Part 289 (1/2)

KING (not without emotion).

Oh, my son, Thou hast condemned thyself in painting thus A bliss this heart hath ne'er enjoyed from thee.

CARLOS.

The Omniscient be my judge! You till this hour Have still debarred me from your heart, and all Partic.i.p.ation in your royal cares.

The heir of Spain has been a very stranger In Spanish land--a prisoner in the realm Where he must one day rule. Say, was this just, Or kind? And often have I blushed for shame, And stood with eyes abashed, to learn perchance From foreign envoys, or the general rumor, Thy courtly doings at Aranjuez.

KING.

Thy blood flows far too hotly in thy veins.

Thou would'st but ruin all.

CARLOS.

But try me, father.

'Tis true my blood flows hotly in my veins.

Full three-and-twenty years I now have lived, And naught achieved for immortality.

I am aroused--I feel my inward powers-- My t.i.tle to the throne arouses me From slumber, like an angry creditor; And all the misspent hours of early youth, Like debts of honor, clamor in mine ears.

It comes at length, the glorious moment comes That claims full interest on the intrusted talent.

The annals of the world, ancestral fame, And glory's echoing trumpet urge me on.

Now is the blessed hour at length arrived That opens wide to me the list of honor.

My king, my father! dare I utter now The suit which led me hither?

KING.

Still a suit?

Unfold it.

CARLOS.

The rebellion in Brabant Increases to a height--the traitor's madness By stern, but prudent, vigor must be met.

The duke, to quell the wild enthusiasm, Invested with the sovereign's power, will lead An army into Flanders. Oh, how full Of glory is such office! and how suited To open wide the temple of renown To me, your son! To my hand, then, O king, Intrust the army; in thy Flemish lands I am well loved, and I will freely gage My life for their fidelity and truth.

KING.

Thou speakest like a dreamer. This high office Demands a man--and not a stripling's arm.

CARLOS.

It but demands a human being, father: And that is what Duke Alva ne'er hath been.

KING.

Terror alone can tie rebellion's hands: Humanity were madness. Thy soft soul Is tender, son: they'll tremble at the duke.

Desist from thy request.

CARLOS.

Despatch me, sire, To Flanders with the army--dare rely E'en on my tender soul. The name of prince, The royal name emblazoned on my standard, Conquers where Alva's butchers but dismay.

Here on my knees I crave it--this the first Pet.i.tion of my life. Trust Flanders to me.

KING (contemplating CARLOS with a piercing look).

Trust my best army to thy thirst for rule, And put a dagger in my murderer's hand!

CARLOS.