No More Learning

This is their little engine by the bye,
A scout to watch and tell when danger's nigh.
Come, pretty sinner, thou'lt inform me all,
How, where, and when; nay, do not fear--you shall.

_Hen. _ Ah, sir, unkind! [_Kneels. _

_King. _ Now hold thy siren's tongue:
Who would have thought there was a witch so young?

_Don John. _ Can you to suing beauty stop your ears?

[_Raises up_ HENRIETTA
_and makes his address to her_.

Heaven lays its thunder by, and gladly hears,
When angels are become petitioners.

_D. of Eboli. _ Ha! what makes Austria so officious there?
That glance seems as it sent his heart to her.

[_Aside to_ GARCIA.

_Don Car. _ A banquet then of blood since you design,
Yet you may satisfy yourself with mine.
I love the queen, I have confessed, 'tis true:
Proud too to think I love her more than you;
Though she, by Heaven, is clear;--but I indeed
Have been unjust, and do deserve to bleed.
There were no lawless thoughts that I did want,
Which love had power to ask, or beauty grant;
Though I ne'er yet found hopes to raise them on,
For she did still preserve her honour's throne,
And dash the bold aspiring devils down.
If to her cause you do not credit give,
Fondly against your happiness you'll strive;
As some lose Heaven, because they won't believe.

_Queen. _ Whilst, prince, my preservation you design,
Blot not your virtue to add more to mine.
The clearness of my truth I'd not have shown
By any other light besides its own. --
No, sir, he through despair all this has said,
And owns offences which he never made.
Why should you think that I would do you wrong?
Must I needs be unchaste because I'm young?

_King. _ Unconstant wavering heart, why heavest thou so?
I shiver all, and know not what I do.
I who ere now have armies led to fight,
Thought war a sport, and danger a delight,
Whole winter nights stood under Heaven's wide roof,
Daring my foes, now am not beauty-proof.
Oh, turn away those basilisks, thy eyes;
The infection's fatal, and who sees them dies. [_Going away. _

_Queen. _ Oh, do not fly me; I have no design
Upon your life, for you may yet save mine. [_Kneels. _
Or if at last I must my breath submit,
Here take it, 'tis an offering at your feet:
Will you not look on me, my dearest lord?

_King. _ Why? wouldst thou live?

_Queen. _ Yes, if you'll say the word.

_Don Car. _ O Heaven! how coldly and unmoved he sees
A praying beauty prostrate on her knees!
Rise, madam-- [_Steps to take her up. _

_King. _ Bold encroacher, touch her not:
Into my breast her glances thick are shot.
Not true! --Stay, let me see--by Heaven, thou art--

[_Looks earnestly on her. _

A false vile woman--O my foolish heart!
I give thee life: but from this time refrain,
And never come into my sight again:
Be banished ever.

_Queen. _ This you must not do,
At least till I've convinced you I am true.
Grant me but so much time; and, when that's done,
If you think fit, for ever I'll be gone.

_King. _ I've all this while been angry, but in vain:
She heats me first, then strokes me tame again.
Oh, wert thou true, how happy should I be!
Think'st thou that I have joy to part with thee?
No, all my kingdom for the bliss I'd give--
Nay, though it were not so--but to believe.
Come, for I can't avoid it, cheat me quite!

_Queen. _ I would not, sir, deceive you if I might.
But if you'll take my oaths, by all above,
'Tis you, and only you, that I will love.

_King. _ Thus as a mariner that sails along,
With pleasure hears the enticing siren's song,
Unable quite his strong desires to bound,
Boldly leaps in, though certain to be drowned,--
Come to my bosom then, make no delay; [_Takes her in his arms. _
My rage is hushed, and I have room for joy.

_Queen. _ Again you'll think that I unjust will prove.

_King. _ No, thou art all o'er truth, and I all love.
Oh that we might for ever thus remain
In folded arms, and never part again!

_Queen. _ Command me anything, and try your power.

_King. _ Then from this minute ne'er see Carlos more. --
Thou slave, that darest do ill with such a port,
For ever here I banish thee my court.
Within some cloister lead a private life,
That I may love and rule without this strife.
Here, Eboli, receive her to thy charge:
The treasure's precious, and the trust is large.
Whilst I, retiring hence, myself make fit
To wait for joys which are too fierce to meet. [_Exit. _

_Don Car. _ My exile from his presence I can bear
With pleasure: but, no more to look on her!
Oh, 'tis a dreadful curse I cannot bear.
No, madam, all his power shall nothing do:
I'll stay and take my banishment from you.
Do you command me, see how far I'll fly.

_Queen. _ Will Carlos be at last my enemy?
Consider, this submission I have shown,
More to preserve your safety than my own.
Ungratefully you needless ways devise,
To lose a life which I so dearly prize.

_Don Car. _ So now her fortune's made, and I am left
Alone, a naked wanderer to shift. [_Aside. _
Madam, you might have spared the cruelty;

[_To the_ QUEEN.

Blessed with your sight, I was prepared to die.
But now to lose it drives me to despair,
Making me wish to die, and yet not dare.
Well, to some solitary shore I'll roam,
And never more into your presence come,
Since I already find I'm troublesome. [_Going. _

_Queen. _ Stay, sir, yet stay:--you shall not leave me so.

_Don Car. _ Ha!

_Queen. _ I must talk with you before you go.
O Carlos, how unhappy is our state!
How foul a game was played us by our fate!
Who promised fair when we did first begin,
Till envying to see us like to win,
Straight fell to cheat, and threw the false lot in.
My vows to you I now remember all.

_Don Car. _ O madam, I can hear no more. [_Kneels. _

_Queen. _ You shall;-- [_Kneels too. _
For I can't choose but let you know that I,
If you'll resolve on't, yet will with you die.

_Don Car. _ Sure nobler gallantry was never known!
Good Heaven! this blessing is too much for one:
No, 'tis enough for me to die alone.
My father, all my foes, I now forgive.

_Queen. _ Nay, sir, by all our loves I charge you live.
But to what country wheresoe'er you go,
Forget not me, for I'll remember you.

_Don Car. _ Shall I such virtue and such charms forget?
No, never!

_Queen. _ Oh that we had never met,
But in our distant climates still been free!
I might have heard of you, and you of me:
So towards happiness more safely moved,
And never been thus wretched, yet have loved.
What makes you look so wildly? Why d'ye start?

_Don Car. _ A faint cold damp is thickening round my heart.

_Queen. _ What shall we do?

_Don Car. _ Do anything but part;
Or stay so long till my poor soul expires
In view of all the glory it admires.

_D. of Eboli. _ In such a lover how might I be blest!
Oh! were I of that noble heart possessed,
How soft, how easy would I make his bands! [_Aside. _
But, madam, you forget the king's commands:

[_To the_ QUEEN.

Longer to stay, your dangers will renew.

_Don Car. _ Ah, princess! lovers' pains you never knew;
Or what it is to part, as we must do.
Part too for ever!
After one minute never more to stand
Fixed on those eyes, or pressing this soft hand!
'Twere but enough to feed one, and not starve,
Yet that is more than I did e'er deserve;
Though fate to us is niggardly and poor,
That from eternity can't spare one hour.

_Queen. _ If it were had, that hour would soon be gone,
And we should wish to draw another on.
No, rigorous necessity has made
Us both his slaves, and now will be obeyed.
Come, let us try the parting blow to bear.
Adieu! [_Looking at each other. _

_Don Car. _ Farewell! I'm fixed and rooted here;
I cannot stir--

_Queen. _ Shall I the way then show?
Now hold, my heart--

[_Goes to the door, stops, and turns back again. _

Nay, sir, why don't you go?

_Don Car. _ Why do you stay?

_Queen. _ I won't--

_Don Car. _ You shall a while. [_Kneels. _
With one look more my miseries beguile,
That may support my heart till you are gone!

_Queen. _ O Eboli! thy help, or I'm undone. [_Takes hold on her. _
Here, take it then, and with it too my life! [_Leans into her arms. _

_Don Car. _ My courage with my tortures is at strife,
Since my griefs cowards are, and dare not kill,
I'll try to vanquish and out-toil the ill.
Well, madam, now I'm something hardier grown:
Since I at last perceive you must be gone,
To venture the encounter I'll be bold; [_Leads her to the door. _
For certainly my heart will so long hold.
Farewell! be happy as you're fair and true.

_Queen. _ And all Heaven's kindest angels wait on you!

[_Exeunt_ QUEEN, Duchess of EBOLI, HENRIETTA, _and_ GARCIA.

_Don Car. _ Thus long I've wandered in love's crooked way,
By hope's deluded meteor led astray;
For, ere I've half the dangerous desert crossed,
The glimmering light's gone out, and I am lost. [_Exit. _

[Illustration]

[Illustration]

FOOTNOTES:

[12] Make blunt.




ACT THE FOURTH.


SCENE I. --_The Ante-Chamber to the_ QUEEN'S _Apartment_.

_Enter_ DON CARLOS _and_ Marquis of POSA.

_Don Car. _ The next is the apartment of the queen:
In vain I try, I must not venture in.

[_Goes toward the door but returns. _

Thus is it with the souls of murdered men,
Who to their bodies would again repair;
But, finding that they cannot enter there,
Mourning and groaning wander in the air.
Robbed of my love, and as unjustly thrown
From all those hopes that promised me a crown,
My heart, with the dishonours to me done,
Is poisoned, swells too mighty for my breast;
But it will break, and I shall be at rest.
No; dull despair this soul shall never load:
Though patience be the virtue of a god,
Gods never feel the ills that govern here,
Or are above the injuries we bear.
"Father" and "king"; both names bear mighty sense:
Yet sure there's something too in "son" and "prince".
I was born high, and will not fall less great;
Since triumph crowned my birth, I'll have my fate
As glorious and majestic too as that.
To Flanders, Posa, straight my letters send;
Tell them the injured Carlos is their friend;
And that to head their forces I design;
So vindicate their cause, if they dare mine. [13]

_M. of Posa. _ To the rebels?

_Don Car. _ No, they're friends; their cause is just;
Or, when I make it mine, at least it must.
Let the common rout like beasts love to be dull,
Whilst sordidly they live at ease and full,
Senseless what honour or ambition means,
And ignorantly drag their load of chains.
I am a prince, have had a crown in view,
And cannot brook to lose the prospect now.
If thou'rt my friend, do not my will delay.

_M. of Posa. _ I'll do't. [_Exit. _

_Enter_ Duchess of EBOLI.

_D. of Eboli. _ My lord.

_Don Car. _ Who calls me?

_D. of Eboli. _ You must stay.

_Don Car. _ What news of fresh affliction can you bear?

_D. of Eboli. _ Suppose it were the queen; you'd stay for her?

_Don Car. _ For her? yes, stay an age, for ever stay;
Stay even till time itself should pass away;
Fix here a statue never to remove,
An everlasting monument of love.
Though, may a thing so wretched as I am
But the least place in her remembrance claim?

_D. of Eboli. _ Yes, if you dare believe me, sir, you do;
We both can talk of nothing else but you:
Whilst from the theme even emulation springs,
Each striving who shall say the kindest things.

_Don Car. _ But from that charity I poorly live,
Which only pities, and can nothing give.

_D. of Eboli. _ Nothing! Propose what 'tis you claim, and I,
For aught you know, may be security.

_Don Car. _ No, madam, what's my due none e'er can pay;
There stands that angel, Honour, in the way,
Watching his charge with never-sleeping eyes,
And stops my entrance into paradise.

_D. of Eboli. _ What paradise? What pleasures can you know,
Which are not in my power to bestow?

_Don Car. _ Love, love, and all those eager, melting charms
The queen must yield when in my father's arms.
That queen, so excellently, richly fair,
Jove, could he come again a lover here,
Would court mortality to die for her.
O madam, take not pleasure to renew
Those pains, which if you felt, you would not do.

_D. of Eboli. _ Unkindly urged: think you no sense I have
Of what you feel? Now you may take your leave.
Something I had to say; but let it die.

_Don Car. _ Why, madam, who has injured you? Not I.

_D. of Eboli. _ Nay, sir, your presence I would not detain:
Alas! you do not hear that I complain.
Though, could you half of my misfortunes see,
Methinks you should incline to pity me.

_Don Car. _ I cannot guess what mournful tale you'd tell;
But I am certain you prepare me well.
Speak, madam.

_D. of Eboli. _ Say I loved, and with a flame
Which even melts my tender heart to name;
Loved too a man, I will not say ingrate,
Because he's far above my birth or fate;
Yet so far he at least does cruel prove,
He prosecutes a dead and hopeless love,
Starves on a barren rock, and won't be blest,
Though I invite him kindly to a feast.

_Don Car. _ What stupid animal could senseless lie,
Quickened by beams from that illustrious eye?

_D. of Eboli. _ Nay, to increase your wonder, you shall know
That I, alas! am forced to tell him too,
Till even I blush, as now I tell it you.

_Don Car. _ You neither shall have cause of shame or fear,
Whose secrets safe within my bosom are.

_D. of Eboli. _ Then farther I the riddle may explain:
Survey that face, and blame me if you can.

[_Shows him his own picture. _


_Don Car. _ Distraction of my eyes! what have they seen?
'Tis my own picture which I sent the queen,
When to her fame I paid devotion first,
Expecting bliss, but lost it: I am cursed,
Cursed too in thee, who from my saint darest steal
The only relic left her of my zeal,
And with the sacrilege attempt my heart.
Wert thou more charming than thou think'st thou art,
Almighty love preserves the fort for her,
And bids defiance to thy entrance there.

_D. of Eboli. _ Neglected! Scorned by father and by son!
What a malicious course my stars have run!
But since I meet with such unlucky fate
In love, I'll try how I can thrive in hate:
My own dull husband may assist in that.
To his revenge I'll give him fresh alarms,
And with the gray old wizard muster charms.
I have't; thanks, thanks, revenge! Prince, 'tis thy bane. [_Aside. _
Can you forgive me, sir? I hope you can. [_Mildly. _
I'll try to recompense the wrongs I've done,
And better finish what is ill begun.

_Don Car. _ Madam, you at so strange a rate proceed,
I shall begin to think you loved indeed.

_D. of Eboli. _ No matter: be but to my honour true,
As you shall ever find I'll be to you.
The queen's my charge, and you may, on that score,
Presume that you shall see her yet once more.
I'll lead you to those so-much worshipped charms,
And yield you to my happy rival's arms.

_Don Car. _ In what a mighty sum shall I be bound!
I did not think such virtue could be found.
Thou mistress of all best perfections, stay:
Fain I in gratitude would something say,
But am too far in debt for thanks to pay.

_Enter_ Don JOHN of Austria.

_Don John. _ Where is that prince, he whose afflictions speak
So loud, as all hearts but his own might break?

_Don Car. _ My lord, what fate has left me, I am here,
Mere man, of all my comfort stripped and bare.
Once, like a vine, I flourished and was young,
Rich in my ripening hopes that spoke me strong:
But now a dry and withered stock am grown,
And all my clusters and my branches gone.

_Don John. _ Amongst those numbers which your wrongs deplore,
Than me there's none that can resent them more.
I feel a generous grudging in my breast,
To see such honour and such hopes oppressed.
The king your father is my brother, true;
But I see more that's like myself in you.
Free-born I am, and not on him depend,
Obliged to none, but whom I call my friend.
And if that title you think fit to bear,
Accept the confirmation of it here. [_Embraces him. _

_Don Car. _ From you, to whom I'm by such kindness tied,
The secrets of my soul I will not hide.
This generous princess has her promise given,
I once more shall be brought in sight of Heaven;
To the fair queen my last devotion pay;
And then for Flanders I intend my way,
Where to the insulting rebels I'll give law,
To keep myself from wrongs, and them in awe.

_Don John. _ Prosperity to the design, 'tis good;
Both worthy of your honour and your blood.

_Don Car. _ My lord, your spreading glories flourish high,
Above the reach or shock of destiny:
Mine, early nipped, like buds untimely die.

_Enter_ Officer _of the Guard_.

_Offi. _ My lord, I grieve to tell what you must hear;
They are unwelcome orders which I bear,
Which are, to guard you as a prisoner.

_Don Car. _ A prisoner! what new game of fate's begun?
Henceforth be ever cursed the name of son,
Since I must be a slave, because I'm one.
Duty! to whom? He's not my father: no.
Back with your orders to the tyrant go;
Tell him his fury drives too much one way;
I'm weary on't, and can no more obey.

_Don John. _ If asked by whose commands you did decline
Your orders, tell my brother 'twas by mine. [_Exit_ Officer.

_Don Car. _ Now, were I certain it would sink me quite,
I'd see the queen once more, though but in spite;
Though he with all his fury were in place,
I would caress and court her to his face.
Oh that I could this minute die! if so,
What he had lost he might too lately know,
Cursing himself to think what he has done:
For I was ever an obedient son;
With pleasure all his glories saw, when young,
Looked, and, with pride considering whence I sprung,
Joyfully under him and free I played,
Basked in his shine and wantoned in his shade--
But now,
Cancelling all whate'er he then conferred,
He thrusts me out among the common herd:
Nor quietly will there permit my stay,
But drives and hunts me like a beast of prey.
Affliction! O affliction! 'tis too great,
Nor have I ever learnt to suffer yet.
Though ruin at me from each side take aim,
And I stand thus encompassed round with flame,
Though the devouring fire approaches fast,
Yet will I try to plunge: if power waste,
I can at worst but sink, and burn at last. [_Exit. _

_Don John. _ Go on, pursue thy fortune while 'tis hot:
I long for work where honour's to be got.
But, madam, to this prince you're wondrous kind.

_D. of Eboli. _ You are not less to Henriet, I find.

_Don John. _ Why, she's a beauty, tender, young, and fair.

_D. of Eboli. _ I thought I might in charms have equalled her.
You told me once my beauty was not less.
Is this your faith? are these your promises?

_Don John. _ You would seem jealous, but are crafty grown;
Tax me of falsehood to conceal your own.
Go, you're a woman--

_D. of Eboli. _ Yes, I know I am:
And by my weakness do deserve that name,
When heart and honour I to you resigned.
Would I were not a woman, or less kind!

_Don John. _ Think you your falsehood was not plainly seen,
When to your charge my brother gave the queen?
Too well I saw it; how did you dispense,
In looks, your pity to the afflicted prince!
Whilst I my duty paid the king, your time
You watched, and fixed your melting eyes on him;
Admired him--

_D. of Eboli. _ Yes, sir, for his constancy--
But 'twas with pain, to think you false to me,
When to another's eye you homage paid,
And my true love wronged and neglected laid;
Wronged, too, so far as nothing can restore.

_Don John. _ Nay, then, let's part, and think of love no more.
Farewell! [_Going. _

_D. of Eboli. _ Farewell, if you're resolved to go:--
Inhuman Austria, can you leave me so?
Enough my soul is by your falsehood racked;
Add not to your inconstancy neglect.
Methinks you so far might have grateful proved,
Not to have quite forgotten that I loved.

_Don John. _ If e'er you loved, 'tis you, not I forget;
For a remove 'tis here too deeply set,
Firm-rooted, and for ever must remain. [_She turns away. _
Why thus unkind?

_D. of Eboli. _ Why are you jealous then? [_Turns to him. _

_Don John. _ Come, let it be no more! I'm hushed and still.