D. of Eboli. O'er all her face young wandering blushes were,
Such as speak hopes too weak to conquer fear:—
But when confirmed, no lover e'er so kind;
She clasped me fast, caressed, and called me friend.
Which opportunity I took, to give
The poison; and till day she cannot live.
King. Quickly then to her; say that Carlos here
Waits to confirm his happiness with her.
Go, that my vengeance I may finish quite:
'Twould be imperfect, should I lose the sight.
But to contrive that I may not be known,
And she may still mistake me for my son,
Remove all light but that which may suffice
To let her see me scorn her when she dies.
D. of Eboli. You'll find her all in rueful sables clad,
With one dim lamp that yields imperfect light,
Such as in vaults assist the ghastly shade,
Where wretched widows come to weep at night.
Thus she resolves to die, or living mourn,
Till Carlos shall with liberty return. [Exit.
King. O steadfast sin! incorrigible lust!
Not damned! it is impossible; she must.
How do I long to see her in her pains,
The poisonous sulphur rolling through her veins!
Enter Don John and Attendants.
Don John. Yes, sir, and your friend.
What can your presence here so late intend?
King. O Austria! Fate's at work; a deed's in hand
Will put thy youthful courage to a stand.
Survey me; do I look as heretofore?
Don John. You look like King of Spain, and lord of power;
Like one who still seeks glory on the wing;
You look as I would do, were I a king.
King. A king! why I am more, I'm all that can
Be counted miserable in a man.
But thou shalt see how calm anon I'll grow;
I'll be as happy and as gay as thou.