PRINCESS.
Oh, horrible! What have I done!
CARLOS.
Hurled down
So far from all my heavenly joys! 'Tis dreadful!
PRINCESS (hiding her face in the cushion).
Oh, God! What have I said?
CARLOS (kneeling before her).
I am not guilty.
My passion-an unfortunate mistake-
By heaven, I am not guilty--
PRINCESS (pushing him from her).
Out of my sight,
For heaven's sake!
CARLOS.
No, I will not leave thee thus.
In this dread anguish leave thee--
PRINCESS (pushing him forcibly away).
Oh, in pity-
For mercy's sake, away-out of my sight!
Wouldst thou destroy me? How I hate thy presence!
[CARLOS going.
Give, give me back the letter and the key.
Where is the other letter?
CARLOS.
The other letter?
PRINCESS.
That from the king, to me--
CARLOS (terrified).
From whom?
PRINCESS.
The one I just now gave you.
CARLOS.
From the king!
To you!
PRINCESS.
Oh, heavens, how dreadfully have I
Involved myself! The letter, sir! I must
Have it again.
CARLOS.
The letter from the king!
To you!
PRINCESS.
The letter! give it, I implore you
By all that's sacred! give it.
CARLOS.
What, the letter
That will unmask the saint! Is this the letter?
PRINCESS.
Now I'm undone! Quick, give it me--
CARLOS.
The letter--
PRINCESS (wringing her hands in despair).
What have I done? O dreadful, dire imprudence!
CARLOS.
This letter comes, then, from the king! Princess,
That changes all indeed, and quickly, too.
This letter is beyond all value-priceless!
All Philip's crowns are worthless, and too poor
To win it from my hands. I'll keep this letter.
PRINCESS (throwing herself prostrate before him as he is going).
Almighty Heaven! then I am lost forever.
[Exit CARLOS.
SCENE IX.
The PRINCESS alone.
She seems overcome with surprise, and is confounded.
After CARLOS' departure she hastens to call him back.
PRINCESS.
Prince, but one word! Prince, hear me. He is gone.
And this, too, I am doomed to bear-his scorn!
And I am left in lonely wretchedness,
Rejected and despised!
[Sinks down upon a chair. After a pause
And yet not so;
I'm but displaced-supplanted by some wanton.
He loves! of that no longer doubt is left;
He has himself confessed it-but my rival-
Who can she be? Happy, thrice happy one!
This much stands clear: he loves where he should not.
He dreads discovery, and from the king
He hides his guilty passion! Why from him
Who would so gladly hail it? Or, is it not
The father that he dreads so in the parent?
When the king's wanton purpose was disclosed,
His features glowed with triumph, boundless joy
Flashed in his eyes, his rigid virtue fled;
Why was it mute in such a cause as this?
Why should he triumph? What hath he to gain
If Philip to his queen--
[She stops suddenly, as if struck by a thought, then
drawing hastily from her bosom the ribbon which she had
taken from CARLOS, she seems to recognize it.
Fool that I am!
At length 'tis plain. Where have my senses been?
My eyes are opened now. They loved each other
Long before Philip wooed her, and the prince
Ne'er saw me but with her! She, she alone
Was in his thoughts when I believed myself
The object of his true and boundless love.
O matchless error! and have I betrayed
My weakness to her?
[Pauses.
Should his love prove hopeless?
Who can believe it? Would a hopeless love
Persist in such a struggle? Called to revel
In joys for which a monarch sighs in vain!
A hopeless love makes no such sacrifice.
What fire was in his kiss! How tenderly
He pressed my bosom to his beating heart!
Well nigh the trial had proved dangerous
To his romantic, unrequited passion!
With joy he seized the key he fondly thought
The queen had sent:-in this gigantic stride
Of love he puts full credence-and he comes-
In very truth comes here-and so imputes
To Philip's wife a deed so madly rash.
And would he so, had love not made him bold?
'Tis clear as day-his suit is heard-she loves!
By heaven, this saintly creature burns with passion;
How subtle, too, she is! With fear I trembled
Before this lofty paragon of virtue!
She towered beside me, an exalted being,
And in her beams I felt myself eclipsed;
I envied her the lovely, cloudless calm,
That kept her soul from earthly tumults free.
And was this soft serenity but show?
Would she at both feasts revel, holding up
Her virtue's godlike splendor to our gaze,
And riot in the secret joys of vice?
And shall the false dissembler cozen thus,
And win a safe immunity from this
That no avenger comes? By heavens she shall not!
I once adored her,-that demands revenge:-
The king shall know her treachery-the king!
[After a pause.
'Tis the sure way to win the monarch's ear!
[Exit.
SCENE X.
A chamber in the royal palace.
DUKE OF ALVA, FATHER DOMINGO.
DOMINGO.
Something to tell me!
ALVA.
Ay! a thing of moment,
Of which I made discovery to-day,
And I would have your judgment on it.
DOMINGO.
How!
Discovery! To what do you allude?
ALVA.
Prince Carlos and myself this morning met
In the queen's antechamber. I received
An insult from him-we were both in heat-
The strife grew loud-and we had drawn our swords.
Alarmed, from her apartments rushed the queen.
She stepped between us,-with commanding eye
Of conscious power, she looked upon the prince.
'Twas but a single glance,-but his arm dropped,
He fell upon my bosom-gave me then
A warm embrace, and vanished.
DOMINGO (after a pause).
This seems strange.
It brings a something to my mind, my lord!
And thoughts like these I own have often sprung
Within my breast; but I avoid such fancies-
To no one have I e'er confided them.
There are such things as double-edged swords
And untrue friends,-I fear them both.
'Tis hard to judge among mankind, but still more hard
To know them thoroughly. Words slipped at random
Are confidants offended-therefore I
Buried my secret in my breast, till time
Should drag it forth to light. 'Tis dangerous
To render certain services to kings.
They are the bolts, which if they miss the mark,