the pride of merit has to urge
Against the pride of fortune. But the moral--
Now, Duke Alva!

ALVA.
Woe to the nursling babe
Of royalty that mocks the careful hand
Which fosters it! How calmly it may sleep
On the soft cushion of our victories!
The monarch's crown is bright with sparkling gems,
But no eye sees the wounds that purchased them.
This sword has given our laws to distant realms,
Has blazed before the banner of the cross,
And in these quarters of the globe has traced
Ensanguined furrows for the seed of faith.
God was the judge in heaven, and I on earth.

CARLOS.
God, or the devil--it little matters which;
Yours was his chosen arm--that stands confessed.
And now no more of this. Some thoughts there are
Whereof the memory pains me. I respect
My father's choice,--my father needs an Alva!
But that he needs him is not just the point
I envy in him: a great man you are,
This may be true, and I well nigh believe it,
Only I fear your mission is begun
Some thousand years too soon. Alva, methinks,
Were just the man to suit the end of time.
Then when the giant insolence of vice
Shall have exhausted Heaven's enduring patience,
And the rich waving harvest of misdeeds
Stand in full ear, and asks a matchless reaper,
Then should you fill the post. O God! my paradise!
My Flanders! But of this I must not think.
'Tis said you carry with you a full store
Of sentences of death already signed.
This shows a prudent foresight! No more need
To fear your foes' designs, or secret plots:
Oh, father! ill indeed I've understood thee.
Calling thee harsh, to save me from a post,
Where Alva's self alone can fitly shine!
'Twas an unerring token of your love.

ALVA.
These words deserve----

CARLOS.
What!

ALVA.
But your birth protects you.

CARLOS (seizing his sword).
That calls for blood! Duke, draw your sword!

ALVA (slightingly).
On whom?

CARLOS. (pressing upon him).
Draw, or I run you through.

ALVA.
Then be it so.

[They fight.

SCENE VI.

The QUEEN, DON CARLOS, DUKE ALVA.

QUEEN (coming from her room alarmed).
How! naked swords?

[To the PRINCE in an indignant and commanding tone.

Prince Carlos!

CARLOS (agitated at the QUEEN's look, drops his arm, stands motionless,
then rushes to the DUKE, and embraces him).
Pardon, duke!
Your pardon, sir! Forget, forgive it all