_Don John._ Yes, sir, and your friend. What can your presence here so late intend? _King._ O 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 power; 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 doomed 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 extinguished 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 guessed 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 the 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 wronged you, and abused your ears, Possessed 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 Heaven, Where I have nought but toils and torment met, And never comfort yet to man was given. But thou shalt see how my revenge I'll treat.