Don Carlos (play)

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Don Carlos (play) Page 5

by Friedrich Schiller

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, with 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-

  Forbear, 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

  Has fallen! Now a golden ray of hope

  Illumes my 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!

  [He 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,

  The timely science of a tear-thou'lt need

  The moist relief in some dark hour of woo.

  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!

  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 fill 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,

  And stood with eyes abashed, to learn perchance

  From foreign envoys, or the general rumor,

  Thy courtly doings at Aranjuez.

  KING.

  Thy blood flows far too hotly in thy veins.

  Thou would'st but ruin all.

  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

  From slumber, like an angry creditor;

  And all the misspent hours of early youth,

  Like debts of honor, clamor in mine ears.

  It comes 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 wit
h the sovereign's power, will lead

  An army into Flanders. 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.

  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 beat 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!

  "That strangers riot on your bounty, whilst

  Carlos, your son, may supplicate in vain."

  And as a pledge that you would have me 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,

  An 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

  Those 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.

  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, my 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.

  SCENE IV.

  The antechamber to the QUEEN'S apartments. DON CARLOS enters in

  conversation with a PAGE. The attendants retire at his approach.

  CARLOS.

  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?

  CARLOS (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).

  Gra
cious 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 reverie.

  I am not in a dream, do not rave,

  This is my right hand, this my sword-and these

  Are 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.

 

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