Don Carlos | Page 3

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--
"Am 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.
I 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,
And fell half-choked with sobs before my feet:
"Carlos," you
cried, "my pride is overcome;
I will repay thee when thou art a king."
MARQUIS (stretching forth his hand to CARLOS).
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----
CARLOS.
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!
CARLOS.
Nay, no forbearance! spare 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

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.
O 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!
I 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