Has almost lost its sense; yet, on the ear Of him who thought to die unmourn'd, 'twill fall Clem. O, thou canst never bear these mournful offices! So blithe, so merry once! Will not the sight Of frenzied agonies unfix thy reason, Or the dumb woe congeal thee? Ion. No, Clemanthe: They are the patient sorrows that touch nearest ! Th' unstricken child, and so embraceless die, Another lot falls on me. Clem. Thou wilt leave us! I read it plainly in thy alter'd mien : Is it forever? Ion. That is with the gods! That to the humbleness of one like me The haughty King may listen. Clem. To the palace! Know'st thou the peril, nay, the certain issue That waits thee? Death! the tyrant has decreed it, To keep that oath: for, hated as he is, Ion. I know all : But they who call me to the work can shield me, Clem. Then the sword Falls on thy neck! O Gods! to think that thou, Who in the plenitude of youthful life Art now before me, ere the Sun decline, Perhaps in one short hour, shalt lie cold, cold, To speak, smile, bless no more! Thou shalt not go! Yields to the will of Heaven. Clem. And he can do this! I shall not bear his presence if thou fall'st By his consent; so shall I be alone. Ion. Phocion will soon return, and juster thoughts Of thy admiring father close the gap Thy old companion left behind him. Clem. Never! What will to me be father, brother, friends, When thou art gone, the light of our life quench'd, The home where thou wert dearest? Ion. Thrill me not With words that, in their agony, suggest A hope too ravishing, or my head will swim, Clem. Has my speech Such blessed power? I will not mourn it then, Though it hath told a To this, I know not: secret I had borne Each fraught with the same innocent delights, Till thy changed mien reveal'd it to my soul, Ion. With deep joy Thus I receive it. Trust me, it is long Since I have learn'd to tremble 'midst our pleasures, Clem. Thou canst not mean it! Ion. Heaven has call'd me, I would not have thee other than thou art, Ion. Be sure I shall return. If thou shouldst fall, I shall be happier as th' affianced bride Of thy cold ashes, than in the proudest fortunes. Thine, ever thine [She faints in his arms. Habra! - So best to part. Enter HABRA. Let her have air; be near her through the day; Of any friend, she will require it all. — [HABRA bears CLEMANTHE out. Ye Gods, that have enrich'd the life ye claim With priceless treasure, strengthen me to yield it ! [Exit. DON CARLOS. Translated by BOYLAN. ACT III. SCENE IX. CHARACTERS: PHILIP THE SECOND, King of Spain, and the MARQUESS DE POSA. The KING, having heard that of Posa which made him curious to see and study the man, face to face, has had him summoned to an interview. SCENE: The KING'S Cabinet. The MARQUESS alone. Marq. How came I here? Is it caprice or chance That shows me now my image in this mirror? To the King's memory? Was this but chance? Enter the KING. [The MARQUESS, as soon as he sees the KING, comes forward and sinks on one knee; then rises and remains standing before him. King. We've met before, then? Marq. King. No. You did my Crown Some service: why, then, do you shun my thanks? One only is Omniscient. 'Twas your duty To seek your monarch's eye! Why did you not? Marq. Two days have scarce elapsed since my return From foreign travel, Sire. King. I would not stand Indebted to a subject: ask some favour. King. So does the murderer! Marq. Then how much more the honest citizen! My lot contents me, Sire. King. [Aside.] And dauntless mind! By Heavens, a proud That was to be expected. Proud I would have my Spaniards; better far |