CARLOS (approaching him with eagerness). You have been so till now. Hate me no more, And I will love you dearly as a son: But hate me now no longer! Oh, how sweet, Divinely sweet it is to feel our being Reflected in another's beauteous soul; To see our joys gladden another's cheek, Our pains bring anguish to another's bosom, Our sorrows fill another's eye with tears! How sweet, how glorious is it, hand in hand, With a dear child, in inmost soul beloved, To tread once more the rosy paths of youth, And dream life's fond illusions o'er again! How proud to live through endless centuries Immortal in the virtues of a son; How sweet to plant what his dear hand shall reap; To gather what will yield him rich return, And guess how high his thanks will one day rise! My father of this early paradise Your monks most wisely speak not. KING (not without emotion). Oh, my son, Thou hast condemned thyself in painting thus A bliss this heart hath ne'er enjoyed from thee. CARLOS. The Omniscient be my judge! You till this hour Have still debarred me from your heart, and all Participation in your royal cares. The heir of Spain has been a very stranger In Spanish land--a prisoner in the realm Where he must one day rule. Say, was this just, Or kind? And often have I blushed for shame, And stood with eyes abashed, to learn perchance From foreign envoys, or the general rumor, Thy courtly doings at Aranjuez. KING. Thy blood flows far too hotly in thy veins. Thou would'st but ruin all. CARLOS. But try me, father. 'Tis true my blood flows hotly in my veins. Full three-and-twenty years I now have lived, And naught achieved for immortality. I am aroused--I feel my inward powers-- My title to the throne arouses me From slumber, like an angry creditor; And all the misspent hours of early youth, Like debts of honor, clamor in mine ears. It comes at length, the glorious moment comes That claims full interest on the intrusted talent. The annals of the world, ancestral fame, And glory's echoing trumpet urge me on. Now is the blessed hour at length arrived That opens wide to me the list of honor. My king, my father! dare I utter now The suit which led me hither? KING. Still a suit? Unfold it. CARLOS. The rebellion in Brabant Increases to a height--the traitor's madness By stern, but prudent, vigor must be met. The duke, to quell the wild enthusiasm, Invested with the sovereign's power, will lead An army into Flanders. Oh, how full Of glory is such office! and how suited To open wide the temple of renown To me, your son! To my hand, then, O king, Intrust the army; in thy Flemish lands I am well loved, and I will freely gage My life for their fidelity and truth. KING. Thou speakest like a dreamer. This high office Demands a man--and not a stripling's arm. CARLOS. It but demands a human being, father: And that is what Duke Alva ne'er hath been.