D. of Eboli. Now, Gomez, triumph! All is ripe; the toil
Has caught them, and fate saw it with a smile.
Thus far the work of destiny was mine;
But I'm content the masterpiece be thine.
Away to the king, prepare his soul for blood,—
A mystery thou well hast understood.
Whilst I go rest within a lover's arms, [Aside.
And to my Austria lay out all my charms. [Exit.
Ruy-Gom. Fate, open now thy book, and set them down:
I have already marked them for thy own.
Re-enter King, and Marquis of Posa at a distance.
My lord the king?
King. Gomez?
Ruy-Gom. The same.
King. Hast seen
The prince?
Ruy-Gom. I have.
King. Where is he?
Ruy-Gom. With the queen.