The Works of Frederick Schiller Part 288

KING.

Or tried to make him one? I scarce can love Those sons who choose more wisely than their fathers.

CARLOS.

And can Duke Alva's knightly spirit brook To look on such a scene? Now, as I live, I would not play the busy meddler's part, Who thrusts himself, unasked, 'twixt sire and son, And there intrudes without a blush, condemned By his own conscious insignificance, No, not, by heaven, to win a diadem!

KING (rising, with an angry look at the Prince).

Retire, my lord!

[ALVA goes to the princ.i.p.al door, through which CARLOS had entered, the KING points to the other.

No, to the cabinet, Until I call you.

SCENE II.

KING PHILIP. DON CARLOS.

CARLOS (as soon as the DUKE has left the apartment, advances to the KING, throws himself at his feet, and then, with great emotion).

My father once again!

Thanks, endless thanks, for this unwonted favor!

Your hand, my father! O delightful day!

The rapture of this kiss has long been strange To your poor Carlos. Wherefore have I been Shut from my father's heart? What have I done?

KING.

Carlos, thou art a novice in these arts-- Forbear, I like them not----

CARLOS (rising).

And is it so?

I hear your courtiers in those words, my father!

All is not well, by heaven, all is not true, That a priest says, and a priest's creatures plot.

I am not wicked, father; ardent blood Is all my failing;--all my crime is youth;-- Wicked I am not--no, in truth, not wicked;-- Though many an impulse wild a.s.sails my heart, Yet is it still untainted.

KING.

Ay, 'tis pure-- I know it--like thy prayers----

CARLOS.

Now, then, or never!

We are, for once, alone--the barrier Of courtly form, that severed sire and son Has fallen! Now a golden ray of hope Illumes my soul--a sweet presentment Pervades my heart--and heaven itself inclines, With choirs of joyous angels, to the earth, And full of soft emotion, the thrice blest Looks down upon this great, this glorious scene!

Pardon, my father!

[He falls on his knees before him.

KING.

Rise, and leave me.

CARLOS.

Father!

KING (tearing himself from him).

This trifling grows too bold.

CARLOS.

A son's devotion Too bold! Alas!

KING.

And, to crown all, in tears!

Degraded boy! Away, and quit my sight!

CARLOS.

Now, then, or never!--pardon, O my father!

KING.

Away, and leave my sight! Return to me Disgraced, defeated, from the battle-field, Thy sire shall meet thee with extended arms: But thus in tears, I spurn thee from my feet.

A coward's guilt alone should wash its stains In such ign.o.ble streams. The man who weeps Without a blush will ne'er want cause for tears!

CARLOS.

Who is this man? By what mistake of nature Has he thus strayed amongst mankind? A tear Is man's unerring, lasting attribute.

Whose eye is dry was ne'er of woman born!

Oh, teach the eye that ne'er hath overflowed, The timely science of a tear--thou'lt need The moist relief in some dark hour of woo.

KING.

Think'st thou to shake thy father's strong mistrust With specious words?

CARLOS.

Mistrust! Then I'll remove it.

Here will I hang upon my father's breast, Strain at his heart with vigor, till each shred Of that mistrust, which, with a rock's endurance, Clings firmly round it, piecemeal fall away.

And who are they who drive me from the king-- My father's favor? What requital hath A monk to give a father for a son?

What compensation can the duke supply For a deserted and a childless age?

Would'st thou be loved? Here in this bosom springs A fresher, purer fountain, than e'er flowed From those dark, stagnant, muddy reservoirs, Which Philip's gold must first unlock.

KING.

No more, Presuming boy! For know the hearts thou slanderest Are the approved, true servants of my choice.

'Tis meet that thou do honor to them.

CARLOS.

Never!

I know my worth--all that your Alva dares-- That, and much more, can Carlos. What cares he, A hireling! for the welfare of the realm That never can be his? What careth he If Philip's hair grow gray with h.o.a.ry age?

Your Carlos would have loved you:--Oh, I dread To think that you the royal throne must fill Deserted and alone.

KING (seemingly struck by this idea, stands in deep thought; after a pause).

I am alone!

CARLOS (approaching him with eagerness).

You have been so till now. Hate me no more, And I will love you dearly as a son: But hate me now no longer! Oh, how sweet, Divinely sweet it is to feel our being Reflected in another's beauteous soul; To see our joys gladden another's cheek, Our pains bring anguish to another's bosom, Our sorrows fill another's eye with tears!

How sweet, how glorious is it, hand in hand, With a dear child, in inmost soul beloved, To tread once more the rosy paths of youth, And dream life's fond illusions o'er again!

How proud to live through endless centuries Immortal in the virtues of a son; How sweet to plant what his dear hand shall reap; To gather what will yield him rich return, And guess how high his thanks will one day rise!

My father of this early paradise Your monks most wisely speak not.