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diff --git a/2587.txt b/2587.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..80a9a51 --- /dev/null +++ b/2587.txt @@ -0,0 +1,3809 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Life Is A Dream, by Pedro Calderon de la Barca + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Life Is A Dream + +Author: Pedro Calderon de la Barca + +Translator: Edward Fitzgerald + +Release Date: March 31, 2006 [EBook #2587] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LIFE IS A DREAM *** + + + + +Produced by Dagny; Emma Dudding; John Bickers + + + + + +LIFE IS A DREAM + +By Pedro Calderon De La Barca + + + +Translated by Edward Fitzgerald + + + + +INTRODUCTORY NOTE + +Pedro Calderon de la Barca was born in Madrid, January 17, 1600, of +good family. He was educated at the Jesuit College in Madrid and at the +University of Salamanca; and a doubtful tradition says that he began +to write plays at the age of thirteen. His literary activity was +interrupted for ten years, 1625-1635, by military service in Italy and +the Low Countries, and again for a year or more in Catalonia. In 1637 +he became a Knight of the Order of Santiago, and in 1651 he entered the +priesthood, rising to the dignity of Superior of the Brotherhood of San +Pedro in Madrid. He held various offices in the court of Philip IV, who +rewarded his services with pensions, and had his plays produced with +great splendor. He died May 5, 1681. + +At the time when Calderon began to compose for the stage, the Spanish +drama was at its height. Lope de Vega, the most prolific and, with +Calderon, the greatest, of Spanish dramatists, was still alive; and by +his applause gave encouragement to the beginner whose fame was to rival +his own. The national type of drama which Lope had established was +maintained in its essential characteristics by Calderon, and he produced +abundant specimens of all its varieties. Of regular plays he has left +a hundred and twenty; of "Autos Sacramentales," the peculiar Spanish +allegorical development of the medieval mystery, we have seventy-three; +besides a considerable number of farces. + +The dominant motives in Calderon's dramas are characteristically +national: fervid loyalty to Church and King, and a sense of honor +heightened almost to the point of the fantastic. Though his plays +are laid in a great variety of scenes and ages, the sentiment and the +characters remain essentially Spanish; and this intensely local quality +has probably lessened the vogue of Calderon in other countries. In the +construction and conduct of his plots he showed great skill, yet the +ingenuity expended in the management of the story did not restrain the +fiery emotion and opulent imagination which mark his finest speeches +and give them a lyric quality which some critics regard as his greatest +distinction. + +Of all Calderon's works, "Life is a Dream" may be regarded as the most +universal in its theme. It seeks to teach a lesson that may be learned +from the philosophers and religious thinkers of many ages--that the +world of our senses is a mere shadow, and that the only reality is to be +found in the invisible and eternal. The story which forms its basis +is Oriental in origin, and in the form of the legend of "Barlaam and +Josaphat" was familiar in all the literatures of the Middle Ages. +Combined with this in the plot is the tale of Abou Hassan from the +"Arabian Nights," the main situations in which are turned to farcical +purposes in the Induction to the Shakespearean "Taming of the Shrew." +But with Calderon the theme is lifted altogether out of the atmosphere +of comedy, and is worked up with poetic sentiment and a touch of +mysticism into a symbolic drama of profound and universal philosophical +significance. + + + + + +LIFE IS A DREAM + + + +DRAMATIS PERSONAE + + Basilio King of Poland. + Segismund his Son. + Astolfo his Nephew. + Estrella his Niece. + Clotaldo a General in Basilio's Service. + Rosaura a Muscovite Lady. + Fife her Attendant. + + Chamberlain, Lords in Waiting, Officers, + Soldiers, etc., in Basilio's Service. + + +The Scene of the first and third Acts lies on the Polish frontier: of +the second Act, in Warsaw. + +As this version of Calderon's drama is not for acting, a higher and +wider mountain-scene than practicable may be imagined for Rosaura's +descent in the first Act and the soldiers' ascent in the last. The bad +watch kept by the sentinels who guarded their state-prisoner, together +with much else (not all!) that defies sober sense in this wild drama, I +must leave Calderon to answer for; whose audience were not critical of +detail and probability, so long as a good story, with strong, rapid, and +picturesque action and situation, was set before them. + + + + +ACT I + + + + +SCENE I--A pass of rocks, over which a storm is rolling away, + +and the sun setting: in the foreground, half-way down, a fortress. + + +(Enter first from the topmost rock Rosaura, as from horseback, in man's +attire; and, after her, Fife.) + + ROSAURA. + There, four-footed Fury, blast + Engender'd brute, without the wit + Of brute, or mouth to match the bit + Of man--art satisfied at last? + Who, when thunder roll'd aloof, + Tow'rd the spheres of fire your ears + Pricking, and the granite kicking + Into lightning with your hoof, + Among the tempest-shatter'd crags + Shattering your luckless rider + Back into the tempest pass'd? + There then lie to starve and die, + Or find another Phaeton + Mad-mettled as yourself; for I, + Wearied, worried, and for-done, + Alone will down the mountain try, + That knits his brows against the sun. + + FIFE (as to his mule). + There, thou mis-begotten thing, + Long-ear'd lightning, tail'd tornado, + Griffin-hoof-in hurricano, + (I might swear till I were almost + Hoarse with roaring Asonante) + Who forsooth because our betters + Would begin to kick and fling + You forthwith your noble mind + Must prove, and kick me off behind, + Tow'rd the very centre whither + Gravity was most inclined. + There where you have made your bed + In it lie; for, wet or dry, + Let what will for me betide you, + Burning, blowing, freezing, hailing; + Famine waste you: devil ride you: + Tempest baste you black and blue: + (To Rosaura.) + There! I think in downright railing + I can hold my own with you. + + ROS. + Ah, my good Fife, whose merry loyal pipe, + Come weal, come woe, is never out of tune + What, you in the same plight too? + + FIFE. + Ay; And madam--sir--hereby desire, + When you your own adventures sing + Another time in lofty rhyme, + You don't forget the trusty squire + Who went with you Don-quixoting. + + ROS. + Well, my good fellow--to leave Pegasus + Who scarce can serve us than our horses worse-- + They say no one should rob another of + The single satisfaction he has left + Of singing his own sorrows; one so great, + So says some great philosopher, that trouble + Were worth encount'ring only for the sake + Of weeping over--what perhaps you know + Some poet calls the 'luxury of woe.' + + FIFE. + Had I the poet or philosopher + In the place of her that kick'd me off to ride, + I'd test his theory upon his hide. + But no bones broken, madam--sir, I mean?-- + + ROS. + A scratch here that a handkerchief will heal-- + And you?-- + + FIFE. + A scratch in _quiddity_, or kind: + But not in '_quo_'--my wounds are all behind. + But, as you say, to stop this strain, + Which, somehow, once one's in the vein, + Comes clattering after--there again!-- + What are we twain--deuce take't!--we two, + I mean, to do--drench'd through and through-- + Oh, I shall choke of rhymes, which I believe + Are all that we shall have to live on here. + + ROS. + What, is our victual gone too?-- + + FIFE. + Ay, that brute + Has carried all we had away with her, + Clothing, and cate, and all. + + ROS. + And now the sun, + Our only friend and guide, about to sink + Under the stage of earth. + + FIFE. + And enter Night, + With Capa y Espada--and--pray heaven! + With but her lanthorn also. + + ROS. + Ah, I doubt + To-night, if any, with a dark one--or + Almost burnt out after a month's consumption. + Well! well or ill, on horseback or afoot, + This is the gate that lets me into Poland; + And, sorry welcome as she gives a guest + Who writes his own arrival on her rocks + In his own blood-- + Yet better on her stony threshold die, + Than live on unrevenged in Muscovy. + + FIFE. + Oh, what a soul some women have--I mean + Some men-- + + ROS. + Oh, Fife, Fife, as you love me, Fife, + Make yourself perfect in that little part, + Or all will go to ruin! + + FIFE. + Oh, I will, + Please God we find some one to try it on. + But, truly, would not any one believe + Some fairy had exchanged us as we lay + Two tiny foster-children in one cradle? + + ROS. + Well, be that as it may, Fife, it reminds me + Of what perhaps I should have thought before, + But better late than never--You know I love you, + As you, I know, love me, and loyally + Have follow'd me thus far in my wild venture. + Well! now then--having seen me safe thus far + Safe if not wholly sound--over the rocks + Into the country where my business lies + Why should not you return the way we came, + The storm all clear'd away, and, leaving me + (Who now shall want you, though not thank you, less, + Now that our horses gone) this side the ridge, + Find your way back to dear old home again; + While I--Come, come!-- + What, weeping my poor fellow? + + FIFE. + Leave you here + Alone--my Lady--Lord! I mean my Lord-- + In a strange country--among savages-- + Oh, now I know--you would be rid of me + For fear my stumbling speech-- + + ROS. + Oh, no, no, no!-- + I want you with me for a thousand sakes + To which that is as nothing--I myself + More apt to let the secret out myself + Without your help at all--Come, come, cheer up! + And if you sing again, 'Come weal, come woe,' + Let it be that; for we will never part + Until you give the signal. + + FIFE. + 'Tis a bargain. + + ROS. + Now to begin, then. 'Follow, follow me, + 'You fairy elves that be.' + + FIFE. + Ay, and go on-- + Something of 'following darkness like a dream,' + For that we're after. + + ROS. + No, after the sun; + Trying to catch hold of his glittering skirts + That hang upon the mountain as he goes. + + FIFE. + Ah, he's himself past catching--as you spoke + He heard what you were saying, and--just so-- + Like some scared water-bird, + As we say in my country, _dove_ below. + + ROS. + Well, we must follow him as best we may. + Poland is no great country, and, as rich + In men and means, will but few acres spare + To lie beneath her barrier mountains bare. + We cannot, I believe, be very far + From mankind or their dwellings. + + FIFE. + Send it so! + And well provided for man, woman, and beast. + No, not for beast. Ah, but my heart begins + To yearn for her-- + + ROS. + Keep close, and keep your feet + From serving you as hers did. + + FIFE. + As for beasts, + If in default of other entertainment, + We should provide them with ourselves to eat-- + Bears, lions, wolves-- + + ROS. + Oh, never fear. + + FIFE. + Or else, + Default of other beasts, beastlier men, + Cannibals, Anthropophagi, bare Poles + Who never knew a tailor but by taste. + + ROS. + Look, look! Unless my fancy misconceive + With twilight--down among the rocks there, Fife-- + Some human dwelling, surely-- + Or think you but a rock torn from the rocks + In some convulsion like to-day's, and perch'd + Quaintly among them in mock-masonry? + + FIFE. + Most likely that, I doubt. + + ROS. + No, no--for look! + A square of darkness opening in it-- + + FIFE. + Oh, I don't half like such openings!-- + + ROS. + Like the loom + Of night from which she spins her outer gloom-- + + FIFE. + Lord, Madam, pray forbear this tragic vein + In such a time and place-- + + ROS. + And now again + Within that square of darkness, look! a light + That feels its way with hesitating pulse, + As we do, through the darkness that it drives + To blacken into deeper night beyond. + + FIFE. + In which could we follow that light's example, + As might some English Bardolph with his nose, + We might defy the sunset--Hark, a chain! + + ROS. + And now a lamp, a lamp! And now the hand + That carries it. + + FIFE. + Oh, Lord! that dreadful chain! + + ROS. + And now the bearer of the lamp; indeed + As strange as any in Arabian tale, + So giant-like, and terrible, and grand, + Spite of the skin he's wrapt in. + + FIFE. + Why, 'tis his own: + Oh, 'tis some wild man of the woods; I've heard + They build and carry torches-- + + ROS. + Never Ape + Bore such a brow before the heavens as that-- + Chain'd as you say too!-- + + FIFE. + Oh, that dreadful chain! + + ROS. + And now he sets the lamp down by his side, + And with one hand clench'd in his tangled hair + And with a sigh as if his heart would break-- + + (During this Segismund has entered from the fortress, with a + torch.) + + SEGISMUND. + Once more the storm has roar'd itself away, + Splitting the crags of God as it retires; + But sparing still what it should only blast, + This guilty piece of human handiwork, + And all that are within it. Oh, how oft, + How oft, within or here abroad, have I + Waited, and in the whisper of my heart + Pray'd for the slanting hand of heaven to strike + The blow myself I dared not, out of fear + Of that Hereafter, worse, they say, than here, + Plunged headlong in, but, till dismissal waited, + To wipe at last all sorrow from men's eyes, + And make this heavy dispensation clear. + Thus have I borne till now, and still endure, + Crouching in sullen impotence day by day, + Till some such out-burst of the elements + Like this rouses the sleeping fire within; + And standing thus upon the threshold of + Another night about to close the door + Upon one wretched day to open it + On one yet wretcheder because one more;-- + Once more, you savage heavens, I ask of you-- + I, looking up to those relentless eyes + That, now the greater lamp is gone below, + Begin to muster in the listening skies; + In all the shining circuits you have gone + About this theatre of human woe, + What greater sorrow have you gazed upon + Than down this narrow chink you witness still; + And which, did you yourselves not fore-devise, + You registered for others to fulfil! + + FIFE. + This is some Laureate at a birthday ode; + No wonder we went rhyming. + + ROS. + Hush! And now + See, starting to his feet, he strides about + Far as his tether'd steps-- + + SEG. + And if the chain + You help'd to rivet round me did contract + Since guiltless infancy from guilt in act; + Of what in aspiration or in thought + Guilty, but in resentment of the wrong + That wreaks revenge on wrong I never wrought + By excommunication from the free + Inheritance that all created life, + Beside myself, is born to--from the wings + That range your own immeasurable blue, + Down to the poor, mute, scale-imprison'd things, + That yet are free to wander, glide, and pass + About that under-sapphire, whereinto + Yourselves transfusing you yourselves englass! + + ROS. + What mystery is this? + + FIFE. + Why, the man's mad: + That's all the mystery. That's why he's chain'd-- + And why-- + + SEG. + Nor Nature's guiltless life alone-- + But that which lives on blood and rapine; nay, + Charter'd with larger liberty to slay + Their guiltless kind, the tyrants of the air + Soar zenith-upward with their screaming prey, + Making pure heaven drop blood upon the stage + Of under earth, where lion, wolf, and bear, + And they that on their treacherous velvet wear + Figure and constellation like your own, + With their still living slaughter bound away + Over the barriers of the mountain cage, + Against which one, blood-guiltless, and endued + With aspiration and with aptitude + Transcending other creatures, day by day + Beats himself mad with unavailing rage! + + FIFE. + Why, that must be the meaning of my mule's + Rebellion-- + + ROS. + Hush! + + SEG. + But then if murder be + The law by which not only conscience-blind + Creatures, but man too prospers with his kind; + Who leaving all his guilty fellows free, + Under your fatal auspice and divine + Compulsion, leagued in some mysterious ban + Against one innocent and helpless man, + Abuse their liberty to murder mine: + And sworn to silence, like their masters mute + In heaven, and like them twirling through the mask + Of darkness, answering to all I ask, + Point up to them whose work they execute! + + ROS. + Ev'n as I thought, some poor unhappy wretch, + By man wrong'd, wretched, unrevenged, as I! + Nay, so much worse than I, as by those chains + Clipt of the means of self-revenge on those + Who lay on him what they deserve. And I, + Who taunted Heaven a little while ago + With pouring all its wrath upon my head-- + Alas! like him who caught the cast-off husk + Of what another bragg'd of feeding on, + Here's one that from the refuse of my sorrows + Could gather all the banquet he desires! + Poor soul, poor soul! + + FIFE. + Speak lower--he will hear you. + + ROS. + And if he should, what then? Why, if he would, + He could not harm me--Nay, and if he could, + Methinks I'd venture something of a life + I care so little for-- + + SEG. + Who's that? Clotaldo? Who are you, I say, + That, venturing in these forbidden rocks, + Have lighted on my miserable life, + And your own death? + + ROS. + You would not hurt me, surely? + + SEG. + Not I; but those that, iron as the chain + In which they slay me with a lingering death, + Will slay you with a sudden--Who are you? + + ROS. + A stranger from across the mountain there, + Who, having lost his way in this strange land + And coming night, drew hither to what seem'd + A human dwelling hidden in these rocks, + And where the voice of human sorrow soon + Told him it was so. + + SEG. + Ay? But nearer--nearer-- + That by this smoky supplement of day + But for a moment I may see who speaks + So pitifully sweet. + + FIFE. + Take care! take care! + + ROS. + Alas, poor man, that I, myself so helpless, + Could better help you than by barren pity, + And my poor presence-- + + SEG. + Oh, might that be all! + But that--a few poor moments--and, alas! + The very bliss of having, and the dread + Of losing, under such a penalty + As every moment's having runs more near, + Stifles the very utterance and resource + They cry for quickest; till from sheer despair + Of holding thee, methinks myself would tear + To pieces-- + + FIFE. + There, his word's enough for it. + + SEG. + Oh, think, if you who move about at will, + And live in sweet communion with your kind, + After an hour lost in these lonely rocks + Hunger and thirst after some human voice + To drink, and human face to feed upon; + What must one do where all is mute, or harsh, + And ev'n the naked face of cruelty + Were better than the mask it works beneath?-- + Across the mountain then! Across the mountain! + What if the next world which they tell one of + Be only next across the mountain then, + Though I must never see it till I die, + And you one of its angels? + + ROS. + Alas; alas! + No angel! And the face you think so fair, + 'Tis but the dismal frame-work of these rocks + That makes it seem so; and the world I come from-- + Alas, alas, too many faces there + Are but fair vizors to black hearts below, + Or only serve to bring the wearer woe! + But to yourself--If haply the redress + That I am here upon may help to yours. + I heard you tax the heavens with ordering, + And men for executing, what, alas! + I now behold. But why, and who they are + Who do, and you who suffer-- + + SEG. (pointing upwards). + Ask of them, + Whom, as to-night, I have so often ask'd, + And ask'd in vain. + + ROS. + But surely, surely-- + + SEG. + Hark! + The trumpet of the watch to shut us in. + Oh, should they find you!--Quick! Behind the rocks! + To-morrow--if to-morrow-- + + ROS. (flinging her sword toward him). + Take my sword! + + (Rosaura and Fife hide in the rocks; Enter Clotaldo) + + CLOTALDO. + These stormy days you like to see the last of + Are but ill opiates, Segismund, I think, + For night to follow: and to-night you seem + More than your wont disorder'd. What! A sword? + Within there! + + (Enter Soldiers with black vizors and torches) + + FIFE. + Here's a pleasant masquerade! + + CLO. + Whosever watch this was + Will have to pay head-reckoning. Meanwhile, + This weapon had a wearer. Bring him here, + Alive or dead. + + SEG. + Clotaldo! good Clotaldo!-- + + CLO. (to Soldiers who enclose Segismund; others + searching the rocks). + You know your duty. + + SOLDIERS (bringing in Rosaura and Fife). + Here are two of them, + Whoever more to follow-- + + CLO. + Who are you, + That in defiance of known proclamation + Are found, at night-fall too, about this place? + + FIFE. + Oh, my Lord, she--I mean he-- + + ROS. + Silence, Fife, + And let me speak for both.--Two foreign men, + To whom your country and its proclamations + Are equally unknown; and had we known, + Ourselves not masters of our lawless beasts + That, terrified by the storm among your rocks, + Flung us upon them to our cost. + + FIFE. + My mule-- + + CLO. + Foreigners? Of what country? + + ROS. + Muscovy. + + CLO. + And whither bound? + + ROS. + Hither--if this be Poland; + But with no ill design on her, and therefore + Taking it ill that we should thus be stopt + Upon her threshold so uncivilly. + + CLO. + Whither in Poland? + + ROS. + To the capital. + + CLO. + And on what errand? + + ROS. + Set me on the road, + And you shall be the nearer to my answer. + + CLO. (aside). + So resolute and ready to reply, + And yet so young--and-- + (Aloud.) + Well,-- + Your business was not surely with the man + We found you with? + + ROS. + He was the first we saw,-- + And strangers and benighted, as we were, + As you too would have done in a like case, + Accosted him at once. + + CLO. + Ay, but this sword? + + ROS. + I flung it toward him. + + CLO. + Well, and why? + + ROS. + And why? But to revenge himself on those who thus + Injuriously misuse him. + + CLO. + So--so--so! + 'Tis well such resolution wants a beard + And, I suppose, is never to attain one. + Well, I must take you both, you and your sword, + Prisoners. + + FIFE. (offering a cudgel). + Pray take mine, and welcome, sir; + I'm sure I gave it to that mule of mine + To mighty little purpose. + + ROS. + Mine you have; + And may it win us some more kindliness + Than we have met with yet. + + CLO (examining the sword). + More mystery! + How came you by this weapon? + + ROS. + From my father. + + CLO. + And do you know whence he? + + ROS. + Oh, very well: + From one of this same Polish realm of yours, + Who promised a return, should come the chance, + Of courtesies that he received himself + In Muscovy, and left this pledge of it-- + Not likely yet, it seems, to be redeem'd. + + CLO (aside). + Oh, wondrous chance--or wondrous Providence! + The sword that I myself in Muscovy, + When these white hairs were black, for keepsake left + Of obligation for a like return + To him who saved me wounded as I lay + Fighting against his country; took me home; + Tended me like a brother till recover'd, + Perchance to fight against him once again + And now my sword put back into my hand + By his--if not his son--still, as so seeming, + By me, as first devoir of gratitude, + To seem believing, till the wearer's self + See fit to drop the ill-dissembling mask. + (Aloud.) + Well, a strange turn of fortune has arrested + The sharp and sudden penalty that else + Had visited your rashness or mischance: + In part, your tender youth too--pardon me, + And touch not where your sword is not to answer-- + Commends you to my care; not your life only, + Else by this misadventure forfeited; + But ev'n your errand, which, by happy chance, + Chimes with the very business I am on, + And calls me to the very point you aim at. + + ROS. + The capital? + + CLO. + Ay, the capital; and ev'n + That capital of capitals, the Court: + Where you may plead, and, I may promise, win + Pardon for this, you say unwilling, trespass, + And prosecute what else you have at heart, + With me to help you forward all I can; + Provided all in loyalty to those + To whom by natural allegiance + I first am bound to. + + ROS. + As you make, I take + Your offer: with like promise on my side + Of loyalty to you and those you serve, + Under like reservation for regards + Nearer and dearer still. + + CLO. + Enough, enough; + Your hand; a bargain on both sides. Meanwhile, + Here shall you rest to-night. The break of day + Shall see us both together on the way. + + ROS. + Thus then what I for misadventure blamed, + Directly draws me where my wishes aim'd. + + (Exeunt.) + + + + +SCENE II.--The Palace at Warsaw + + +Enter on one side Astolfo, Duke of Muscovy, with his train: and, on the +other, the Princess Estrella, with hers. + + ASTOLFO. + My royal cousin, if so near in blood, + Till this auspicious meeting scarcely known, + Till all that beauty promised in the bud + Is now to its consummate blossom blown, + Well met at last; and may-- + + ESTRELLA. + Enough, my Lord, + Of compliment devised for you by some + Court tailor, and, believe me, still too short + To cover the designful heart below. + + AST. + Nay, but indeed, fair cousin-- + + EST. + Ay, let Deed + Measure your words, indeed your flowers of speech + Ill with your iron equipage atone; + Irony indeed, and wordy compliment. + + AST. + Indeed, indeed, you wrong me, royal cousin, + And fair as royal, misinterpreting + What, even for the end you think I aim at, + If false to you, were fatal to myself. + + EST. + Why, what else means the glittering steel, my Lord, + That bristles in the rear of these fine words? + What can it mean, but, failing to cajole, + To fight or force me from my just pretension? + + AST. + Nay, might I not ask ev'n the same of you, + The nodding helmets of whose men-at-arms + Out-crest the plumage of your lady court? + + EST. + But to defend what yours would force from me. + + AST. + Might not I, lady, say the same of mine? + But not to come to battle, ev'n of words, + With a fair lady, and my kinswoman; + And as averse to stand before your face, + Defenceless, and condemn'd in your disgrace, + Till the good king be here to clear it all-- + Will you vouchsafe to hear me? + + EST. + As you will. + + AST. + You know that, when about to leave this world, + Our royal grandsire, King Alfonso, left + Three children; one a son, Basilio, + Who wears--long may he wear! the crown of Poland; + And daughters twain: of whom the elder was + Your mother, Clorilena, now some while + Exalted to a more than mortal throne; + And Recisunda, mine, the younger sister, + Who, married to the Prince of Muscovy, + Gave me the light which may she live to see + Herself for many, many years to come. + Meanwhile, good King Basilio, as you know, + Deep in abstruser studies than this world, + And busier with the stars than lady's eyes, + Has never by a second marriage yet + Replaced, as Poland ask'd of him, the heir + An early marriage brought and took away; + His young queen dying with the son she bore him; + And in such alienation grown so old + As leaves no other hope of heir to Poland + Than his two sisters' children; you, fair cousin, + And me; for whom the Commons of the realm + Divide themselves into two several factions; + Whether for you, the elder sister's child; + Or me, born of the younger, but, they say, + My natural prerogative of man + Outweighing your priority of birth. + Which discord growing loud and dangerous, + Our uncle, King Basilio, doubly sage + In prophesying and providing for + The future, as to deal with it when come, + Bids us here meet to-day in solemn council + Our several pretensions to compose. + And, but the martial out-burst that proclaims + His coming, makes all further parley vain, + Unless my bosom, by which only wise + I prophesy, now wrongly prophesies, + By such a happy compact as I dare + But glance at till the Royal Sage declare. + + (Trumpets, etc. Enter King Basilio with his Council.) + + ALL. + The King! God save the King! + + ESTRELLA (Kneeling.) + Oh, Royal Sir!-- + + ASTOLFO (Kneeling.) + God save your Majesty-- + + KING. + Rise both of you, + Rise to my arms, Astolfo and Estrella; + As my two sisters' children always mine, + Now more than ever, since myself and Poland + Solely to you for our succession look'd. + And now give ear, you and your several factions, + And you, the Peers and Princes of this realm, + While I reveal the purport of this meeting + In words whose necessary length I trust + No unsuccessful issue shall excuse. + You and the world who have surnamed me "Sage" + Know that I owe that title, if my due, + To my long meditation on the book + Which ever lying open overhead-- + The book of heaven, I mean--so few have read; + Whose golden letters on whose sapphire leaf, + Distinguishing the page of day and night, + And all the revolution of the year; + So with the turning volume where they lie + Still changing their prophetic syllables, + They register the destinies of men: + Until with eyes that, dim with years indeed, + Are quicker to pursue the stars than rule them, + I get the start of Time, and from his hand + The wand of tardy revelation draw. + Oh, had the self-same heaven upon his page + Inscribed my death ere I should read my life + And, by fore-casting of my own mischance, + Play not the victim but the suicide + In my own tragedy!--But you shall hear. + You know how once, as kings must for their people, + And only once, as wise men for themselves, + I woo'd and wedded: know too that my Queen + In childing died; but not, as you believe, + With her, the son she died in giving life to. + For, as the hour of birth was on the stroke, + Her brain conceiving with her womb, she dream'd + A serpent tore her entrail. And too surely + (For evil omen seldom speaks in vain) + The man-child breaking from that living tomb + That makes our birth the antitype of death, + Man-grateful, for the life she gave him paid + By killing her: and with such circumstance + As suited such unnatural tragedy; + He coming into light, if light it were + That darken'd at his very horoscope, + When heaven's two champions--sun and moon I mean-- + Suffused in blood upon each other fell + In such a raging duel of eclipse + As hath not terrified the universe + Since that which wept in blood the death of Christ: + When the dead walk'd, the waters turn'd to blood, + Earth and her cities totter'd, and the world + Seem'd shaken to its last paralysis. + In such a paroxysm of dissolution + That son of mine was born; by that first act + Heading the monstrous catalogue of crime, + I found fore-written in his horoscope; + As great a monster in man's history + As was in nature his nativity; + So savage, bloody, terrible, and impious, + Who, should he live, would tear his country's entrails, + As by his birth his mother's; with which crime + Beginning, he should clench the dreadful tale + By trampling on his father's silver head. + All which fore-reading, and his act of birth + Fate's warrant that I read his life aright; + To save his country from his mother's fate, + I gave abroad that he had died with her + His being slew; with midnight secrecy + I had him carried to a lonely tower + Hewn from the mountain-barriers of the realm, + And under strict anathema of death + Guarded from men's inquisitive approach, + Save from the trusty few one needs must trust; + Who while his fasten'd body they provide + With salutary garb and nourishment, + Instruct his soul in what no soul may miss + Of holy faith, and in such other lore + As may solace his life-imprisonment, + And tame perhaps the Savage prophesied + Toward such a trial as I aim at now, + And now demand your special hearing to. + What in this fearful business I have done, + Judge whether lightly or maliciously,-- + I, with my own and only flesh and blood, + And proper lineal inheritor! + I swear, had his foretold atrocities + Touch'd me alone. I had not saved myself + At such a cost to him; but as a king,-- + A Christian king,--I say, advisedly, + Who would devote his people to a tyrant + Worse than Caligula fore-chronicled? + But even this not without grave mis-giving, + Lest by some chance mis-reading of the stars, + Or mis-direction of what rightly read, + I wrong my son of his prerogative, + And Poland of her rightful sovereign. + For, sure and certain prophets as the stars, + Although they err not, he who reads them may; + Or rightly reading--seeing there is One + Who governs them, as, under Him, they us, + We are not sure if the rough diagram + They draw in heaven and we interpret here, + Be sure of operation, if the Will + Supreme, that sometimes for some special end + The course of providential nature breaks + By miracle, may not of these same stars + Cancel his own first draft, or overrule + What else fore-written all else overrules. + As, for example, should the Will Almighty + Permit the Free-will of particular man + To break the meshes of else strangling fate-- + Which Free-will, fearful of foretold abuse, + I have myself from my own son fore-closed + From ever possible self-extrication; + A terrible responsibility, + Not to the conscience to be reconciled + Unless opposing almost certain evil + Against so slight contingency of good. + Well--thus perplex'd, I have resolved at last + To bring the thing to trial: whereunto + Here have I summon'd you, my Peers, and you + Whom I more dearly look to, failing him, + As witnesses to that which I propose; + And thus propose the doing it. Clotaldo, + Who guards my son with old fidelity, + Shall bring him hither from his tower by night + Lockt in a sleep so fast as by my art + I rivet to within a link of death, + But yet from death so far, that next day's dawn + Shall wake him up upon the royal bed, + Complete in consciousness and faculty, + When with all princely pomp and retinue + My loyal Peers with due obeisance + Shall hail him Segismund, the Prince of Poland. + Then if with any show of human kindness + He fling discredit, not upon the stars, + But upon me, their misinterpreter, + With all apology mistaken age + Can make to youth it never meant to harm, + To my son's forehead will I shift the crown + I long have wish'd upon a younger brow; + And in religious humiliation, + For what of worn-out age remains to me, + Entreat my pardon both of Heaven and him + For tempting destinies beyond my reach. + But if, as I misdoubt, at his first step + The hoof of the predicted savage shows; + Before predicted mischief can be done, + The self-same sleep that loosed him from the chain + Shall re-consign him, not to loose again. + Then shall I, having lost that heir direct, + Look solely to my sisters' children twain + Each of a claim so equal as divides + The voice of Poland to their several sides, + But, as I trust, to be entwined ere long + Into one single wreath so fair and strong + As shall at once all difference atone, + And cease the realm's division with their own. + Cousins and Princes, Peers and Councillors, + Such is the purport of this invitation, + And such is my design. Whose furtherance + If not as Sovereign, if not as Seer, + Yet one whom these white locks, if nothing else, + to patient acquiescence consecrate, + I now demand and even supplicate. + + AST. + Such news, and from such lips, may well suspend + The tongue to loyal answer most attuned; + But if to me as spokesman of my faction + Your Highness looks for answer; I reply + For one and all--Let Segismund, whom now + We first hear tell of as your living heir, + Appear, and but in your sufficient eye + Approve himself worthy to be your son, + Then we will hail him Poland's rightful heir. + What says my cousin? + + EST. + Ay, with all my heart. + But if my youth and sex upbraid me not + That I should dare ask of so wise a king-- + + KING. + Ask, ask, fair cousin! Nothing, I am sure, + Not well consider'd; nay, if 'twere, yet nothing + But pardonable from such lips as those. + + EST. + Then, with your pardon, Sir--if Segismund, + My cousin, whom I shall rejoice to hail + As Prince of Poland too, as you propose, + Be to a trial coming upon which + More, as I think, than life itself depends, + Why, Sir, with sleep-disorder'd senses brought + To this uncertain contest with his stars? + + KING. + Well ask'd indeed! As wisely be it answer'd! + _Because_ it is uncertain, see you not? + For as I think I can discern between + The sudden flaws of a sleep-startled man, + And of the savage thing we have to dread; + If but bewilder'd, dazzled, and uncouth, + As might the sanest and the civilest + In circumstance so strange--nay, more than that, + If moved to any out-break short of blood, + All shall be well with him; and how much more, + If 'mid the magic turmoil of the change, + He shall so calm a resolution show + As scarce to reel beneath so great a blow! + But if with savage passion uncontroll'd + He lay about him like the brute foretold, + And must as suddenly be caged again; + Then what redoubled anguish and despair, + From that brief flash of blissful liberty + Remitted--and for ever--to his chain! + Which so much less, if on the stage of glory + Enter'd and exited through such a door + Of sleep as makes a dream of all between. + + EST. + Oh kindly answer, Sir, to question that + To charitable courtesy less wise + Might call for pardon rather! I shall now + Gladly, what, uninstructed, loyally + I should have waited. + + AST. + Your Highness doubts not me, + Nor how my heart follows my cousin's lips, + Whatever way the doubtful balance fall, + Still loyal to your bidding. + + OMNES. + So say all. + + KING. + I hoped, and did expect, of all no less-- + And sure no sovereign ever needed more + From all who owe him love or loyalty. + For what a strait of time I stand upon, + When to this issue not alone I bring + My son your Prince, but e'en myself your King: + And, whichsoever way for him it turn, + Of less than little honour to myself. + For if this coming trial justify + My thus withholding from my son his right, + Is not the judge himself justified in + The father's shame? And if the judge proved wrong, + My son withholding from his right thus long, + Shame and remorse to judge and father both: + Unless remorse and shame together drown'd + In having what I flung for worthless found. + But come--already weary with your travel, + And ill refresh'd by this strange history, + Until the hours that draw the sun from heaven + Unite us at the customary board, + Each to his several chamber: you to rest; + I to contrive with old Clotaldo best + The method of a stranger thing than old + Time has a yet among his records told. + + Exeunt. + + + + +ACT II + + + + +SCENE I--A Throne-room in the Palace. Music within. + + + (Enter King and Clotaldo, meeting a Lord in waiting) + + KING. + You, for a moment beckon'd from your office, + Tell me thus far how goes it. In due time + The potion left him? + + LORD. + At the very hour + To which your Highness temper'd it. Yet not + So wholly but some lingering mist still hung + About his dawning senses--which to clear, + We fill'd and handed him a morning drink + With sleep's specific antidote suffused; + And while with princely raiment we invested + What nature surely modell'd for a Prince-- + All but the sword--as you directed-- + + KING. + Ay-- + + LORD. + If not too loudly, yet emphatically + Still with the title of a Prince address'd him. + + KING. + How bore he that? + + LORD. + With all the rest, my liege, + I will not say so like one in a dream + As one himself misdoubting that he dream'd. + + KING. + So far so well, Clotaldo, either way, + And best of all if tow'rd the worse I dread. + But yet no violence? + + LORD. + At most, impatience; + Wearied perhaps with importunities + We yet were bound to offer. + + KING. + Oh, Clotaldo! + Though thus far well, yet would myself had drunk + The potion he revives from! such suspense + Crowds all the pulses of life's residue + Into the present moment; and, I think, + Whichever way the trembling scale may turn, + Will leave the crown of Poland for some one + To wait no longer than the setting sun! + + CLO. + Courage, my liege! The curtain is undrawn, + And each must play his part out manfully, + Leaving the rest to heaven. + + KING. + Whose written words + If I should misinterpret or transgress! + But as you say-- + (To the Lord, who exit.) + You, back to him at once; + Clotaldo, you, when he is somewhat used + To the new world of which they call him Prince, + Where place and face, and all, is strange to him, + With your known features and familiar garb + Shall then, as chorus to the scene, accost him, + And by such earnest of that old and too + Familiar world, assure him of the new. + Last in the strange procession, I myself + Will by one full and last development + Complete the plot for that catastrophe + That he must put to all; God grant it be + The crown of Poland on his brows!--Hark! hark!-- + Was that his voice within!--Now louder--Oh, + Clotaldo, what! so soon begun to roar!-- + Again! above the music--But betide + What may, until the moment, we must hide. + + (Exeunt King and Clotaldo.) + + SEGISMUND (within). + Forbear! I stifle with your perfume! Cease + Your crazy salutations! peace, I say + Begone, or let me go, ere I go mad + With all this babble, mummery, and glare, + For I am growing dangerous--Air! room! air!-- + (He rushes in. Music ceases.) + Oh but to save the reeling brain from wreck + With its bewilder'd senses! + (He covers his eyes for a while.) + What! E'en now + That Babel left behind me, but my eyes + Pursued by the same glamour, that--unless + Alike bewitch'd too--the confederate sense + Vouches for palpable: bright-shining floors + That ring hard answer back to the stamp'd heel, + And shoot up airy columns marble-cold, + That, as they climb, break into golden leaf + And capital, till they embrace aloft + In clustering flower and fruitage over walls + Hung with such purple curtain as the West + Fringes with such a gold; or over-laid + With sanguine-glowing semblances of men, + Each in his all but living action busied, + Or from the wall they look from, with fix'd eyes + Pursuing me; and one most strange of all + That, as I pass'd the crystal on the wall, + Look'd from it--left it--and as I return, + Returns, and looks me face to face again-- + Unless some false reflection of my brain, + The outward semblance of myself--Myself? + How know that tawdry shadow for myself, + But that it moves as I move; lifts his hand + With mine; each motion echoing so close + The immediate suggestion of the will + In which myself I recognize--Myself!-- + What, this fantastic Segismund the same + Who last night, as for all his nights before, + Lay down to sleep in wolf-skin on the ground + In a black turret which the wolf howl'd round, + And woke again upon a golden bed, + Round which as clouds about a rising sun, + In scarce less glittering caparison, + Gather'd gay shapes that, underneath a breeze + Of music, handed him upon their knees + The wine of heaven in a cup of gold, + And still in soft melodious under-song + Hailing me Prince of Poland!--'Segismund,' + They said, 'Our Prince! The Prince of Poland!' and + Again, 'Oh, welcome, welcome, to his own, + 'Our own Prince Segismund--' + Oh, but a blast-- + One blast of the rough mountain air! one look + At the grim features-- + (He goes to the window.) + What they disvizor'd also! shatter'd chaos + Cast into stately shape and masonry, + Between whose channel'd and perspective sides + Compact with rooted towers, and flourishing + To heaven with gilded pinnacle and spire, + Flows the live current ever to and fro + With open aspect and free step!--Clotaldo! + Clotaldo!--calling as one scarce dares call + For him who suddenly might break the spell + One fears to walk without him--Why, that I, + With unencumber'd step as any there, + Go stumbling through my glory--feeling for + That iron leading-string--ay, for myself-- + For that fast-anchor'd self of yesterday, + Of yesterday, and all my life before, + Ere drifted clean from self-identity + Upon the fluctuation of to-day's + Mad whirling circumstance!--And, fool, why not? + If reason, sense, and self-identity + Obliterated from a worn-out brain, + Art thou not maddest striving to be sane, + And catching at that Self of yesterday + That, like a leper's rags, best flung away! + Or if not mad, then dreaming--dreaming?--well-- + Dreaming then--Or, if self to self be true, + Not mock'd by that, but as poor souls have been + By those who wrong'd them, to give wrong new relish? + Or have those stars indeed they told me of + As masters of my wretched life of old, + Into some happier constellation roll'd, + And brought my better fortune out on earth + Clear as themselves in heaven!--Prince Segismund + They call'd me--and at will I shook them off-- + Will they return again at my command + Again to call me so?--Within there! You! + Segismund calls--Prince Segismund-- + + (He has seated himself on the throne. + Enter Chamberlain, with lords in waiting.) + + CHAMB. + I rejoice + That unadvised of any but the voice + Of royal instinct in the blood, your Highness + Has ta'en the chair that you were born to fill. + + SEG. + The chair? + + CHAMB. + The royal throne of Poland, Sir, + Which may your Royal Highness keep as long + As he that now rules from it shall have ruled + When heaven has call'd him to itself. + + SEG. + When he?-- + + CHAMB. + Your royal father, King Basilio, Sir. + + SEG. + My royal father--King Basilio. + You see I answer but as Echo does, + Not knowing what she listens or repeats. + This is my throne--this is my palace--Oh, + But this out of the window?-- + + CHAMB. + Warsaw, Sir, + Your capital-- + + SEG. + And all the moving people? + + CHAMB. + Your subjects and your vassals like ourselves. + + SEG. + Ay, ay--my subjects--in my capital-- + Warsaw--and I am Prince of it--You see + It needs much iteration to strike sense + Into the human echo. + + CHAMB. + Left awhile + In the quick brain, the word will quickly to + Full meaning blow. + + SEG. + You think so? + + CHAMB. + And meanwhile + Lest our obsequiousness, which means no worse + Than customary honour to the Prince + We most rejoice to welcome, trouble you, + Should we retire again? or stand apart? + Or would your Highness have the music play + Again, which meditation, as they say, + So often loves to float upon? + + SEG. + The music? + No--yes--perhaps the trumpet-- + (Aside) + Yet if that + Brought back the troop! + + A LORD. + The trumpet! There again + How trumpet-like spoke out the blood of Poland! + + CHAMB. + Before the morning is far up, your Highness + Will have the trumpet marshalling your soldiers + Under the Palace windows. + + SEG. + Ah, my soldiers-- + My soldiers--not black-vizor'd?-- + + CHAMB. + Sir? + + SEG. + No matter. + But--one thing--for a moment--in your ear-- + Do you know one Clotaldo? + + CHAMB. + Oh, my Lord, + He and myself together, I may say, + Although in different vocations, + Have silver'd in your royal father's service; + And, as I trust, with both of us a few + White hairs to fall in yours. + + SEG. + Well said, well said! + Basilio, my father--well--Clotaldo + Is he my kinsman too? + + CHAMB. + Oh, my good Lord, + A General simply in your Highness' service, + Than whom your Highness has no trustier. + + SEG. + Ay, so you said before, I think. And you + With that white wand of yours-- + Why, now I think on't, I have read of such + A silver-hair'd magician with a wand, + Who in a moment, with a wave of it, + Turn'd rags to jewels, clowns to emperors, + By some benigner magic than the stars + Spirited poor good people out of hand + From all their woes; in some enchanted sleep + Carried them off on cloud or dragon-back + Over the mountains, over the wide Deep, + And set them down to wake in Fairyland. + + CHAMB. + Oh, my good Lord, you laugh at me--and I + Right glad to make you laugh at such a price: + You know me no enchanter: if I were, + I and my wand as much as your Highness', + As now your chamberlain-- + + SEG. + My chamberlain?-- + And these that follow you?-- + + CHAMB. + On you, my Lord, + Your Highness' lords in waiting. + + SEG. + Lords in waiting. + Well, I have now learn'd to repeat, I think, + If only but by rote--This is my palace, + And this my throne--which unadvised--And that + Out of the window there my Capital; + And all the people moving up and down + My subjects and my vassals like yourselves, + My chamberlain--and lords in waiting--and + Clotaldo--and Clotaldo?-- + You are an aged, and seem a reverend man-- + You do not--though his fellow-officer-- + You do not mean to mock me? + + CHAMB. + Oh, my Lord! + + SEG. + Well then--If no magician, as you say, + Yet setting me a riddle, that my brain, + With all its senses whirling, cannot solve, + Yourself or one of these with you must answer-- + How I--that only last night fell asleep + Not knowing that the very soil of earth + I lay down--chain'd--to sleep upon was Poland-- + Awake to find myself the Lord of it, + With Lords, and Generals, and Chamberlains, + And ev'n my very Gaoler, for my vassals! + + Enter suddenly Clotaldo + + CLOTALDO. + Stand all aside + That I may put into his hand the clue + To lead him out of this amazement. Sir, + Vouchsafe your Highness from my bended knee + Receive my homage first. + + SEG. + Clotaldo! What, + At last--his old self--undisguised where all + Is masquerade--to end it!--You kneeling too! + What! have the stars you told me long ago + Laid that old work upon you, added this, + That, having chain'd your prisoner so long, + You loose his body now to slay his wits, + Dragging him--how I know not--whither scarce + I understand--dressing him up in all + This frippery, with your dumb familiars + Disvizor'd, and their lips unlock'd to lie, + Calling him Prince and King, and, madman-like, + Setting a crown of straw upon his head? + + CLO. + Would but your Highness, as indeed I now + Must call you--and upon his bended knee + Never bent Subject more devotedly-- + However all about you, and perhaps + You to yourself incomprehensiblest, + But rest in the assurance of your own + Sane waking senses, by these witnesses + Attested, till the story of it all, + Of which I bring a chapter, be reveal'd, + Assured of all you see and hear as neither + Madness nor mockery-- + + SEG. + What then? + + CLO. + All it seems: + This palace with its royal garniture; + This capital of which it is the eye, + With all its temples, marts, and arsenals; + This realm of which this city is the head, + With all its cities, villages, and tilth, + Its armies, fleets, and commerce; all your own; + And all the living souls that make them up, + From those who now, and those who shall, salute you, + Down to the poorest peasant of the realm, + Your subjects--Who, though now their mighty voice + Sleeps in the general body unapprized, + Wait but a word from those about you now + To hail you Prince of Poland, Segismund. + + SEG. + All this is so? + + CLO. + As sure as anything + Is, or can be. + + SEG. + You swear it on the faith + You taught me--elsewhere?-- + + CLO (kissing the hilt of his sword). + Swear it upon this Symbol, + and champion of the holy faith + I wear it to defend. + + SEG (to himself). + My eyes have not deceived me, nor my ears, + With this transfiguration, nor the strain + Of royal welcome that arose and blew, + Breathed from no lying lips, along with it. + For here Clotaldo comes, his own old self, + Who, if not Lie and phantom with the rest-- + (Aloud) + Well, then, all this is thus. + For have not these fine people told me so, + And you, Clotaldo, sworn it? And the Why + And Wherefore are to follow by and bye! + And yet--and yet--why wait for that which you + Who take your oath on it can answer--and + Indeed it presses hard upon my brain-- + What I was asking of these gentlemen + When you came in upon us; how it is + That I--the Segismund you know so long + No longer than the sun that rose to-day + Rose--and from what you know-- + Rose to be Prince of Poland? + + CLO. + So to be + Acknowledged and entreated, Sir. + + SEG. + So be + Acknowledged and entreated-- + Well--But if now by all, by some at least + So known--if not entreated--heretofore-- + Though not by you--For, now I think again, + Of what should be your attestation worth, + You that of all my questionable subjects + Who knowing what, yet left me where I was, + You least of all, Clotaldo, till the dawn + Of this first day that told it to myself? + + CLO. + Oh, let your Highness draw the line across + Fore-written sorrow, and in this new dawn + Bury that long sad night. + + SEG. + Not ev'n the Dead, + Call'd to the resurrection of the blest, + Shall so directly drop all memory + Of woes and wrongs foregone! + + CLO. + But not resent-- + Purged by the trial of that sorrow past + For full fruition of their present bliss. + + SEG. + But leaving with the Judge what, till this earth + Be cancell'd in the burning heavens, He leaves + His earthly delegates to execute, + Of retribution in reward to them + And woe to those who wrong'd them--Not as you, + Not you, Clotaldo, knowing not--And yet + Ev'n to the guiltiest wretch in all the realm, + Of any treason guilty short of that, + Stern usage--but assuredly not knowing, + Not knowing 'twas your sovereign lord, Clotaldo, + You used so sternly. + + CLO. + Ay, sir; with the same + Devotion and fidelity that now + Does homage to him for my sovereign. + + SEG. + Fidelity that held his Prince in chains! + + CLO. + Fidelity more fast than had it loosed him-- + + SEG. + Ev'n from the very dawn of consciousness + Down at the bottom of the barren rocks, + Where scarce a ray of sunshine found him out, + In which the poorest beggar of my realm + At least to human-full proportion grows-- + Me! Me--whose station was the kingdom's top + To flourish in, reaching my head to heaven, + And with my branches overshadowing + The meaner growth below! + + CLO. + Still with the same + Fidelity-- + + SEG. + To me!-- + + CLO. + Ay, sir, to you, + Through that divine allegiance upon which + All Order and Authority is based; + Which to revolt against-- + + SEG. + Were to revolt + Against the stars, belike! + + CLO. + And him who reads them; + And by that right, and by the sovereignty + He wears as you shall wear it after him; + Ay, one to whom yourself-- + Yourself, ev'n more than any subject here, + Are bound by yet another and more strong + Allegiance--King Basilio--your Father-- + + SEG. + Basilio--King--my father!-- + + CLO. + Oh, my Lord, + Let me beseech you on my bended knee, + For your own sake--for Poland's--and for his, + Who, looking up for counsel to the skies, + Did what he did under authority + To which the kings of earth themselves are subject, + And whose behest not only he that suffers, + But he that executes, not comprehends, + But only He that orders it-- + + SEG. + The King-- + My father!--Either I am mad already, + Or that way driving fast--or I should know + That fathers do not use their children so, + Or men were loosed from all allegiance + To fathers, kings, and heaven that order'd all. + But, mad or not, my hour is come, and I + Will have my reckoning--Either you lie, + Under the skirt of sinless majesty + Shrouding your treason; or if _that_ indeed, + Guilty itself, take refuge in the stars + That cannot hear the charge, or disavow-- + You, whether doer or deviser, who + Come first to hand, shall pay the penalty + By the same hand you owe it to-- + (Seizing Clotaldo's sword and about to strike him.) + + (Enter Rosaura suddenly.) + + ROSAURA. + Fie, my Lord--forbear, + What! a young hand raised against silver hair!-- + + (She retreats through the crowd.) + + SEG. + Stay! stay! What come and vanish'd as before-- + I scarce remember how--but-- + + (Voices within. Room for Astolfo, Duke of Muscovy!) + + (Enter Astolfo) + + ASTOLFO. + Welcome, thrice welcome, the auspicious day, + When from the mountain where he darkling lay, + The Polish sun into the firmament + Sprung all the brighter for his late ascent, + And in meridian glory-- + + SEG. + Where is he? + Why must I ask this twice?-- + + A LORD. + The Page, my Lord? + I wonder at his boldness-- + + SEG. + But I tell you + He came with Angel written in his face + As now it is, when all was black as hell + About, and none of you who now--he came, + And Angel-like flung me a shining sword + To cut my way through darkness; and again + Angel-like wrests it from me in behalf + Of one--whom I will spare for sparing him: + But he must come and plead with that same voice + That pray'd for me--in vain. + + CHAMB. + He is gone for, + And shall attend your pleasure, sir. Meanwhile, + Will not your Highness, as in courtesy, + Return your royal cousin's greeting? + + SEG. + Whose? + + CHAMB. + Astolfo, Duke of Muscovy, my Lord, + Saluted, and with gallant compliment + Welcomed you to your royal title. + + SEG. (to Astolfo). + Oh-- + You knew of this then? + + AST. + Knew of what, my Lord? + + SEG. + That I was Prince of Poland all the while, + And you my subject? + + AST. + Pardon me, my Lord, + But some few hours ago myself I learn'd + Your dignity; but, knowing it, no more + Than when I knew it not, your subject. + + SEG. + What then? + + AST. + Your Highness' chamberlain ev'n now has told you; + Astolfo, Duke of Muscovy, + Your father's sister's son; your cousin, sir: + And who as such, and in his own right Prince, + Expects from you the courtesy he shows. + + CHAMB. + His Highness is as yet unused to Court, + And to the ceremonious interchange + Of compliment, especially to those + Who draw their blood from the same royal fountain. + + SEG. + Where is the lad? I weary of all this-- + Prince, cousins, chamberlains, and compliments-- + Where are my soldiers? Blow the trumpet, and + With one sharp blast scatter these butterflies + And bring the men of iron to my side, + With whom a king feels like a king indeed! + + (Voices within. Within there! room for the Princess Estrella!) + + (Enter Estrella with Ladies.) + + ESTRELLA. + Welcome, my Lord, right welcome to the throne + That much too long has waited for your coming: + And, in the general voice of Poland, hear + A kinswoman and cousin's no less sincere. + + SEG. + Ay, this is welcome-worth indeed, + And cousin cousin-worth! Oh, I have thus + Over the threshold of the mountain seen, + Leading a bevy of fair stars, the moon + Enter the court of heaven--My kinswoman! + My cousin! But my subject?-- + + EST. + If you please + To count your cousin for your subject, sir, + You shall not find her a disloyal. + + SEG. + Oh, + But there are twin stars in that heavenly face, + That now I know for having over-ruled + Those evil ones that darken'd all my past + And brought me forth from that captivity + To be the slave of her who set me free. + + EST. + Indeed, my Lord, these eyes have no such power + Over the past or present: but perhaps + They brighten at your welcome to supply + The little that a lady's speech commends; + And in the hope that, let whichever be + The other's subject, we may both be friends. + + SEG. + Your hand to that--But why does this warm hand + Shoot a cold shudder through me? + + EST. + In revenge + For likening me to that cold moon, perhaps. + + SEG. + Oh, but the lip whose music tells me so + Breathes of a warmer planet, and that lip + Shall remedy the treason of the hand! + (He catches to embrace her.) + + EST. + Release me, sir! + + CHAMB. + And pardon me, my Lord. + This lady is a Princess absolute, + As Prince he is who just saluted you, + And claims her by affiance. + + SEG. + Hence, old fool, + For ever thrusting that white stick of yours + Between me and my pleasure! + + AST. + This cause is mine. + Forbear, sir-- + + SEG. + What, sir mouth-piece, you again? + + AST. + My Lord, I waive your insult to myself + In recognition of the dignity + You yet are new to, and that greater still + You look in time to wear. But for this lady-- + Whom, if my cousin now, I hope to claim + Henceforth by yet a nearer, dearer name-- + + SEG. + And what care I? She is my cousin too: + And if you be a Prince--well, am not I + Lord of the very soil you stand upon? + By that, and by that right beside of blood + That like a fiery fountain hitherto + Pent in the rock leaps toward her at her touch, + Mine, before all the cousins in Muscovy! + You call me Prince of Poland, and yourselves + My subjects--traitors therefore to this hour, + Who let me perish all my youth away + Chain'd there among the mountains; till, forsooth, + Terrified at your treachery foregone, + You spirit me up here, I know not how, + Popinjay-like invest me like yourselves, + Choke me with scent and music that I loathe, + And, worse than all the music and the scent, + With false, long-winded, fulsome compliment, + That 'Oh, you are my subjects!' and in word + Reiterating still obedience, + Thwart me in deed at every step I take: + When just about to wreak a just revenge + Upon that old arch-traitor of you all, + Filch from my vengeance him I hate; and him + I loved--the first and only face--till this-- + I cared to look on in your ugly court-- + And now when palpably I grasp at last + What hitherto but shadow'd in my dreams-- + Affiances and interferences, + The first who dares to meddle with me more-- + Princes and chamberlains and counsellors, + Touch her who dares!-- + + AST. + That dare I-- + + SEG. (seizing him by the throat). + You dare! + + CHAMB. + My Lord!-- + + A LORD. + His strength's a lion's-- + + (Voices within. The King! The King!--) + + (Enter King.) + + A LORD. + And on a sudden how he stands at gaze + As might a wolf just fasten'd on his prey, + Glaring at a suddenly encounter'd lion. + + KING. + And I that hither flew with open arms + To fold them round my son, must now return + To press them to an empty heart again! + (He sits on the throne.) + + SEG. + That is the King?--My father? + (After a long pause.) + I have heard + That sometimes some blind instinct has been known + To draw to mutual recognition those + Of the same blood, beyond all memory + Divided, or ev'n never met before. + I know not how this is--perhaps in brutes + That live by kindlier instincts--but I know + That looking now upon that head whose crown + Pronounces him a sovereign king, I feel + No setting of the current in my blood + Tow'rd him as sire. How is't with you, old man, + Tow'rd him they call your son?-- + + KING. + Alas! Alas! + + SEG. + Your sorrow, then? + + KING. + Beholding what I do. + + SEG. + Ay, but how know this sorrow that has grown + And moulded to this present shape of man, + As of your own creation? + + KING. + Ev'n from birth. + + SEG. + But from that hour to this, near, as I think, + Some twenty such renewals of the year + As trace themselves upon the barren rocks, + I never saw you, nor you me--unless, + Unless, indeed, through one of those dark masks + Through which a son might fail to recognize + The best of fathers. + + KING. + Be that as you will: + But, now we see each other face to face, + Know me as you I know; which did I not, + By whatsoever signs, assuredly + You were not here to prove it at my risk. + + SEG. + You are my father. + And is it true then, as Clotaldo swears, + 'Twas you that from the dawning birth of one + Yourself brought into being,--you, I say, + Who stole his very birthright; not alone + That secondary and peculiar right + Of sovereignty, but even that prime + Inheritance that all men share alike, + And chain'd him--chain'd him!--like a wild beast's whelp. + Among as savage mountains, to this hour? + Answer if this be thus. + + KING. + Oh, Segismund, + In all that I have done that seems to you, + And, without further hearing, fairly seems, + Unnatural and cruel--'twas not I, + But One who writes His order in the sky + I dared not misinterpret nor neglect, + Who knows with what reluctance-- + + SEG. + Oh, those stars, + Those stars, that too far up from human blame + To clear themselves, or careless of the charge, + Still bear upon their shining shoulders all + The guilt men shift upon them! + + KING. + Nay, but think: + Not only on the common score of kind, + But that peculiar count of sovereignty-- + If not behind the beast in brain as heart, + How should I thus deal with my innocent child, + Doubly desired, and doubly dear when come, + As that sweet second-self that all desire, + And princes more than all, to root themselves + By that succession in their people's hearts, + Unless at that superior Will, to which + Not kings alone, but sovereign nature bows? + + SEG. + And what had those same stars to tell of me + That should compel a father and a king + So much against that double instinct? + + KING. + That, + Which I have brought you hither, at my peril, + Against their written warning, to disprove, + By justice, mercy, human kindliness. + + SEG. + And therefore made yourself their instrument + To make your son the savage and the brute + They only prophesied?--Are you not afear'd, + Lest, irrespective as such creatures are + Of such relationship, the brute you made + Revenge the man you marr'd--like sire, like son. + To do by you as you by me have done? + + KING. + You never had a savage heart from me; + I may appeal to Poland. + + SEG. + Then from whom? + If pure in fountain, poison'd by yourself + When scarce begun to flow.--To make a man + Not, as I see, degraded from the mould + I came from, nor compared to those about, + And then to throw your own flesh to the dogs!-- + Why not at once, I say, if terrified + At the prophetic omens of my birth, + Have drown'd or stifled me, as they do whelps + Too costly or too dangerous to keep? + + KING. + That, living, you might learn to live, and rule + Yourself and Poland. + + SEG. + By the means you took + To spoil for either? + + KING. + Nay, but, Segismund! + You know not--cannot know--happily wanting + The sad experience on which knowledge grows, + How the too early consciousness of power + Spoils the best blood; nor whether for your long + Constrain'd disheritance (which, but for me, + Remember, and for my relenting love + Bursting the bond of fate, had been eternal) + You have not now a full indemnity; + Wearing the blossom of your youth unspent + In the voluptuous sunshine of a court, + That often, by too early blossoming, + Too soon deflowers the rose of royalty. + + SEG. + Ay, but what some precocious warmth may spill, + May not an early frost as surely kill? + + KING. + But, Segismund, my son, whose quick discourse + Proves I have not extinguish'd and destroy'd + The Man you charge me with extinguishing, + However it condemn me for the fault + Of keeping a good light so long eclipsed, + Reflect! This is the moment upon which + Those stars, whose eyes, although we see them not, + By day as well as night are on us still, + Hang watching up in the meridian heaven + Which way the balance turns; and if to you-- + As by your dealing God decide it may, + To my confusion!--let me answer it + Unto yourself alone, who shall at once + Approve yourself to be your father's judge, + And sovereign of Poland in his stead, + By justice, mercy, self-sobriety, + And all the reasonable attributes + Without which, impotent to rule himself, + Others one cannot, and one must not rule; + But which if you but show the blossom of-- + All that is past we shall but look upon + As the first out-fling of a generous nature + Rioting in first liberty; and if + This blossom do but promise such a flower + As promises in turn its kindly fruit: + Forthwith upon your brows the royal crown, + That now weighs heavy on my aged brows, + I will devolve; and while I pass away + Into some cloister, with my Maker there + To make my peace in penitence and prayer, + Happily settle the disorder'd realm + That now cries loudly for a lineal heir. + + SEG. + And so-- + When the crown falters on your shaking head, + And slips the sceptre from your palsied hand, + And Poland for her rightful heir cries out; + When not only your stol'n monopoly + Fails you of earthly power, but 'cross the grave + The judgment-trumpet of another world + Calls you to count for your abuse of this; + Then, oh then, terrified by the double danger, + You drag me from my den-- + Boast not of giving up at last the power + You can no longer hold, and never rightly + Held, but in fee for him you robb'd it from; + And be assured your Savage, once let loose, + Will not be caged again so quickly; not + By threat or adulation to be tamed, + Till he have had his quarrel out with those + Who made him what he is. + + KING. + Beware! Beware! + Subdue the kindled Tiger in your eye, + Nor dream that it was sheer necessity + Made me thus far relax the bond of fate, + And, with far more of terror than of hope + Threaten myself, my people, and the State. + Know that, if old, I yet have vigour left + To wield the sword as well as wear the crown; + And if my more immediate issue fail, + Not wanting scions of collateral blood, + Whose wholesome growth shall more than compensate + For all the loss of a distorted stem. + + SEG. + That will I straightway bring to trial--Oh, + After a revelation such as this, + The Last Day shall have little left to show + Of righted wrong and villainy requited! + Nay, Judgment now beginning upon earth, + Myself, methinks, in sight of all my wrongs, + Appointed heaven's avenging minister, + Accuser, judge, and executioner + Sword in hand, cite the guilty--First, as worst, + The usurper of his son's inheritance; + Him and his old accomplice, time and crime + Inveterate, and unable to repay + The golden years of life they stole away. + What, does he yet maintain his state, and keep + The throne he should be judged from? Down with him, + That I may trample on the false white head + So long has worn my crown! Where are my soldiers? + Of all my subjects and my vassals here + Not one to do my bidding? Hark! A trumpet! + The trumpet-- + + (He pauses as the trumpet sounds as in Act I., + and masked Soldiers gradually fill in behind the Throne.) + + KING (rising before his throne). + Ay, indeed, the trumpet blows + A memorable note, to summon those + Who, if forthwith you fall not at the feet + Of him whose head you threaten with the dust, + Forthwith shall draw the curtain of the Past + About you; and this momentary gleam + Of glory that you think to hold life-fast, + So coming, so shall vanish, as a dream. + + SEG. + He prophesies; the old man prophesies; + And, at his trumpet's summons, from the tower + The leash-bound shadows loosen'd after me + My rising glory reach and over-lour-- + But, reach not I my height, he shall not hold, + But with me back to his own darkness! + + (He dashes toward the throne and is enclosed by the soldiers.) + + Traitors! + Hold off! Unhand me!--Am not I your king? + And you would strangle him!-- + But I am breaking with an inward Fire + Shall scorch you off, and wrap me on the wings + Of conflagration from a kindled pyre + Of lying prophecies and prophet-kings + Above the extinguish'd stars--Reach me the sword + He flung me--Fill me such a bowl of wine + As that you woke the day with-- + + KING. + And shall close,-- + But of the vintage that Clotaldo knows. + + (Exeunt.) + + + + +ACT III. + + + + +SCENE I.--The Tower, etc., as in Act I. Scene I. + +Segismund, as at first, and Clotaldo. + + CLOTALDO. + Princes and princesses, and counsellors + Fluster'd to right and left--my life made at-- + But that was nothing + Even the white-hair'd, venerable King + Seized on--Indeed, you made wild work of it; + And so discover'd in your outward action, + Flinging your arms about you in your sleep, + Grinding your teeth--and, as I now remember, + Woke mouthing out judgment and execution, + On those about you. + + SEG. + Ay, I did indeed. + + CLO. + Ev'n now your eyes stare wild; your hair stands up-- + Your pulses throb and flutter, reeling still + Under the storm of such a dream-- + + SEG. + A dream! + That seem'd as swearable reality + As what I wake in now. + + CLO. + Ay--wondrous how + Imagination in a sleeping brain + Out of the uncontingent senses draws + Sensations strong as from the real touch; + That we not only laugh aloud, and drench + With tears our pillow; but in the agony + Of some imaginary conflict, fight + And struggle--ev'n as you did; some, 'tis thought, + Under the dreamt-of stroke of death have died. + + SEG. + And what so very strange too--In that world + Where place as well as people all was strange, + Ev'n I almost as strange unto myself, + You only, you, Clotaldo--you, as much + And palpably yourself as now you are, + Came in this very garb you ever wore, + By such a token of the past, you said, + To assure me of that seeming present. + + CLO. + Ay? + + SEG. + Ay; and even told me of the very stars + You tell me here of--how in spite of them, + I was enlarged to all that glory. + + CLO. + Ay, By the false spirits' nice contrivance thus + A little truth oft leavens all the false, + The better to delude us. + + SEG. + For you know + 'Tis nothing but a dream? + + CLO. + Nay, you yourself + Know best how lately you awoke from that + You know you went to sleep on?-- + Why, have you never dreamt the like before? + + SEG. + Never, to such reality. + + CLO. + Such dreams + Are oftentimes the sleeping exhalations + Of that ambition that lies smouldering + Under the ashes of the lowest fortune; + By which, when reason slumbers, or has lost + The reins of sensible comparison, + We fly at something higher than we are-- + Scarce ever dive to lower--to be kings, + Or conquerors, crown'd with laurel or with gold, + Nay, mounting heaven itself on eagle wings. + Which, by the way, now that I think of it, + May furnish us the key to this high flight + That royal Eagle we were watching, and + Talking of as you went to sleep last night. + + SEG. + Last night? Last night? + + CLO. + Ay, do you not remember + Envying his immunity of flight, + As, rising from his throne of rock, he sail'd + Above the mountains far into the West, + That burn'd about him, while with poising wings + He darkled in it as a burning brand + Is seen to smoulder in the fire it feeds? + + SEG. + Last night--last night--Oh, what a day was that + Between that last night and this sad To-day! + + CLO. + And yet, perhaps, + Only some few dark moments, into which + Imagination, once lit up within + And unconditional of time and space, + Can pour infinities. + + SEG. + And I remember + How the old man they call'd the King, who wore + The crown of gold about his silver hair, + And a mysterious girdle round his waist, + Just when my rage was roaring at its height, + And after which it all was dark again, + Bid me beware lest all should be a dream. + + CLO. + Ay--there another specialty of dreams, + That once the dreamer 'gins to dream he dreams, + His foot is on the very verge of waking. + + SEG. + Would it had been upon the verge of death + That knows no waking-- + Lifting me up to glory, to fall back, + Stunn'd, crippled--wretcheder than ev'n before. + + CLO. + Yet not so glorious, Segismund, if you + Your visionary honour wore so ill + As to work murder and revenge on those + Who meant you well. + + SEG. + Who meant me!--me! their Prince + Chain'd like a felon-- + + CLO. + Stay, stay--Not so fast, + You dream'd the Prince, remember. + + SEG. + Then in dream + Revenged it only. + + CLO. + True. But as they say + Dreams are rough copies of the waking soul + Yet uncorrected of the higher Will, + So that men sometimes in their dreams confess + An unsuspected, or forgotten, self; + One must beware to check--ay, if one may, + Stifle ere born, such passion in ourselves + As makes, we see, such havoc with our sleep, + And ill reacts upon the waking day. + And, by the bye, for one test, Segismund, + Between such swearable realities-- + Since Dreaming, Madness, Passion, are akin + In missing each that salutary rein + Of reason, and the guiding will of man: + One test, I think, of waking sanity + Shall be that conscious power of self-control, + To curb all passion, but much most of all + That evil and vindictive, that ill squares + With human, and with holy canon less, + Which bids us pardon ev'n our enemies, + And much more those who, out of no ill will, + Mistakenly have taken up the rod + Which heaven, they think, has put into their hands. + + SEG. + I think I soon shall have to try again-- + Sleep has not yet done with me. + + CLO. + Such a sleep. + Take my advice--'tis early yet--the sun + Scarce up above the mountain; go within, + And if the night deceived you, try anew + With morning; morning dreams they say come true. + + SEG. + Oh, rather pray for me a sleep so fast + As shall obliterate dream and waking too. + + (Exit into the tower.) + + CLO. + So sleep; sleep fast: and sleep away those two + Night-potions, and the waking dream between + Which dream thou must believe; and, if to see + Again, poor Segismund! that dream must be.-- + And yet, and yet, in these our ghostly lives, + Half night, half day, half sleeping, half awake, + How if our waking life, like that of sleep, + Be all a dream in that eternal life + To which we wake not till we sleep in death? + How if, I say, the senses we now trust + For date of sensible comparison,-- + Ay, ev'n the Reason's self that dates with them, + Should be in essence or intensity + Hereafter so transcended, and awake + To a perceptive subtlety so keen + As to confess themselves befool'd before, + In all that now they will avouch for most? + One man--like this--but only so much longer + As life is longer than a summer's day, + Believed himself a king upon his throne, + And play'd at hazard with his fellows' lives, + Who cheaply dream'd away their lives to him. + The sailor dream'd of tossing on the flood: + The soldier of his laurels grown in blood: + The lover of the beauty that he knew + Must yet dissolve to dusty residue: + The merchant and the miser of his bags + Of finger'd gold; the beggar of his rags: + And all this stage of earth on which we seem + Such busy actors, and the parts we play'd, + Substantial as the shadow of a shade, + And Dreaming but a dream within a dream! + + FIFE. + Was it not said, sir, + By some philosopher as yet unborn, + That any chimney-sweep who for twelve hours + Dreams himself king is happy as the king + Who dreams himself twelve hours a chimney-sweep? + + CLO. + A theme indeed for wiser heads than yours + To moralize upon--How came you here?-- + + FIFE. + Not of my own will, I assure you, sir. + No matter for myself: but I would know + About my mistress--I mean, master-- + + CLO. + Oh, Now I remember--Well, your master-mistress + Is well, and deftly on its errand speeds, + As you shall--if you can but hold your tongue. + Can you? + + FIFE. + I'd rather be at home again. + + CLO. + Where you shall be the quicker if while here + You can keep silence. + + FIFE. + I may whistle, then? + Which by the virtue of my name I do, + And also as a reasonable test + Of waking sanity-- + + CLO. + Well, whistle then; + And for another reason you forgot, + That while you whistle, you can chatter not. + Only remember--if you quit this pass-- + + FIFE. + (His rhymes are out, or he had call'd it spot)-- + + CLO. + A bullet brings you to. + I must forthwith to court to tell the King + The issue of this lamentable day, + That buries all his hope in night. + (To FIFE.) + Farewell. Remember. + + FIFE. + But a moment--but a word! + When shall I see my mis--mas-- + + CLO. + Be content: + All in good time; and then, and not before, + Never to miss your master any more. + (Exit.) + + FIFE. + Such talk of dreaming--dreaming--I begin + To doubt if I be dreaming I am Fife, + Who with a lad who call'd herself a boy + Because--I doubt there's some confusion here-- + He wore no petticoat, came on a time + Riding from Muscovy on half a horse, + Who must have dreamt she was a horse entire, + To cant me off upon my hinder face + Under this tower, wall-eyed and musket-tongued, + With sentinels a-pacing up and down, + Crying All's well when all is far from well, + All the day long, and all the night, until + I dream--if what is dreaming be not waking-- + Of bells a-tolling and processions rolling + With candles, crosses, banners, San-benitos, + Of which I wear the flamy-finingest, + Through streets and places throng'd with fiery faces + To some back platform-- + Oh, I shall take a fire into my hand + With thinking of my own dear Muscovy-- + Only just over that Sierra there, + By which we tumbled headlong into--No-land. + Now, if without a bullet after me, + I could but get a peep of my old home + Perhaps of my own mule to take me there-- + All's still--perhaps the gentlemen within + Are dreaming it is night behind their masks-- + God send 'em a good nightmare!--Now then--Hark! + Voices--and up the rocks--and armed men + Climbing like cats--Puss in the corner then. + + (He hides.) + + (Enter Soldiers cautiously up the rocks.) + + CAPTAIN. + This is the frontier pass, at any rate, + Where Poland ends and Muscovy begins. + + SOLDIER. + We must be close upon the tower, I know, + That half way up the mountain lies ensconced. + + CAPT. + How know you that? + + SOL. + He told me so--the Page + Who put us on the scent. + + SOL. 2. + And, as I think, + Will soon be here to run it down with us. + + CAPT. + Meantime, our horses on these ugly rocks + Useless, and worse than useless with their clatter-- + Leave them behind, with one or two in charge, + And softly, softly, softly. + + SOLDIERS. + --There it is! + --There what? + --The tower--the fortress-- + --That the tower!-- + --That mouse-trap! We could pitch it down the rocks + With our own hands. + --The rocks it hangs among + Dwarf its proportions and conceal its strength; + Larger and stronger than you think. + --No matter; + No place for Poland's Prince to be shut up in. + At it at once! + + CAPT. + No--no--I tell you wait-- + Till those within give signal. For as yet + We know not who side with us, and the fort + Is strong in man and musket. + + SOL. + Shame to wait + For odds with such a cause at stake. + + CAPT. + Because + Of such a cause at stake we wait for odds-- + For if not won at once, for ever lost: + For any long resistance on their part + Would bring Basilio's force to succour them + Ere we had rescued him we come to rescue. + So softly, softly, softly, still-- + + A SOLDIER (discovering Fife). + Hilloa! + + SOLDIERS. + --Hilloa! Here's some one skulking-- + --Seize and gag him! + --Stab him at once, say I: the only way + To make all sure. + --Hold, every man of you! + And down upon your knees!--Why, 'tis the Prince! + --The Prince!-- + --Oh, I should know him anywhere, + And anyhow disguised. + --But the Prince is chain'd. + --And of a loftier presence-- + --'Tis he, I tell you; + Only bewilder'd as he was before. + God save your Royal Highness! On our knees + Beseech you answer us! + + FIFE. + Just as you please. + Well--'tis this country's custom, I suppose, + To take a poor man every now and then + And set him ON the throne; just for the fun + Of tumbling him again into the dirt. + And now my turn is come. 'Tis very pretty. + + SOL. + His wits have been distemper'd with their drugs. + But do you ask him, Captain. + + CAPT. + On my knees, + And in the name of all who kneel with me, + I do beseech your Highness answer to + Your royal title. + + FIFE. + Still, just as you please. + In my own poor opinion of myself-- + But that may all be dreaming, which it seems + Is very much the fashion in this country + No Polish prince at all, but a poor lad + From Muscovy; where only help me back, + I promise never to contest the crown + Of Poland with whatever gentleman + You fancy to set up. + + SOLDIERS. + --From Muscovy? + --A spy then-- + --Of Astolfo's-- + --Spy! a spy + --Hang him at once! + + FIFE. + No, pray don't dream of that! + + SOL. + How dared you then set yourself up for our Prince Segismund? + + FIFE. + _I_ set up!--_I_ like that + When 'twas yourselves be-siegesmunded me. + + CAPT. + No matter--Look!--The signal from the tower. + Prince Segismund! + + SOL. (from the tower). + Prince Segismund! + + CAPT. + All's well. Clotaldo safe secured?-- + + SOL. (from the tower). + No--by ill luck, + Instead of coming in, as we had look'd for, + He sprang on horse at once, and off at gallop. + + CAPT. + To Court, no doubt--a blunder that--And yet + Perchance a blunder that may work as well + As better forethought. Having no suspicion + So will he carry none where his not going + Were of itself suspicious. But of those + Within, who side with us? + + SOL. + Oh, one and all + To the last man, persuaded or compell'd. + + CAPT. + Enough: whatever be to be retrieved + No moment to be lost. For though Clotaldo + Have no revolt to tell of in the tower, + The capital will soon awake to ours, + And the King's force come blazing after us. + Where is the Prince? + + SOL. + Within; so fast asleep + We woke him not ev'n striking off the chain + We had so cursedly help bind him with, + Not knowing what we did; but too ashamed + Not to undo ourselves what we had done. + + CAPT. + No matter, nor by whosesoever hands, + Provided done. Come; we will bring him forth + Out of that stony darkness here abroad, + Where air and sunshine sooner shall disperse + The sleepy fume which they have drugg'd him with. + + (They enter the tower, and thence bring out Segismund asleep on a + pallet, and set him in the middle of the stage.) + + CAPT. + Still, still so dead asleep, the very noise + And motion that we make in carrying him + Stirs not a leaf in all the living tree. + + SOLDIERS. + If living--But if by some inward blow + For ever and irrevocably fell'd + By what strikes deeper to the root than sleep? + --He's dead! He's dead! They've kill'd him-- + --No--he breathes-- + And the heart beats--and now he breathes again + Deeply, as one about to shake away + The load of sleep. + + CAPT. + Come, let us all kneel round, + And with a blast of warlike instruments, + And acclamation of all loyal hearts, + Rouse and restore him to his royal right, + From which no royal wrong shall drive him more. + + (They all kneel round his bed: trumpets, drums, etc.) + + SOLDIERS. + --Segismund! Segismund! Prince Segismund! + --King Segismund! Down with Basilio! + --Down with Astolfo! Segismund our King! etc. + --He stares upon us wildly. He cannot speak. + --I said so--driv'n him mad. + --Speak to him, Captain. + + CAPTAIN. + Oh Royal Segismund, our Prince and King, + Look on us--listen to us--answer us, + Your faithful soldiery and subjects, now + About you kneeling, but on fire to rise + And cleave a passage through your enemies, + Until we seat you on your lawful throne. + For though your father, King Basilio, + Now King of Poland, jealous of the stars + That prophesy his setting with your rise, + Here holds you ignominiously eclipsed, + And would Astolfo, Duke of Muscovy, + Mount to the throne of Poland after him; + So will not we, your loyal soldiery + And subjects; neither those of us now first + Apprised of your existence and your right: + Nor those that hitherto deluded by + Allegiance false, their vizors now fling down, + And craving pardon on their knees with us + For that unconscious disloyalty, + Offer with us the service of their blood; + Not only we and they; but at our heels + The heart, if not the bulk, of Poland follows + To join their voices and their arms with ours, + In vindicating with our lives our own + Prince Segismund to Poland and her throne. + + SOLDIERS. + --Segismund, Segismund, Prince Segismund! + --Our own King Segismund, etc. + (They all rise.) + + SEG. + Again? So soon?--What, not yet done with me? + The sun is little higher up, I think, + Than when I last lay down, + To bury in the depth of your own sea + You that infest its shallows. + + CAPT. + Sir! + + SEG. + And now, + Not in a palace, not in the fine clothes + We all were in; but here, in the old place, + And in our old accoutrement-- + Only your vizors off, and lips unlock'd + To mock me with that idle title-- + + CAPT. + Nay, + Indeed no idle title, but your own, + Then, now, and now for ever. For, behold, + Ev'n as I speak, the mountain passes fill + And bristle with the advancing soldiery + That glitters in your rising glory, sir; + And, at our signal, echo to our cry, + 'Segismund, King of Poland!' etc. + + (Shouts, trumpets, etc.) + + SEG. + Oh, how cheap + The muster of a countless host of shadows, + As impotent to do with as to keep! + All this they said before--to softer music. + + CAPT. + Soft music, sir, to what indeed were shadows, + That, following the sunshine of a Court, + Shall back be brought with it--if shadows still, + Yet to substantial reckoning. + + SEG. + They shall? + The white-hair'd and white-wanded chamberlain, + So busy with his wand too--the old King + That I was somewhat hard on--he had been + Hard upon me--and the fine feather'd Prince + Who crow'd so loud--my cousin,--and another, + Another cousin, we will not bear hard on-- + And--But Clotaldo? + + CAPT. + Fled, my lord, but close + Pursued; and then-- + + SEG. + Then, as he fled before, + And after he had sworn it on his knees, + Came back to take me--where I am!--No more, + No more of this! Away with you! Begone! + Whether but visions of ambitious night + That morning ought to scatter, or grown out + Of night's proportions you invade the day + To scare me from my little wits yet left, + Begone! I know I must be near awake, + Knowing I dream; or, if not at my voice, + Then vanish at the clapping of my hands, + Or take this foolish fellow for your sport: + Dressing me up in visionary glories, + Which the first air of waking consciousness + Scatters as fast as from the almander-- + That, waking one fine morning in full flower, + One rougher insurrection of the breeze + Of all her sudden honour disadorns + To the last blossom, and she stands again + The winter-naked scare-crow that she was! + + CAPT. + I know not what to do, nor what to say, + With all this dreaming; I begin to doubt + They have driv'n him mad indeed, and he and we + Are lost together. + + A SOLDIER (to Captain). + Stay, stay; I remember-- + Hark in your ear a moment. + (Whispers.) + + CAPT. + So--so--so?-- + Oh, now indeed I do not wonder, sir, + Your senses dazzle under practices + Which treason, shrinking from its own device, + Would now persuade you only was a dream; + But waking was as absolute as this + You wake in now, as some who saw you then, + Prince as you were and are, can testify: + Not only saw, but under false allegiance + Laid hands upon-- + + SOLDIER 1. + I, to my shame! + + SOLDIER 2. + And I! + + CAPT. + Who, to wipe out that shame, have been the first + To stir and lead us--Hark! + (Shouts, trumpets, etc.) + + A SOLDIER. + Our forces, sir, + Challenging King Basilio's, now in sight, + And bearing down upon us. + + CAPT. + Sir, you hear; + A little hesitation and delay, + And all is lost--your own right, and the lives + Of those who now maintain it at that cost; + With you all saved and won; without, all lost. + That former recognition of your right + Grant but a dream, if you will have it so; + Great things forecast themselves by shadows great: + Or will you have it, this like that dream too, + People, and place, and time itself, all dream + Yet, being in't, and as the shadows come + Quicker and thicker than you can escape, + Adopt your visionary soldiery, + Who, having struck a solid chain away, + Now put an airy sword into your hand, + And harnessing you piece-meal till you stand + Amidst us all complete in glittering, + If unsubstantial, steel-- + + ROSAURA (without). + The Prince! The Prince! + + CAPT. + Who calls for him? + + SOL. + The Page who spurr'd us hither, + And now, dismounted from a foaming horse-- + + (Enter Rosaura) + + ROSAURA. + Where is--but where I need no further ask + Where the majestic presence, all in arms, + Mutely proclaims and vindicates himself. + + FIFE. + My darling Lady-lord-- + + ROS. + My own good Fife, + Keep to my side--and silence!--Oh, my Lord, + For the third time behold me here where first + You saw me, by a happy misadventure + Losing my own way here to find it out + For you to follow with these loyal men, + Adding the moment of my little cause + To yours; which, so much mightier as it is, + By a strange chance runs hand in hand with mine; + The self-same foe who now pretends your right, + Withholding mine--that, of itself alone, + I know the royal blood that runs in you + Would vindicate, regardless of your own: + The right of injured innocence; and, more, + Spite of this epicene attire, a woman's; + And of a noble stock I will not name + Till I, who brought it, have retrieved the shame. + Whom Duke Astolfo, Prince of Muscovy, + With all the solemn vows of wedlock won, + And would have wedded, as I do believe, + Had not the cry of Poland for a Prince + Call'd him from Muscovy to join the prize + Of Poland with the fair Estrella's eyes. + I, following him hither, as you saw, + Was cast upon these rocks; arrested by + Clotaldo: who, for an old debt of love + He owes my family, with all his might + Served, and had served me further, till my cause + Clash'd with his duty to his sovereign, + Which, as became a loyal subject, sir, + (And never sovereign had a loyaller,) + Was still his first. He carried me to Court, + Where, for the second time, I crossed your path; + Where, as I watch'd my opportunity, + Suddenly broke this public passion out; + Which, drowning private into public wrong, + Yet swiftlier sweeps it to revenge along. + + SEG. + Oh God, if this be dreaming, charge it not + To burst the channel of enclosing sleep + And drown the waking reason! Not to dream + Only what dreamt shall once or twice again + Return to buzz about the sleeping brain + Till shaken off for ever-- + But reassailing one so quick, so thick-- + The very figure and the circumstance + Of sense-confess'd reality foregone + In so-call'd dream so palpably repeated, + The copy so like the original, + We know not which is which; and dream so-call'd + Itself inweaving so inextricably + Into the tissue of acknowledged truth; + The very figures that empeople it + Returning to assert themselves no phantoms + In something so much like meridian day, + And in the very place that not my worst + And veriest disenchanter shall deny + For the too well-remember'd theatre + Of my long tragedy--Strike up the drums! + If this be Truth, and all of us awake, + Indeed a famous quarrel is at stake: + If but a Vision I will see it out, + And, drive the Dream, I can but join the rout. + + CAPT. + And in good time, sir, for a palpable + Touchstone of truth and rightful vengeance too, + Here is Clotaldo taken. + + SOLDIERS. + In with him! + In with the traitor! + + (Clotaldo brought in.) + + SEG. + Ay, Clotaldo, indeed-- + Himself--in his old habit--his old self-- + What! back again, Clotaldo, for a while + To swear me this for truth, and afterwards + All for a dreaming lie? + + CLO. + Awake or dreaming, + Down with that sword, and down these traitors theirs, + Drawn in rebellion 'gainst their Sovereign. + + SEG. (about to strike). + Traitor! Traitor yourself!-- + But soft--soft--soft!-- + You told me, not so very long ago, + Awake or dreaming--I forget--my brain + Is not so clear about it--but I know + One test you gave me to discern between, + Which mad and dreaming people cannot master; + Or if the dreamer could, so best secure + A comfortable waking--Was't not so? + (To Rosaura). + Needs not your intercession now, you see, + As in the dream before-- + Clotaldo, rough old nurse and tutor too + That only traitor wert, to me if true-- + Give him his sword; set him on a fresh horse; + Conduct him safely through my rebel force; + And so God speed him to his sovereign's side! + Give me your hand; and whether all awake + Or all a-dreaming, ride, Clotaldo, ride-- + Dream-swift--for fear we dreams should overtake. + + (A Battle may be supposed to take place; after which) + + + + +ACT IV. + + + + +SCENE I.--A wooded pass near the field of battle: + +drums, trumpets, firing, etc. Cries of 'God save Basilio! +Segismund,' etc. + + (Enter Fife, running.) + + FIFE. + God save them both, and save them all! say I!-- + Oh--what hot work!--Whichever way one turns + The whistling bullet at one's ears--I've drifted + Far from my mad young--master--whom I saw + Tossing upon the very crest of battle, + Beside the Prince--God save her first of all! + With all my heart I say and pray--and so + Commend her to His keeping--bang!--bang!--bang! + And for myself--scarce worth His thinking of-- + I'll see what I can do to save myself + Behind this rock, until the storm blows over. + + (Skirmishes, shouts, firing, etc. After some time enter King + Basilio, + Astolfo, and Clotaldo) + + KING. + The day is lost! + + AST. + Do not despair--the rebels-- + + KING. + Alas! the vanquish'd only are the rebels. + + CLOTALDO. + Ev'n if this battle lost us, 'tis but one + Gain'd on their side, if you not lost in it; + Another moment and too late: at once + Take horse, and to the capital, my liege, + Where in some safe and holy sanctuary + Save Poland in your person. + + AST. + Be persuaded: + You know your son: have tasted of his temper; + At his first onset threatening unprovoked + The crime predicted for his last and worst. + How whetted now with such a taste of blood, + And thus far conquest! + + KING. + Ay, and how he fought! + Oh how he fought, Astolfo; ranks of men + Falling as swathes of grass before the mower; + I could but pause to gaze at him, although, + Like the pale horseman of the Apocalypse, + Each moment brought him nearer--Yet I say, + I could but pause and gaze on him, and pray + Poland had such a warrior for her king. + + AST. + The cry of triumph on the other side + Gains ground upon us here--there's but a moment + For you, my liege, to do, for me to speak, + Who back must to the field, and what man may + Do, to retrieve the fortune of the day. + (Firing.) + + FIFE (falling forward, shot). + Oh, Lord, have mercy on me. + + KING. + What a shriek-- + Oh, some poor creature wounded in a cause + Perhaps not worth the loss of one poor life!-- + So young too--and no soldier-- + + FIFE. + A poor lad, + Who choosing play at hide and seek with death, + Just hid where death just came to look for him; + For there's no place, I think, can keep him out, + Once he's his eye upon you. All grows dark-- + You glitter finely too--Well--we are dreaming + But when the bullet's off--Heaven save the mark! + So tell my mister--mastress-- + (Dies.) + + KING. + Oh God! How this poor creature's ignorance + Confounds our so-call'd wisdom! Even now + When death has stopt his lips, the wound through which + His soul went out, still with its bloody tongue + Preaching how vain our struggle against fate! + + (Voices within). + After them! After them! This way! This way! + The day is ours--Down with Basilio, etc. + + AST. + Fly, sir-- + + KING. + And slave-like flying not out-ride + The fate which better like a King abide! + + (Enter Segismund, Rosaura, Soldiers, etc.) + + SEG. + Where is the King? + + KING (prostrating himself). + Behold him,--by this late + Anticipation of resistless fate, + Thus underneath your feet his golden crown, + And the white head that wears it, laying down, + His fond resistance hope to expiate. + + SEG. + Princes and warriors of Poland--you + That stare on this unnatural sight aghast, + Listen to one who, Heaven-inspired to do + What in its secret wisdom Heaven forecast, + By that same Heaven instructed prophet-wise + To justify the present in the past. + What in the sapphire volume of the skies + Is writ by God's own finger misleads none, + But him whose vain and misinstructed eyes, + They mock with misinterpretation, + Or who, mistaking what he rightly read, + Ill commentary makes, or misapplies + Thinking to shirk or thwart it. Which has done + The wisdom of this venerable head; + Who, well provided with the secret key + To that gold alphabet, himself made me, + Himself, I say, the savage he fore-read + Fate somehow should be charged with; nipp'd the growth + Of better nature in constraint and sloth, + That only bring to bear the seed of wrong + And turn'd the stream to fury whose out-burst + Had kept his lawful channel uncoerced, + And fertilized the land he flow'd along. + Then like to some unskilful duellist, + Who having over-reached himself pushing too hard + His foe, or but a moment off his guard-- + What odds, when Fate is one's antagonist!-- + Nay, more, this royal father, self-dismay'd + At having Fate against himself array'd, + Upon himself the very sword he knew + Should wound him, down upon his bosom drew, + That might well handled, well have wrought; or, kept + Undrawn, have harmless in the scabbard slept. + But Fate shall not by human force be broke, + Nor foil'd by human feint; the Secret learn'd + Against the scholar by that master turn'd + Who to himself reserves the master-stroke. + Witness whereof this venerable Age, + Thrice crown'd as Sire, and Sovereign, and Sage, + Down to the very dust dishonour'd by + The very means he tempted to defy + The irresistible. And shall not I, + Till now the mere dumb instrument that wrought + The battle Fate has with my father fought, + Now the mere mouth-piece of its victory + Oh, shall not I, the champions' sword laid down, + Be yet more shamed to wear the teacher's gown, + And, blushing at the part I had to play, + Down where that honour'd head I was to lay + By this more just submission of my own, + The treason Fate has forced on me atone? + + KING. + Oh, Segismund, in whom I see indeed, + Out of the ashes of my self-extinction + A better self revive; if not beneath + Your feet, beneath your better wisdom bow'd, + The Sovereignty of Poland I resign, + With this its golden symbol; which if thus + Saved with its silver head inviolate, + Shall nevermore be subject to decline; + But when the head that it alights on now + Falls honour'd by the very foe that must, + As all things mortal, lay it in the dust, + Shall star-like shift to his successor's brow. + + (Shouts, trumpets, etc. God save King Segismund!) + + SEG. + For what remains-- + As for my own, so for my people's peace, + Astolfo's and Estrella's plighted hands + I disunite, and taking hers to mine, + His to one yet more dearly his resign. + + (Shouts, etc. God save Estrella, Queen of Poland!) + + SEG (to Clotaldo). + You + That with unflinching duty to your King, + Till countermanded by the mightier Power, + Have held your Prince a captive in the tower, + Henceforth as strictly guard him on the throne + No less my people's keeper than my own. + You stare upon me all, amazed to hear + The word of civil justice from such lips + As never yet seem'd tuned to such discourse. + But listen--In that same enchanted tower, + Not long ago I learn'd it from a dream + Expounded by this ancient prophet here; + And which he told me, should it come again, + How I should bear myself beneath it; not + As then with angry passion all on fire, + Arguing and making a distemper'd soul; + But ev'n with justice, mercy, self-control, + As if the dream I walk'd in were no dream, + And conscience one day to account for it. + A dream it was in which I thought myself, + And you that hail'd me now then hail'd me King, + In a brave palace that was all my own, + Within, and all without it, mine; until, + Drunk with excess of majesty and pride, + Methought I tower'd so high and swell'd so wide, + That of myself I burst the glittering bubble, + That my ambition had about me blown, + And all again was darkness. Such a dream + As this in which I may be walking now; + Dispensing solemn justice to you shadows, + Who make believe to listen; but anon, + With all your glittering arms and equipage, + King, princes, captains, warriors, plume and steel, + Ay, ev'n with all your airy theatre, + May flit into the air you seem to rend + With acclamation, leaving me to wake + In the dark tower; or dreaming that I wake + From this that waking is; or this and that + Both waking or both dreaming; such a doubt + Confounds and clouds our mortal life about. + And, whether wake or dreaming, this I know, + How dream-wise human glories come and go; + Whose momentary tenure not to break, + Walking as one who knows he soon may wake, + So fairly carry the full cup, so well + Disorder'd insolence and passion quell, + That there be nothing after to upbraid + Dreamer or doer in the part he play'd, + Whether To-morrow's dawn shall break the spell, + Or the Last Trumpet of the eternal Day, + When Dreaming with the Night shall pass away. + (Exeunt.) + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Life Is A Dream, by Pedro Calderon de la Barca + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LIFE IS A DREAM *** + +***** This file should be named 2587.txt or 2587.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/5/8/2587/ + +Produced by Dagny; Emma Dudding; John Bickers; David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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