King P. Lift me not up, I shortly must go down.
When a few dribbling minutes have run out,
Mine hour is ended. King of Spain, farewell;
You all acknowledge him your sovereign?
All. When you are dead, we will acknowledge him.
King P. Govern this kingdom well; to be a king
Is given to many, but to govern well
Granted to few. Have care to Isabel;
Her virtue was King Philip's looking-glass;
Reverence the queen your mother; love your sister
And the young prince your brother: even that day,
When Spain shall solemnise my obsequies,
And lay me up in earth, let them crown you.
Where's Eleazar, Don Alvero's son?
Fer. Yonder, with cross'd arms, stands he malcontent.
King P. I do commend him to thee for a man
Both wise and warlike; yet beware of him:
Ambition wings his spirit; keep him down.
What will not men attempt to win a crown?
Mendoza is protector of thy realm,
I did elect him for his gravity;
I trust he'll be a father to thy youth.
Call help, Fernando, now I faint indeed.
Fer. My lords!
King. P. Let none with a distracted voice
Shriek out, and trouble me in my departure.
Heaven's hands, I see, are beckoning for my soul;
I come, I come; thus do the proudest die;
Death hath no mercy, life no certainty.
[Dies.
Men. As yet his soul's not from her temple gone:
Therefore forbear loud lamentation.
Queen-M. O, he's dead, he's dead! lament and die;
In her king's end begins Spain's misery.