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Scene V.
[The Throne-Room. The King is seen standing near the throne, which he does not ascend, Gonzaga attending.]Gonzaga
[After a pause. He speaks somewhat lightly.]
The affair no doubt is angry and perplexed.
More deeply difficult than any I
Have disentangled. But no problem yet,
No situation howsoe'er confused,
Hath baffled me; and with the sagest heads,
The wariest brains, my lot hath been to fight.
Doubt not, Your Majesty, that he who once
Outthought and outdid scheming Angelo,
Shall bring to wisdom fancy of a boy.
168
No fancy, it hath struck too deep, I fear.
Gonzaga
Nothing in youth strikes deep; or not so deep,
But it can be persuaded or outplucked.
Leave then the boy to me. I have dispatched
On all sides messengers to find him out
And bring him to a private conference
Forthwith; he hath not gone far in so short time.
Leave him to me and be yourself unseen.
You by, I cannot undertake to speak
That which I have already in my mind.
And I have here a list of those most near,
Both to your throne and heart; to call them in
And at the fitting moment speak to them.
But be not seen; each moment he may come.
Such was the summons that he must obey.
The King
I'll go apart; God aid your conference.
[Exit the King. Meanwhile a courier has entered, with lantern, who stands silent.]
169
[Seeing Courier]
Well, have you found the Prince? When will he come?
First Courier
My lord, where'er you sent me I have searched
But found no sign.
Gonzaga
Nor heard you any news?
First Courier
From no one could I glean a certain word.
[A second courier appears on the other side.]
Gonzaga
[To First Courier]
Well, go again! Don Carlos must be found.
[Exit First Courier. Gonzaga turns on the second.]
And you?
170
All o'er the palace garden dark
I sought and left no cranny unexplored.
Night makes more difficult our task; the eye
Deceives, and we must touch to be assured.
[A third courier comes in behind him.]
Gonzaga
You there who come behind, you have some clue?
Third Courier
None, none, my lord, I fear the Prince is gone.
Gonzaga
Gone whither?
Third Courier
That I cannot tell. But we
Lose time to look for him still hereabout.
171
Back, both of you! Although all night you spend.
You'll be well paid; the King for tidings chafes.
[Exeunt Second and Third Couriers. Gonzaga, impatiently turning from them, encounters an old man, entering slowly on the opposite side, holding his left hand behind him.]
Gonzaga
Ah! old Fernando! well from you I knew
I would have certain tidings at the last.
Is the Prince on his way?
Fernando
Ay! But not hither.
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Darkly you speak. And why behind you held
Your left hand, as to hide some precious thing?
A jewel is it?
Fernando
'Tis a jewelled thing.
Gonzaga
What then?
Fernando
[Holding a dagger blood-stained.]
A blade, and dyed with twofold blood.
Gonzaga
[Starts back in horror.]
This is his answer eloquent to me!
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This blood I know; 'tis that of my young lord;
For I have bound up many a careless wound
He has incurred; the other blood was strange.
But I have found from whom the stream hath flowed.
Gonzaga
Say then what other blood with his is mixed.
Fernando
I came upon two lying motionless
In a dark covert; and the moon was full.
They lay in no embrace, not even hand
In hand was clasped, nor to each other turned;
As though they feared each other more than death,
And yet they looked a lover and his love.
The Prince I knew, and by his side the blade.
The other—
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But one other there could lie.
Give me the knife! You still composure keep,
And summon all of those here written down,
That they attend forthwith in the outer room
The pleasure of the King. Take this and go.
[Exit Fernando with papers. Gonzaga stands gazing on the dagger held before him. Silently the King enters from behind the throne. There is a pause.]
The King
That blade I gave to Carlos.
Gonzaga
He hath used it.
[The King for a time preserves a deadly calm.]
The King
This is the life-blood of my only son.
175
O King!
The King
And she—
Gonzaga
She too hath dyed the steel.
The King
Strange that I cannot cry aloud, nor weep!
Give me the dagger! It is doubly mine;
This horror muffles me as in a dream,
And all unreal is this encrusted toy.
[Suddenly, with a loud cry, he reels backward, caught in Gonzaga's arms.]
My children!
[A pause; slowly he recovers himself.]
Two I had; a boy and girl,
I with a far-off kiss have slain them both.
If they can die so young, then I so old
Will follow them down to an equal tomb,
I, the grand cause, and this at least I owe,
My place is with them.
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If they can die so young, then I so old
Will follow them down to an equal tomb,
I, the grand cause, and this at least I owe,
My place is with them.
Gonzaga
[pointing to the throne]
No, thy place is there,
With suicide an opiate refused,
And madness a rejected luxury.
Thy life is not thy own; thou canst not now
Abdicate, leaving on the throne a ghost;
Whate'er it cost, thou must resume thy reign.
And I have news of the advancing Moors,
Granada is retaken; in the hour
Of public peril crush the private grief;
The nobles, sharers of our inner mind,
I have convened already; they await
A word to gather round thee as of old.
[Gonzaga gives a sign, and the higher nobles of the court enter the throne-room in silence.]
177
Gentlemen, but a little while ago
My abdication I declared and made
My son successor to this arduous chair.
That son, my son, is dead and lies self-slain
In the dark garden; through my fault he died.
When I was young I took too little heed,
And in rash passion I begot a child,
A daughter whom I brought into the court.
This was a young man's folly natural,
But see to what a doom those kisses led.
My son,—if my voice break a little, yet
Have patience—my dear son this daughter loved,
Unknowing.
[A murmur of astonishment amid the
court, who yet preserve a respectful
silence.]
My abdication I declared and made
My son successor to this arduous chair.
That son, my son, is dead and lies self-slain
In the dark garden; through my fault he died.
When I was young I took too little heed,
And in rash passion I begot a child,
A daughter whom I brought into the court.
This was a young man's folly natural,
But see to what a doom those kisses led.
My son,—if my voice break a little, yet
Have patience—my dear son this daughter loved,
Unknowing.
They two secretly would meet.
My sin was but rehearsal of their sin,
A sad enacting of the tragic scene.
With a new life he filled her; learning then
That they inherited a common blood.
They saw but one path, and that path they took,
And lie together in some grand embrace,
Not now forbidden. When this doom I heard,
I too resolved me on a similar grave.
But now I see how easy it is to die,
How hard to live. This throne I re-ascend.
[He mounts the steps of the throne
alone, unaided.]
My sin was but rehearsal of their sin,
A sad enacting of the tragic scene.
With a new life he filled her; learning then
That they inherited a common blood.
178
And lie together in some grand embrace,
Not now forbidden. When this doom I heard,
I too resolved me on a similar grave.
But now I see how easy it is to die,
How hard to live. This throne I re-ascend.
Bring me again the crown, anoint me fresh
With oil; a second coronation this.
[The crown is again placed on his
head, he is anointed with oil, in
silence and with no triumphant
cry.]
With oil; a second coronation this.
Here I resume my reign without a hope;
My life is ashen, as this ashen dawn
That comes upon these windows colourless;
It is as grey, it is as cold, as faint.
Yet here I take it up. I had supposed
That double death were punishment enough;
Sequel how solemn to so frail an hour.
But God, unsatisfied, must still inflict
This grander chastisement, that I must reign,
And unforgetting seem that I forget,
Losing dead children in a living task.
I have laid bare my soul before you all,
Nothing have I concealed and nothing slurred.
Most humbly now I re-ascend the throne.
[The whole of the court fall on their
knees in a silence of supplication.
There is a pause.]
My life is ashen, as this ashen dawn
That comes upon these windows colourless;
It is as grey, it is as cold, as faint.
Yet here I take it up. I had supposed
That double death were punishment enough;
Sequel how solemn to so frail an hour.
But God, unsatisfied, must still inflict
179
And unforgetting seem that I forget,
Losing dead children in a living task.
I have laid bare my soul before you all,
Nothing have I concealed and nothing slurred.
Most humbly now I re-ascend the throne.
Hark! In the bleakness a half-note of birds.
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