All the resources accurately noted,
Together with the maxims to be followed,
And all the treaties which they should conclude.
The plan is fiendish, but 'tis no less splendid.
FERIA.
The deep, designing traitor!
ALVA.
And, moreover,
There is allusion made, in these same letters,
To some mysterious conference the prince
Must with his mother hold upon the eve
Preceding his departure.
FERIA.
That must be
This very day.
ALVA.
At midnight. But for this
I have already taken proper steps.
You see the case is pressing. Not a moment
Is to be lost. Open the monarch's chamber.
FERIA.
Impossible! All entrance is forbidden.
ALVA.
I'll open then myself; the increasing danger
Must justify my boldness.
[As he is on the point of approaching the door it opens,
and the KING comes out.
FERIA.
'Tis himself.
SCENE IX.
The KING. The preceding.
All are alarmed at his appearance, fall back, and let him
pass through them. He appears to be in a waking dream, like a
sleep-walker. His dress and figure indicate the disorder caused
by his late fainting. With slow steps he walks past the GRANDEES
and looks at each with a fixed eye, but without recognizing any of
them. At last he stands still, wrapped in thought, his eyes fixed
on the ground, till the emotions of his mind gradually express
themselves in words.
KING.
Restore me back the dead! Yes, I must have him.
DOMINGO (whispering to ALVA).
Speak to him, duke.
KING.
He died despising me!
Have him again I must, and make him think
More nobly of me.
ALVA (approaching with fear).
Sire!
KING (looking round the circle).
Who speaks to me!
Have you forgotten who I am? Why not
Upon your knees, before your king, ye creatures!
Am I not still your king? I must command
Submission from you. Do you all then slight me
Because one man despised me?
ALVA.
Gracious king!
No more of him: a new and mightier foe
Arises in the bosom of your realm.
FERIA.
Prince Carlos--
KING.
Had a friend who died for him;
For him! With me he might have shared an empire.
How he looked down upon me! From the throne
Kings look not down so proudly. It was plain
How vain his conquest made him. His keen sorrow
Confessed how great his loss. Man weeps not so
For aught that's perishable. Oh, that he might
But live again! I'd give my Indies for it!
Omnipotence! thou bring'st no comfort to me:
Thou canst not stretch thine arm into the grave
To rectify one little act, committed
With hasty rashness, 'gainst the life of man.
The dead return no more. Who dare affirm
That I am happy? In the tomb he dwells,
Who scorned to flatter me. What care I now
