by Thomas Otway
You look as I would do, were I a king.
King. A king! why I am more, I’m all that can
Be counted miserable in a man.
But thou shalt see how calm anon I’ll grow;
I’ll be as happy and as gay as thou.
Don John. No, sir; my happiness you cannot have,
Whilst to your abject passions thus a slave.
To know my ease, you thoughts like mine must bring,
Be something less a man, and more a king.
King. I’m growing so. ’Tis true that long I strove
With pleading nature, combated with love,
Those witchcrafts that had bound my soul so fast;
But now the date of the enchantment’s past:
Before my rage like ruins down they fall,
And I mount up true monarch o’er them all.
Don John. I know your queen and son you’ve doomed to die,
And fear by this the fatal hour is nigh.
Why would you cut a sure succession off,
At which your friends must grieve, and foes will laugh;
As if, since age has from you took away
Increase, you’d grow malicious, and destroy?
King. Doubt it not, Austria: thou my brother art,
And in my blood I’m certain hast a part.
Only the justice of my vengeance own, —
Thou’rt heir of Spain, and my adopted son.
Don John. I must confess there in a crown are charms,
Which I would court in bloody fields and arms;
But in my nephew’s wrong I must decline,
Since he must be extinguished ere I shine.
To mount a throne o’er battlements I’d climb,
Where Death should wait on me, not I on him.
Did you e’er love, or have you ever known
The mighty value of so brave a son?
King. I guessed I should be treated thus before;
I know it is thy kindness, but no more.
Thou, living free, alas! art easy grown
And think’st all hearts as honest as thy own.
Don John. Not, sir, so easy as I must be bold,
And speak what you perhaps would have untold;
That you’re a slave to the vilest that obey,
Such as disgrace on royal favour lay,
And blindly follow as they lead astray:
Voracious varlets, sordid hangers-on;
Best by familiarity they’re known,
Yet shrink at frowns: but when you smile they fawn.
They’re these have wronged you, and abused your ears,
Possessed your mind with false misgrounded fears.
King. Misgrounded fears? Why, is there any truth
In women’s vows, or disobedient youth?
I sooner would believe this world were Heaven,
Where I have nought but toils and torment met,
And never comfort yet to man was given.
But thou shalt see how my revenge I’ll treat.
[A curtain is drawn, and discovers the Queen alone in mourning on her couch, with a lamp by her.
Look where she sits, as quiet and serene [Ironically.
As if she never had a thought of sin,
In mourning, her wronged innocence to show!
She has sworn’t so oft, that she believes it true.
O’erwhelmed with sorrow she’ll in darkness dwell:
So we have heard of witches in a cell,
Treating with fiends, and making leagues with hell.
[The Queen rises and comes towards him.
Queen. My lord! Prince Carlos! may it be believed?
Are my eyes blessed; and am I not deceived?
King. My queen, my love, I’m here — [Embraces her.
Queen. My lord the king!
This is surprising kindness which you bring.
Can you believe me innocent at last?
Methinks my griefs are half already past.
King. O tongue, in nothing practised but deceit!
Too well she knew him, not to find the cheat. [Aside.
Yes, vile incestuous woman, it is I,
The king: look on me well, despair, and die.
Queen. Why had you not pronounced my doom before,
Since to affliction you could add no more?
Methinks death is less welcome, when I find
You could but counterfeit a look that’s kind.
King. No, now thou’rt fit for death: had I believed
Thou couldst have been more wicked, thou hadst lived, —
Lived and gone on in lust and riot still;
But I perceived thee early ripe for hell:
And, that of the reward thou mightst not miss,
This night thou’st drank thy bane, thou’rt poisoned; yes,
Thou art —
Queen. Then welcome everlasting bliss!
But, ere I die, let me here make a vow, —
By Heaven, and all I hope for there, I’m true!
King. Vows you had always ready when you spoke:
How many of them have you made, and broke!
Yet there’s a Power that does your falsehood hear,
A just one too, that lets thee live to swear.
How comes it that above such mercy dwells,
To permit sin, and make us infidels?
Queen. You have been ever so to all that’s good,
My innocence had else been understood.
At first your love was nothing but your pride.
When I arrived to be the prince’s bride,
You then a kind indulgent father were;
But, finding me unfortunately fair,
Thought me a prize too rich to be possessed
By him, and forced yourself into my breast,
Where you maintained an unresisted power;
Not your own daughter could have loved you more,
Till, conscious of your age, my faith was blamed,
And I a lewd adulteress proclaimed,
Accused of foulest incest with your son —
What more could my worst enemy have done?
King. Nothing, I hope; I would not have it said
That in my vengeance any fault I made.
Love me! O low pretence, too feebly built!
But ’tis the constant fault of dying guilt
Even to the last to cry they’re innocent,
When their despair’s so great, they can’t repent.
Queen. Thus having urged your malice to the head,
You spitefully are come to rail me dead.
Had I been man, and had an impious wife,
With speedy fury I’d have snatched her life;
Torn a broad passage open to her heart,
And there have ransacked each polluted part;
Triumphed and laughed to have seen the issuing flood,
And wantonly have bathed my hands in blood.
That had outdone the low revenge you bring,
Much fitter for a woman than a king.
King. I’m glad I know what death you’d wish to have:
You would go down in silence to your grave;
Remove from future fame, as present times,
And bury with you, if you could, your crimes.
No, I will have my justice understood,
Proclaim thy falsehood and thy lust aloud.
Queen. About it then, the noble work begin;
Be proud, and boast how cruel you have been.
Oh, how a monarch’s glory ‘twill advance!
Do, quickly let it reach the ears of France.
I’ve there a royal brother that is young,
Who’ll certainly revenge his sister’s wrong;
Into thy Spain a mighty army bring,
Tumble thee from thy throne a wretched thing,
And make it quite forgot thou e’er wert king.
King. I ne’er had pleasure with her till this night:
The viper finds she’s crush
ed, and fain would bite. —
Oh! were he here, and durst maintain that word,
I’d like an eagle seize the callow bird,
And gripe him till the dastard craven cried;
Then throw him panting by his sister’s side.
Queen. Alas! I faint and sink; my lord, your hand!
[To Don John.
My spirits fail, and I want strength to stand.
Don John. O jealousy!
A curse which none but he that bears it knows!
[Leads her to a chair.
So rich a treasure who would live to lose?
King. The poison works, Heaven grant there were enough!
She is so foul, she may be poison-proof.
Now my false fair one —
Queen. Tyrant, hence, begone!
This hour’s my last, and let it be my own.
Away, away! I would not leave the light
With such a hated object in my sight.
King. No, I will stay, and even thy prayers prevent;
I would not give thee leisure to repent;
But let thy sins all in one throng combine
To plague thy soul, as thou hast tortured mine.
Queen. Glut then your eyes, your tyrant-fury feed,
And triumph; but remember, when I’m dead,
Hereafter on your dying pillows you
May feel those tortures which you give me now.
Go on, your worst reproaches I can bear,
And with them all you shall not force a tear.
King. Thus, Austria, my lost freedom I obtain,
And once more shall appear myself again.
Love held me fast whilst, like a foolish boy,
I of the thing was fond because ’twas gay;
But now I’ve thrown the gaudy toy away.
D. of Eboli [Within]. Help! murder! help!
King. See, Austria, whence that cry.
Call up our guards; there may be danger nigh.
Enter Guards; then re-enter Duchess of Eboli in her night-dress, wounded and bleeding; Ruy-Gomez pursuing her.
D. of Eboli. Oh! guard me from that cruel murderer:
But ’tis in vain, the steel has gone too far.
Turn, wretched king, I’ve something to unfold;
Nor can I die till the sad secret’s told.
King. The woman’s mad; to some apartment by
Remove her, where she may grow tame and die. —
Fate came abroad to night, resolved to range:
I love a kind companion in revenge. [Hugs Ruy-Gomez.
D. of Eboli. If in your heart truth any favour wins,
If e’er you would repent of secret sins,
Hear me a word.
King. What wouldst thou say? Be brief.
D. of Eboli. Do what you can to save that precious life;
Try every art that may her death prevent:
You are abused, and she is innocent.
When I perceived my hopes of you were vain,
Led by my lust, I practised all my charms
To gain the prince, Don Carlos, to my arms;
But, there too crossed, I did the purpose change,
And pride made him my engine for revenge;
[To Ruy-Gomez.
Taught him to raise your growing jealousy.
Then my wild passion at this prince did fly,
[To Don John.
And that was done for which I now must die.
King. Ha! Gomez, speak, and quickly; is it so?
Ruy-Gom. I’m sorry you should doubt if’t be or no.
She, by whose lust my honour was betrayed,
Cannot want malice now to take my head;
And therefore does this penitence pretend.
D. of Eboli. O Austria! take away that ugly fiend:
He smiles and mocks me, waiting for my soul;
See how his glaring fiery eyeballs roll!
Ruy-Gom. Thus is her fancy tortured by her guilt:
But, since you’ll have my blood, let it be spilt.
King [To Ruy-Gomez]. No more! — [To D. of Eboli.] Speak on, I charge thee, by the rest
Thou hopest, the truth, and as thou shalt be blest.
D. of Eboli. As what I’ve said is so,
There may I find, where I must answer all,
What most I need, Heaven’s mercy on my soul! [Dies.
King. Heaven! she was sensible that she should die,
And durst not in the minute tell a lie.
Don John. His guilt’s too plain; see his wild staring eye.
By unconcern he would show innocence;
But hardened guilt ne’er wanted the pretence
Of great submission, when’t had no defence.
Thus, whilst of life you show this little care,
You seem not guiltless, but betray despair.
King. His life! What satisfaction can that give?
But oh! in doubt I must for ever live,
And lose my peace — yet I the truth will find;
I’ll rack him for’t. Go, in this minute bind
Him to the wheel —
Ruy-Gom. How have I this deserved,
Who only your commands obeyed and served?
What would you have me do?
King. I’d have thee tell
The truth: do, Gomez; all shall then be well.
Ruy-Gom. Alas! like you, sir, in a cloud I’m lost.
And can but tell you what I think, at most.
You set me as a spy upon the prince,
And I still brought the best intelligence
I could; till, finding him too much aware
Of me, I nearer measures took by her:
Which if I after a false copy drew,
’Tis I have been unfortunate as you.
King. And is this all thou hast for life to show?
Ruy-Gom. Dear sir, your pardon, it is all I know.
King. Then villain, I am damned as well as thou.
Heaven! where is now thy sleeping providence,
That took so little care of innocence?
O Austria, had I to thy truth inclined,
Had I been half so good as thou wert kind!
But I’m too tame; secure the traitor. Oh!
[Guards seize Ruy-Gomez.
Earth, open! to thy centre let me go!
And there for ever hide my impious head!
Thou fairest, purest creature Heaven e’er made,
Thy injured truth too late I’ve understood:
Yet live, and be immortal as thou’rt good.
Queen. Can you to think me innocent incline
On her bare word, and would not credit mine?
The poison’s very busy at my heart;
Methinks I see Death shake his threatening dart.
Why are you kind, and make it hard to die?
Persist, continue on the injury;
Call me still vile, incestuous, all that’s foul —
King. Oh, pity, pity my despairing soul!
Sink it not quite. Raise my physicians straight;
Hasten them quickly ere it be too late;
Propose rewards may set their skill at strife:
I’ll give my crown to him that saves her life.
Cursed dog! [To Ruy-Gomez.
Don John. Vile prostitute!
King. Revengeful fiend!
But I’ve forgotten half — to Carlos send;
Prevent what his despair may make him do.
Enter Henrietta.
Hen. O horror, horror! everlasting woe!
The prince, the prince!
King. Ha! speak.
Hen. He dies, he dies!
Within upon his couch he bleeding lies,
Just taken from a bath, his veins all cut,
From which the springing blood flows swiftly out.
He threatens death on all that shall oppose
His fate, to save that life which he will lose.
King. Dear Austria, hasten, all thy interest use;
> Tell him it is to friendship an offence,
And let him know his father’s penitence.
Beg him to live.
Ruy-Gom. Since you’ve decreed my death, know ‘twill be hard:
The bath by me was poisoned when prepared.
I owed him that for his late pride and scorn.
King. There never was so cursed a villain born.
But by revenge such pains he shall go through
As even religious cruelty ne’er knew.
Rack him! I’ll broil him, burn him by degrees,
Fresh torments for him every hour devise,
Till he curse Heaven, and then the caitiff dies.
Queen. My faithful Henrietta, art thou come
To wait thy unhappy mistress to her tomb?
I brought thee hither from thy parents young,
And now must leave thee to Heaven knows what wrong.
But Heaven to its protection will receive
Such goodness; let it then thy queen forgive!
Hen. How much I loved you, madam, none can tell;
For ’tis unspeakable, I loved so well.
A proof of it the world shall quickly find;
For, when you die, I’ll scorn to stay behind.
Enter Don Carlos, supported between two Attendants and bleeding.
Don John. See, sir, your son.
King. My son! But oh! how dare
I use that name, when this sad object’s near?
See, injured prince, who ’tis thy pardon craves,
No more thy father, but the worst of slaves:
Behold the tears that from these fountains flow.
Don Car. I come to take my farewell, ere I go
To that bright dwelling where there is no room
For blood, and where the cruel never come.
King. I know there is not, therefore must despair.
O Heaven! his cruelty I cannot bear. —
Dost thou not hear thy wretched father sue?
Don Car. My father! speak the words once more; is’t you?
And may I think the dear conversion true?
Oh that I could!
King. By Heaven thou must — it is!
Let me embrace and kiss thy trembling knees.
Why wilt thou die? no, live, my Carlos, live,
And all the wrongs that I have done forgive!
Don Car. Life was my curse, and given me sure in spite.
Oh! had I perished when I first saw light,
I never then these miseries had brought
On you, nor by you had been guilty thought.
Prop me: apace I feel my life decay.
The little time on earth I have to stay,
Grant I without offence may here bestow;
Pointing to the Queen.
You cannot certainly be jealous now.
King. Break, break, my heart! [Leads Don Carlos to the chair.
Don Car. You’ve thus more kindness shown