D. of Eboli. O Austria! take away that ugly fiend:
He smiles and mocks me, waiting for my soul;
See how his glaring fiery eyeballs roll!
Ruy-Gom. Thus is her fancy tortured by her guilt:
But, since you'll have my blood, let it be spilt.
King [To Ruy-Gomez]. No more!—[To D. of Eboli.] Speak on, I charge thee, by the rest
Thou hopest, the truth, and as thou shalt be blest.
D. of Eboli. As what I've said is so,
There may I find, where I must answer all,
What most I need, Heaven's mercy on my soul! [Dies.
King. Heaven! she was sensible that she should die,
And durst not in the minute tell a lie.
Don John. His guilt's too plain; see his wild staring eye.
By unconcern he would show innocence;
But hardened guilt ne'er wanted the pretence
Of great submission, when't had no defence.
Thus, whilst of life you show this little care,
You seem not guiltless, but betray despair.
King. His life! What satisfaction can that give?
But oh! in doubt I must for ever live,
And lose my peace—yet I the truth will find;
I'll rack him for't. Go, in this minute bind
Him to the wheel—
Ruy-Gom. How have I this deserved,
Who only your commands obeyed and served?
What would you have me do?
King. I'd have thee tell
The truth: do, Gomez; all shall then be well.
Ruy-Gom. Alas! like you, sir, in a cloud I'm lost.
And can but tell you what I think, at most.
You set me as a spy upon the prince,
And I still brought the best intelligence
I could; till, finding him too much aware
Of me, I nearer measures took by her:
Which if I after a false copy drew,
'Tis I have been unfortunate as you.