University of Virginia Library

SCENE FOURTH.

DONNA ISABELLA, DONNA LEONORA, DONNA ELVIRA, BLANCHE, DON CARLOS, DON MANRIQUE, DON LOPEZ.
D. CARLOS.
Behold the fruit of my obedience, Madam!
The fatal secret of my birth is known;
Your will expos'd me to this dire mischance.
My aged Father from my arms is torn,
Falsely accus'd, unjustly led to prison.

D. MANRIQUE.
Carlos! this Shepherd's claim disgraces you.
We think him one suborn'd to stain your honour;
He is to prison led for this injustice.

D. CARLOS.
I am this Shepherd's Son. He is no cheat,
No infamous impostor; though mean of blood,
He is not vile of soul. And I renounce
More willingly, the names of Count and Marquis,
Than a Son's sentiments of love and duty.
Nought can efface the sacred character
Of Nature's ties, within an honest breast.
I left my parents, I disclaim'd my name:
My soul for honour sigh'd, for glory panted,
E'en in that cottage where my fate had cast me.
Your courtly maxims warr'd against my hopes;
The road of Honour, and the course of Glory,
Were open but to Lords. I had no means
To rise, but to conceal my birth. I learn'd
To blush at what, in other courts, would be
My praise,—That in five years a peasant youth
Rose from the Ranks, distinguished by his Sword,
To be, though so contemn'd, what now I am.
(To the Queen.)
Madam! command that they should free my Father.
I claim your justice, though I stand degraded.
That I am known, I think disgrace enough,
To satisfy the hate of my proud scorners;
Let them not vilify my honest Parent.

D. MANRIQUE
(to the Queen).
Force this great heart still to preserve his glory;
Prevent him from attesting his own tale.
We cannot bear that this exalted Carlos,
Beneath whose arm the Moors so oft have trembled,
To whom this Kingdom so indebted stands,
Should, from his birth, receive a stain indelible.
A higher rank his godlike valour merits,
Than custom gives to such ignoble blood.
I now must own such custom is unwise,
Alike impolitic, unjust, and cruel.
The man, whose deeds merit a princely rank,
Though in a cottage born, that rank should grace.

D. LOPEZ.
Most true.—But as that custom is inveterate,
We must our conduct shape to the now exigence.
In our deceit deign, gracious Queen! to aid us.
The people love their errour, they all think
This peasant Shepherd a suborn'd impostor.
This errour authorize, in spite of Carlos.
In justice to his great exploits, defend
His Honour, and preserve his Rank and Glory.
Alvarez strives this Father to persuade
To shew his love, by now disowning Carlos;
Sustain this artifice our pity rais'd.

D. CARLOS.
How am I fallen! If I excite your pity!—
Retain your scorn, resume your enmity!
Now my ill fate your envy gratifies,
It soothes your pride to pity my disgrace.
But ostentatious shew is this your virtue,
Which may some ambush haply plan for mine.
The glory Heaven has will'd that I should reap,
Has made my name deserving of remembrance.
My Honours, Count! would be too dearly purchas'd,
If, by an act of baseness, I retain'd them.
Though I conceal'd my birth, because 'twas mean,
Yet know, proud Lords! I'll not disown my Father;
Nor criminate him, e'en to guard my rank,
And shield my pride, from your contemptuous scorn.

D. MANRIQUE.
Noblest of minds!—Yield to those rigid maxims,
Which custom has establish'd firm as laws:
Preserve your honour, and disown your birth.

D. CARLOS.
Since known to you, I care not, Lords! who knows it.
Who tells the meanness of my birth, must tell,
That Sancho, a poor, honest peasant's Son,
From bondage sav'd two Counts: and lately held
In tribulation two illustrious rivals
On their Queen's choice. Sancho, a peasant's Son,
Holds in his hand the power to seat a Sovereign
Upon that Throne, his arm has propp'd, his sword
Has twice redeem'd.—Spite of himself, this Sancho,
Though but a shepherd's Son, was thought a Prince.
Hence learn what mind and courage can achieve,
And contemplate the building they have rear'd.—
That want of birth must raze this goodly fabric,
Is an unwholesome maxim in the state,
Which saps its vigour, and enslaves its people.
Virtue or in the Peasant or the Prince,
Should meet the same impartial, just reward.
Yet, notwithstanding this unjust disgrace,
All noble minds will value me the more,
When they reflect, how much from nothing, (after
High Heaven's example) my bold heart has made.

D. LOPEZ.
This generous pride proclaims a nobler birth;
It testifies against your own report;
And wraps again, in mystery's dark veil,
What we thought fully clear'd. No, valiant Carlos!
A shepherd's son such sentiments ne'er spoke.
Your haughty soul is so sublimely form'd,
That I believe the errour we have spread,
Rather than your account. And, I maintain,
That you are not the Son of shepherd Nuna.

D. CARLOS.
All-powerful instinct witnesses I am:
Else would my filial love curb pride, and shame.
Which like a whirlwind rage within my soul.

D. MANRIQUE.
(To the Queen.)

D. ISABELLA.
I know not which, my Lords! I most admire,
His noble nature or your generous minds,
Thus rendering honour to illustrious worth.
(To Carlos.)
And you, miraculous Hero! whose great soul
Disdains to take advantage of the errour
Of a whole people, who themselves deceive;
Say! if amidst the griefs, which you experience,
I can in aught console your mind, or mitigate
That destiny, your spirit nobly braves?
I, in detaining, have disgrace brought on you;—
Through my whole life, I shall regret your fate;
And wish your birth had equall'd your high merit,
That I no bounds might set to its reward.

D. CARLOS.
I bow resign'd to what just Heaven ordains;
But consolation I can never know;—
Yet, it relieves my fate, that you lament it.—

D. ISABELLA.

D. CARLOS.
I thank you, Madam!—but—I must forego them.—
(D. Carlos takes his sword from his belt, and, kneeling, presents it to the Queen.)
This from your Royal Brother I receiv'd,—
I now resign it for some worthier hand.—

D. ISABELLA.
Oh! pain me not to this extreme degree—
Carlos!!—retain your sword!—for my sake use it—

D. CARLOS
(rising, and half-drawing the sword).
With transport, Madam!—for your sake I'll use it.

(Going.)
D. ISABELLA.
Stay, Carlos! stay—I understand your purpose;—
'Tis self-destruction—

D. ELVIRA.
O Carlos! let me plead!—

D. LEONORA.
Why art thou not my Son! For pity's sake!—

D. CARLOS
(with assumed composure).
What cause for this alarm?—these trembling fears?
Madam! I must retire,—I, to your goodness,
My Father's safety earnestly commend.

D. MANRIQUE.
On one condition only, grant it, Queen!
(To Carlos.)
Swear no attempt to make against your life.

D. ISABELLA.
I value much thy life.—Oh! be entreated!
Summon thy Virtue, and control despair;
Above all praise remain a bright example,
Subdue thyself, and be the first of Heroes.
Carlos! I pray thee,—give me thy word to live!— (After a pause.)

Plant not eternal thorns within that heart,
Which loves thy virtues, and esteems thy valour;
Add to the Hero's fame the Saint's submission;
And patient bear the present torturing hour.
Thy death would darkly cloud my future days;
And ev'ry hour embitter with regret.
O, hapless Carlos! promise me to live!—

D. CARLOS.
Till my heart breaks—Here let the cordage crack!—