No, it is gone too far to be recall'd,

And stedfastness will make the act extoll'd.

Enter EBOLI, in a Night-Gown.

Who? Eboli?

Eboli. My lord.

King.

Is the deed done?

Eboli. "Tis, and the queen to seek repose is gone. King. Can she expect it, who allow'd me none? No, Eboli; her dreams must be as full

Of horror, and as hellish as her soul.

Does she believe the prince has freedom gain'd?
Eboli. She does.

King.

How were the tidings entertain❜d? Eboli. O'er all her face young wand'ring blushes were, Such as speak hopes too weak to conquer fear:

But when confirm'd, no lover e'er so kind;

She clasp'd me fast, caress'd, and call'd me friend.
Which opportunity I took, to give

The poison; and till day she cannot live.

King. Quickly then to her; say that Carlos here Waits to confirm his happiness with her. Go; that my vengeance I may finish quite: "Twould be imperfect, should I lose the sight. But to contrive that I may not be known, And she may still mistake me for my son, Remove all light but that which may suffice To let her see me scorn her when she dies.

Eboli. You'll find her all in rueful sables clad,
With one dim lamp that yields imperfect light,
Such as in vaults assist the ghastly shade,

Where wretched widows come to weep at night.
Thus she resolves to die, or living mourn,
Till Carlos shall with liberty return.

King. Oh stedfast sin! incorrigible lust!
Not damn'd! it is impossible; she must.
How do I long to see her in her pains,
The pois'nous sulphur rolling thro' her veins?

[Exit.

Enter Don JOHN and Attendants.

Who's there?

Don John.

my brother?

Yes, sir, and your friend.

What can your presence here so late intend?

King. Oh, Austria, fate's at work; a deed's in hand Will put thy youthful courage to a stand.

Survey me; do I look as heretofore?

Don John. You look like king of Spain, and lord of pow'r:

Like one who still seeks glory on the wing:

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 doom'd 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 extinguish'd 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 guess'd 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 th' 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 wrong'd you, and abus'd your ears,
Possess'd 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 heav'n,
Where I have nought but toils and torment met,
And never comfort yet to man was giv'n.

But thou shalt see how my revenge I'll treat.

The SCENE draws, and discovers the Queen alone in
Mourning on her Couch, with a lamp by her.

Look where she sits, as quiet and serene,
As if she never had a thought of sin;

[Ironically.

In mourning, her wrong'd innocence to shew:
She has sworn't so oft, that she believes it true..
O'erwhelm'd 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,