To yield my father for a while to me.
A son, you know, may to a father's ear
Unbosom much, in fulness of his heart,
That not befits a stranger's ear. The king
Shall not be taken from you, sir--I seek
The father only for one little hour.

KING.
Here stands his friend.

CARLOS.
And have I e'er deserved
To think the duke should be a friend of mine?

KING.
Or tried to make him one? I scarce can love
Those sons who choose more wisely than their fathers.

CARLOS.
And can Duke Alva's knightly spirit brook
To look on such a scene? Now, as I live,
I would not play the busy meddler's part,
Who thrusts himself, unasked, 'twixt sire and son,
And there intrudes without a blush, condemned
By his own conscious insignificance,
No, not, by heaven, to win a diadem!

KING (rising, with an angry look at the Prince).
Retire, my lord!