Don Carlos by Friedrich Schiller (sight word readers .txt) 📖
- Author: Friedrich Schiller
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CARLOS.
Tearful and true, Thy portraiture of monarchs. Yes - thou'rt right, But 'tis their lusts that thus corrupt their hearts, And hurry them to vice. I still am pure. A youth scarce numbering three-and-twenty years. What thousands waste in riotous delights, Without remorse - the mind's more precious part - The bloom and strength of manhood - I have kept, Hoarding their treasures for the future king. What could unseat my Posa from my heart, If woman fail to do it?
MARQUIS.
I, myself! Say, could I love you, Carlos, warm as now, If I must fear you?
CARLOS.
That will never be. What need hast thou of me? What cause hast thou To stoop thy knee, a suppliant at the throne? Does gold allure thee? Thou'rt a richer subject Than I shall be a king! Dost covet honors? E'en in thy youth, fame's brimming chalice stood Full in thy grasp - thou flung'st the toy away. Which of us, then, must be the other's debtor, And which the creditor? Thou standest mute. Dost tremble for the trial? Art thou, then, Uncertain of thyself?
MARQUIS.
Carlos, I yield! Here is my band.
CARLOS.
Is it mine own?
MARQUIS.
Forever - In the most pregnant meaning of the word!
CARLOS. And wilt thou prove hereafter to the king As true and warm as to the prince to-day?
MARQUIS. I swear!
CARLOS.
And when round my unguarded heart The serpent flattery winds its subtle coil, Should e'er these eyes of mine forget the tears They once were wont to shed; or should these ears Be closed to mercy's plea, - say, wilt thou, then, The fearless guardian of my virtue, throw Thine iron grasp upon me, and call up My genius by its mighty name?
MARQUIS.
I will.
CARLOS. And now one other favor let me beg. Do call me thou! Long have I envied this Dear privilege of friendship to thine equals. The brother's thou beguiles my ear, my heart, With sweet suggestions of equality. Nay, no reply: - I guess what thou wouldst say - To thee this seems a trifle - but to me, A monarch's son, 'tis much. Say, wilt thou be A brother to me?
MARQUIS.
Yes; thy brother, yes!
CARLOS. Now to the king - my fears are at an end. Thus, arm-in-arm with thee, I dare defy The universal world into the lists.
[Exeunt.
ACT II.
SCENE I.
The royal palace at Madrid.
KING PHILIP under a canopy; DUKE ALVA at some distance,
with his head covered; CARLOS.
CARLOS. The kingdom takes precedence - willingly Doth Carlos to the minister give place - He speaks for Spain; I am but of the household.
[Bows and steps backward.
KING. The duke remains - the Infanta may proceed.
CARLOS (turning to ALVA). Then must I put it to your honor, sir, To yield my father for a while to me. A son, you know, may to a father's ear Unbosom much, in fulness of his heart, That not befits a stranger's ear. The king Shall not be taken from you, sir - I seek The father only for one little hour.
KING. Here stands his friend.
CARLOS.
And have I e'er deserved To think the duke should be a friend of mine?
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 principal 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 assails 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 ignoble 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 hoary 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
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