Don Carlos (play) Read online

  Don Carlos (play)

  Friedrich Schiller

  Schiller. Don Carlos (play)

  This eBook was produced by Tapio Riikonen and David Widger, [email protected]

  DON CARLOS.

  By Frederich Schiller

  DRAMATIS PERSONAE.

  PHILIP THE SECOND, King of Spain.

  DON CARLOS, Prince, Son of Philip.

  ALEXANDER FARNESE, Prince of Parma.

  MARQUIS DE POSA.

  DUKE OF ALVA.

  Grandees of Spain:

  COUNT LERMA, Colonel of the Body Guard,

  DUKE OF FERIA, Knight of the Golden Fleece,

  DUKE OF MEDINA SIDONIA, Admiral,

  DON RAIMOND DE TAXIS, Postmaster-General,

  DOMINGO, Confessor to the King.

  GRAND INQUISITOR of Spain.

  PRIOR of a Carthusian Convent.

  PAGE of the Queen.

  DON LOUIS MERCADO, Physician to the Queen.

  ELIZABETH DE VALOIS, Queen of Spain.

  INFANTA CLARA FARNESE, a Child three years of age.

  DUCHESS D'OLIVAREZ, Principal Attendant on the Queen.

  Ladies Attendant on the Queen:

  MARCHIONESS DE MONDECAR,

  PRINCESS EBOLI,

  COUNTESS FUENTES,

  Several Ladies, Nobles, Pages, Officers of the Body-Guard,

  and mute Characters.

  ACT I.

  SCENE I.

  The Royal Gardens in Aranjuez.

  CARLOS and DOMINGO.

  DOMINGO.

  Our pleasant sojourn in Aranjuez

  Is over now, and yet your highness quits

  These joyous scenes no happier than before.

  Our visit hath been fruitless. Oh, my prince,

  Break this mysterious and gloomy silence!

  Open your heart to your own father's heart!

  A monarch never can too dearly buy

  The peace of his own son-his only son.

  [CARLOS looks on the ground in silence.

  Is there one dearest wish that bounteous Heaven

  Hath e'er withheld from her most favored child?

  I stood beside, when in Toledo's walls

  The lofty Charles received his vassals' homage,

  When conquered princes thronged to kiss his hand,

  And there at once six mighty kingdoms fell

  In fealty at his feet: I stood and marked

  The young, proud blood mount to his glowing cheek,

  I saw his bosom swell with high resolves,

  His eye, all radiant with triumphant pride,

  Flash through the assembled throng; and that same eye

  Confessed, "Now am I wholly satisfied!"

  [CARLOS turns away.

  This silent sorrow, which for eight long moons

  Hath hung its shadows, prince, upon your brow-

  The mystery of the court, the nation's grief-

  Hath cost your father many a sleepless night,

  And many a tear of anguish to your mother.

  CARLOS (turning hastily round).

  My mother! Grant, O heaven, I may forget

  How she became my mother!

  DOMINGO.

  Gracious prince!

  CARLOS (passing his hands thoughtfully over his brow).

  Alas! alas! a fruitful source of woe

  Have mothers been to me. My youngest act,

  When first these eyes beheld the light of day,

  Destroyed a mother.

  DOMINGO.

  Is it possible

  That this reproach disturbs your conscience, prince?

  CARLOS.

  And my new mother! Hath she not already

  Cost me my father's heart? Scarce loved at best.

  My claim to some small favor lay in this-

  I was his only child! 'Tis over! She

  Hath blest him with a daughter-and who knows

  What slumbering ills the future hath in store?

  DOMINGO.

  You jest, my prince. All Spain adores its queen.

  Shall it be thought that you, of all the world,

  Alone should view her with the eyes of hate-

  Gaze on her charms, and yet be coldly wise?

  How, prince? The loveliest lady of her time,

  A queen withal, and once your own betrothed?

  No, no, impossible-it cannot be!

  Where all men love, you surely cannot hate.

  Carlos could never so belie himself.

  I prithee, prince, take heed she do not learn

  That she hath lost her son's regard. The news

  Would pain her deeply.

  CARLOS. Ay, sir! think you so?

  DOMINGO.

  Your highness doubtless will remember how,

  At the late tournament in Saragossa,

  A lance's splinter struck our gracious sire.

  The queen, attended by her ladies, sat

  High in the centre gallery of the palace,

  And looked upon the fight. A cry arose,

  "The king! he bleeds!" Soon through the general din,

  A rising murmur strikes upon her ear.

  "The prince-the prince!" she cries, and forward rushed,

  As though to leap down from the balcony,

  When a voice answered, "No, the king himself!"

  "Then send for his physicians!" she replied,

  And straight regained her former self-composure.

  [After a short pause.

  But you seem wrapped in thought?

  CARLOS. In wonder, sir,

  That the king's merry confessor should own

  So rare a skill in the romancer's art.

  [Austerely.

  Yet have I heard it said that those

  Who watch men's looks and carry tales about,

  Have done more mischief in this world of ours

  Than the assassin's knife, or poisoned bowl.

  Your labor, Sir, hath been but ill-bestowed;

  Would you win thanks, go seek them of the king.

  DOMINGO.

  This caution, prince, is wise. Be circumspect

  With men-but not with every man alike.

  Repel not friends and hypocrites together;

  I mean you well, believe me!

  CARLOS. Say you so?

  Let not my father mark it, then, or else

  Farewell your hopes forever of the purple.

  DOMINGO (starts).

  CARLOS.

  How!

  CARLOS. Even so! Hath he not promised you

  The earliest purple in the gift of Spain?

  DOMINGO.

  You mock me, prince!

  CARLOS. Nay! Heaven forefend, that I

  Should mock that awful man whose fateful lips

  Can doom my father or to heaven or hell!

  DOMINGO.

  I dare not, prince, presume to penetrate

  The sacred mystery of your secret grief,

  Yet I implore your highness to remember

  That, for a conscience ill at ease, the church

  Hath opened an asylum, of which kings

  Hold not the key-where even crimes are purged

  Beneath the holy sacramental seal.

  You know my meaning, prince-I've said enough.

  CARLOS.

  No! be it, never said, I tempted so

  The keeper of that seal.

  DOMINGO.

  Prince, this mistrust-

  You wrong the most devoted of your servants.

  CARLOS.

  Then give me up at once without a thought

  Thou art a holy man-the world knows that-

  But, to speak plain, too zealous far for me.

  The road to Peter's chair is long and rough,r />
  And too much knowledge might encumber you.

  Go, tell this to the king, who sent thee hither!

  DOMINGO.

  Who sent me hither?

  CARLOS. Ay! Those were my words.

  Too well-too well, I know, that I'm betrayed,

  Slandered on every hand-that at this court

  A hundred eyes are hired to watch my steps.

  I know, that royal Philip to his slaves

  Hath sold his only son, and every wretch,

  Who takes account of each half-uttered word,

  Receives such princely guerdon as was ne'er

  Bestowed on deeds of honor, Oh, I know

  But hush!-no more of that! My heart will else

  O'erflow and I've already said too much.

  DOMINGO.

  The king is minded, ere the set of sun,

  To reach Madrid: I see the court is mustering.

  Have I permission, prince?

  CARLOS. I'll follow straight.

  [Exit DOMINGO.

  CARLOS (after a short silence).

  O wretched Philip! wretched as thy son!

  Soon shall thy bosom bleed at every pore,

  Torn by suspicion's poisonous serpent fang.

  Thy fell sagacity full soon shall pierce

  The fatal secret it is bent to know,

  And thou wilt madden, when it breaks upon thee!

  SCENE II.

  CARLOS, MARQUIS OF POSA.

  CARLOS.

  Lo! Who comes here? 'Tis he! O ye kind heavens,

  My Roderigo!

  MARQUIS. Carlos!

  CARLOS. Can it be?

  And is it truly thou? O yes, it is!

  I press thee to my bosom, and I feel

  Thy throbbing heart beat wildly 'gainst mine own.

  And now all's well again. In this embrace

  My sick, sad heart is comforted. I hang

  Upon my Roderigo's neck!

  MARQUIS. Thy heart!

  Thy sick sad heart! And what is well again

  What needeth to be well? Thy words amaze me.

  CARLOS.

  What brings thee back so suddenly from Brussels?

  Whom must I thank for this most glad surprise?

  And dare I ask? Whom should I thank but thee,

  Thou gracious and all bounteous Providence?

  Forgive me, heaven! if joy hath crazed my brain.

  Thou knewest no angel watched at Carlos' side,

  And sent me this! And yet I ask who sent him.

  MARQUIS.

  Pardon, dear prince, if I can only meet

  With wonder these tumultuous ecstacies.

  Not thus I looked to find Don Philip's son.

  A hectic red burns on your pallid cheek,

  And your lips quiver with a feverish heat.

  What must I think, dear prince? No more I see

  The youth of lion heart, to whom I come

  The envoy of a brave and suffering people.

  For now I stand not here as Roderigo-

  Not as the playmate of the stripling Carlos-

  But, as the deputy of all mankind,

  I clasp thee thus:-'tis Flanders that clings here

  Around thy neck, appealing with my tears

  To thee for succor in her bitter need.

  This land is lost, this land so dear to thee,

  If Alva, bigotry's relentless tool,

  Advance on Brussels with his Spanish laws.

  This noble country's last faint hope depends

  On thee, loved scion of imperial Charles!

  And, should thy noble heart forget to beat

  In human nature's cause, Flanders is lost!

  CARLOS.

  Then it is lost.

  MARQUIS.

  What do I hear? Alas!

  CARLOS.

  Thou speakest of times that long have passed away.

  I, too, have had my visions of a Carlos,

  Whose cheek would fire at freedom's glorious name,

  But he, alas! has long been in his grave.

  He, thou seest here, no longer is that Carlos,

  Who took his leave of thee in Alcala,

  Who in the fervor of a youthful heart,

  Resolved, at some no distant time, to wake

  The golden age in Spain! Oh, the conceit,

  Though but a child's, was yet divinely fair!

  Those dreams are past!

  MARQUIS.

  Said you, those dreams, my prince!

  And were they only dreams?

  CARLOS.

  Oh, let me weep,

  Upon thy bosom weep these burning tears,

  My only friend! Not one have I-not one-

  In the wide circuit of this earth,-not one

  Far as the sceptre of my sire extends,

  Far as the navies bear the flag of Spain,

  There is no spot-none-none, where I dare yield

  An outlet to my tears, save only this.

  I charge thee, Roderigo! Oh, by all

  The hopes we both do entertain of heaven,

  Cast me not off from thee, my friend, my friend!

  [POSA bends over him in silent emotion.

  Look on me, Posa, as an orphan child,

  Found near the throne, and nurtured by thy love.

  Indeed, I know not what a father is.

  I am a monarch's son. Oh, were it so,

  As my heart tells me that it surely is,

  That thou from millions hast been chosen out

  To comprehend my being; if it be true,

  That all-creating nature has designed

  In me to reproduce a Roderigo,

  And on the morning of our life attuned

  Our souls' soft concords to the selfsame key;

  If one poor tear, which gives my heart relief,

  To thee were dearer than my father's favor--

  MARQUIS.

  Oh, it is dearer far than all the world!

  CARLOS.

  I'm fallen so low, have grown so poor withal,

  I must recall to thee our childhood's years,-

  Must ask thee payment of a debt incurred

  When thou and I were scarce to boyhood grown.

  Dost thou remember, how we grew together,

  Two daring youths, like brothers, side by side?

  I had no sorrow but to see myself

  Eclipsed by thy bright genius. So I vowed,

  Since I might never cope with thee in power,

  That I would love thee with excess of love.

  Then with a thousand shows of tenderness,

  And warm affection, I besieged thy heart,

  Which cold and proudly still repulsed them all.

  Oft have I stood, and-yet thou sawest it never

  Hot bitter tear-drops brimming in mine eyes,

  When I have marked thee, passing me unheeded,

  Fold to thy bosom youths of humbler birth.

  "Why only these?" in anguish, once I asked-

  "Am I not kind and good to thee as they?"

  But dropping on thy knees, thine answer came,

  With an unloving look of cold reserve,

  "This is my duty to the monarch's son!"

  MARQUIS.

  Oh, spare me, dearest prince, nor now recall

  Those boyish acts that make me blush for shame.

  CARLOS.

  I did not merit such disdain from thee-

  You might despise me, crush my heart, but never

  Alter my love. Three times didst thou repulse

  The prince, and thrice he came to thee again,

  To beg thy love, and force on thee his own.

  At length chance wrought what Carlos never could.

  Once we were playing, when thy shuttlecock

  Glanced off and struck my aunt, Bohemia's queen,

  Full in the face! She thought 'twas with intent,

  And all in tears complained unto the king.

  The palace youth were summoned on the spo
t,

  And charged to name the culprit. High in wrath

  The king vowed vengeance for the deed: "Although

  It were his son, yet still should he be made

  A dread example!" I looked around and marked

  Thee stand aloof, all trembling with dismay.

  Straight I stepped forth; before the royal feet

  I flung myself, and cried, "'Twas I who did it;

  Now let thine anger fall upon thy son!"

  MARQUIS.

  Ah, wherefore, prince, remind me?

  CARLOS.

  Hear me further!

  Before the face of the assembled court,

  That stood, all pale with pity, round about,

  Thy Carlos was tied up, whipped like a slave;

  I looked on thee, and wept not. Blow rained on blow;

  I gnashed my teeth with pain, yet wept I not!

  My royal blood streamed 'neath the pitiless lash;

  I looked on thee, and wept not. Then you came,

  And fell half-choked with sobs before my feet:

  "Carlos," you cried, "my pride is overcome;

  I will repay thee when thou art a king."

  MARQUIS (stretching forth his hand to CARLOS).

  Carlos, I'll keep my word; my boyhood's vow