Читать книгу Don Carlos - Фридрих Шиллер, Friedrich von Schiller - Страница 14

   For me this letter? And a key! How's this?

   And both delivered with such mystery!

   Come nearer, boy: – from whom didst thou receive them?

   It seemed to me the lady would be guessed

   Rather than be described.

                 The lady, what!

   Who art thou, boy?

   A page that serves the queen.

   Hold, on your life! I know enough: no more.

   She gave you this herself?

                 With her own hands.

   She gave this letter to you then herself?

   Deceive me not: I ne'er have seen her writing,

   And I must credit thee, if thou canst swear it;

   But if thy tale be false, confess it straight,

   Nor put this fraud on me.

                 This fraud, on whom?

   Your parents – are they living? and your father —

   Serves he the king? Is he a Spaniard born?

   He fell a colonel on St. Quentin's field,

   Served in the cavalry of Savoy's duke —

   His name Alonzo, Count of Henarez.

   The king gave you this letter?

                   Gracious prince,

   Have I deserved these doubts?

                   "This key unlocks

   The back apartments in the queen's pavilion,

   The furthest room lies next a cabinet

   Wherein no listener's foot dare penetrate;

   Here may the voice of love without restraint

   Confess those tender feelings, which till now

   The heart with silent looks alone hath spoken.

   The timid lover gains an audience here,

   And sweet reward repays his secret sorrow."

   I am not in a dream, do not rave,

   This is my right hand, this my sword – and these

   Are written words. 'Tis true – it is no dream.

   I am beloved, I feel I am beloved.

   Follow me, prince, and I will lead the way.

   Then let me first collect my scattered thoughts.

   The alarm of joy still trembles in my bosom.

   Did I e'er lift my fondest hopes so high,

   Or trust my fancy to so bold a flight?

   Show me the man can learn thus suddenly

   To be a god. I am not what I was.

   I feel another heaven – another sun

   That was not here before. She loves – she loves me!

   But this is not the place: prince! you forget.

   The king! My father!

               This is dreadful! Yes,

   You're right, my friend. I thank you: I was not

   Just then myself. To be compelled to silence,

   And bury in my heart this mighty bliss,

   Is terrible!

          Now here! What thou hast seen,

   And what not seen, must be within thy breast

   Entombed as in the grave. So now depart;

   I shall not need thy guidance; they must not

   Surprise us here! Now go.

                 Yet hold, a word!

   A direful secret hast thou in thy keeping,

   Which, like a poison of terrific power,

   Shivers the cup that holds it into atoms.

   Guard every look of thine, nor let thy head

   Guess at thy bosom's secret. Be thou like

   The senseless speaking-trumpet that receives

   And echoes back the voice, but hears it not.

   Thou art a boy! Be ever so; continue

   The pranks of youth. My correspondent chose

   Her messenger of love with prudent skill!

   The king will ne'er suspect a serpent here.

   And I, my prince, shall feel right proud to know

   I am one secret richer than the king.

   Vain, foolish boy! 'tis this should make thee tremble.

   Approach me ever with a cold respect:

   Ne'er be induced by idle pride to boast

   How gracious is the prince! No deadlier sin

   Canst thou commit, my son, than pleasing me.

   Whate'er thou hast in future for my ear,

   Give not to words; intrust not to thy lips,

   Ne'er on that common high road of the thoughts

   Permit thy news to travel. Speak with an eye,

   A finger; I will answer with a look.

   The very air, the light, are Philip's creatures,

   And the deaf walls around are in his pay.

   Some one approaches; fly, we'll meet again.

   Be careful, prince, to find the right apartment.

   It is the duke! Fear not, I'll find the way.