Читать книгу Don Carlos - Фридрих Шиллер, Friedrich von Schiller - Страница 7

   How, madam, alone; not even one of all

   Your ladies in attendance? Strange! Where are they?

   My gracious lord!

             Why thus alone, I say?

   I'll take a strict account of this neglect.

   'Tis not to be forgiven. Who has the charge

   Of waiting on your majesty to-day?

   Oh, be not angry! Good, my lord, 'tis I

   Myself that am to blame – at my request

   The Princess Eboli went hence but now.

   At your request!

            To call the nurse to me,

   With the Infanta, whom I longed to see.

   And was your retinue dismissed for that?

   This only clears the lady first in waiting.

   Where was the second?

               Your majesty, I feel

   I am to blame for this.

                You are, and so

   I give you ten years to reflect upon it,

   At a most tranquil distance from Madrid.

      The bystanders all look in confusion towards the QUEEN.

   What weep you for, dear marchioness?

                      If I

   Have erred, my gracious liege, the crown I wear,

   And which I never sought, should save my blushes

   Is there a law in this your kingdom, sire,

   To summon monarch's daughters to the bar?

   Does force alone restrain your Spanish ladies?

   Or need they stronger safeguard than their virtue?

   Now pardon me, my liege; 'tis not my wont

   To send my ladies, who have served me still

   With smiling cheerfulness, away in tears.

            You have displeased the king,

   Not me. Take this remembrance of my favor,

   And of this hour. I'd have you quit the kingdom.

   You have only erred in Spain. In my dear France,

   All men are glad to wipe such tears away.

   And must I ever be reminded thus?

   In my dear France it had been otherwise.

   Can a reproach, that in my love had birth,

   Afflict you so? A word so trouble you,

   Which the most anxious tenderness did prompt?

   Here stand the assembled vassals of my throne.

   Did ever sleep descend upon these eyes,

   Till at the close of the returning day

   I've pondered, how the hearts of all my subjects

   Were beating 'neath the furthest cope of heaven?

   And should I feel more anxious for my throne

   Than for the partner of my bosom? No!

   My sword and Alva can protect my people,

   My eye alone assures thy love.

                   My liege,

   If that I have offended —

                 I am called

   The richest monarch in the Christian world;

   The sun in my dominions never sets.

   All this another hath possessed before,

   And many another will possess hereafter.

   That is mine own. All that the monarch hath

   Belongs to chance – Elizabeth to Philip.

   This is the point in which I feel I'm mortal.

   What fear you, sire?

              Should these gray hairs not fear?

   But the same instant that my fear begins

   It dies away forever.

               I run over

   The nobles of my court and miss the foremost.

   Where is my son, Don Carlos?

                  He begins

   To give me cause of fear. He shuns my presence

   Since he came back from school at Alcala.

   His blood is hot. Why is his look so cold?

   His bearing all so stately and reserved?

   Be watchful, duke, I charge you.

                    So I am:

   Long as a heart against this corslet beats,

   So long may Philip slumber undisturbed;

   And as God's cherub guards the gates of heaven

   So doth Duke Alva guard your royal throne.

   Dare I, in all humility, presume

   To oppose the judgment of earth's wisest king?

   Too deeply I revere his gracious sire

   To judge the son so harshly. I fear much

   From his hot blood, but nothing from his heart.

   Lerma, your speech is fair to soothe the father,

   But Alva here will be the monarch's shield —

   No more of this.

            Now speed we to Madrid,

   Our royal duties summon us. The plague

   Of heresy is rife among my people;

   Rebellion stalks within my Netherlands —

   The times are imminent. We must arrest

   These erring spirits by some dread example.

   The solemn oath which every Christian king

   Hath sworn to keep I will redeem to-morrow.

   'Twill be a day of doom unparalleled.

   Our court is bidden to the festival.