Don Car. My soul, farewell! [Exeunt Guards with Don Carlos.
Queen. He's gone, he's gone!
Now, tyrant, to thy rage I'm left alone;
Give me my death, that hate both life and thee.
King. I know thou dost; yet live.
Queen. O misery! [Throws herself down.
Why was I born to be thus cursed? or why
Should life be forced, when 'tis so sweet to die?
King [To D. of Eboli]. Thou, woman, hast been false; but, to renew
Thy credit in my heart, assist me now.
Prepare a draught of poison, such as will
Act slow, and by degrees of torment kill.
Give it the queen, and, to prevent all sense
Of dying, tell her I've released the prince,
And that ere morning he'll attend her. I
In a disguise his presence will supply;
So glut my rage, and smiling see her die.
D. of Eboli. Your majesty shall be obeyed.
Ruy-Gom. Do, work thy mischiefs to their last degree,
And when they're in their height I'll murder thee.
[Aside.
King. Now, Gomez, ply my rage and keep it hot:
O'er love and nature I've the conquest got.
Still charming beauty triumphs in her eyes:
[Looking at the Queen.