_Queen._ Shall I the way then show? Now hold, my heart-- [_Goes to the door, stops, and turns back again._ Nay, sir, why don't you go? _Don Car._ Why do you stay? _Queen._ I won't-- _Don Car._ You shall a while. [_Kneels._ With one look more my miseries beguile, That may support my heart till you are gone! _Queen._ O Eboli! thy help, or I'm undone. [_Takes hold on her._ Here, take it then, and with it too my life! [_Leans into her arms._ _Don Car._ My courage with my tortures is at strife, Since my griefs cowards are, and dare not kill, I'll try to vanquish and out-toil the ill. Well, madam, now I'm something hardier grown: Since I at last perceive you must be gone, To venture the encounter I'll be bold; [_Leads her to the door._ For certainly my heart will so long hold. Farewell! be happy as you're fair and true. _Queen._ And all Heaven's kindest angels wait on you! [_Exeunt_ QUEEN, Duchess of EBOLI, HENRIETTA, _and_ GARCIA. _Don Car._ Thus long I've wandered in love's crooked way, By hope's deluded meteor led astray; For, ere I've half the dangerous desert crossed, The glimmering light's gone out, and I am lost. [_Exit._ [Illustration] [Illustration] FOOTNOTES: [12] Make blunt. ACT THE FOURTH. SCENE I.--_The Ante-Chamber to the_ QUEEN'S _Apartment_. _Enter_ DON CARLOS _and_ Marquis of POSA. _Don Car._ The next is the apartment of the queen: In vain I try, I must not venture in. [_Goes toward the door but returns._ Thus is it with the souls of murdered men, Who to their bodies would again repair; But, finding that they cannot enter there, Mourning and groaning wander in the air. Robbed of my love, and as unjustly thrown From all those hopes that promised me a crown, My heart, with the dishonours to me done, Is poisoned, swells too mighty for my breast; But it will break, and I shall be at rest. No; dull despair this soul shall never load: Though patience be the virtue of a god, Gods never feel the ills that govern here, Or are above the injuries we bear. "Father" and "king"; both names bear mighty sense: Yet sure there's something too in "son" and "prince". I was born high, and will not fall less great; Since triumph crowned my birth, I'll have my fate As glorious and majestic too as that. To Flanders, Posa, straight my letters send; Tell them the injured Carlos is their friend; And that to head their forces I design; So vindicate their cause, if they dare mine.[13] _M. of Posa._ To the rebels?