University of Virginia Library

SCENE SECOND.

DONNA ISABELLA, DON CARLOS.
D. ISABELLA.
Marquis! Castile has by your arm been sav'd:
Its gratitude I till this Day reserv'd,
To make its favours more conspicuous shine,
Granted in full assembly of my States.
Much has it griev'd me, when I mean'd reward,
But to stand forth the champion of your worth:
And, ere my purpose to yourself was known,
To have those honours, to your merit due,
Extorted as an act of justice from me;
As if I wanted soul, in virtue's cause,
Freely to pay, where I indebted stood,
For services almost beyond reward.—
Yet, whilst I own no recompense can reach them,
I trust that I have shown I prize your virtues.
Spite of that envy which pursues your merit,
I, unsolicited, have rais'd your fortune:
Yet, if not equal to your just ambition,
If other recompense you hop'd, or wish for,
Speak! to your own content I will oblige you.

D. CARLOS.
My Queen's exalted spirit has bestow'd
Such high, such full-blown honours, as my soul
Dar'd not in thought conceive: far less expect.
Troubled, amaz'd, confus'd, o'erwhelm'd, with bounty,
Let her not think, I have one wish ungratify'd.

D. ISABELLA.
Yet, when above your hopes I raise your fortune,
Grace and distinguish you with all my favour,
Lean on your judgment, with a sister's confidence,
You give me, Marquis! reason for complaint.

D. CARLOS.
How, Madam! have I sinn'd?

D. ISABELLA.
Your sword is rais'd
Against the State's repose, and against mine.
The strongest pillars of the State, are Manrique,
Lopez and Alvarez; in them you undermine it;
In them you seek to shed its purest blood.
Think to what height my people prize these Counts,
Since worthy, each is deem'd, to share my Throne.

D. CARLOS.
Madam!—this blame—

D. ISABELLA.
My Lord! when thus I censure you,
And to yourself, whate'er complaint I make,
Such frankness tells in what esteem I hold you;
I would prevent you from incurring blame;
Guarding your honour thus, I mean you favour.—
Your pride, against the Counts; has arm'd your vengeance;
There was no need, my Lord! to draw your sword;
I had aveng'd the insult you sustain'd,
Nor did I leave your triumph incomplete,
When I deputed you to give my diadem.
I made you the Counts' Judge, but not their foe;
Bidding the sword decide, you much mistake me.

D. CARLOS.
Then has my judgment, not my duty err'd:
Only my courage do the Counts allow me;
Therefore in that I humbly put my trust,
To prove who worthiest—

D. ISABELLA
(interrupting him).
Did you then hope,
If o'er all Three your prowess gave you 'vantage,
It would be said, chusing Castile a King,
The State could find none to compare with you?—
If thus presumptuous, and thus vain, I thought you—

(Stops short.)
D. CARLOS
(kneeling, after a moment's pause).
Oh! spare the injurious accusation, Madam!—
If you repent your favours, Gracious Queen!
My ruin is no difficult achievement.
Yet do not charge me with unthought-of crimes;
Nor arm your anger with unjust suspicions.
(The Queen signs to him to rise.)
I love you, Queen! but with a flame as pure,
As from the hallow'd sacrifice ascends:
As we love honour, virtue, Heaven itself.—
And if the matchless lustre of my Sovereign
Dazzles a moment my enchanted soul,
Sudden it back returns, and downcast shrinks
Into itself. Ambitious sighs, vain hopes,
And criminal desires, I never breath'd.

D. ISABELLA.
'Tis well:—I find myself mistaking, Carlos!

D. CARLOS.
I, Madam; only as a Queen can love you.
For, should unhallow'd passion, rise within
My guilty breast, should you (O, pardon, Princess!
The impious thought) should you, so far forget
Your sacred self, and what you owe your rank,
As to partake the passion you inspir'd,
And suffer me to breathe my vows before you;
If, by some fatal fascination curs'd,
Your sensibility should so degrade you,
As to descend, e'en from your Throne, to me,
Know my esteem would instantly decrease;
And my love, rais'd on that, would soon expire.

D. ISABELLA.
Marquis! your thoughts are worthy a great soul.

D. CARLOS.
Your glory, Madam! is my heart's first object.
In combating the Counts I have no wish,
But to make known him, who deserves you most.
Ill should I answer your high confidence,
If only on my judgment I depended,
To chuse your Spouse and partner of your Throne.—
All-seeing power! direct the sword of him,
Who best deserves her, through my ready heart!

D. ISABELLA.
Carlos! forbear; nor interest Heaven itself,
Against my peace!—Why must the Sword decide?—
—Blushing with shame, at weakness unsubdu'd,
I own I love one of the purpos'd combatants.
Yet should I not have nam'd whom I prefer;
For though I love, my Country's good outweighs
My tenderest thoughts, my heart foregoes its choice,
And seeks the Hero who deserves to reign;
And by my subjects' will be most approv'd.
After Don Manrique's most opprobrious insolence,
Fearing my partial heart might sway my judgment,
To yours I trusted, and consign'd my Crown:
Not thinking you would bid the sword decide,
And harrass, with new woes, my wounded peace.
Carlos! respect his life whom I esteem:
Reflect how hard his fate to lose a Throne.
Respect the sufferings of my sorrowing soul,
Torn, for my People's good, from him I love;
Let me not have to mourn his hapless death,
With poignant anguish, never-ending tears.

D. CARLOS.
O Queen! I would not dare to wrest your confidence,
Guessing the secret which your scruples veil;
Nor solve the mystery hidden beneath your words.
Yet hear your faithful Servant, gracious Princess!
Trust me, such equal heroes are these Counts,
On your heart's choice you safely may rely.—
Why then reject, with cruel heroism,
The good which Heaven has plac'd within your reach?
Let not the thirst of glory now deceive you;
It soon will pall; and to vacuity
Will leave your heart, or else a prey to grief.
Did virtue claim the purpos'd sacrifice,
That motive, in full force, would constant last,
And lenient sooth at once, and heal your mind.
O! dread the agony of hopeless passion!
It steeps the warrior's manly cheek in tears,
And makes him joyless, though with laurels grac'd.
Brave not this ceaseless torment of the soul:
It is the baleful poison of sweet peace,
No balm can medicate, no time assuage;
To which, night brings no sleep, nor day-spring joy.
—O Heaven! instruct me in which happy lover,
I may revere my gracious, royal Mistress,
That by an easy, and a sudden victory—

D. ISABELLA.
It must not be.—If through respect for me,
One of the Three you spare, you give the prize;
You make me Judge.—I dare not, must not chuse.—
You urge me, Carlos! to the brink of fate;—
You add fresh conflicts to an o'ercharg'd heart:—
Your eager valour hazards all my peace,
Heedless you pierce my heart with wounds immedicable—
(Turns from D. Carlos to hide her emotion.)
I would avoid discussion on this subject—
—Though, as a Queen, I might forbid these combats,
I will not wound your honour, nor the Counts;
The Lists shall be prepar'd, the challenge held:
Who of the Three is first to try his fortune?

D. CARLOS
(observing the Queen).
Alvarez, Madam!

D. ISABELLA.
He for another sighs!

D. CARLOS.
Yet He alone the glorious prize contests.

D. ISABELLA.
Gallant Alvarez! first, though thou lov'st me not?
To-morrow shall his courage be display'd.

D. CARLOS.
This day, the challenge of Alvarez names.

D. ISABELLA.
If I consent not, what avails his challenge?
On your allegiance be it then deferr'd.
Carlos adieu!—Respect my prohibition!