So rich a treasure who would live to lose?
King. The poison works, Heaven grant there were enough!
She is so foul, she may be poison-proof.
Now my false fair one—
Queen. Tyrant, hence, begone!
This hour's my last, and let it be my own.
Away, away! I would not leave the light
With such a hated object in my sight.
King. No, I will stay, and even thy prayers prevent;
I would not give thee leisure to repent;
But let thy sins all in one throng combine
To plague thy soul, as thou hast tortured mine.
Queen. Glut then your eyes, your tyrant-fury feed,
And triumph; but remember, when I'm dead,
Hereafter on your dying pillows you
May feel those tortures which you give me now.
Go on, your worst reproaches I can bear,
And with them all you shall not force a tear.
King. Thus, Austria, my lost freedom I obtain,
And once more shall appear myself again.
Love held me fast whilst, like a foolish boy,
I of the thing was fond because 'twas gay;
But now I've thrown the gaudy toy away.
D. of Eboli [Within]. Help! murder! help!
King. See, Austria, whence that cry.
Call up our guards; there may be danger nigh.
Enter Guards; then re-enter Duchess of Eboli in her night-dress, wounded and bleeding; Ruy-Gomez pursuing her.
D. of Eboli. Oh! guard me from that cruel murderer:
But 'tis in vain, the steel has gone too far.
Turn, wretched king, I've something to unfold;
Nor can I die till the sad secret's told.