_Queen._ Make haste; in the first sphere I'll for you stay; Thence we'll rise both to everlasting day. Farewell-- [_Dies._ _Don Car._ I follow you; now close my eyes; [_Leans on her bosom._ Thus all o'er bliss the happy Carlos dies. [_Dies._ _King._ They're gone, they're gone, where I must ne'er aspire. Run, sally out, and set the world on fire; Alarum Nature, let loose all the winds, Set free those spirits whom strong magic binds; Let the earth open all her sulphurous veins, The fiends start from their hell, and shake their chains; Till all things from their harmony decline, And the confusion be as great as mine! Here I'll lie down, and never more arise, Howl out my life, and rend the air with cries. _Don John._ Hold, sir, afford your labouring heart some ease. _King._ Oh! name it not: there's no such thing as peace. From these warm lips yet one soft kiss I'll take. How my heart beats! why won't the rebel break? My love, my Carlos, I'm thy father--speak. Oh! he regards not now my miseries, But's deaf to my complaint, as I have been to his. Oh! now I think on't better, all is well. Here's one that's just descending into hell; How comes it that he's not already gone? The sluggard's lazy, but I'll spur him on. Hey! how he flies! [_Stabs_ RUY-GOMEZ. _Ruy-Gom._ 'Twas aimed well at my heart; That I had strength enough but to retort! Dull life, so tamely must I from thee part? Curses and plagues! revenge, where art thou now? Meet, meet me at thy own dark house below! [_Dies._ _King._ He's gone, and now there's not so vile a thing As I-- _Don John._ Remember, sir, you are a king. _King._ A king! it is too little: I'll be more, I tell thee: Nero was an emperor; He killed his mother, but I've that out-done, Murdered a loyal wife and guiltless son. Yet, Austria, why should I grow mad for that? Is it my fault I was unfortunate? _Don John._ Collect your spirits, sir, and calm your mind. _King._ Look to't; strange things I tell thee are designed. Thou, Austria, shalt grow old, and in thy age Dote, dote, my hero:--oh, a long gray beard, With eyes distilling rheum, and hollow cheeks, Will be such charms, thou canst not want success! But, above all, beware of jealousy; It was the dreadful curse that ruined me. _Don John._ Dread sir, no more.