No More Learning

Can I refuse to bend to that appeal?
I am your very plaything. Mother, mother,
A sign, a transient glance, one broken word
From those dear lips can bid me live or die.
What would you more? Is there beneath the sun
One thing I would not haste to sacrifice
To meet your lightest wish?

QUEEN.
Then fly!

CARLOS.
God!

QUEEN.
With tears I do conjure you, Carlos, fly!
I ask no more. O fly! before my court,
My guards, detecting us alone together,
Bear the dread tidings to your father's ear.

CARLOS.
I bide my doom, or be it life or death.
Have I staked every hope on this one moment,
Which gives thee to me thus at length alone,
That idle fears should balk me of my purpose?
No, queen! The world may round its axis roll
A hundred thousand times, ere chance again
Yield to my prayers a moment such as this.

QUEEN.
It never shall to all eternity.
Unhappy man! What would you ask of me?

CARLOS.
Heaven is my witness, queen, how I have struggled,
Struggled as mortal never did before,
But all in vain! My manhood fails--I yield.

QUEEN.
No more of this--for my sake--for my peace.

CARLOS.
You were mine own,--in face of all the world,--
Affianced to me by two mighty crowns,
By heaven and nature plighted as my bride,
But Philip, cruel Philip, stole you from me!

QUEEN.
He is your father?

CARLOS.
And he is your husband!

QUEEN.
And gives to you for an inheritance,
The mightiest monarchy in all the world.

CARLOS.
And you, as mother!

QUEEN.
Mighty heavens! You rave!

CARLOS.
And is he even conscious of his treasure?
Hath he a heart to feel and value yours?
I'll not complain--no, no, I will forget,
How happy, past all utterance, I might
Have been with you,--if he were only so.
But he is not--there, there, the anguish lies!
He is not, and he never--never can be.
Oh, you have robbed me of my paradise,
Only to blast it in King Philip's arms!

QUEEN.
Horrible thought!

CARLOS.
Oh, yes, right well I know
Who 'twas that knit this ill-starred marriage up.
I know how Philip loves, and how he wooed.
What are you in this kingdom--tell me, what?
Regent, belike! Oh, no! If such you were,
How could fell Alvas act their murderous deeds,
Or Flanders bleed a martyr for her faith?
Are you even Philip's wife? Impossible,--
Beyond belief. A wife doth still possess
Her husband's heart. To whom doth his belong?
If ever, perchance, in some hot feverish mood,
He yields to gentler impulse, begs he not
Forgiveness of his sceptre and gray hairs?

QUEEN.
Who told you that my lot, at Philip's side
Was one for men to pity?

CARLOS.
My own heart!
Which feels, with burning pangs, how at my side
It had been to be envied.

QUEEN.
Thou vain man!
What if my heart should tell me the reverse?
How, sir, if Philip's watchful tenderness,
The looks that silently proclaim his love,
Touched me more deeply than his haughty son's
Presumptuous eloquence? What, if an old man's
Matured esteem----

CARLOS.
That makes a difference! Then,
Why then, forgiveness! --I'd no thought of this;
I had no thought that you could love the king.

QUEEN.
To honor him's my pleasure and my wish.

CARLOS.
Then you have never loved?

QUEEN.
Singular question!

CARLOS.
Then you have never loved?

QUEEN.
I love no longer!

CARLOS.
Because your heart forbids it, or your oath?

QUEEN.
Leave me; nor never touch this theme again.

CARLOS.
Because your oath forbids it, or your heart?

QUEEN.
Because my duty--but, alas, alas!
To what avails this scrutiny of fate,
Which we must both obey?

CARLOS.
Must--must obey?

QUEEN.
What means this solemn tone?

CARLOS.
Thus much it means
That Carlos is not one to yield to must
Where he hath power to will! It means, besides,
'That Carlos is not minded to live on,
The most unhappy man in all his realm,
When it would only cost the overthrow
Of Spanish laws to be the happiest.

QUEEN.
Do I interpret rightly? Still you hope?
Dare you hope on, when all is lost forever?

CARLOS.
I look on naught as lost--except the dead.

QUEEN.
For me--your mother, do you dare to hope?

[She fixes a penetrating look on him, then continues
with dignity and earnestness.

And yet why not? A new elected monarch
Can do far more--make bonfires of the laws
His father left--o'erthrow his monuments--
Nay, more than this--for what shall hinder him? --
Drag from his tomb, in the Escurial,
The sacred corpse of his departed sire,
Make it a public spectacle, and scatter
Forth to the winds his desecrated dust.
And then, at last, to fill the measure up----

CARLOS.
Merciful heavens, finish not the picture!

QUEEN.
End all by wedding with his mother.

CARLOS.
Oh!
Accursed son!
[He remains for some time paralyzed and speechless.
Yes, now 'tis out, 'tis out!
I see it clear as day. Oh, would it had
Been veiled from me in everlasting darkness!
Yes, thou art gone from me--gone--gone forever.
The die is cast; and thou art lost to me.
Oh, in that thought lies hell; and a hell, too,
Lies in the other thought, to call thee mine.
Oh, misery! I can bear my fate no longer,
My very heart-strings strain as they would burst.

QUEEN.
Alas, alas! dear Charles, I feel it all,
The nameless pang that rages in your breast;
Your pangs are infinite, as is your love,
And infinite as both will be the glory
Of overmastering both. Up, be a man,
Wrestle with them boldly. The prize is worthy
Of a young warrior's high, heroic heart;
Worthy of him in whom the virtues flow
Of a long ancestry of mighty kings.
Courage! my noble prince! Great Charles's grandson
Begins the contest with undaunted heart,
Where sons of meaner men would yield at once.

CARLOS.
Too late, too late! O God, it is too late!

QUEEN.
Too late to be a man! O Carlos, Carlos!
How nobly shows our virtue when the heart
Breaks in its exercise! The hand of Heaven
Has set you up on high,--far higher, prince,
Than millions of your brethren. All she took
From others she bestowed with partial hand
On thee, her favorite; and millions ask,
What was your merit, thus before your birth
To be endowed so far above mankind?
Up, then, and justify the ways of Heaven;
Deserve to take the lead of all the world,
And make a sacrifice ne'er made before.

CARLOS.
I will, I will; I have a giant's strength
To win your favor; but to lose you, none.

QUEEN.
Confess, my Carlos, I have harshly read thee;
It is but spoken, and waywardness, and pride,
Attract you thus so madly to your mother!
The heart you lavish on myself belongs
To the great empire you one day shall rule.
Look that you sport not with your sacred trust!
Love is your high vocation; until now
It hath been wrongly bent upon your mother:
Oh, lead it back upon your future realms,
And so, instead of the fell stings of conscience,
Enjoy the bliss of being more than man.
Elizabeth has been your earliest love,
Your second must be Spain. How gladly, Carlos,
Will I give place to this more worthy choice!

CARLOS (overpowered by emotion, throws himself at her feet).
How great thou art, my angel! Yes, I'll do
All, all thou canst desire. So let it be.
[He rises.
Here in the sight of heaven I stand and swear--
I swear to thee, eternal--no, great Heaven! --
Eternal silence only,--not oblivion!

QUEEN.
How can I ask from you what I myself
Am not disposed to grant?

MARQUIS (hastening from the alley).
The king!

QUEEN.
Oh God!

MARQUIS.
Away, away! fly from these precincts, prince!

QUEEN.
His jealousy is dreadful--should he see you----

CARLOS.
I'll stay.

QUEEN.
And who will be the victim then?

CARLOS (seizing the MARQUIS by the arm).
Away, away! Come, Roderigo, come!
[Goes and returns.
What may I hope to carry hence with me?

QUEEN.
Your mother's friendship.

CARLOS.
Friendship! Mother!

QUEEN.
And
These tears with it--they're from the Netherlands.

[She gives him some letters. Exit CARLOS with the MARQUIS.
The QUEEN looks restlessly round in search of her ladies,
who are nowhere to be seen. As she is about to retire up,
the KING enters.



SCENE VI.

The KING, the QUEEN, DUKE ALVA, COUNT LERMA, DOMINGO,
LADIES, GRANDEES, who remain at a little distance.

KING.
How, madam, alone; not even one of all
Your ladies in attendance? Strange! Where are they?

QUEEN.
My gracious lord!

KING.
Why thus alone, I say?
[To his attendants.
I'll take a strict account of this neglect.
'Tis not to be forgiven. Who has the charge
Of waiting on your majesty to-day?

QUEEN.
Oh, be not angry! Good, my lord, 'tis I
Myself that am to blame--at my request
The Princess Eboli went hence but now.

KING.
At your request!

QUEEN.
To call the nurse to me,
With the Infanta, whom I longed to see.

KING.
And was your retinue dismissed for that?
This only clears the lady first in waiting.
Where was the second?

MONDECAR (who has returned and mixed with the other ladies,
steps forward).
Your majesty, I feel
I am to blame for this.

KING.
You are, and so
I give you ten years to reflect upon it,
At a most tranquil distance from Madrid.

[The MARCHIONESS steps back weeping. General silence.
The bystanders all look in confusion towards the QUEEN.

QUEEN.
What weep you for, dear marchioness?
[To the KING.
If I
Have erred, my gracious liege, the crown I wear,
And which I never sought, should save my blushes
Is there a law in this your kingdom, sire,
To summon monarch's daughters to the bar?
Does force alone restrain your Spanish ladies?
Or need they stronger safeguard than their virtue?
Now pardon me, my liege; 'tis not my wont
To send my ladies, who have served me still
With smiling cheerfulness, away in tears.
Here, Mondecar.

[She takes off her girdle and presents it to the MARCHIONESS.

You have displeased the king,
Not me. Take this remembrance of my favor,
And of this hour. I'd have you quit the kingdom.
You have only erred in Spain. In my dear France,
All men are glad to wipe such tears away.
And must I ever be reminded thus?
In my dear France it had been otherwise.

[Leaning on the MARCHIONESS and covering her face.

KING.
Can a reproach, that in my love had birth,
Afflict you so? A word so trouble you,
Which the most anxious tenderness did prompt?
[He turns towards the GEANDEES.
Here stand the assembled vassals of my throne.
Did ever sleep descend upon these eyes,
Till at the close of the returning day
I've pondered, how the hearts of all my subjects
Were beating 'neath the furthest cope of heaven?
And should I feel more anxious for my throne
Than for the partner of my bosom? No!
My sword and Alva can protect my people,
My eye alone assures thy love.

QUEEN.
My liege,
If that I have offended----

KING.
I am called
The richest monarch in the Christian world;
The sun in my dominions never sets.
All this another hath possessed before,
And many another will possess hereafter.
That is mine own. All that the monarch hath
Belongs to chance--Elizabeth to Philip.
This is the point in which I feel I'm mortal.

QUEEN.
What fear you, sire?

KING.
Should these gray hairs not fear?
But the same instant that my fear begins
It dies away forever.
[To the grandees.
I run over
The nobles of my court and miss the foremost.
Where is my son, Don Carlos?
[No one answers.
He begins
To give me cause of fear. He shuns my presence
Since he came back from school at Alcala.
His blood is hot. Why is his look so cold?
His bearing all so stately and reserved?
Be watchful, duke, I charge you.

ALVA.
So I am:
Long as a heart against this corslet beats,
So long may Philip slumber undisturbed;
And as God's cherub guards the gates of heaven
So doth Duke Alva guard your royal throne.

LERMA.
Dare I, in all humility, presume
To oppose the judgment of earth's wisest king?
Too deeply I revere his gracious sire
To judge the son so harshly. I fear much
From his hot blood, but nothing from his heart.

KING.
Lerma, your speech is fair to soothe the father,
But Alva here will be the monarch's shield--
No more of this.
[Turning to his suite.
Now speed we to Madrid,
Our royal duties summon us. The plague
Of heresy is rife among my people;
Rebellion stalks within my Netherlands--
The times are imminent. We must arrest
These erring spirits by some dread example.
The solemn oath which every Christian king
Hath sworn to keep I will redeem to-morrow.
'Twill be a day of doom unparalleled.
Our court is bidden to the festival.

[He leads off the QUEEN, the rest follow.



SCENE VII.

DON CARLOS (with letters in his hand), and MARQUIS POSA
enter from opposite sides.

CARLOS.
I am resolved--Flanders shall yet be saved:
So runs her suit, and that's enough for me!

MARQUIS.
There's not another moment to be lost:
'Tis said Duke Alva in the cabinet
Is named already as the governor.

CARLOS.
Betimes to-morrow will I see the king
And ask this office for myself. It is
The first request I ever made to him,
And he can scarce refuse. My presence here
Has long been irksome to him. He will grasp
This fair pretence my absence to secure.
And shall I confess to thee, Roderigo?
My hopes go further. Face to face with him,
'Tis possible the pleading of a son
May reinstate him in his father's favor.
He ne'er hath heard the voice of nature speak;
Then let me try for once, my Roderigo,
What power she hath when breathing from my lips.

MARQUIS.
Now do I hear my Carlos' voice once more;
Now are you all yourself again!



SCENE VIII.

The preceding. COUNT LERMA.

COUNT.
Your grace,
His majesty has left Aranjuez;
And I am bidden----

CARLOS.
Very well, my lord--
I shall overtake the king----

MARQUIS (affecting to take leave with ceremony).
Your highness, then,
Has nothing further to intrust to me?

CARLOS.
Nothing. A pleasant journey to Madrid!
You may, hereafter, tell me more of Flanders.

[To LERMA, who is waiting for him.

Proceed, my lord! I'll follow thee anon.



SCENE IX.

DON CARLOS, MARQUIS POSA.

CARLOS.
I understood thy hint, and thank thee for it.
A stranger's presence can alone excuse
This forced and measured tone. Are we not brothers?
In future, let this puppet-play of rank
Be banished from our friendship. Think that we
Had met at some gay masking festival,
Thou in the habit of a slave, and I
Robed, for a jest, in the imperial purple.
Throughout the revel we respect the cheat,
And play our parts with sportive earnestness,
Tripping it gayly with the merry throng;
But should thy Carlos beckon through his mask,
Thou'dst press his hand in silence as he passed,
And we should be as one.

MARQUIS.
The dream's divine!
But are you sure that it will last forever?
Is Carlos, then, so certain of himself
As to despise the charms of boundless sway?
A day will come--an all-important day--
When this heroic mind--I warn you now--
Will sink o'erwhelmed by too severe a test.
Don Philip dies; and Carlos mounts the throne,
The mightiest throne in Christendom. How vast
The gulf that yawns betwixt mankind and him--
A god to-day, who yesterday was man!
Steeled to all human weakness--to the voice
Of heavenly duty deaf. Humanity--
To-day a word of import in his ear--
Barters itself, and grovels 'mid the throng
Of gaping parasites; his sympathy
For human woe is turned to cold neglect,
His virtue sunk in loose voluptuous joys.
Peru supplies him riches for his folly,
His court engenders devils for his vices.
Lulled in this heaven the work of crafty slaves,
He sleeps a charmed sleep; and while his dream
Endures his godhead lasts. And woe to him
Who'd break in pity this lethargic trance!
What could Roderigo do? Friendship is true,
And bold as true. But her bright flashing beams
Were much too fierce for sickly majesty:
You would not brook a subject's stern appeal,
Nor I a monarch's pride!

CARLOS.
Tearful and true,
Thy portraiture of monarchs. Yes--thou'rt right,
But 'tis their lusts that thus corrupt their hearts,
And hurry them to vice. I still am pure.
A youth scarce numbering three-and-twenty years.
What thousands waste in riotous delights,
Without remorse--the mind's more precious part--
The bloom and strength of manhood--I have kept,
Hoarding their treasures for the future king.
What could unseat my Posa from my heart,
If woman fail to do it?

MARQUIS.
I, myself!
Say, could I love you, Carlos, warm as now,
If I must fear you?

CARLOS.
That will never be.
What need hast thou of me? What cause hast 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.
Carlos, I yield!
Here is my band.

CARLOS.
Is it mine own?

MARQUIS.
Forever--
In the most pregnant 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 ears
Be closed to mercy's plea,--say, wilt thou, then,
The fearless guardian of my virtue, throw
Thine iron grasp upon me, and call up
My genius by its mighty name?

MARQUIS.
I will.

CARLOS.
And now one other favor let me beg.
Do call me thou! Long have I envied this
Dear privilege of friendship to thine equals.
The brother's thou beguiles my ear, my heart,
With sweet suggestions of equality.
Nay, no reply:--I guess what thou wouldst say--
To thee this seems a trifle--but to me,
A monarch's son, 'tis much. Say, wilt thou be
A brother to me?

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.




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.

[Bows and steps backward.