_King._ Thus, Austria, my lost freedom I obtain, And once more shall appear myself again. Love held me fast whilst, like a foolish boy, I of the thing was fond because 'twas gay; But now I've thrown the gaudy toy away. _D. of Eboli_ [_Within_]. Help! murder! help! _King._ See, Austria, whence that cry. Call up our guards; there may be danger nigh. _Enter_ Guards; _then re-enter_ Duchess of EBOLI _in her_ _night-dress, wounded and bleeding_; RUY-GOMEZ _pursuing her_. _D. of Eboli._ Oh! guard me from that cruel murderer: But 'tis in vain, the steel has gone too far. Turn, wretched king, I've something to unfold; Nor can I die till the sad secret's told. _King._ The woman's mad; to some apartment by Remove her, where she may grow tame and die.-- Fate came abroad to night, resolved to range: I love a kind companion in revenge. [_Hugs_ RUY-GOMEZ. _D. of Eboli._ If in your heart truth any favour wins, If e'er you would repent of secret sins, Hear me a word. _King._ What wouldst thou say? Be brief. _D. of Eboli._ Do what you can to save that precious life; Try every art that may her death prevent: You are abused, and she is innocent. When I perceived my hopes of you were vain, Led by my lust, I practised all my charms To gain the prince, Don Carlos, to my arms; But, there too crossed, I did the purpose change, And pride made him my engine for revenge; [_To_ RUY-GOMEZ. Taught him to raise your growing jealousy. Then my wild passion at this prince did fly, [_To_ Don JOHN. And that was done for which I now must die. _King._ Ha! Gomez, speak, and quickly; is it so? _Ruy-Gom._ I'm sorry you should doubt if't be or no. She, by whose lust my honour was betrayed, Cannot want malice now to take my head; And therefore does this penitence pretend. _D. of Eboli._ O Austria! take away that ugly fiend: He smiles and mocks me, waiting for my soul; See how his glaring fiery eyeballs roll! _Ruy-Gom._ Thus is her fancy tortured by her guilt: But, since you'll have my blood, let it be spilt. _King_ [_To_ RUY-GOMEZ]. No more!--[_To_ D. of EBOLI.] Speak on, I charge thee, by the rest Thou hopest, the truth, and as thou shalt be blest. _D. of Eboli._ As what I've said is so, There may I find, where I must answer all, What most I need, Heaven's mercy on my soul! [_Dies._ _King._ Heaven! she was sensible that she should die, And durst not in the minute tell a lie.