M. of Posa. Yes, more base than impotent or old.
All virtue in thee, like thy blood, runs cold:
Thy rotten putrid carcass is less full
Of rancour and contagion than thy soul.
Even now before the king I saw it plain;
But duty in that presence awed me then;
Yet there I dared thy treason with my sword:
But still
Thy villany talked all; courage had not a word.
True, thou art old; yet, if thou hast a friend,
To whom thy cursèd cause thou darest commend;
'Gainst him in public I'll the innocence
Maintain of the fair queen and injured prince.
Ruy-Gom. Farewell, bold champion!
Learn better how your passions to disguise;
Appear less choleric, and be more wise. [Exit.
M. of Posa. How frail is all the glory we design,
Whilst such as these have power to undermine!
Unhappy prince! who mightst have safely stood,
If thou hadst been less great, or not so good.
Why the vile monster's blood did I not shed,
And all the vengeance draw on my own head?
My honour so had had this just defence,—
That I preserved my patron and my prince.
Enter Don Carlos and the Queen.
Brave Carlos—ha! he's here. O sir, take heed;
By an unlucky fate your love is led.
The king—the king your father's jealous grown;
Forgetting her, his queen, or you, his son,
Calls all his vengeance up against you both.
Don Car. Has then the false Ruy-Gomez broke his oath,
And, after all, my innocence betrayed?
M. of Posa. Yes, all his subtlest snares are for you laid.
The king within this minute will be here,
And you are ruined, if but seen with her.
Retire, my lord—
Queen. How! is he jealous grown?
I thought my virtue he had better known.
His unjust doubts have soon found out the way
To make their entry on our marriage day;
For yet he has not known with me a night.
Perhaps his tyranny is his delight;
And to such height his cruelty is grown,
He'd exercise it on his queen and son.
But since, my lord, this time we must obey
Our interest, I beg you would not stay:
Not seeing you, he may to me be just.
Don Car. Should I then leave you, madam?
Queen. Yes, you must.