Don Car. You'll sooner from its centre shake the earth:
I'll hold her fast till my last hour is nigh;
Then I'll bequeath her to you when I die.
King. Cut off his hold! or any thing—
Don Car. Ay, come;
Here kill, and bear me hence into my tomb.
I'd have my monument erected here,
With broken mangled limbs still clasping her.
Queen. Hold, and I'll quit his arms—
[The Guards offer their axes. They part.
King. Now bear him hence.
Queen. O horrid tyrant! [Guards are hurrying Don Carlos off.
Stay, unhappy prince—
Turn, turn! O torment! must I leave you so?
No, stay, and take me with you where you go.
Don Car. Hark, slaves, my goddess summons me to stay.
Dogs! have you eyes, and can you disobey?
See her! Oh, let me but just touch my bliss. [Pressing forward.
King. By hell! he shan't. Slaves, are ye mine or his?
Queen. My life—