Said you a bastard? I had scarce, you say, Escaped the pangs of death when first she felt She should, in nature's time, become a mother. Explain how this occurred! 'Twas then, if I Remember right, that you, in every church, Ordered devotions to St. Dominick, For the especial wonder he vouchsafed. On one side or the other, then, you lie! What would you have me credit? Oh, I see Full plainly through you now! If this dark plot Had then been ripe your saint had lost his fame. (ALVA: This plot?) How can you with a harmony So unexampled in your very thoughts Concur, and not have first conspired together? Would you persuade me thus? Think you that I Perceived not with what eagerness you pounced Upon your prey? With what delight you fed Upon my pain,--my agony of grief? Full well I marked the ardent, burning zeal With which the duke forestalled the mark of grace I destined for my son. And how this priest Presumed to fortify his petty spleen With my wrath's giant arm! I am, forsooth, A bow which each of you may bend at pleasure But I have yet a will. And if I needs Must doubt--perhaps I may begin with you. (ALVA: Reward like this our truth did ne'er expect.) Your truth! Truth warns of apprehended danger. 'Tis malice that speaks only of the past. What can I gain by your officiousness? Should your suspicion ripen to full truth, What follows but the pangs of separation, The melancholy triumphs of revenge? But no: you only fear--you feed me with Conjectures vague. To hell's profound abyss You lead me on, then flee yourself away.

King Monologue from Don Carlos: A Play

Rehearse King's monologue