain 
 
 A grandee of the empire in the house 
 
 Of my kind patron done a deed of blood, 
 
 And sent to death his son-in-law and friend. 
 
 My innocence availed not ; not the pity 
 
 Of all his household, nor his kindness his, 
 
 The noble Palatine's, could save my life ; 
 
 For it was forfeit to the law, that is, 
 
 Though lenient to the Poles, to strangers stern. 
 
 Judgment was passed on me that judgment death. 
 
 I knelt upon the scaffold, by the block ; 
 
 To the fell headsman's sword I bared my throat, 
 
 And in the act disclosed a cross of gold, 
 
 Studded with precious gems, which had been hung 
 
 About my neck at the baptismal font. 
 
 This sacred pledge of Christian redemption 
 
 I had, as is the custom of my people, 
 
 Worn on my neck concealed, where'er I went, 
 
 From my first hours of infancy ; and now, 
 
 "When from sweet life I was compelled to part,
 
 DEMETRIUS. 343 
 
 I grasped it as my only stay, and pressed it 
 -With passionate devotion to my lips. 
 
 [ The Poles intimate their sympathy by dumb show. 
 The jewel was observed ; its sheen and worth 
 Awakened curiosity and wonder. 
 They set me free, and questioned me ; yet still 
 I could not call to memory a time 
 I had not worn the jewel on my person. 
 Now it so happened that three Boiars who 
 Had fled from the resentment of their Czar 
 Were on a visit to my lord at Sambor. 
 They saw the trinket, recognized it by 
 Nine emeralds alternately inlaid 
 With amethysts, to be the very cross 
 Which Ivan Westislowsky at the font 
 Hung on the neck of the Czar's youngest son. 
 They scrutinized me closer, and were struck 
 To find me marked with one of nature's freaks, 
 For my right arm is shorter than my left. 
 Now, being closely plied with questions, I 
 Bethought me of a little psalter which 
 I carried from the cloister when I fled. 
 Within this book were certain words in Greek 
 Inscribed there by the Igumen himself. 
 What they imported was unknown to me, 
 Being ignorant of the language. Well, the psalter 
 Was sent for, brought, and the inscription read. 
 It bore that Brother Wasili Philaret 
 (Such was my cloister-name), who owned the book, 
 Was Prince Demetrius, Ivan's youngest son, 
 By Andrei, an honest Diak, saved 
 By stealth in that red night of massacre. 
 Proofs of the fact lay carefully preserved 
 Within two convents, which were pointed out. 
 On this the Boiars at my feet fell down, 
 Won by the force of these resistless proofs, 
 And hailed me as the offspring of their Czar. 
 So from the yawning gulfs of black despair 
 Fate raised me up to fortune's topmost heights. 
 And now the mists cleared off, and all at once 
 Memories on memories started into life
 
 344 DEMETRIUS. 
 
 In the remotest background of the past. 
 
 And like some city's spires that gleam afar 
 
 In g >lden sunshine when naught else is seen, 
 
 80 in my soul two images grew bright, 
 
 The loftiest sun-peaks in the shadowy past. 
 
 I saw myself escaping one dark night, 
 
 And a red lurid flame light up the gloom 
 
 Of midnight darkness as I looked behind me 
 
 A memory 'twas of very earliest youth, 
 
 For what preceded or came after it 
 
 In the long distance utterly was lost. 
 
 In solitary brightness there it stood 
 
 A ghastly beacon- light on memory's waste. 
 
 Yet I remembered how, in later years, 
 
 One of my comrades called me, in his wrath 
 
 Son of the Czar. I took it as a jest, 
 
 And with a blow avenged it at the time. 
 
 All this now flashed like lightning on my soul, 
 
 And toid with dazzling certainty that I 
 
 Was the Czar's son, so long reputed dead. 
 
 With this one word the clouds that had perplexed 
 
 My strange and troubled life were cleared away. 
 
 Nor merely by these signs, tor such deceive ; 
 
 But in my soul, in my proud, throbbing heart 
 
 I felt within me coursed the blood of kings ; 
 
 And sooner will I drain it drop by drop 
 
 Than bate one jot my title to the crown. 
 
 ARCHBISHOP OF GXESEM. 
 
 And shall we trust a scroll which might have found 
 Its way by merest chance into your hands 
 Backed by the tale of some poor renegades ? 
 Forgive me, noble youth! Your tone, I grant, 
 And bearing, are not those of one who lies ; 
 Still you in this may be yourself deceived. 
 Well may the heart be pardoned that beguiles 
 Itself in playing for so high a stake. 
 What hostage do you tender for your word ? 
 
 DEMETRIUS. 
 
 I tender fifty, who will give their oaths, 
 All Piasts to a man, and free-born Poles 
 Of spotless reputation, each of whom
 
 DEMETRIUS. 345 
 
 Is ready to enforce what I have urged. 
 There sits the noble Prince of Sendomir, 
 And at his side the Castellan of Lublin ; 
 Let them declare if I have spoke the truth. 
 
 ARCHBISHOP OF GXESEN. 
 
 How seem these things to the august Estates? 
 To the enforcement of such numerous proofs 
 Doubt and mistrust, methinks, must needs give 
 
 way. 
 
 Long has a creeping rumor filled the world 
 That Dmitri, Ivan's son, is still alive. 
 The Czar himself confirms it by his fears. 
 Before us stands a youth, in age and mien 
 Even to the very freak that nature played, 
 The lost heir's counterpart, and of a soul 
 Whose noble stamp keeps rank with his high claims. 
 He left a cloister's precincts, urged by strange, 
 Mysterious promptings ; and this monk-trained boy 
 Was straight distinguished for his knightly feats. 
 He shows a trinket which the Czarowitsch 
 Once wore, and one that never left his side; 
 A written witness, too, by pious hands, 
 Gives us assurance of his princely birth ; 
 And, stronger still, from his unvarnished speech 
 And open brow truth makes his best appeal. 
 Such traits as these deceit doth never don ; 
 It masks its subtle soul in vaunting words, 
 And in the high-glossed ornaments of speech. 
 No longer, then, can I withhold the title 
 Which he with circumstance and justice claims 
 And, in the exercise of my old right, 
 I now, as primate, give him the first voice. 
 
 ARCHBISHOP OF LEMBEUG. 
 
 My voice goes with the primate's. 
 
 SEVERAL VOICES. So does mine. 
 
 SEVERAL PALATINES. 
 And mine ! 
 
 ODOWALSKY. And mine. 
 
 DEPUTIES. And all! 
 
 SAPIEHA. My gracious sirs ' 
 
 Weigh well ere you decide ! Be not so hasty !
 
 346 DEMETRIUS. 
 
 It is not meet the council of the realm 
 Be hurried on to 
 
 ODOWALSKY. There is nothing here 
 
 For us to weigh ; all has been fully weighed. 
 The proofs demonstrate incontestably. 
 This is not Moscow, sirs ! No despot here 
 Keeps our free souls in manacles. Here truth 
 May walk by day or night with brow erect. 
 I will not think, my lords, in Cracow here, 
 Here in the very Diet of the Poles, 
 That Moscow's Czar should have obsequious slaves. 
 
 DEMETRIUS. 
 
 Oh, take my thanks, ye reverend senators ! 
 That ye have lent your credence to these proofs ; 
 And if I be indeed the man whom I 
 Protest myself, oh, then, endure not this 
 Audacious robber should usurp my seat, 
 Or longer desecrate that sceptre which 
 To me, as the true Czarowitsch, belongs. 
 Yes, justice lies with me, you have the power. 
 'Tis the most dear concern of every state 
 And throne, that right should everywhere prevail, 
 And all men in the world possess their own. 
 For there, where justice holds uncumbered sway, 
 There each enjoys his heritage secure, 
 And over every house and every throne 
 Law, truth, and order keep their angel watch. 
 It is the key-stone of the world's wide arch, 
 The one sustaining and sustained by all, 
 Which, if it fail, brings all in ruin down. 
 (Answers of SENATORS giving assent to DEMETRIUS.) 
 
 DEMETRIUS. 
 
 Oh, look on me, renowned Sigismund ! 
 
 Great king, on thine own bosom turn thine eyes. 
 
 And in my destiny behold thine own. 
 
 Thou, too, hast known the rude assaults of fate; 
 
 Within a prison earnest thou to the world ; 
 
 Thy earliest glances fell on dungeon walls. 
 
 Thou, too, hadst need of friends to set thee free, 
 
 And raise thee from a prison to a throne. 
 
 These didst thou find. That noble kindness thou
 
 DEMETRIUS. 347 
 
 Didst reap from them, oh, testify to me. 
 And you, ye grave and honored councillors, 
 Most reverend bishops, pillars of the church, 
 Ye palatines and castellans of fame, 
 The moment has arrived, by one high deed, 
 To reconcile t\vo nations long estranged. 
 Yours be the glorious boast, that Poland's power 
 Hath given the Muscovites their Czar, and in 
 The neighbor who oppressed you as a foe 
 Secure an ever-grateful friend. And you, 
 The deputies of the august republic, 
 Saddle your steeds of fire ! Leap to your seats ! 
 To you expand high fortune's golden gates ; 
 I will divide the foeman's spoil with you. 
 Moscow is rich in plunder ; measureless 
 In gold and gems, the treasures of the Czar; 
 I can give royal guerdons to my friends, 
 And I will give them, too. When I, as Czar, 
 Set foot within the Kremlin, then, I swear, 
 The poorest of you all, that follows me, 
 Shall robe himself in velvet and in sables; 
 With costly pearls his housings shall he deck, 
 And silver be the metal of least worth, 
 That he shall shoe his horses' hoofs withal. 
 \_Grent commotion, amoixj the DEPUTIES. KORELA, 
 Hettnan of the Cossacks, declares himself ready to 
 put himself at the head of an army. 
 
 ODOWALSK.V. 
 
 How ! shall we leave the Cossack to despoil us 
 
 At once of glory and of booty both ? 
 
 We've made a truce with Tartar and with Turk, 
 
 And from the Swedish power have naught to fear. 
 
 Our martial spirit has been wasting long 
 
 In slothful peace ; our swords are red with rust. 
 
 Up! and invade the kingdom of the Czar, 
 
 And win a grateful and true-hearted friend, 
 
 Whilst we augment our country's might and glory. 
 
 MANY DEPUTIES. 
 
 War ! War with Moscow ! 
 
 OTHERS. Be it so resolved! 
 
 On to the votes at once !
 
 348 DEMETRIUS. 
 
 SAPIEHA (rises). Grand marshal, please 
 
 To order silence ! I desire to speak. 
 A CROAVD OF VOICES. 
 
 War ! War with Moscow ! 
 SAPIEHA. Nay, I will be heard. 
 
 Ho, marshal, do your duty ! 
 
 \_Great tumult within and outside the hall. 
 GRAND MARSHAL. "Pis, you see, 
 
 Quite fruitless. 
 SAPIEHA. What? The marshal's self suborned? 
 
 Is this our Diet, then, no longer free ? 
 
 Throw down your staff, and bid this brawling cease ; 
 
 I charge you, on your office, to obey ! 
 [The GRAND MARSHAL casts his baton into the centre 
 of the hall / the tumult abates. 
 
 What whirling thoughts, what mad resolves are 
 these ? 
 
 Stand we not now at peace with Moscow's Czar ? 
 
 Myself, as your imperial envoy, made 
 
 A treaty to endure for twenty years ; 
 
 I raised this right hand, that you see, alof 
 
 In solemn pledge, within the Kremlin's walls ; 
 
 And fairly hath the Czar maintained his word. 
 
 What is sworn faith? what compacts, treaties, when 
 
 A solemn Diet tramples on them all? 
 DEMETRIUS. 
 
 Prince Leo Sapieha ! You concluded 
 
 A bond of peace, you say, with Moscow's Czar? 
 
 That did you not ; for I, I am that Czar. 
 
 In me is Moscow's majesty ; I am 
 
 The son of Ivan, and his rightful heir. 
 
 Would the Poles treat with Russia for a pence, 
 
 Then must they treat with me ! Your compact's null. 
 
 As being made with one whose's title's null. 
 ODOWALSKY. 
 
 What reck we of your treaty ? So we willed 
 
 When it was made our wills are changed to-day. 
 SAPIEHA. 
 
 Is it, then, come to this ? If none beside 
 
 Will stand for justice, then, at least, will I. 
 
 I'll rend the woof of/cunning into shreds, .
 
 DEMETRIUS. 349 
 
 And lay its falsehoods open to the day. 
 
 Most reverend primate! art thou, canst thou be 
 
 So simple-souled, or canst thou so dissemble? 
 
 Are ye so credulous, my lords? My liege, 
 
 Art thou so weak ? Ye know not will not know 
 
 Ye are the puppets of the wily Waywode 
 
 Of Sendomir, who reared this spurious Czar, 
 
 Whose measureless ambition, while we speak, 
 
 Clutches in thought the spoils of Moscow's wealth. 
 
 Is't left for me to tell you that even now 
 
 The league is made and sworn betwixt the twain, 
 
 The pledge the Waywode's youngest daughter's 
 
 hand? 
 
 And shall our great republic blindly rush 
 Into the perils of an unjust war, 
 To aggrandize the Waywode, and to crown 
 His daughter as the empress of the Czar? 
 There's not a man he has not bribed and bought. 
 He means to rule the Diet, well I know ; 
 I see his faction rampant in this hall, 
 And, as 'twere not enough that he controlled 
 The Seym Walmy by a majority, 
 He's girt the Diet with three thousand horse, 
 And all Cracow is swarming like a hive 
 With his sworn feudal vassals. Even now 
 They throng the halls and chambers where we sit. 
 To hold our liberty of speech in awe. 
 Yet stirs no fear in my undaunted heart; 
 And while the blood keeps current in my veins. 
 I will maintain the freedom of my voice ! 
 Let those who think like men come stand by me J 
 Whilst I have life shall no resolve be passed 
 That is at war with justice and with reason. 
 'Twas I that ratified 'the peace with Moscow, 
 And I will hazard life to see it kept. 
 
 ODOWALSKY. 
 
 Give him no further hearing ! Take the votes ! 
 [ The BISHOP OF CRACOW and WILNA rise, and descend 
 each to his own side, to collect the votes. 
 
 MAXT. 
 
 War, war with Moscow !
 
 350 DEMETRIUS. 
 
 ARCHBISHOP OF GNESEN (to SAPIEHA). 
 
 Noble sir, give way! 
 
 You see the mass are hostile to your views; 
 Then do not force a profitless division ! 
 IMPERIAL HIGH CHANCELLOR (descends from the throne 
 
 to SAPIEHA). 
 
 The king entreats you will not press the point, 
 Sir Waywode, to division in the Diet. 
 DOORKEEPER (aside to ODOWALSKY). 
 
 Keep a bold front, and fearless summon those 
 That wait without. All Cracow stands by you. 
 IMPERIAL GRAND MARSHAL (to SAPIEHA). 
 
 Such excellent decrees have passed before ; 
 Oh, cease, and for their sake, so fraught with good, 
 Unite your voice with the majority ! 
 BISHOP OF CRACOW (has collected the votes on his side). 
 
 On this right bench are all unanimous. 
 SAPIEHA. 
 
 And let them to a man ! Yet I say no ! 
 
 I urge my veto I break up the Diet. 
 
 Stay further progress ! Null and void are all 
 
 The resolutions passed 
 
 [General commotion; the KING descends from the 
 throne, the barriers are broken down, and there 
 arises a tumultuous uproar. DEPUTIES draw their 
 swords, and threaten SAPIEHA with them. The 
 BISHOPS interpose, and protect him icith their 
 stoles. 
 
 Majority ? 
 
 What is it? The majority is madness; 
 Reason has still ranked only with the few. 
 What cares he for the general weal that's poor ? 
 Has the lean beggar choice, or liberty? 
 To the great lords of earth, that hold the purse, 
 He must for bread and raiment sell his voice. 
 'Twere meet that voices should be weighed, not 
 
 counted. 
 
 Sooner or later must the state be wrecked, 
 Where numbers sway and ignorance decides. 
 ODOWALSKY. 
 
 Hark to the traitor !
 
 DEMETRIUS. 351 
 
 DEPUTIES. Hew him into shreds ! 
 
 Down with him ! 
 
 ARCHBISHOP OF GNESEN (snatches the crucifix out of his 
 chaplain's hand and interposes. 
 
 Peace, peace ! 
 
 Shall native blood be in the Diet shed ? 
 Prince Sapieha! be advised! 
 
 \_To the BISHOPS 
 Bring him away, 
 
 And interpose your bosoms as his shield! 
 Through this side door remove him quietly, 
 Or the wild mob will tear him limb from limb! 
 [SAPIEHA, still casting looks of defiance, is forced 
 away by the BISHOPS, whilst the ARCHBISHOPS OF 
 GNESEN and LEMBERG keep the DEPUTIES at bay. 
 Amidst violent tumult and clashing of arms, the 
 hall is emptied of all but DEMETRIUS, MEISCHEK, 
 ODOWALSKY, and the Hetman of the Cossacks. 
 ODOAVALSKY. 
 
 That point miscarried, 
 Yet shall you not lack aid because of this : 
 If the republic holds the peace with Moscow, 
 At our own charges we shall push your claims. 
 KORELA. 
 
 Who ever could have dreamed, that he alone 
 Would hold his ground against the assembled Diet? 
 MEISCHEK. 
 
 The king ! the king ! 
 
 \_Enter KING SIGISMUND, attended by the LORD HIGH 
 CHANCELLOR, the GRAND MARSHAL, and several 
 BISHOPS. 
 
 KING. Let me embrace you, prince ! 
 
 At length the high republic does you justice ; 
 My heart has done so long, and many a day. 
 Your fate doth move me deeply, as, indeed, 
 What monarch's heart but must be moved by it? 
 DEMETRIUS. 
 
 The past, with all its sorrows, is forgot; 
 Here on your breast I feel new life begin. 
 KING. 
 
 I love not many words ; yet what a king
 
 352 DEMETRIUS. 
 
 May offer, who has vassels richer far 
 Than his poor self, that do I offer you. 
 You have been witness of an untoward scene, 
 But deem not ill of Poland's realm because 
 A tempest jars the vessel of the state. 
 
 MEISCHEK. 
 
 When winds are wild the steersman backs his heln 
 And makes for port with all the speed he may. 
 
 KING. 
 
 The Diet is dissolved. Although I wished, 
 I could not break the treaty with the Czar. 
 But you have powerful friends; and if the Pole; 
 At his own risk, take arms on your behalf, 
 Or if the Cossack choose to venture war, 
 They are free men, I cannot say them nay. 
 
 MEISCHEK. 
 
 The whole Rocoss is under arms already. 
 Please it but you, my liege, the angry stream 
 That raved against your sovereignty may turn 
 Its wrath on Moscow, leaving you unscathed. 
 
 KING. 
 
 The best of weapons Russia's self will give thee ; 
 Thy surest buckler is the people's heart. 
 By Russia only Russia will be vanished. 
 Even as the Diet heard thee speak to-day, 
 Speak thou at Moscow to thy subjects, prince. 
 So chain their hearts, and thou wilt be their king 
 In Sweden I by right of birth ascended 
 The* throne of my inheritance in peace ; 
 Yet did I lose the kingdom of my sires 
 Because my people's hearts were not with me. 
 
 Enter MARINA. 
 MEISCHEK. 
 
 My gracious liege, here, kneeling at your feet, 
 Behold Marina, youngest of my daughters ; 
 The prince of Moscow offers her his heart. 
 Thou art the stay and pillar of our house, 
 And only from thy royal hand 'tis meet 
 That she receive her spouse and sovereign. 
 
 [MARINA kneels to the KING
 
 DEMETRIUS. 353 
 
 KING. 
 
 Well, if you wish it, cousin, gladly I 
 Will do the father's office to the Czar. 
 
 [ To DEMETRIUS, giving him MARINA'S hand 
 Thus do I bring you, in this lovely pledge, 
 High fortune's blooming goddess ; and may these 
 Old eyes be spared to see this gracious pair 
 Sit in imperial state on Moscow's throne. 
 
 MARINA. 
 
 My liege, I humbly thank your grace, and shall 
 Esteem me still your slave where'er I bo. 
 
 KING. 
 
 Rise up, Czaritza ! This is not a place 
 For you, the plighted bridemaid of the C?ar; 
 For you, the daughter of my foremost Way wode. 
 You are the youngest of your sisters ; yet 
 Your spirit wings a high and glorious course, 
 And nobly grasps the top of sovereignty. 
 
 DEMETRIUS. 
 
 Be thou, great monarch, witness of my oath, 
 
 As, prince to prince, I pledge it here to you ! 
 
 This noble lady's hand I do accept 
 
 As fortune's dearest pledge, and swear that, soon 
 
 As on ray father's throne I take my seat, 
 
 I'll lead her home in triumph as my bride, 
 
 With all the state that fits a mighty queen. 
 
 And, for a dowry, to my bride I give 
 
 The principalities Pleskow and Great Neugart, 
 
 With all towns, hamlets, and in-dwellers there, 
 
 With all the rights and powers of sovereignty, 
 
 In absolute possession evermore; 
 
 And this, my gift, will I as Czar confirm 
 
 In my free city, Moscow. Furthermore, 
 
 As compensation to her noble sire 
 
 For present charges, I engage to pay 
 
 A million ducats, Polish currency. 
 
 So help me God, and all his saints, as 1 
 
 Have truly sworn this oath, and shall fulfil it. 
 
 KING. 
 
 You will do so ; you never will forget 
 
 For what you are the noble Way wode's debtor ;
 
 354 DEMETRIUS. 
 
 Who, for your wishes, perils his sure wealth, 
 And, for your hopes, a child his heart adores, 
 A friend so rare is to be rarely prized ! 
 Then when your hopes are crowned forget not ever 
 The steps by which you mounted to the throne, 
 Nor with your garments let your heart be changed ! 
 Think, that in Poland first you knew yourself, 
 That this land gave you birth a second time. 
 
 DEMETRIUS. 
 
 I have been nurtured in adversity ; 
 
 And learned to reverence the beauteous bond 
 
 Which links mankind with sympathies of love. 
 
 KING. 
 
 But now you enter on a realm where all 
 Use, custom, morals are untried and strange 
 In Poland here reigns freedom absolute ; 
 The king himself, although in pomp supreme, 
 Must ofttime be the serf of his noblesse ; 
 But there the father's sacred power prevails, 
 And in the subject finds a passive slave. 
 
 DEMETRIUS. 
 
 That glorious freedom which surrounds me here 
 I will transplant into my native land, 
 And turn these bond-serfs into glad-souled men ; 
 Not o'er the souls of slaves will I bear rule. 
 
 KING. 
 
 Do naught in haste ; but by the time be led ! 
 Prince, ere we part, three lessons take from me, 
 And truly follow them when thou art king. 
 It is a king that gives them, old and tried, 
 And they may prove of profit to thy youth. 
 
 DEMETRIUS. 
 
 Oh, share thy wisdom with me ! Thou hast won 
 The reverence of a free and mighty people ; 
 What must I do to earn so fair a prize ? 
 
 KING. You come from a strange land, 
 
 Borne on the weapons of a foreign foe ; 
 This first felt wrong thou hast to wash away. 
 Then bear thee like a genuine son of Moscow, 
 With reverence due to all her usages. 
 Keep promise with the Poles, and value them,
 
 DEMETRIUS. 355 
 
 For thou hast need of friends on thy new throne : 
 
 The arm that placed thee there can hurl thee down. 
 
 Esteem them honorably, yet ape them not ; 
 
 Strange customs thrive not in a foreign soil. 
 
 And, whatsoe'er thou dost, revere thy mother 
 
 You'll find a mother 
 
 DEMETRIUS. Oh, my liege ! 
 
 KING. High clain. 
 
 Hath she upon thy filial reverence. 
 
 Do her all honor. 'Twixt thy subjects and 
 
 Thyself she stands, a sacred, precious link. 
 
 No human law overrides the imperial power; 
 
 Nothing but nature may command its awe ; 
 
 Nor can thy people own a surer pledge, 
 
 That thou art gentle, than thy filial love. 
 
 I say no more. Much yet is to be done, 
 
 Ere thou mak'st booty of the golden fleece. 
 
 Expect no easy victory ! 
 
 Czar Boris rules with strong and skilful hand ; 
 
 You take the field against no common man. 
 
 He that by merit hath achieved the throne, 
 
 Is not puffed from his seat by popular breath ; 
 
 His deeds do serve to him for ancestors. 
 
 To your good fortune I commend you now ; 
 
 Already twice, as by a miracle, 
 
 Hath it redeemed you from the grasp of death ; 
 
 'Twill put the finish on its work, and crown you. 
 
 [Exeunt omnes but MARINA and ODOWALSKY 
 ODOWALSKY. 
 
 Say, lady, how have I fulfilled my charge? 
 
 Truly and well, and wilt thou laud my zeal? 
 MARINA. 
 
 'Tis, Odowalsky, well we are alone ; 
 
 Matters of weight have we to canvass which 
 
 'Tis meet the prince know nothing of. May he 
 
 Pursue the voice divine that goads him on ! 
 
 If in himself he have belief, the world 
 
 Will catch the flame, and give him credence too. 
 
 He must be kept in that vague, shadowing mist, 
 
 Which is a fruitful mother of great deeds, 
 
 While we see clear, and act in certainty.
 
 356 DEMETRIUS. 
 
 He lends the name the inspiration ; we 
 
 Must bear the brain, the shaping thought, for him ; 
 
 And when, by art and craft, we have insured 
 
 The needful levies, let him still dream on, 
 
 And think they dropped, to aid him, from the clouds 
 
 ODOWALSKY. 
 
 Give thy commands : I live but for thy service. 
 
 Think'st thou this JVloscovite or his affairs 
 
 Concern my thoughts ? "Pis thou, thou and thy glory 
 
 For which I will adventure life and all. 
 
 For me no fortune blossoms ; friendless, landless, 
 
 I dare not let my hopes aspire to thee. 
 
 Thy grace I may not win, but I'll deserve it. 
 
 To make thee great be my one only aim ; 
 
 Then, though another should possess thee, still 
 
 Thou wilt be mine being what I have made thee. 
 
 MABINA. 
 
 Therefore my whole heart do I pledge to thee ; 
 
 To thee I trust the acting of my thoughts. 
 
 The king doth mean us false. I read him through. 
 
 'Twas a concerted farce with Sapieha, 
 
 A juggle, all ! 'Twould please him well, belike, 
 
 To see my father's power, which he dreads deeply, 
 
 Enfeebled in this enterprise the league 
 
 Of the noblesse, which shook his heart with fear, 
 
 Drawn off in this campaign on foreign bounds, 
 
 While he himself sits neutral in the fray. 
 
 He thinks to share our fortune, if we win ; 
 
 And if we lose, he hopes with greater ease 
 
 To fix on us the bondage of his yoke. 
 
 We stand alone. This die is cast. If he 
 
 Cares for himself, we shall be selfish too. 
 
 You lead the troops to Kioff . There let them swear 
 
 Allegiance to the prince, and unto me ; 
 
 Mark you, to me ! 'Tis needful for our ends. 
 
 I want your eye, and not your arm alone. 
 
 ODOWALSKY. 
 
 Command me speak 
 
 MARINA. You lead the Czarowitsch 
 
 Keep your eye on him ; stir not from his side, 
 Render me 'count of every step he makes.
 
 DEMETRIUS. 357 
 
 ODOWALSKY. 
 
 Rely on me, he'll never cast us off. 
 MARINA. 
 
 No man is grateful. Once his throne is sure, 
 
 He'll not be slow to cast our bonds aside. 
 
 The Russian hates the Pole must hate him ever ; 
 
 No bond of amity can link their hearts. 
 
 Enter OPALINSKY, BIELSKY, and several Polish noblemen. 
 
 OPALINSKY. 
 
 Fair patron, get us gold, and we march with you, 
 This lengthened Diet has consumed our all. 
 Let us have gold, we'll make thee Russia's queen. 
 
 MARINA. 
 
 The Bishop of Kaminieck and Culm 
 Lends money on the pawn of land and serfs. 
 Sell, barter, pledge the hamlets of your boors, 
 Turn all to silver, horses, means of war! 
 War is the best of chapmen. He transmutes 
 Iron into gold. Whate'er you now may lose 
 You'll find in Moscow twenty-fold again. 
 
 BIELSKY. 
 
 Two hundred more wait in the tavern yonder ; 
 If you will show yourself, and drain a cup 
 With them, they're yours, all yours I know them 
 well. 
 
 MARINA. 
 
 Expect me ! You shall introduce me to them. 
 
 OPALINSKY. 
 
 'Tis plain that you were born to be a queen. 
 
 MARINA. 
 
 I was, and therefore I must be a queen. 
 
 BIELSKY. 
 
 Ay, mount the snow-white steed, thine armor on, 
 And so, a second Vanda, lead thy troops, 
 Inspired by thee, to certain victory. 
 
 MARINA. My spirit leads you. War is not for women. 
 The rendezvous is in Kioff. Thither my father 
 Will lead a levy of three thousand horse. 
 My sister's husband givey two thousand more,
 
 358 . DEMETRIUS. 
 
 And the Don sends a Cossack host in aid. 
 Do you all swear you will be true to me ? 
 ALL All, all \ve swear ! (draw their swords ) 
 
 Vivat Marina, Russia Regina ! 
 
 [MARINA tears her veil in pieces, and divides it among 
 them. Exeunt omnes but MARINA. 
 
 Enter MEISCHEK. 
 
 MARINA. 
 
 Wherefore so sad, when fortune smiles on us, 
 When every step thrives to our utmost wish, 
 And all around are arming in our cause ? 
 
 MEISCHEK. 
 
 Tis even because of this, my child ! All, all 
 
 Is staked upon the cast. Thy father's means 
 
 Are in these warlike preparations swamped. 
 
 I have much cause to ponder seriously ; 
 
 Fortune is false, uncertain the result. 
 
 Mad, venturous girl, what hast thou brought me to? 
 
 What a weak father have I been, that I 
 
 Did not withstand thy importunities ! 
 
 I &J1 the richest Waywode of the empire, 
 
 The next in honor to the king. Had we 
 
 But been content to be so, and enjoyed 
 
 Our stately fortunes with a tranquil soul ! 
 
 Thy hopes soared higher not for thee sufficed 
 
 The moderate station which thy sisters won. 
 
 Thou wouldst attain the loftiest mark that can 
 
 By mortals be achieved, and wear a crown. 
 
 I, thy fond, foolish father, longed to heap 
 
 On thee, my darling one, all glorious gains, 
 
 So by thy prayers I let myself be fooled, 
 
 And peril my sure fortunes on a chance. 
 
 MARINA. 
 
 How ? My dear father, dost thou rue thy goodness ? 
 Who with the meaner prize can live content, 
 When o'er his head the noblest courts his grasp? 
 
 MEISCHEK. 
 
 Thy sisters wear no crowns, yet they are happy. 
 
 MARINA. 
 
 What happiness is that to leave the home
 
 DEMETRIUS. 359 
 
 Of the Waywocle, my father, for the house 
 
 Of some count palatine, a grateful bride? 
 
 "What <lo I gain of new from such a change? 
 
 And can I joy in looking to the morrow 
 
 When it brings naught but what was stale to-day? 
 
 Oh, tasteless round of petty, worn pursuits! 
 
 Oh, wearisome monotony of life! 
 
 Are they a guerdon for high hopes, high aims? 
 
 Or love or greatness I must have : all else 
 
 Are unto me alike indifferent. 
 
 Smooth off the trouble from thy brow, dear father I 
 
 Let's trust the stream that bears us on its breast, 
 
 Think not upon the sacrifice thou makest, 
 
 Think on the prize, the goal that's to be won 
 
 When thou shalt see thy daughter robed in state, 
 
 In regal state, aloft on Moscow's throne, 
 
 And thy son's sons the rulers of the world ! 
 
 MEISCHEK. 
 
 I think of naught, see naught, but thee, my child, 
 Girt with the splendors of the imperial crown. 
 Thou'rt bent to have it ; I cannot gainsay thee. 
 
 MARIXA. 
 
 Yet one request, my dearest, best of fathers, 
 I pray you grant me ! 
 
 MEISCHEK. Name thy wish, my child. 
 
 MARINA. 
 
 Shall I remain shut up at Sambor with 
 
 The fires of boundless longing in my breast ? 
 
 Beyond the Dnieper will my die be cast, 
 
 While boundless space divides me from the spot ; 
 
 Can I endure it ? Oh, the impatient spirit 
 
 Will lie upon the rack of expectation 
 
 And measure out this monstrous length of space 
 
 With groans and anxious throbbings of the heart. 
 
 MEISCHEK. 
 
 What dost thou wish? What is it thou wouldst 
 have? 
 
 MARINA. 
 
 Let me abide the issue in Kioff ! 
 
 There I can gather tidings at their source. 
 
 There on the frontier of both kingdoms
 
 360 DEMETRIUS. 
 
 MEISCHEK. 
 
 Thy spirit's over-bold. Restrain it, child ! 
 MARINA. 
 
 Yes, thou dost yield, thou'lt take me with thee, 
 
 then? 
 MEISCHEK. 
 
 Thou rulest me. Must I not do thy will ? 
 MARINA. 
 
 My own dear father, when I am Moscow's queen 
 
 Kioff, you know, must be our boundary. 
 
 Kioff must then be mine, and thou shalt rule it. 
 MEISCHEK. 
 
 Thou dreamest, girl ! Already the great Moscow 
 
 Is for thy soul too narrow ; thou, to grasp 
 
 Domains, wilt strip them from thy native land. 
 MARINA. 
 
 Kioff belonged not to our native land ; 
 
 There the Varegers ruled in clays of yore. 
 
 I have the ancient chronicles by heart; 
 
 'Twas from the Russian empire wrenched by force. 
 
 I will restore it to its former crown. 
 MEISCHEK. 
 
 Hush, hush ! The Waywode must not hear such 
 talk. [ Trumpet without. 
 
 They're breaking up. 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 SCENE I. 
 
 A Greek convent in a bleak district near the sea Belozero. A train 
 of nuns, in black robes and veils, passes over the back of the 
 stage. MARFA, in a white veil, stands apart from the others, 
 leaning on a tombstone. OlXJA steps out from the train, remains 
 gazing at her for a time, and then advances to her. 
 
 OLGA. 
 
 And does thy heart not urge thee forth with us 
 To taste reviving nature's opening sweets ? 
 The glad sun comes, the long, long night retires, 
 The ice melts in the streams, and soon the sledge 
 Will to the boat give place and summer swallow.
 
 DEMETRIUS. 361 
 
 The world awakes once more, and the new joy 
 -. Woos all to leave their narrow cloister cells 
 
 For the bright air and freshening breath of spring. 
 And wilt thou only, sunk in lasting grief, 
 Refuse to share the general exultation? 
 
 MARFA. 
 
 On with the rest, and leave me to myself ! 
 Let those rejoice who still have power to hope. 
 The time that puts fresh youth in all the world 
 Brings naught to me ; to me the past is all, 
 My hopes, my joys are with the things that were. 
 
 OLGA. 
 
 Dost thou still mourn thy son still, still lament 
 The sovereignty which thou has lost? Does time, 
 Which pours a balm on every wounded heart, 
 Lose all its potency with thee alone? 
 Thou wert the empress of this mighty realm, 
 The mother of a blooming son. He was 
 Snatched from thee by a dreadful destiny ; 
 Into this dreary convent wert thou thrust, 
 Here on the verge of habitable earth. 
 Full sixteen times since that disastrous day 
 The face of nature hath renewed its youth ; 
 Still have I seen no change come over thine, 
 That looked a grave amid a blooming world. 
 Thou'rt like some moonless image, carved in stone 
 By sculptor's chisel, that doth ever keep 
 The selfsame fixed unalterable mien. 
 
 MARFA. 
 
 Yes, time, fell time, hath signed and set me up 
 As a memorial of my dreadful fate. 
 I will not be at peace, will not forget. 
 That soul must be of poor and shallow stamp 
 Which takes a cure from time a recompense 
 For what can never be compensated ! 
 Nothing shall buy my sorrow from me. No, 
 As heaven's vault still goes with the wanderer, 
 Girds and environs him with boundless grasp, 
 Turn where he will, by sea or land, so goes 
 My anguish with me, wheresoe'er I turn ; 
 It hems me round, like an unbounded son; 
 My ceaseless tears have failed to dniin its depths.
 
 362 DEMETRIUS. 
 
 OLGA. Oh, see ! what ne\vs can yonder boy have brought, 
 
 The sisters round him throng so eagerly ? 
 
 He comes from distant shores, where homes abound, 
 
 And brings us tidings from the land of men. 
 
 The sea is clear, the highways free once more. 
 
 Art thou not curious to learn his news ? 
 
 Though to the world we are as good as dead, 
 
 Yet of its changes willingly we hear, 
 
 And, safe upon the shore, with wonder mark 
 
 The roar and ferment of the trairpling waves. 
 
 [NuNs come down the stage with a FISHER BOY. 
 XKNIA HELEXA. 
 
 Speak, speak, and tell us all the news you bring. 
 ALEXIA. 
 
 Relate what's passing in the world beyond. 
 FISHER BOY. 
 
 Good, pious ladies, give me time to speak ! 
 XENIA. 
 
 Is't war or peace ? 
 
 ALEXIA. Who's now upon the throne ? 
 
 FISHER BOY. 
 
 A ship is to Archangel just come in 
 
 From the north pole, where everything is ice. 
 OLGA. 
 
 How came a vessel into that wild sea? 
 FISHER BOY. 
 
 It is an English merchantman, and it 
 
 Has found a new way out to get to us. 
 ALEXIA. 
 
 What will not man adventure for his gain ? 
 XEXIA. 
 
 And so the world is nowhere to be barred ! 
 FISHER BOY. 
 
 But that's the very smallest of the news. 
 
 'Tis something very different moves the world. 
 ALEXIA. 
 
 Oh, speak and tell us ! 
 
 OLGA. Say, what has occurred? 
 
 FISHER BOY. 
 
 We live to hear strange marvels nowadays : 
 
 The dead rise up, and come to life again
 
 DEMETRIUS. 363 
 
 OLGA. 
 
 Explain yourself. 
 FISHER BOY. Prince Dmitri, Ivan's son, 
 
 Whom we have mourned for dead these sixteen yenrs, 
 
 Is now alive, and has appeared in Poland. 
 OLGA. 
 
 The prince alive ? 
 MARFA (starting). My son ! 
 OLGA. Compose thyself ! 
 
 Calm down thy heart till we have learned the whole. 
 ALEXIA. 
 
 How can this possibly be so, when he 
 
 Was killed, and perished in the flames at Uglitech? 
 FISHER BOY. 
 
 He managed somehow to escape the fire, 
 
 And found protection in a monastery. 
 
 There he grew up in secrecy, until 
 
 His time was come to publish who he was. 
 OLGA (to MARFA). 
 
 You tremble, princess ! You grow pale ! 
 MARFA. I know 
 
 That it must be delusion, yet so little 
 
 Is my heart steeled 'gainst fear and hope e'en now, 
 
 That in my breast it flutters like a bird. 
 OLGA. 
 
 Why should it be delusion? Mark his words! 
 
 How could this rumor spread without good cause? 
 FISHER BOY. 
 
 Without good cause ? The Lithuanians 
 
 And Poles are all in arms upon his side. 
 
 The Czar himself quakes in his capital. 
 [MARFA is compelled by her emotion to lean 
 
 OLGA a.nd ALEXIA. 
 XENIA. 
 
 Speak on, speak, tell us everything you know. 
 ALEXIA. 
 
 And tell us, too, of whom you stole the news 
 FISHER BOY. 
 
 I stole the news ? A letter has gone forth 
 
 To every town and province from the Czar. 
 
 This letter thePosadmik of our town
 
 364 DEMETRIUS. 
 
 Read to us all, in o^cn market-place. 
 
 It bore, that busy schemers were abroad. 
 
 And that we should not lend their tales belief. 
 
 But this made us believe them ; for, had they 
 
 Been false, the Czar would have despised the lie. 
 
 MABFA. 
 
 Is this the calm I thought I had achieved ? 
 And clings my heart so close to temporal things, 
 That a mere word can shake my inward soul ? 
 For sixteen years have I bewailed my son, 
 And yet at once believe that still he lives. 
 
 OLGA. 
 
 Sixteen long years thou'st mourned for him as 
 And yet his ashes thou hast never seen ! 
 Naught countervails the truth of the report. 
 Nay, does not Providence watch o'er the fate 
 Of kings and monarchies? Then welcome hopel 
 More things befall than thou canst comprehend. 
 Who can set limits to the Almighty's power? 
 
 MARFA. 
 
 Shall I turn back to look again on life, 
 
 To which long since I spoke a sad farewell ? 
 
 It was not with the dead my hopes abode. 
 
 Oh, say no more of this. Let not my heart 
 
 Hang on this phantom hope ! Let me not lose 
 
 My darling son a second time. Alas! 
 
 My peace of mind is gone, my dream of peace 
 
 I cannot trust these tidings, yet, alas, 
 
 I can no longer dash them from my soul ! 
 
 Woe's me, I never lost my son till now. 
 
 Oh, now I can no longer tell if I 
 
 Shall seek him 'mongst the living or the dead, 
 
 Tossed on the rock of never-ending doubt. 
 
 [A bell sounds, the sister PORTERESS enters. 
 
 OU5A. 
 
 Why has the bell been sounded, sister, say? 
 PORTERESS. 
 
 The lord archbishop waits without ; he brings 
 
 A message from the Czar, and craves an audience. 
 OLGA. Does the archbishop stand within our gates? 
 
 What strange occurrence can have brought. him here?
 
 DEMETRIUS. 365 
 
 XENIA. 
 
 Come all, and give him greeting as befits. 
 [They advance towards the gate as the ARCHBISHOP 
 enters / they all kneel before him, and he make.* 
 the sign of t/te Greek cross over them. 
 
 Ion. The kiss of peace I bring you in the name 
 Of Father, Son, and of the Holy Ghost, 
 Proceeding from the Father ! 
 
 OLGA. Sir, we kiss 
 
 In humblest reverence thy paternal hand ! 
 
 Command thy daughters ! 
 
 Ion. My mission is addressed to Sister Marfa. 
 
 OLGA. 
 
 See, here she stands, and waits to know thy will. 
 
 [All the XUNS withdraw 
 
 IQJJ. It is the mighty prince who sends me here; 
 Upon his distant throne he thinks of thee ; 
 For as the sun, with his great eye of flame, 
 Sheds light and plenty all abroad the world, 
 So sweeps the sovereign's eye on every side ; 
 Even to the farthest limits of his realm 
 His care is wakeful and his glance is keen. 
 
 MARFA. 
 
 How far his arm can strike I know too well. 
 
 Ion. He knows the lofty spirit fills thy soul, 
 And therefore feels indignantly the wrong 
 A bold-faced villain dares to offer thee. 
 Learn, then, in Poland, an audacious churl, 
 A renegade, who broke his monkish vows, 
 Laid down his habit, and renounced his God, 
 Doth use the name and title of thy son, 
 Whom death snatched from thee in his infancy. 
 The shameless varlet boasts him of thy blood, 
 And doth affect to be Czar Ivan's son ; 
 A Way wode breaks the peace ; from Poland leads 
 This spurious monarch, whom himself created, 
 Across our frontiers, with an armed power: 
 So he beguiles the Russians' faithful hearts, 
 And lures them on to treason and revolt. 
 
 The Czar, 
 With pure, paternal feeling, sends me to thee.
 
 366 DEMETRIUS. 
 
 Thou hold'st the manes of thy son in honor; 
 
 Nor wilt permit a bold adventurer 
 
 To steal his name and title from the tomb, 
 
 And with audacious hand usurj) his rights. 
 
 Thou wilt proclaim aloud to all the world 
 
 That thou dost own him for no son of thine. 
 
 Thou wilt not nurse a bastard's alien blood 
 
 Upon thy heart, that beats so nobly; never! 
 
 Thou wilt and this the Czar expects from thee 
 
 Give the vile counterfeit the lie, with all 
 
 The righteous indignation it deserves. 
 
 MARFA (who has daring the last speech subdued the m.os\ 
 
 violent emotion). 
 
 What do I hear, archbishop? Can it be? 
 Oh, tell me, by what signs and marks of proof 
 This bold-faced trickster doth uphold himself 
 As Ivan's son, whom we bewailed as dead ? 
 
 IOB. By some faint, shadowy likeness to the Czar, 
 By documents which chance threw in his way, 
 And by a precious trinket, which he shows, 
 He cheats the credulous and wondering mob. 
 
 MARFA. 
 
 What is the trinket? Oh, pray, tell me what? 
 
 IOB. A golden cross, gemmed with nine emeralds, 
 Which Ivan Westislowsky, so he says, 
 Hung round his neck at the baptismal font. 
 
 MARFA. 
 
 What do you say? He shows this trinket, this? 
 
 [ With forced composure 
 And how does he allege he came by it? 
 
 IOB. A faithful servant and Diak, he says, 
 
 Preserved him from the assassins and the flames, 
 And bore him to Smolenskow privily. 
 
 MARFA. 
 
 But where was he brought up ? Where, gives he forthj 
 Was he concealed and fostered until now? 
 
 IOB. In Tschudow's monastery he was reared, 
 
 Unknowing who he was ; from thence he fled 
 To Lithuania and Poland, where 
 He served the Prince of Sendomir, until 
 An accident revealed his origin.
 
 DEMETRIUS. 367 
 
 MABFA. 
 
 With such a tale as this can he find friends 
 To peril life and fortune in his cause? 
 
 IOB. Oh, madam, false, false-hearted is the Pole, 
 And enviously he eyes our country's wealth. 
 He welcomes every pretext that may serve 
 To light the flames of war within our bounds ! 
 
 MARFA. 
 
 And were there credulous spirits, even in Moscow 
 Could by this juggle be so lightly stirred? 
 
 IOB. Oh, fickle, princess, is the people's heart ! 
 Tiiey dote on alteration, and expect 
 To reap advantage from a change of rulers. 
 The bold assurance of the falsehood charms ; 
 The marvellous finds favor and belief. 
 Therefore the Czar is anxious thou shouldst quell 
 This mad delusion, as thou only canst. 
 A word from thee annihilates the traitor 
 That falsely claims the title of thy son. 
 It joys me thus to see thee moved. I see 
 The audacious juggle rouses all thy pride, 
 And, with a noble anger paints thy cheek. 
 
 MARFA. 
 
 And where, where, tell me, does he tarry now, 
 Who dares usurp the title of my son ? 
 
 IOB. E'en now he's moving on to Tscherinsko ; 
 
 His camp at Kioff has broke up, 'tis rumored ; 
 And with a force of mounted Polish troops 
 And Don Cossacks, he comes to push his claims. 
 
 MARFA. 
 
 Oh, God Almighty, thanks, thanks, thanks, that tlioi; 
 Hast sent me rescue and revenge at last ! 
 
 IOB. How, Marfa, how am I to construe this ? 
 
 MARFA. 
 
 Ob, heavenly powers, conduct him safely here! 
 Hover, oh all ye angels, round his banners ! 
 
 IOB. Can it be so ? The traitor, canst thou trust 
 
 MARFA. 
 
 He is my son. Yes ! by these signs alone 
 
 I recognize him. By thy Cz- r's alarm 
 
 I recognize him. Yes! He lives! He comes!
 
 368 DEMETRIUS. 
 
 Down, tyrant, from thy throne, and shake with fear I 
 There still doth live a shoot from Rurik's stem ; 
 The genuine Czar the rightful heir draws nigh, 
 He comes to claim a reckoning for his own. 
 
 IOB. Dost thou bethink thee what thou say'st ? 'Tis mad 
 ness ! 
 
 MARFA. 
 
 At length at length has dawned the day of ven- 
 geance, 
 
 Of restoration. Innocence is dragged 
 To light by heaven from the grave's midnight gloom. 
 The haughty Godunow, my deadly foe, 
 Must crouch and sue for mercy at my feet ; 
 Oh, now my burning wishes are fulfilled! 
 
 IOB. Can hate and rancorous malice blind you so ? 
 
 MARFA. Can terror blind your monarch so, that he 
 Should hope deliverance from me from me 
 Whom he hath done immeasurable wrong ? 
 I shall, forsooth, deny the son whom heaven 
 Restores me by a miracle from the grave, 
 And to please him, the butcher of my house, 
 Who piled upon me woes unspeakable? 
 Yes, thrust from me the succor God has sent 
 In the sad evening of my heavy anguish? 
 No, thou escap'st me not. No, thou shalt hear me 
 I have thee fast, I will not let thee free. 
 Oh, I can ease my bosom's load at last ! 
 At last launch forth against mine enemy 
 The long-pent anger of my inmost soul ! 
 
 Who was it, who, 
 
 That shut me up within this living tomb, 
 In all the strength and freshness of my youth, 
 With all its feelings glowing in my breast? 
 Who from rny bosom rent my darling son, 
 And chartered ruffian hands to take his life ? 
 Oh, words can never tell what I have suffered, 
 When, with a yearning that would not be still, 
 I watched throughout the long, long starry nights, 
 And notecl with my tears the hours elapse ! 
 The day of succor comes, and of revenge ; 
 1 see the mighty glorying in his might,
 
 DEMETRIUS. 
 
 IOB. You think iLe Czar will dread you yon mistake. 
 
 MARFA. 
 
 He's in my power one little word from me, 
 
 One only, sets the seal upon his fate i 
 
 It was for this thy master sent thee here ! 
 
 The eyes of Kussia and of Poland now 
 
 Are closely bent upon me. If I own 
 
 The Czarowitsch as Ivan's son and mine, 
 
 Then all will do him homage; his the throne. 
 
 If I disown him, then he is undone ; 
 
 For who will credit that his rightful mother, 
 
 A mother wronged, so foully wronged as I, 
 
 Could from her heart repulse its darling child, 
 
 To league with the despoilers of her house? 
 
 I need but speak one word and all the world 
 
 Deserts him as a traitor. Is't not so ? 
 
 This word you wish from me. That mighty service. 
 
 Confess, I can perform for Godunow ! 
 
 IOB. Thou wouldst perform it for thy country, and 
 Avert the dread calamities of war, 
 Shouldst thou do homage to the truth. Thyself, 
 Ay, thou hast ne'er a doubt thy son is dead ; 
 And couldst thou testify against thy conscience? 
 
 MAKFA. 
 
 These sixteen years I've mourned his death ; but yei 
 
 I ne'er have seen his ashes. I believed 
 
 His death, there trusting to the general voice 
 
 And my sad heart I now believe he lives, 
 
 Trusting the general voice and my strong hope. 
 
 'Twere impious, with audacious doubts, to seek 
 
 To set a bound to the Almighty's will ; 
 
 And even were he not my heart's dear son, 
 
 Yet should he be the son of my revenge. 
 
 In my child's room I take him to my breast, 
 
 Whom heaven has sent me to avenge my wrongs. 
 
 IOB. Unhappy one, dost thou defy the strong? 
 From his far-reaching arm thou art not safe 
 Even in the convent's distant solitude. 
 
 M. * RFA. 
 
 Kill me he may, and stifle in the grave, 
 
 Or dungeon's gloom, my woman's voice, that it
 
 570 DEMET1UUS. 
 
 Shall not reverberate throughout the world. 
 This he may do ; but force me to speak aught 
 Against my will, that can he not; though backed 
 By all thy craft no, he has missed his aim ! 
 
 JOB. Is this thy final purpose. Ponder well ! 
 Hast thou no gentler message for the Czar? 
 
 MA UFA. 
 
 Tell him to hope for heaven, if so he dare, 
 And for his people's love, if so he can. 
 
 IOB. Enough ! thou art bent on thy destruction. 
 
 Thou lean'st upon a reed, will break beneath thee ; 
 One common ruin will o'erwhelm ye both. [Exit 
 
 MA&FA. 
 
 It is my son, I cannot doubt 'tis he. 
 
 Even the wild hordes of the uncultured wastes 
 
 Take arms upon his side; the haughty Pole, 
 
 The palatine, doth stake his noble daughter 
 
 On the pure gold of his most righteous cause, 
 
 And I alone reject him I, his mother? 
 
 I, only I, shook not beneath the storm 
 
 Of joy that lifts all hearts with dizzying whirl, 
 
 And scatters turmoil widely o'er the earth. 
 
 He is my son I must, will trust in him, 
 
 And grasp with living confidence the hand 
 
 Which heaven hath sent for my deliverance. 
 
 Tis he, he comes with his embattled hosts, 
 
 To set me free, and to avenge rny shame ! 
 
 Hark to his drums, his martial trumpets' clang ! 
 
 Ye nations come come from the east and south. 
 
 Forth from your steppes, your immemorial woods \ 
 
 Of every tongue, of every raiment come! 
 
 Bridle the steed, the reindeer, and the camel ! 
 
 Sweep hither, countless as the ocean waves, 
 
 And throng around the banners of your king ! 
 
 Oh, wherefore am I mewed and fettered here, 
 
 A prisoned soul with longings infinite ! 
 
 Thou deathless sun, that circlest earth's huge ball, 
 
 Be thou the messenger of my desires ! 
 
 Thou all-pervading, chainless breeze that sweep'st 
 
 With lightning speed to earth's remotest bound, 
 
 Oh, bear to him the yearnings of my heart.
 
 DEMETRIUS. 371 
 
 My prayers are all I have to give ; but these 
 I pour all glowing from my inmost soul, 
 And send them up to heaven on wings of flame, 
 Like armed hosts, Usend them forth to hail him. 
 
 SCENE II. 
 
 A height crowned with trees. A wide and smiling landscape occu 
 pies the background, which is traversed by a beautiful river, 
 and enlivened by the budding green of spring. At variois 
 points the towers of several towns are visible. Drums and 
 martial music without. Enter ODOWALSKY, and other ojfictrs, 
 and immediately afterwards DEMETRIUS. 
 
 ODOWALSKY. 
 
 Go, lead the army downward by the wood, 
 Whilst we look round us here upon the height. 
 
 [JExeunt some of the officers. 
 
 Enter DEMETRIUS. 
 DEMETRIUS (starting back). 
 
 Ha ! what a prospect ! 
 ODOWALSKY. Sire, thou see'st thy kingdom 
 
 Spread out before thee. That is Russian land. 
 RAZIN. 
 
 Why, e'en this pillar here bears Moscow's arms ; 
 
 Here terminates the empire of the Poles. 
 DEMETRIUS. 
 
 Is that the Dnieper, rolls its quiet stream 
 
 Along these meadows ? 
 ODOWALSKY. 
 
 That, sire, is the Desna ; 
 
 See, yonder rise the towers of Tschernizow ! 
 RAZIN. 
 
 Yon gleam you see upon the far horizon 
 
 Is from the roofs of Sewerisch Novogrod. 
 DEMETRIUS. 
 
 What a rich prospect ! What fair meadow lands ! 
 ODOWALSKY. 
 
 The spring has decked them with her trim array ; 
 
 A teeming harvest clothes the fruitful soil. 
 DEMETRIUS. 
 
 The view is lost in limitless expanse.
 
 372 DEMETRIUS. 
 
 RAZIN. 
 
 Yet is this but a small beginning, sire, 
 Of Russia's mighty empire. For it spreads 
 Towards the east to confines unexplored, 
 And on the north has ne'er a boundary, 
 Save the productive energy of earth. 
 Behold, our Czar is quite absorbed in thought. 
 
 DEMETRIUS. 
 
 On these fair meads dwell peace, unbroken peace, 
 And with war's terrible array I come 
 To scatter havoc, like a listed foe ! 
 
 ODOWALSKY. 
 
 Hereafter 'twill be time to think of that. 
 
 DEMETRIUS. 
 
 Thou feelest as a Pole, I am Moscow's son. 
 
 It is the land to which I owe my life ; 
 
 Forgive me, thou dear soil, land of my home, 
 
 Thou sacred boundary-pillar, which I clasp, 
 
 Whereon my sire his broad-spread eagle graved, 
 
 That I, thy son, with foreign foemen's arms, 
 
 Invade the tranquil temple of thy peace. 
 
 'Tis to reclaim my heritage I come, 
 
 And the proud name that has been stolen from me. 
 
 Here the Varegers, my forefathers, ruled, 
 
 In lengthened line, for thirty generations ; 
 
 I am the last of all their lineage, snatched 
 
 From murder by God's special providence. 
 
 SCENE III. 
 
 A Russian village. An open square before a church. 
 The tocsin is heard. GLEB, ILIA, and TIMOSKA rush 
 in, armed with hatchets. 
 
 GLEB (entering from a house). 
 
 Why are they running? 
 ILIA (entering from another house). 
 
 Who has tolled the bell. 
 TIMOSKA. 
 
 Neighbors, come forth ! Come all, to council come ! 
 \_Enter OLEG and IZOR, with many other peasants^ 
 women and children, who carry bundles.
 
 DEMETRIUS. 373 
 
 GLEB. 
 
 . Whence come ye hither with your wives and children 1 
 JZOB. Fly, fly ! The Pole has fallen upon the land 
 
 At Maromesk, and slaughters all he finds. 
 OLEG. Fly into the interior to strong towns! 
 We've fired our cottages, there's not a soul 
 Left in the village, and we're making now 
 Up country for the army of the Czar. 
 TIMOSKA, 
 
 Here comes another troop of fugitives. 
 [IWAXSKA and PETRUSCHKA, irith armed peasantry^ 
 enter on different sides. 
 
 IWANSKA. 
 
 Long live the Czar ! The mighty prince Dmitri ! 
 
 GLEB. How ! What is this ! 
 
 ILIA. What do you mean ? 
 
 TIMOSKA. Who are you ? 
 
 PETRUSCHKA. 
 
 Join all who're loyal to our princely line ! 
 
 TIMOSKA. 
 
 What means all this? There a whole village flies 
 Up country to escape the Poles, while you 
 Make for the very point whence these have fled, 
 To join the standard of the country's foe! 
 
 PETRUSCHKA. 
 
 What foe ? It is no foe that comes ; it is 
 
 The people's friend, the emperor's rightful heir. 
 
 The POSADMIK (the village judge) enters to read a 
 manifesto by Demetrius. Vacillation of the inhabitants 
 of the village between the two parties. The peasant 
 women are the first to be won over to Demetrius, and 
 turn the scale. 
 
 Camp of DEMETRIUS. He is worsted in the first action, 
 but the army of the Czar Boris conquers in a manner 
 against its will, and does not follow up its advantages. 
 Demetrius, in despair, is about to destroy himself, and is
 
 374 DEMETRIUS. 
 
 with difficulty prevented from doing so by Koreln 
 Odowalsky. Overbearing demeanor of the Cossacks eveq 
 to Demetrius. 
 
 Oamp of the army of the CZAR BORIS. He is absent 
 himself, and this injures his cause, as he is feared but not 
 loved, xlis army is strong, but not to be relied on. The 
 leaders are not unanimous, and partly incline to the side 
 of Demetrius from a variety of motives. One of their 
 number, Soltikow, declares for him from conviction. His 
 adherence is attended with the most important results ; 
 a large portion of the anny deserts to Demetrius. 
 
 BORIS in Moscow. He still maintains his position as 
 absolute ruler, anu has faithful servants around him ; but 
 already he is discomposed by evil tidings. He is with- 
 held from joining the army by apprehension of a rebellion 
 in Moscow. He is also ashamed as Czar to enter the field 
 in person against a traitor. Scene between him and the 
 archbishop. 
 
 Bad news pours in from all sides, and Boris' danger 
 grows momently more imminent. He hears of the revolt 
 of the peasantry and the provincial towns, of the inac- 
 tivity and mutiny of the army, of the commotions in 
 Moscow, of the advance of Demetrius. Romanow, 
 whom he has deeply wronged, arrives in Moscow. This 
 gives rise to new apprehensions. Now come the tidings 
 that the Boiars are flying to the camp of Demetrius, und 
 that the whole army has gone over to him. 
 
 BORIS and AXINIA. The Czar appears in a touching 
 aspect as fatjier, and in the dialogue with his daughter 
 unfolds his inmost nature. 
 
 BORIS >,as made his way to the throne by crime, but 
 undertaken and fulfilled all the duties of a monarch ; to 
 the country Le is a valuable prince and a true father
 
 DEMETRIUS. 375 
 
 of his people. It is only in his personal dealings with 
 individuals that he is cunning, revengeful, and cruel. 
 His spirit as well as his rank elevates him above all that 
 surround him. The long possession of supreme power, 
 the habit of ruling over men, and the despotic form 
 of government, have so nursed his pride that it is impos- 
 sible for him to outlive his greatness. He sees clearly 
 what awaits him ; but still he is Czar, and not degraded, 
 though he resolves to die. 
 
 He believes in forewarnings, and in his present mood 
 things appear to him of significance which, on other 
 occasions, he had despised. A particular circumstance, 
 in which he seems to hear the voice of destiny, decides 
 him. 
 
 Shortly before his death his nature changes ; he grows 
 milder, even towards the messengers of evil, and is 
 ashamed of the bursts of rage with which he had received 
 them before. He permits the worst to be told to him, 
 and even rewards the narrator. 
 
 So soon as he learns the misfortune that seals his fate, 
 he leaves the stage without further explanation, with 
 composure and resignation. Shortly afterwards he re- 
 turns in the habit of a monk, and removes his daughter 
 from the sight of his last moments. She is to seek pro- 
 tection from insult in a cloister; his son, Feodor, as 
 a child, will perhaps have less to fear. He takes poison, 
 and enters a retired chamber to die in peace. 
 
 General confusion at the tidings of the Czar's death. The 
 Boiars form an imperial council and rule in the Kremlin. 
 Romanow (afterwards Czar, and founder of the now 
 ruling house) enters at the head of an armed force, 
 swears, on the bosom of the Czar, an oath of allegiance 
 to his son Feodor, and compels the Boiars to follow his 
 example. Revenge and ambition are far from his soul ;
 
 376 DEMETRIUS. 
 
 he pursues only justice. He loves Axinia without hope, 
 and is, without knowing it, beloved by her in return. 
 
 ROMANOW hastens to the army to secure it for the 
 young Czar. Insurrection in Moscow, brought about by 
 the adherents of Demetrius. The people drag the Boiars 
 from their houses, make themselves masters of Feodor 
 and Axinia put them in prison, and send delegates to 
 Demetrius. 
 
 DEMETRIUS in Tula, at the pinnacle of success. The 
 army is his own ; the keys of numerous towns are 
 brought to him. Moscow alone appears to offer resist- 
 ance. He is mild and amiable, testifies a noble emotion 
 at the intelligence of the death of Boris, pardons a de- 
 tected conspiracy against his life, despises the servile 
 adulations of the Russians, and is for sending them 
 away. The Poles, on the other hand, by whom he is 
 surrounded, are rude and violent, and treat the Russians 
 with contempt. Demetrius longs for a meeting \vith his 
 mother, and sends a messenger to Marina. 
 
 Among the multitude of Russians who throng around 
 Demetrius in Tula appears a man whom he at once rec- 
 ognizes ; he is greatly delighted to see him. He bids all 
 the rest withdraw, and so soon as he is alone with this 
 man he thanks him, with full heart, as his preserver and 
 benefactor. This person hints that Demetrius is under 
 especial obligations to him, and to a greater extent than 
 he is himself aware. Demetrius urges him to explain, 
 and the assassin of the genuine Demetrius thereupon 
 discloses the real facts of the case. For this murder he 
 had received no recompense, but on the contrary had 
 nothing but death to anticipate from Boris. Thirsting 
 for revenge, he stumbled upon a boy, whose resemblance 
 to the Czar Ivan struck him. This circumstance must 
 be turned to account. He seized the boy, fled with him 
 from Uglitsch, brought him to a monk, whom he suc- 
 ceeded in gaining over for his ends, and delivered to him
 
 DEMETRIUS. 377 
 
 the trinkets which he had himself taken from the mur- 
 dered Demetrius. By means of this boy, whom he had 
 never lost sight of, and whose steps he had attended 
 upon all occasions without being observed, he is now 
 revenged. His tool, the false Demetrius, rules over 
 Russia in Boris' room. 
 
 During this narration a mighty change comes over 
 Demetrius. His silence is awful. In the moment of the 
 highest rage and despair, the assassin drives him to the 
 extreme of endurance, when with a defying and insolent 
 air he demands his reward. Demetrius strikes him to 
 the earth. 
 
 Soliloquy of Demetrius. Internal conflict; but the 
 feeling of the necessity for maintaining his position as 
 Czar is triumphant. 
 
 The delegates from Moscow arrive, and submit them- 
 selves to Demetrius. They are received gloomily, and 
 with a menacing demeanor. Among them is the Patri- 
 arch. Demetrius deposes him from his dignity, and soon 
 afterwards sentences to death a Russian of rank, who 
 had questioned the authenticity of his birth. 
 
 MARFA and OLGA await Demetrius under a magnificent 
 tent. Marfa speaks of the approaching interview with 
 more doubt and fear than hope, and trembles as the mo- 
 ment draws near which should assure her highest happi- 
 ness. Olga speaks to her, herself without faith. During 
 the long journey they have both had time to recall the 
 whole circumstances; the first exultation had given place 
 to reflection. The gloomy silence and the repulsive 
 glances of the guards who surround the tent serve still 
 further to augment their despondency. 
 
 The trumpets sound. Marfa is irresolute whether she 
 shall advance to meet Demetrius. Now he stands before 
 her alone. The little that was left of hope in her heart 
 altogether vanishes on seeing him. An unknown some-
 
 378 DEMETRIUS. 
 
 thing steps between them Nature does not speak 
 they are separated forever. The first impulse is an en- 
 deavor to approach ; Marfa is the first to make a move- 
 ment to recede. Demetrius observes it, and remains for 
 a moment paralyzed. Significant silence. 
 
 DEMETRIUS. Does thy heart say nothing ? Lost thou 
 not recognize thy blood in me ? 
 
 MARFA is silent. 
 
 DEMETRIUS. The voice of nature is holy and free ; 1 
 will neither constrain nor belie it. Had thy heart spoken 
 at the first glance then had mine answered it ; thou 
 shouldst have found a-pious, loving son in me. The claim 
 of duty would have concurred with inclination and heart- 
 felt affection. But if thou dost not feel as a mother for 
 me, then, think as a princess, command thyself as a queen ! 
 Fate unexpectedly gave me to thee as a son ; accept me 
 as a gift of heaven. Though even I were not thy son, 
 which I now appear to be, still I rob thy son of nothing. 
 I stripped it from thy foe. Thee and thy blood have I 
 avenged ; I have delivered thee from the grave in which 
 thou wert entombed alive, and led thee back into the royal 
 seat. That thy destiny is linked with mine thou knowest. 
 With me thou standest, and with me must fall. All the 
 people's eyes are upon us. I hate deception, and what I 
 do not feel I may not show ; but I do really feel a 
 reverence for thee, and this feeling, which bends my knee 
 before thee, comes from my heart. 
 
 [Dumb show of MARFA, to indicate her internal emotion. 
 
 DEMETRIUS. Make thy resolve ! Let that which nature 
 will not prompt be the free act of thy will ! I ask no hy- 
 pocrisy no falsehood, from thee ; I ask genuine feelings. 
 Do not seem to be my mother, but be so. Throw the 
 past from thee' grasp the present with thy whole heart ! 
 If I am not thy son yet I am the Czar I have power 
 and success upon my side. He who lies in his grave is 
 dust; he has no heart to love thee, no eye to smile upon 
 thee. Turn to the living. [MARFA bursts into tears. 
 
 DEMETRIUS. Oh, these golden drops are welcome to 
 
 me. Let them flow ! Show thyself thus to the people ! 
 
 [At a signal from DKMETRIUS the tent is thrown 
 
 open, and the assembled Russians become spec 
 
 tators of this scene.
 
 DEMETRIUS. 379 
 
 Entrance of Demetrius into Moscow. Great splendor, 
 but of a military kind. Poles and Cossacks compose the 
 procession. Gloom and terror mingle with the demon- 
 strations of joy. Distrust and misfortune surround the 
 whole. 
 
 Romanow, who came to the army too late, has returned, 
 to Moscow to protect Feodor and Axinia. It is all in vain ; 
 he is himself thrown into prison. Axinia flies to Maria, 
 and at her feet implores protection against the Poles. 
 Here Demetrius sees her, and a violent and irresistible 
 passion is kindled in his breast. Axinia detests him. 
 
 DEMETRIUS as Czar. A fearful element sustains him, 
 but he does not control it : he is urged on by the force of 
 strange passions. His inward consciousness betokens a 
 general distrust ; he has no friend on whom he can rely. 
 Poles and Cossacks, by their insolent licentiousm-ss, injure 
 him in the popular opinion. Even that which is credit- 
 able to him his popular manners, simplicity, and con- 
 tempt of stiff ceremonial, occasions dissatisfac-tion. Oc- 
 casionally he offends, through inadvertency, the usages of 
 the country. He persecutes the monks because he suffered 
 severely under them. Moreover, he is not exempt from 
 despotic caprices in the moments of offended pride. 
 Odowalsky knows how to make himself at all times indis- 
 pensable to him, removes the Russians to a distance, and 
 maintains his overruling influence. 
 
 DEMETRIUS meditates inconstancy to Marina. lie 
 confers upon the point with the Archbishop lob, who, in 
 order to get rid of the Poles, falls in with his desire, and 
 puts before him an exalted picture of the imperial 
 power. 
 
 MARINA appears with a vast retinue in Moscow. 
 Meeting with Demetrius. Hollow and cold meeting on 
 both sides; she, however, wears her disguise with greater
 
 380 DEMETRIUS. 
 
 skill. She urges an immediate marriage. Preparations 
 are made for a magnificent festival. 
 
 By the orders of Marina a cup of poison is brought to 
 Axinia. Death is welcome to her ; she was afraid of being 
 forced to the altar with the Czar. 
 
 Violent grief of Demetrius. With a broken heart he 
 goes to the betrothal with Marina. 
 
 After the marriage Marina discloses to him that she 
 does not consider him to be the true Demetrius, and never 
 did. She then coldly leaves him in a state of extreme 
 anguish and dismay. 
 
 Meanwhile SCHINSKOI, one of the former generals of 
 the Czar BORIS, avails himself of the growing discontent 
 of the people, and becomes the head of a conspiracy 
 against Demetrius. 
 
 ROMANOW, in prison, is comforted by a supernatural 
 apparition. Axinia's spirit stands before him, opens to 
 him a prospect of happier times in store, and enjoins him 
 calmly to allow destiny to ripen, and not to stain himself 
 with blood. ROMANOW receives a hint that he may him- 
 self be called to the throne. Soon afterwards he is 
 solicited to take part in the conspiracy, but declines. 
 
 SOLTIKOW reproaches himself bitterly for having be- 
 trayed his country to Demetrius. But he will not be a 
 second time a traitor, and adheres, from principle and 
 against his feelings, to the party which he lias once 
 adopted. As the misfortune has happened, he seeks at 
 least to alleviate it, and to enfeeble the power of the 
 Poles. He pays for this effort with his life; but he 
 accepts death as a merited punishment, and confesses 
 this when dying to Demetrius himself.
 
 DEMETRIUS. 381 
 
 CASIMIB, a brother of LODOISKA, a young Polish lady, 
 who has been secretly and hopelessly, attached to Deme- 
 trius, in the house of the Waywode of Sendomir, has, at 
 his sister's request, accompanied Demetrius in the cam- 
 paign, and in every encounter defended him bravely. In 
 the moment of danger, when all the other retainers of 
 Demetrius think only of their personal safety, Casimir 
 alone remains faithful to him, and sacrifices life in his 
 defence. 
 
 The conspiracy breaks out. Demetrius is with Maria 
 when the leading conspirators force their way into the 
 room. The dignity and courage of Demetrius have ? 
 momentary effect upon the rebels. He nearly succeeds 
 in disarming them by a promise to place the Poles at 
 their disposal. But at this point SCHINSKOI rushes in with 
 an infuriated band. An explicit declaration is demanded 
 from the ex-empress; she is required to swear, upon the 
 cross, that Demetrius is her son. To testify against her 
 conscience in a manner so solemn is impossible. She turns 
 from Demetrius in silence, and is about to withdraw. 
 "Is she silent?" exclaims the tumultuous throng. "Does 
 she disown him ? " " Then, traitor, die ! " and Demetrius 
 falls, pierced by their swords, at Marfa's feet.
 
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