For all who live? One spirit, one free being,
And one alone, arose in all this age!
He died despising me!
ALVA.
Our lives are useless!
Spaniards, let's die at once! E'en in the grave
This man still robs us of our monarch's heart.
KING (sits down, and leans his head on his arm).
Oh! had he died for me! I loved him, too,
And much. Dear to me was he as a son.
In his young mind there brightly rose for me
A new and beauteous morning. Who can say
What I had destined for him? He to me
Was a first love. All Europe may condemn me,
Europe may overwhelm me with its curse,
But I deserved his thanks.
DOMINGO.
What spell is this?
KING.
And, say, for whom did he desert me thus?
A boy,-my son? Oh, no, believe it not!
A Posa would not perish for a boy;
The scanty flame of friendship could not fill
A Posa's heart. It beat for human kind.
His passion was the world, and the whole course
Of future generations yet unborn.
To do them service he secured a throne-
And lost it. Such high treason 'gainst mankind
Could Posa e'er forgive himself? Oh, no;
I know his feelings better. Not that he
Carlos preferred to Philip, but the youth-
The tender pupil,-to the aged monarch.
The father's evening sunbeam could not ripen
His novel projects. He reserved for this
The young son's orient rays. Oh, 'tis undoubted,
They wait for my decease.
ALVA.
And of your thoughts,
Read in these letters strongest confirmation.
KING.
'Tis possible he may miscalculate.
I'm still myself. Thanks, Nature, for thy gifts;
I feel within my frame the strength of youth;
I'll turn their schemes to mockery. His virtue
Shall be an empty dream-his death, a fool's.
His fall shall crush his friend and age together.
We'll test it now-how they can do without me.
The world is still for one short evening mine,
And this same evening will I so employ,
That no reformer yet to cone shall reap
Another harvest, in the waste I'll leave,
For ten long generations after me.
He would have offered me a sacrifice
To his new deity-humanity!
So on humanity I'll take revenge.
And with his puppet I'll at once commence.
[To the DUKE ALVA.
What you have now to tell me of the prince,
Repeat. What tidings do these letters bring?
ALVA.
These letters, sire, contain the last bequest
Of Posa to Prince Carlos.
KING (reads the papers, watched by all present. He then lays them aside
and walks in silence up and down the room).
Summon straight
The cardinal inquisitor; and beg
He will bestow an hour upon the king,
This very night!
TAXIS.
Just on the stroke of two
The horses must be ready and prepared,
At the Carthusian monastery.
ALVA.
Spies
Despatched by me, moreover, have observed
Equipments at the convent for a journey,
On which the prince's arms were recognized.
FERIA.
And it is rumored that large sums are raised
In the queen's name, among the Moorish agents,
Destined for Brussels.
KING.
Where is Carlos?
ALVA.
With Posa's body.
