To me alone. These are the sacred treasures
Which not the vassal only, but the slave,
The very slave, may from a king withhold.
Not all that to my mind seems plain is yet
Mature enough to meet the monarch's ear.
Would he be answered--then must I implore
He will not question as a king.

KING (handing the letters).
Read these.

ALVA (reads them, and turns to the KING with a look of terror).
Who was the madman placed these fatal papers
In my king's bands?

KING.
You know, then, who is meant?
No name you see is mentioned in the paper.

ALVA (stepping back confused).
I was too hasty!

KING.
But you know!

ALVA (after some consideration).
'Tis spoken!
The king commands,--I dare not now conceal.
I'll not deny it--I do know the person.