Far easier too, to stock the world with kings
Than frame an empire for a king to rule.

CARLOS.
Most true, Duke Alva, yet----

ALVA.
And how much blood,
Your subjects' dearest blood, must flow in streams
Before two drops could make a king of you.

CARLOS.
Most true, by heaven! and in two words comprised,
All that the pride of merit has to urge
Against the pride of fortune. But the moral--
Now, Duke Alva!

ALVA.
Woe to the nursling babe
Of royalty that mocks the careful hand
Which fosters it! How calmly it may sleep
On the soft cushion of our victories!
The monarch's crown is bright with sparkling gems,
But no eye sees the wounds that purchased them.
This sword has given our laws to distant realms,
Has blazed before the banner of the cross,
And in these quarters of the globe has traced
Ensanguined furrows for the seed of faith.
God was the judge in heaven, and I on earth.