No More Learning

QUEEN.
Is this allowed?

OLIVAREZ (hesitating).
A case so unforeseen
Is not provided for in my instructions.
When a Castilian grandee, with despatches
From foreign courts, shall in her garden find
The Queen of Spain, and tender them----

QUEEN.
Enough! I'll venture, then, on mine own proper peril.

OLIVAREZ.
May I, your majesty, withdraw the while?

QUEEN.
E'en as you please, good duchess!

[Exit the DUCHESS, the QUEEN gives the PAGE a sign, who
thereupon retires.



SCENE IV.

The QUEEN, PRINCESS EBOLI, MARCHIONESS OF MONDECAR, and
MARQUIS OF POSA.

QUEEN.
I bid you welcome, sir, to Spanish ground!

MARQUIS.
Ground which I never with so just a pride
Hailed for the country of my sires as now.

QUEEN (to the two ladies).
The Marquis Posa, ladies, who at Rheims
Coped with my father in the lists, and made
My colors thrice victorious; the first
That made me feel how proud a thing it was
To be the Queen of Spain and Spanish men.
[Turning to the MARQUIS.
When we last parted in the Louvre, Sir,
You scarcely dreamed that I should ever be
Your hostess in Castile.

MARQUIS.
Most true, my liege!
For at that time I never could have dreamed
That France should lose to us the only thing
We envied her possessing.

QUEEN.
How, proud Spaniard!
The only thing! And you can venture this--
This to a daughter of the house of Valois!

MARQUIS.
I venture now to say it, gracious queen,
Since now you are our own.

QUEEN.
Your journey hither
Has led you, as I hear, through France. What news
Have you brought with you from my honored mother
And from my dearest brothers?

MARQUIS (handing letters).
I left your royal mother sick at heart,
Bereft of every joy save only this,
To know her daughter happy on the throne
Of our imperial Spain.

QUEEN.
Could she be aught
But happy in the dear remembrances
Of relatives so kind--in the sweet thoughts
Of the old time when--Sir, you've visited
Full many a court in these your various travels,
And seen strange lands and customs manifold;
And now, they say, you mean to keep at home
A greater prince in your retired domain
Than is King Philip on his throne--a freer.
You're a philosopher; but much I doubt
If our Madrid will please you. We are so--
So quiet in Madrid.

MARQUIS.
And that is more
Than all the rest of Europe has to boast.

QUEEN.
I've heard as much. But all this world's concerns
Are well-nigh blotted from my memory.
[To PRINCESS EBOLI.
Princess, methinks I see a hyacinth
Yonder in bloom. Wilt bring it to me, sweet?

[The PRINCESS goes towards the palace, the QUEEN
softly to the MARQUIS.

I'm much mistaken, sir, or your arrival
Has made one heart more happy here at court.

MARQUIS.
I have found a sad one--one that in this world
A ray of sunshine----

EBOLI.
As this gentleman
Has seen so many countries, he, no doubt,
Has much of note to tell us.

MARQUIS.
Doubtless, and
To seek adventures is a knight's first duty--
But his most sacred is to shield the fair.

MONDECAR.
From giants! But there are no giants now!

MARQUIS.
Power is a giant ever to the weak.

QUEEN.
The chevalier says well. There still are giants;
But there are knights no more.

MARQUIS.
Not long ago,
On my return from Naples, I became
The witness of a very touching story,
Which ties of friendship almost make my own
Were I not fearful its recital might
Fatigue your majesty----

QUEEN.
Have I a choice?
The princess is not to be lightly balked.
Proceed. I too, sir, love a story dearly.

MARQUIS.
Two noble houses in Mirandola,
Weary of jealousies and deadly feuds,
Transmitted down from Guelphs and Ghibellines,
Through centuries of hate, from sire to son,
Resolved to ratify a lasting peace
By the sweet ministry of nuptial ties.
Fernando, nephew of the great Pietro,
And fair Matilda, old Colonna's child,
Were chosen to cement this holy bond.
Nature had never for each other formed
Two fairer hearts. And never had the world
Approved a wiser or a happier choice.
Still had the youth adored his lovely bride
In the dull limner's portraiture alone.
How thrilled his heart, then, in the hope to find
The truth of all that e'en his fondest dreams
Had scarcely dared to credit in her picture!
In Padua, where his studies held him bound;
Fernando panted for the joyful hour,
When he might murmur at Matilda's feet
The first pure homage of his fervent love.

[The QUEEN grows more attentive; the MARQUIS continues, after
a short pause, addressing himself chiefly to PRINCESS EBOLI.

Meanwhile the sudden death of Pietro's wife
Had left him free to wed. With the hot glow
Of youthful blood the hoary lover drinks
The fame that reached him of Matilda's charms.
He comes--he sees--he loves! The new desire
Stifles the voice of nature in his heart.
The uncle woos his nephew's destined bride,
And at the altar consecrates his theft.

QUEEN.
And what did then Fernando?

MARQUIS.
On the wings
Of Jove, unconscious of the fearful change,
Delirious with the promised joy, he speeds
Back to Mirandola. His flying steed
By starlight gains the gate. Tumultuous sounds
Of music, dance, and jocund revelry
Ring from the walls of the illumined palace.
With faltering steps he mounts the stair; and now
Behold him in the crowded nuptial hall,
Unrecognized! Amid the reeling guests
Pietro sat. An angel at his side--
An angel, whom he knows, and who to him
Even in his dreams, seemed ne'er so beautiful.
A single glance revealed what once was his--
Revealed what now was lost to him forever.

EBOLI.
O poor Fernando!

QUEEN.
Surely, sir, your tale
Is ended? Nay, it must be.

MARQUIS.
No, not quite.

QUEEN.
Did you not say Fernando was your friend?

MARQUIS.
I have no dearer in the world.

EBOLI.
But pray
Proceed, sir, with your story.

MARQUIS.
Nay, the rest
Is very sad--and to recall it sets
My sorrow fresh abroach. Spare me the sequel.

[A general silence.

QUEEN (turning to the PRINCESS EBOLI).
Surely the time is come to see my daughter,
I prithee, princess, bring her to me now!

[The PRINCESS withdraws. The MARQUIS beckons a Page. The QUEEN
opens the letters, and appears surprised. The MARQUIS talks with
MARCHIONESS MONDECAR. The QUEEN having read the letters, turns to
the MARQUIS with a penetrating look.

QUEEN.
You have not spoken of Matilda! She
Haply was ignorant of Fernando's grief?

MARQUIS.
Matilda's heart has no one fathomed yet--
Great souls endure in silence.

QUEEN.
You look around you. Who is it you seek?

MARQUIS.
Just then the thought came over me, how one,
Whose name I dare not mention, would rejoice,
Stood he where I do now.

QUEEN.
And who's to blame,
That he does not?

MARQUIS (interrupting her eagerly).
My liege! And dare I venture
To interpret thee, as fain I would? He'd find
Forgiveness, then, if now he should appear.

QUEEN (alarmed).
Now, marquis, now? What do you mean by this?

MARQUIS.
Might he, then, hope?

QUEEN.
You terrify me, marquis.
Surely he will not----

MARQUIS.
He is here already.



SCENE V.

The QUEEN, CARLOS, MARQUIS POSA, MARCHIONESS MONDECAR.
The two latter go towards the avenue.

CARLOS (on his knees before the QUEEN).
At length 'tis come--the happy moment's come,
And Charles may touch this all-beloved hand.

QUEEN.
What headlong folly's this? And dare you break
Into my presence thus? Arise, rash man!
We are observed; my suite are close at hand.

CARLOS.
I will not rise. Here will I kneel forever,
Here will I lie enchanted at your feet,
And grow to the dear ground you tread on?

QUEEN.
Madman! To what rude boldness my indulgence leads!
Know you, it is the queen, your mother, sir,
Whom you address in such presumptuous strain?
Know, that myself will to the king report
This bold intrusion----

CARLOS.
And that I must die!
Let them come here, and drag me to the scaffold!
A moment spent in paradise like this
Is not too dearly purchased by a life.

QUEEN.
But then your queen?

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

QUEEN.
Then fly!

CARLOS.
God!

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

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

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

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

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

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

QUEEN.
He is your father?

CARLOS.
And he is your husband!

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

CARLOS.
And you, as mother!

QUEEN.
Mighty heavens! You rave!

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

QUEEN.
Horrible thought!

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

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

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

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

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

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

CARLOS.
Then you have never loved?

QUEEN.
Singular question!

CARLOS.
Then you have never loved?

QUEEN.
I love no longer!

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

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

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

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

CARLOS.
Must--must obey?

QUEEN.
What means this solemn tone?

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

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

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

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

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

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

CARLOS.
Merciful heavens, finish not the picture!

QUEEN.
End all by wedding with his mother.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

MARQUIS (hastening from the alley).
The king!

QUEEN.
Oh God!

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

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

CARLOS.
I'll stay.

QUEEN.
And who will be the victim then?

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

QUEEN.
Your mother's friendship.

CARLOS.
Friendship! Mother!

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

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



SCENE VI.

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

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

QUEEN.
My gracious lord!

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

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

KING.
At your request!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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