Don Carlos. Friedrich von Schiller

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                         Gracious prince,

         Have I deserved these doubts?

                         "This key unlocks

         The back apartments in the queen's pavilion,

         The furthest room lies next a cabinet

         Wherein no listener's foot dare penetrate;

         Here may the voice of love without restraint

         Confess those tender feelings, which till now

         The heart with silent looks alone hath spoken.

         The timid lover gains an audience here,

         And sweet reward repays his secret sorrow."

         I am not in a dream, do not rave,

         This is my right hand, this my sword – and these

         Are written words. 'Tis true – it is no dream.

         I am beloved, I feel I am beloved.

         Follow me, prince, and I will lead the way.

         Then let me first collect my scattered thoughts.

         The alarm of joy still trembles in my bosom.

         Did I e'er lift my fondest hopes so high,

         Or trust my fancy to so bold a flight?

         Show me the man can learn thus suddenly

         To be a god. I am not what I was.

         I feel another heaven – another sun

         That was not here before. She loves – she loves me!

         But this is not the place: prince! you forget.

         The king! My father!

                     This is dreadful! Yes,

         You're right, my friend. I thank you: I was not

         Just then myself. To be compelled to silence,

         And bury in my heart this mighty bliss,

         Is terrible!

                Now here! What thou hast seen,

         And what not seen, must be within thy breast

         Entombed as in the grave. So now depart;

         I shall not need thy guidance; they must not

         Surprise us here! Now go.

                       Yet hold, a word!

         A direful secret hast thou in thy keeping,

         Which, like a poison of terrific power,

         Shivers the cup that holds it into atoms.

         Guard every look of thine, nor let thy head

         Guess at thy bosom's secret. Be thou like

         The senseless speaking-trumpet that receives

         And echoes back the voice, but hears it not.

         Thou art a boy! Be ever so; continue

         The pranks of youth. My correspondent chose

         Her messenger of love with prudent skill!

         The king will ne'er suspect a serpent here.

         And I, my prince, shall feel right proud to know

         I am one secret richer than the king.

         Vain, foolish boy! 'tis this should make thee tremble.

         Approach me ever with a cold respect:

         Ne'er be induced by idle pride to boast

         How gracious is the prince! No deadlier sin

         Canst thou commit, my son, than pleasing me.

         Whate'er thou hast in future for my ear,

         Give not to words; intrust not to thy lips,

         Ne'er on that common high road of the thoughts

         Permit thy news to travel. Speak with an eye,

         A finger; I will answer with a look.

         The very air, the light, are Philip's creatures,

         And the deaf walls around are in his pay.

         Some one approaches; fly, we'll meet again.

         Be careful, prince, to find the right apartment.

         It is the duke! Fear not, I'll find the way.

         Two words, most gracious prince.

                          Some other time.

         The place is not the fittest, I confess;

         Perhaps your royal highness may be pleased

         To grant me audience in your private chamber.

         For what? And why not here? Only be brief.

         The special object which has brought me hither,

         Is to return your highness lowly thanks

         For your good services.

                      Thanks to me —

         For what? Duke Alva's thanks!

                         You scarce had left

         His majesty, ere I received in form

         Instructions to depart for Brussels.

                            What!

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