Don Carlos. Фридрих Шиллер

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       I know how Philip loves, and how he wooed.

       What are you in this kingdom—tell me, what?

       Regent, belike! Oh, no! If such you were,

       How could fell Alvas act their murderous deeds,

       Or Flanders bleed a martyr for her faith?

       Are you even Philip's wife? Impossible—

       Beyond belief. A wife doth still possess

       Her husband's heart. To whom doth his belong?

       If ever, perchance, in some hot feverish mood,

       He yields to gentler impulse, begs he not

       Forgiveness of his sceptre and gray hairs?

       QUEEN.

       Who told you that my lot, at Philip's side

       Was one for men to pity?

       CARLOS.

       My own heart!

       Which feels, with burning pangs, how at my side

       It had been to be envied.

       QUEEN.

       Thou vain man!

       What if my heart should tell me the reverse?

       How, sir, if Philip's watchful tenderness,

       The looks that silently proclaim his love,

       Touched me more deeply than his haughty son's

       Presumptuous eloquence? What, if an old man's

       Matured esteem——

       CARLOS.

       That makes a difference! Then,

       Why then, forgiveness!—I'd no thought of this;

       I had no thought that you could love the king.

       QUEEN.

       To honor him's my pleasure and my wish.

       CARLOS.

       Then you have never loved?

       QUEEN.

       Singular question!

       CARLOS.

       Then you have never loved?

       QUEEN.

       I love no longer!

       CARLOS.

       Because your heart forbids it, or your oath?

       QUEEN.

       Leave me; nor never touch this theme again.

       CARLOS.

       Because your oath forbids it, or your heart?

       QUEEN.

       Because my duty—but, alas, alas!

       To what avails this scrutiny of fate,

       Which we must both obey?

       CARLOS.

       Must—must obey?

       QUEEN.

       What means this solemn tone?

       CARLOS.

       Thus much it means

       That Carlos is not one to yield to must

       Where he hath power to will! It means, besides,

       'That Carlos is not minded to live on,

       The most unhappy man in all his realm,

       When it would only cost the overthrow

       Of Spanish laws to be the happiest.

       QUEEN.

       Do I interpret rightly? Still you hope?

       Dare you hope on, when all is lost forever?

       CARLOS.

       I look on naught as lost—except the dead.

       QUEEN.

       For me—your mother, do you dare to hope?

       [She fixes a penetrating look on him, then continues

       with dignity and earnestness.

       And yet why not? A new elected monarch

       Can do far more—make bonfires of the laws

       His father left—o'erthrow his monuments—

       Nay, more than this—for what shall hinder him?—

       Drag from his tomb, in the Escurial,

       The sacred corpse of his departed sire,

       Make it a public spectacle, and scatter

       Forth to the winds his desecrated dust.

       And then, at last, to fill the measure up——

       CARLOS.

       Merciful heavens, finish not the picture!

       QUEEN.

       End all by wedding with his mother.

       CARLOS.

       Oh!

       Accursed son!

       [He remains for some time paralyzed and speechless.

       Yes, now 'tis out, 'tis out!

       I see it clear as day. Oh, would it had

       Been veiled from me in everlasting darkness!

       Yes, thou art gone from me—gone—gone forever.

       The die is cast; and thou art lost to me.

       Oh, in that thought lies hell; and a hell, too,

       Lies in the other thought, to call thee mine.

       Oh, misery! I can bear my fate no longer,

       My very heart-strings strain as they would burst.

       QUEEN.

       Alas, alas! dear Charles, I feel it all,

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