ROSAURA. Your slave!

ESTRELLA. Then concisely to express it, Know, Astolfo, my first cousin ('Tis enough that word to mention, For some things may best be said When not spoken but suggested), Soon expects to wed with me, If my fate so far relenteth, As that by one single bliss All past sorrows may be lessened. I was troubled, the first day That we met, to see suspended From his neck a lady's portrait. On the point I urged him gently, He so courteous and polite Went immediately to get it, And will bring it here. From him I should feel quite disconcerted To receive it. You here stay, And request him to present it Unto you. I say no more. You are beautiful and clever, You must know too what is love. [Exit.]



* * * * *

SCENE XII.

ROSAURA. Would I knew it not! O help me Now, kind heaven! for who could be So prudential, so collected, As to know how best to act In so painful a dilemma? Is there in the world a being, Is there one a more inclement Heaven has marked with more misfortunes, Has 'mid more of sorrow centred?— What, bewildered, shall I do, When 'tis vain to be expected That my reason can console me, Or consoling be my helper? From my earliest misfortune Everything that I've attempted Has been but one misery more — Each the other's sad successor, All inheritors of themselves. Thus, the Phoenix they resemble, One is from the other born, New life springs where old life endeth, And the young are warmly cradled By the ashes of the elder. Once a wise man called them cowards, Seeing that misfortunes never Have been seen to come alone. But I call them brave, intrepid, Who go straight unto their end, And ne'er turn their backs in terror:— By the man who brings them with him Everything may be attempted, Since he need on no occasion Have the fear of being deserted. I may say so, since at all times, Whatsoever life presented, I, without them, never saw me, Nor will they grow weary ever, Till they see me in death's arms, Wounded by fate's final weapon. Woe is me! but what to-day Shall I do in this emergence?— If I tell my name, Clotaldo, Unto whom I am indebted For my very life and honour, May be with me much offended; Since he said my reparation Must in silence be expected. If I tell not to Astolfo Who I am, and he detects me How can I dissemble then? For although a feigned resemblance Eyes and voice and tongue might try, Ah, the truthful heart would tremble, And expose the lie. But wherefore Study what to do? 'Tis certain That however I may study, Think beforehand how to nerve me, When at last the occasion comes, Then alone what grief suggesteth I will do, for no one holds In his power the heart's distresses. And thus what to say or do As my soul cannot determine, Grief must only reach to-day Its last limit, pain be ended, And at last an exit make From the doubts that so perplex me How to act: but until then Help me, heaven, oh, deign to help me!



* * * * *

SCENE XIII.

ASTOLFO, with the portrait; and ROSAURA.

ASTOLFO. Here then is the portrait, Princess: But, good God!

ROSAURA. Your Highness trembles; What has startled, what surprised you?

ASTOLFO. Thee, Rosaura, to see present.

ROSAURA. I Rosaura? Oh, your Highness Is deceived by some resemblance Doubtless to some other lady; I'm Astrea, one who merits Not the glory of producing An emotion so excessive.

ASTOLFO. Ah, Rosaura thou mayst feign, But the soul bears no deception, And though seeing thee as Astrea, As Rosaura it must serve thee.

ROSAURA. I, not knowing what your Highness Speaks of, am of course prevented From replying aught but this, That Estrella (the bright Hesper Of this sphere) was pleased to order That I here should wait expectant For that portrait, which to me She desires you give at present: For some reason she prefers It through me should be presented — So Estrella — say, my star — Wishes — so a fate relentless Wills — in things that bring me loss — So Estrella now expecteth.

ASTOLFO. Though such efforts you attempt, Still how badly you dissemble, My Rosaura! Tell the eyes In their music to keep better Concert with the voice, because Any instrument whatever Would be out of tune that sought To combine and blend together The true feelings of the heart With the false words speech expresses.

ROSAURA. I wait only, as I said, For the portrait.

ASTOLFO. Since you're bent then To the end to keep this tone, I adopt it, and dissemble. Tell the Princess, then, Astrea, That I so esteem her message, That to send to her a copy Seems to me so slight a present, How so highly it is valued By myself, I think it better To present the original, And you easily may present it, Since, in point of fact, you bring it With you in your own sweet person.

ROSAURA. When it has been undertaken By a man, bold, brave, determined, To obtain a certain object, Though he get perhaps a better, Still not bringing back the first He returns despised: I beg, then. That your highness give the portrait; I, without it, dare not venture.

ASTOLFO. How, then, if I do not give it Will you get it?

ROSAURA. I will get it Thus, ungrateful. [She attempts to snatch it.[

ASTOLFO. 'Tis in vain.

ROSAURA. It must ne'er be seen, no, never In another woman's hands.

ASTOLFO. Thou art dreadful.

ROSAURA. Thou deceptive.

ASTOLFO. Oh, enough, Rosaura mine.

ROSAURA. Thine! Thou liest, base deserter. [Both struggle for the portrait.]



* * * * *

SCENE XIV.

ESTRELLA, ROSAURA, and ASTOLFO.

ESTRELLA. Prince! Astrea! What is this?

ASTOLFO [aside] Heavens! Estrella!

ROSAURA [aside]. Love befriend me; Give me wit enough my portrait To regain: — If thou would'st learn then [To ESTRELLA.] What the matter is, my lady, I will tell thee.

ASTOLFO [aside to ROSAURA.] Would'st o'erwhelm me?

ROSAURA. You commanded me to wait here For the Prince, and representing You, to get from him a portrait. I remained alone, expecting, And, as often by one thought Is some other thought suggested, Seeing that you spoke of portraits, I, reminded thus, remembered That I had one of myself In my sleeve: I wished to inspect it, For a person quite alone Even by trifles is diverted. From my hand I let it fall On the ground; the Prince, who entered With the other lady's portrait, Raised up mine, but so rebellious Was he to what you had asked him That, instead of his presenting One, he wished to keep the other. Since he mine will not surrender To my prayers and my entreaties: Angry at this ill-timed jesting I endeavoured to regain it, That which in his hand is held there Is my portrait, if you see it; You can judge of the resemblance.

ESTRELLA. Duke, at once, give up the portrait. [She takes it from his hand.]

ASTOLFO. Princess . . . .

ESTRELLA. Well, the tints were blended By no cruel hand, methinks.

ROSAURA. Is it like me?

ESTRELLA. Like! 'Tis perfect.

ROSAURA. Now demand from him the other.

ESTRELLA. Take your own, and leave our presence.

ROSAURA [aside]. I have got my portrait back; Come what may I am contented. [Exit.]



* * * * *

SCENE XV.

ESTRELLA and ASTOLFO.

ESTRELLA. Give me now the other portrait; For — although perhaps I never May again address or see you — I desire not, no, to let it In your hands remain, if only For my folly in requesting You to give it.

ASTOLFO [aside]. How escape From this singular dilemma?— Though I wish, most beauteous Princess, To obey thee and to serve thee, Still I cannot give the portrait Thou dost ask for, since . . . .

ESTRELLA. A wretched And false-hearted lover art thou. Now I wish it not presented, So to give thee no pretext For reminding me that ever I had asked it at thy hands. [Exit.

ASTOLFO. Hear me! listen! wait! I remember! — God, what has thou done, Rosaura? Why, or wherefore, on what errand, To destroy thyself and me Hast thou Poland rashly entered? [Exit.



* * * * *

SCENE XVI.

PRISON OF THE PRINCE IN THE TOWER.

SIGISMUND, as at the commencement, clothed in skins, chained, and lying on the ground; CLOTALDO, Two Servants, and CLARIN.

CLOTALDO. Leave him here on the ground, Where his day,— its pride being o'er,— Finds its end too.

A SERVANT. As before With the chain his feet are bound.

CLARIN. Never from that sleep profound Wake, O Sigismund, or rise, To behold with wondering eyes All thy glorious life o'erthrown, Like a shadow that hath flown, Like a bright brief flame that dies!

CLOTALDO. One who can so wisely make Such reflections on this case Should have ample time and space, Even for the Solon's sake, [To the Servant.] To discuss it; him you'll take To this cell here, and keep bound. [Pointing to an adjoining room]

CLARIN. But why me?

CLOTALDO. Because 'tis found Safe, when clarions secrets know, Clarions to lock up, that so They may not have power to sound.

CLARIN. Did I, since you treat me thus, Try to kill my father? No. Did I from the window throw That unlucky Icarus? Is my drink somniferous? Do I dream? Then why be pent?

CLOTALDO. 'Tis a clarion's punishment.

CLARIN. Then a horn of low degree, Yea, a cornet I will be, A safe, silent instrument. [They take him away, and CLOTALDO remains alone.]



* * * * *

SCENE XVII.

BASILIUS, disguised; CLOTALDO, and SIGISMUND, asleep.

BASILIUS. Hark, Clotaldo!

CLOTALDO. My lord here? Thus disguised, your majesty?

BASILIUS. Foolish curiosity Leads me in this lowly gear To find out, ah, me! with fear, How the sudden change he bore.

CLOTALDO. There behold him as before In his miserable state.

BASILIUS. Wretched Prince! unhappy fate! Birth by baneful stars watched o'er!— Go and wake him cautiously, Now that strength and force lie chained By the opiate he hath drained.

CLOTALDO. Muttering something restlessly, See he lies.

BASILIUS. Let's listen; he May some few clear words repeat.

SIGISMUND. [Speaking in his sleep.] Perfect Prince is he whose heat Smites the tyrant where he stands, Yes, Clotaldo dies by my hands, Yes, my sire shall kiss my feet.

CLOTALDO. Death he threatens in his rage.

BASILIUS. Outrage vile he doth intend.

CLOTALDO. He my life has sworn to end.

BASILIUS. He has vowed to insult my age.

SIGISMUND [still sleeping]. On the mighty world's great stage, 'Mid the admiring nations' cheer, Valour mine, that has no peer, Enter thou: the slave so shunned Now shall reign Prince Sigismund, And his sire he wrath shall fear.— [He awakes.] But, ah me! Where am I? Oh!—

BASILIUS. Me I must not let him see. [To CLOTALDO.] Listening I close by will be, What you have to do you know. [He retires.]

SIGISMUND. Can it possibly be so? Is the truth not what it seemed? Am I chained and unredeemed? Art not thou my lifelong tome, Dark old tower? Yes! What a doom! God! what wondrous things I've dreamed!

CLOTALDO. Now in this delusive play Must my special part be taken:— Is it not full time to waken?

SIGISMUND. Yes, to waken well it may.

CLOTALDO. Wilt thou sleep the livelong day?— Since we gazing from below Saw the eagle sailing slow, Soaring through the azure sphere, All the time thou waited here, Didst thou never waken?

SIGISMUND. No, Nor even now am I awake Since such thoughts my memory fill, That it seems I'm dreaming still: Nor is this a great mistake; Since if dreams could phantoms make Things of actual substance seen, I things seen may phantoms deem. Thus a double harvest reaping, I can see when I am sleeping, And when waking I can dream.

CLOTALDO. What you may have dreamed of, say.

SIGISMUND. If I thought it only seemed, I would tell not what I dreamed, But what I beheld, I may. I awoke, and lo! I lay (Cruel and delusive thing!) In a bed whose covering, Bright with blooms from rosy bowers, Seemed a tapestry of flowers Woven by the hand of Spring. Then a crowd of nobles came, Who addressed me by the name Of their prince, presenting me Gems and robes, on bended knee. Calm soon left me, and my frame Thrilled with joy to hear thee tell Of the fate that me befell, For though now in this dark den, I was Prince of Poland then.

CLOTALDO. Doubtless you repaid me well?

SIGISMUND. No, not well: for, calling thee Traitor vile, in furious strife Twice I strove to take thy life.

CLOTALDO. But why all this rage 'gainst me?

SIGISMUND. I was master, and would be Well revenged on foe and friend. Love one woman could defend . . . . . That, at least, for truth I deem, All else ended like a dream, THAT alone can never end. [The King withdraws.]

CLOTALDO [aside]. From his place the King hath gone, Touched by his pathetic words:— [Aloud] Speaking of the king of birds Soaring to ascend his throne, Thou didst fancy one thine own; But in dreams, however bright, Thou shouldst still have kept in sight How for years I tended thee, For 'twere well, whoe'er we be, Even in dreams to do what's right. [Exit.]



* * * * *

SCENE XVIII.

SIGISMUND. That is true: then let's restrain This wild rage, this fierce condition Of the mind, this proud ambition, Should we ever dream again: And we'll do so, since 'tis plain, In this world's uncertain gleam, That to live is but to dream: Man dreams what he is, and wakes Only when upon him breaks Death's mysterious morning beam. The king dreams he is a king, And in this delusive way Lives and rules with sovereign sway; All the cheers that round him ring, Born of air, on air take wing. And in ashes (mournful fate!) Death dissolves his pride and state: Who would wish a crown to take, Seeing that he must awake In the dream beyond death's gate? And the rich man dreams of gold, Gilding cares it scarce conceals, And the poor man dreams he feels Want and misery and cold. Dreams he too who rank would hold, Dreams who bears toil's rough-ribbed hands, Dreams who wrong for wrong demands, And in fine, throughout the earth, All men dream, whate'er their birth, And yet no one understands. 'Tis a dream that I in sadness Here am bound, the scorn of fate; 'Twas a dream that once a state I enjoyed of light and gladness. What is life? 'Tis but a madness. What is life? A thing that seems, A mirage that falsely gleams, Phantom joy, delusive rest, Since is life a dream at best, And even dreams themselves are dreams.



* * * * *

ACT THE THIRD.

WITHIN THE TOWER.



* * * * *

SCENE I.

CLARIN. In a strange enchanted tower, I, for what I know, am prisoned;* How would ignorance be punished, If for knowledge they would kill me? What a thing to die of hunger, For a man who loves good living! I compassionate myself; All will say: "I well believe it"; And it well may be believed, Because silence is a virtue Incompatible with my name Clarin, which of course forbids it. In this place my sole companions, It may safely be predicted, Are the spiders and the mice: What a pleasant nest of linnets!— Owing to this last night's dream, My poor head I feel quite dizzy From a thousand clarionets, Shawms, and seraphines and cymbals, Crucifixes and processions, Flagellants who so well whipped them, That as up and down they went, Some even fainted as they witnessed How the blood ran down the others. I, if I the truth may whisper, Simply fainted from not eating, For I see me in this prison All day wondering how this Poland Such a 'Hungary' look exhibits, All night reading in the 'Fasti' By some half-starved poet written.** In the calendar of saints, If a new one is admitted, Then St. Secret be my patron, For I fast upon his vigil; Though it must be owned I suffer Justly for the fault committed, Since a servant to be silent Is a sacrilege most sinful.

[A sound of drums and trumpets, with voices within.]

*[footnote] The asonante to the end of Scene IV. is in i—e, or their vocal equivalents.

**[footnote] These four lines are a paraphrase of the original. Clarin's jokes are different, and not much better. He says he spends his days studying philosophy in the works of 'Nicomedes' (or 'Not-eating'), and his nights perusing the decrees of the 'Nicene' Council (Concilio 'Niceno', the Council of 'No-Supper').



* * * * *

SCENE II.

Soldiers and CLARIN.

FIRST SOLDIER [within]. He is here within this tower. Dash the door from off its hinges; Enter all

CLARIN: Good God! 'tis certain That 'tis me they seek so briskly, Since they say that I am here. What can they require?

FIRST SOLDIER [within]. Go in there. [Several Soldiers enter.

SECOND SOLDIER. Here he is.

CLARIN. He's not.

ALL THE SOLDIERS. Great lord!

CLARIN [aside]. Are the fellows mad or tipsy?

FIRST SOLDIER. Thou art our own Prince, and we Will not have, and won't admit of, Any but our natural Prince; We no foreign Prince here wish for. Let us kneel and kiss thy feet.

THE SOLDIERS. Live, long live our best of Princes!

CLARIN [aside.] 'Gad! the affair grows rather serious. Is it usual in this kingdom To take some one out each day, Make him Prince, and then remit him To this tower? It must be so, Since each day that sight I witness. I must therefore play my part.

SOLDIERS. Thy feet give us!

CLARIN. I can't give them, As I want them for myself. For a prince to be a cripple Would be rather a defect.

SECOND SOLDIER. We have all conveyed our wishes To your father; we have told him You alone shall be our Prince here, Not the Duke.

CLARIN. And were you guilty 'Gainst my sire, of disrespect?

FIRST SOLDIER. 'Twas the loyalty of our spirit.

CLARIN. If 'twas loyalty, I forgive you.

SECOND SOLDIER. Come, regain thy lost dominion. Long live Sigismund!

ALL. Live the Prince.

CLARIN [aside]. Say they Sigismund? Good. Admitted. Sigismund must be the name Given to all pretended princes.



* * * * *

SCENE III.

SIGISMUND, CLARIN, and Soldiers.

SIGISMUND. Who has named here Sigismund?

CLARIN [aside.] Ah, I'm but an addled prince, then!

FIRST SOLDIER. Who is Sigismund?

SIGISMUND. Who? I.

SECOND SOLDIER [to CLARIN]. How, then, didst thou, bold and silly, Dare to make thee Sigismund?

CLARIN. I a Sigismund? Thou fibbest; It was you yourselves that thus Sigismundized me and princed me: All the silliness and the boldness Have been by yourselves committed.

FIRST SOLDIER. Great and brave Prince Sigismund (For thy bearing doth convince us Thou art he, although on faith We proclaim thee as our prince here). King Basilius, thy father, Fearful of the Heavens fulfilling A prediction, which declared He would see himself submitted At thy victor feet, attempts To deprive thee of thy birthright, And to give it to Astolfo, Muscovy's duke. For this his missives Summoned all his court: the people Understanding, by some instinct, That they had a natural king, Did not wish a foreign princeling To rule o'er them. And 'tis thus, That the fate for thee predicted Treating with a noble scorn, They have sought thee where imprisoned Thou dost live, that issuing forth, By their powerful arms assisted, From this tower, thy crown and sceptre Thou shouldst thus regain, and quit them Of a stranger and a tyrant. Forth! then; for among these cliffs here There is now a numerous army, Formed of soldiers and banditti, That invoke thee: freedom waits thee; To the thousand voices listen.

[Voices within.] Long, long live Prince Sigismund!

SIGISMUND. Once again, O Heaven! wouldst wish me Once again to dream of greatness Which may vanish in an instant? Once again to see the glories, That a royal throne encircle, Die in darkness and in gloom, Like a flame the winds extinguish? Once again by sad experience To be taught the dangerous limits Human power may overleap, At its birth and while it liveth? No, it must not, must not be:— See me now one more submitted To my fate; and since I know Life is but a dream, a vision, Hence, ye phantoms, that assume To my darkened sense the figure And the voice of life — although Neither voice nor form is in them. I no longer now desire A feigned majesty, a fictitious And fantastic pomp — illusions Which the slightest breath that ripples The calm ether can destroy, Even as in the early spring-time, When the flowering almond tree Unadvisedly exhibits All its fleeting bloom of flowers, The first blast their freshness withers, And the ornament and grace Of its rosy locks disfigures. Now I know ye — know ye all, And I know the same false glimmer Cheats the eyes of all who sleep. Me false shows no more bewilder; Disabused, I now know well Life is but a dream — a vision.

SECOND SOLDIER. If thou thinkest we deceive thee, Turn thine eyes to those proud cliffs here, See the crowds that wait there, willing, Eager to obey thee.

SIGISMUND. Yet Just as clearly and distinctly, I have seen another time The same things that now I witness, And 'twas but a dream.

SECOND SOLDIER. At all times Great events, my lord, bring with them Their own omens; and thy dream But the actual fact prefigured.

SIGISMUND. You say well, it was an omen; But supposing the bright vision Even were true, since life is short, Let us dream, my soul a little, Once again, remembering now With all forethought and prevision That we must once more awake At the better time not distant; That being known, the undeceiving, When it comes, will be less bitter; For it takes the sting from evil To anticipate its visit. And with this conviction, too, Even its certainty admitting, That all power being only lent Must return unto the Giver, Let us boldly then dare all.— For the loyalty you exhibit, Thanks, my lieges. See in me One who will this land deliver From a stranger's alien yoke. Sound to arms; you soon shall witness What my valour can effect. 'Gainst my father I have lifted Hostile arms, to see if Heaven Has of me the truth predicted. At my feet I am to see him . . . But if I, from dreams delivered, [Aside. Wake ere then, and nothing happens, Silence now were more befitting.

ALL. Long live Sigismund, our king!



* * * * *

SCENE IV.

CLOTALDO, SIGISMUND, CLARIN, and Soldiers.

CLOTALDO. Ha! what tumult, Heavens! has risen?

SIGISMUND. Well, Clotaldo.

CLOTALDO. Sire . . . . On me [Aside. Will his wrath now fall.

CLARIN [aside]. He'll fling him Headlong down the steep, I'll bet. [Exit.

CLOTALDO. At your royal feet submitted I know how to die.

SIGISMUND. My father, Rise, I pray, from that position, Since to you, my guide and polestar, Are my future acts committed; All my past life owes you much For your careful supervision. Come, embrace me.

CLOTALDO. What do you say?

SIGISMUND. That I dream, and that my wishes Are to do what's right, since we Even in dreams should do what's fitting.

CLOTALDO. Then, my prince, if you adopt Acting rightly as your symbol, You will pardon me for asking, So to act, that you permit me. No advice and no assistance Can I give against my king. Better that my lord should kill me At his feet here.

SIGISMUND. Oh, ungrateful! Villain! wretch! [Aside.] But Heavens! 'tis fitter I restrain myself, not knowing But all this may be a vision.— The fidelity I envy Must be honoured and admitted. Go and serve your lord, the king. Where the battle rages thickest We shall meet. — To arms, my friends!

CLOTALDO. Thanks, most generous of princes. [Exit.

SIGISMUND. Fortune, we go forth to reign; Wake me not if this is vision, Let me sleep not if 'tis true. But whichever of them is it, To act right is what imports me. If 'tis true, because it is so; If 'tis not, that when I waken Friends may welcome and forgive me. [Exeunt all, drums beating.



* * * * *

SCENE V.

HALL IN THE ROYAL PALACE.

BASILIUS and ASTOLFO.

BASILIUS. Who can expect, Astolfo, to restrain An untamed steed that wildly turns to flee? Who can the current of a stream detain, That swollen with pride sweeps down to seek the sea? Who can prevent from tumbling to the plain Some mighty peak the lightning's flash sets free? Yet each were easier in its separate way, Than the rude mob's insensate rage to stay. The several bands that throng each green retreat This truth proclaim by their disparted cries; Astolfo here the echoing notes repeat, While there 'tis Sigismund that rends the skies The place where late the land was glad to greet The choice we made, a second venture tries; And soon will be, as Horror o'er it leans, The fatal theatre of tragic scenes.

ASTOLFO. My lord, let all this joy suspended be, These plaudits cease, and to another day Defer the rapture thou hast promised me; For if this Poland (which I hope to sway) Resists to-day my right of sovereignty, 'Tis that by merit I should win my way. Give me a steed; to stem this wild revolt My pride shall be the flash that bears the bolt. [Exit.

BASILIUS. Slight help there is for what is fixed by fate, And much of danger to foresee the blow; If it must fall, defence is then too late, And he who most forestalls doth most foreknow. Hard law! Stern rule! Dire fact to contemplate! That he who thinks to fly doth nearer go. Thus by the very means that I employed, My country and myself I have destroyed.



* * * * *

SCENE VI.

ESTRELLA and BASILIUS.

ESTRELLA. If, mighty lord, thy presence, which it braves, The tumult of the crowd cannot defeat — The frenzy of the multitude that raves In hostile bands through every square and street,— Thou'lt see thy kingdom swim in crimson waves, A purple sea of blood shall round it beat; For even already in its dismal doom All is disaster, tragedy, and gloom. Such is thy kingdom's ruin, so severe The hard and bloody trial fate hath sent, Dazed is the eye, and terrified the ear; Dark grows the sun, and every wind is spent; Each stone a mournful obelisk doth rear, And every flower erects a monument; A grave seems every house, whence life is gone,— Each soldier is a living skeleton.



* * * * *

SCENE VII.

CLOTALDO, BASILIUS, and ESTRELLA.

CLOTALDO. Thanks be to God, I reach thy feet alive.

BASILIUS. What news of Sigismund, Clotaldo, say?

CLOTALDO. The crowd, whom frenzy and blind impulse drive, Into the tower resistless burst their way, Released the Prince, who seeing thus revive The honour he had tasted for one day, Looked brave, declaring, in a haughty tone, The truth at last that heaven must now make known.

BASILIUS. Give me a horse! In person forth I'll ride To check the pride of this ungrateful son. Where Science erred let now the sword decide; By my own valour shall my throne be won! [Exit.

ESTRELLA. Let me the glory of the fight divide — A twinkling star beside that royal sun — Bellona matched with Mars: for I would dare To scale even heaven to rival Pallas there.

[Exit, and they sound to arms.



* * * * *

SCENE VIII.

ROSAURA, who detains CLOTALDO.

ROSAURA. Though the trumpets from afar Echo in thy valorous breast, Hear me, list to my request, For I know that all is war. Well thou knowest that I came Poor to Poland, sad, dejected; And that graciously protected, Thou thy pity let me claim. It was thy command, ah, me! I should live here thus disguised, Striving, as thy words advised (Hiding all my jealousy), To avoid Astolfo's sight; But he saw me, and though seeing, With Estrella, he — false being!— Converse holds this very night In a garden bower. The key I have taken, and will show Where, by entering, with a blow Thou canst end my misery. Thus, then, daring, bold, and strong, Thou my honour wilt restore; Strike, and hesitate no more, Let his death revenge my wrong.

CLOTALDO. It is true, my inclination Since thou first wert seen by me, Was to strive and do for thee (Be thy tears my attestation) All my life could do to serve thee. What I first was forced to press, Was that thou should'st change thy dress; Les if chancing to observe thee Masquerading like a page, By appearances so strong Led astray, the Duke might wrong By a thought thy sex and age. Meanwhile various projects held me In suspense, oft pondering o'er How thy honour to restore; Though (thy honour so compelled me) I Astolfo's life should take — Wild design that soon took wing — Yet, as he was not my king, It no terror could awake. I his death was seeking, when Sigismund with vengeful aim Sought for mine; Astolfo came, And despising what most men Would a desperate peril deem, Stood in my defence; his bearing, Nigh to rashness in its daring, Showed a valour most extreme. How then, think, could I, whose breath Is his gift, in murderous strife, For his giving me my life, Strive in turn to give him death? And thus, grateful, yet aggrieved, By two opposite feelings driven, Seeing it to thee have given, And from him have it received, Doubting this, and that believing, Half revenging, half forgiving, If to thee I'm drawn by giving, I to him am by receiving; Thus bewildered and beset, Vainly seeks my love a way, Since I have a debt to pay, Where I must exact a debt

ROSAURA. It is settled, I believe, As all men of spirit know, That 'tis glorious to bestow, But a meanness to receive. Well, admitting this to be, Then thy thanks should not be his, Even supposing that he is One who gave thy life to thee; As the gift of life was thine, And from him the taking came, In this case the act was shame, And a glorious act in mine. Thus by him thou art aggrieved, And by me even complimented, Since to me thou hast presented What from him thou hast received: Then all hesitation leaving, Thou to guard my fame shouldst fly, Since my honour is as high As is giving to receiving.

CLOTALDO. Thou it seems a generous fever In a noble heart to give, Still an equal fire may live In the heart of the receiver. Heartlessness is something hateful, I would boast a liberal name; Thus I put my highest claim In the fact of being grateful. Then to me that title leave,— Gentle birth breeds gentleness; For the honour is no less To bestow than to receive.

ROSAURA. I received my life from thee, But for thee I now were dead; Still it was thyself that said No insulted life could be Called a life: on that I stand; Nought have I received from thee, For the life no life could be That was given me by thy hand. But if thou wouldst first be just Ere being generous in this way (As I heard thyself once say), Thou will give me life I trust, Which thou hast not yet; and thus Giving will enhance thee more, For if liberal before, Thou wilt then be generous.

CLOTALDO. Conquered by thy argument, Liberal I first will be. I, Rosaura, will to thee All my property present; In a convent live; by me Has the plan been weighed some time, For escaping from a crime Thou wilt there find sanctuary; For so many ills present them Through the land on every side, That being nobly born, my pride Is to strive and not augment them. By the choice that I have made, Loyal to the land I'll be, I am liberal with thee, And Astolfo's debt is paid; Choose then, nay, let honour, rather, Choose for thee, and for us two, For, by Heaven! I could not do More for thee were I thy father!—

ROSAURA. Were that supposition true, I might strive and bear this blow; But not being my father, no.

CLOTALDO. What then dost thou mean to do?

ROSAURA. Kill the Duke.

CLOTALDO. A gentle dame, Who no father's name doth know, Can she so much valour show?

ROSAURA. Yes.

CLOTALDO. What drives thee on?

ROSAURA. My fame.

CLOTALDO. Think that in the Duke thou'lt see . . . .

ROSAURA. Honour all my wrath doth rouse.

CLOTALDO. Soon thy king — Estrella's spouse.

ROSAURA. No, by Heaven! it must not be.

CLOTALDO. It is madness.

ROSAURA. Yes, I see it.

CLOTALDO. Conquer it.

ROSAURA. I can't o'erthrow it.

CLOTALDO. It will cost thee . . . .

ROSAURA. Yes, I know it.

CLOTALDO. Life and honour.

ROSAURA. Well, so be it.

CLOTALDO. What wouldst have?

ROSAURA. My death.

CLOTALDO. Take care! It is spite.

ROSAURA. 'Tis honour's cure.

CLOTALDO. 'Tis wild fire.

ROSAURA. That will endure.

CLOTALDO. It is frenzy.

ROSAURA. Rage, despair.

CLOTALDO. Can there then be nothing done This blind rage to let pass by?

ROSAURA. No.

CLOTALDO. And who will help thee?

ROSAURA. I.

CLOTALDO. Is there then no remedy?

ROSAURA. None.

CLOTALDO. Think of other means whereby . . . .

ROSAURA. Other means would seal my fate. [Exit.

CLOTALDO. If 'tis so, then, daughter, wait, For together we shall die. [Exit.



* * * * *

SCENE IX.

THE OPEN PLAIN.

SIGISMUND, clothed in skins: Soldiers marching. CLARIN. [Drums are heard.]

SIGISMUND. If Rome could see me on this day Amid the triumphs of its early sway, Oh, with what strange delight It would have seen so singular a sight, Its mighty armies led By one who was a savage wild beast bred, Whose courage soars so high, That even an easy conquest seems the sky! But let us lower our flight, My spirit; 'tis not thus we should invite This doubtful dream to stay, Lest when I wake and it has past away, I learn to my sad cost, A moment given, 'twas in a moment lost; Determined not to abuse it, The less will be my sorrow should I lose it.

[A trumpet sounds.

CLARIN. Upon a rapid steed, (Excuse my painting it; I can't indeed Resist the inspiration), Which seems a moving mass of all creation, Its body being the earth, The fire the soul that in its heart hath birth, Its foam the sea, its panting breath the air, Chaos confused at which I stand and stare, Since in its soul, foam, body, breath, to me It is a monster made of fire, earth, air, and sea; Its colour dapple grey, Speckled its skin, and flecked, as well it may, By the impatient spur its flank that dyes, For lo! it doth not run, the meteor flies; As borne upon the wind, A beauteous woman seeks thee.

SIGISMUND. I'm struck blind!

CLARIN. Good God, it is Rosaura, oh, the pain! [Retires.

SIGISMUND. Heaven has restored her to my sight again.



* * * * *

SCENE X.

ROSAURA, in a light corselet, with sword and dagger; SIGISMUND, and Soldiers.

ROSAURA. Noble-hearted Sigismund! Thou whose hidden light heroic Issues from its night of shadows To the great deeds of its morning; And as heaven's sublimest planet From the white arms of Aurora Back restores their beauteous colour To the wild flowers and the roses, And upon the seas and mountains, When endiademed with glory, Scatters light, diffuses splendour, Braids their foam, their hair makes golden; Thus thou dawnest on the world Bright auspicious sun of Poland, Who will help a hapless woman, She who at thy feet doth throw her, Help her, since she is unhappy, And a woman; two good motives Quite enough to move a man Who of valour so doth boast him, Though even one would be sufficient, Though even one would be all potent. Thou hast seen me thrice already, Thrice thou hast not truly known me, For each time by different dresses Was I strangely metamorphosed. First I seemed to thee a man, When within thy sad and sombre Cell thou sawest me, when thy life Wiled from me mine own misfortunes. As a woman next thou sawest me, Where the splendours of thy throne-room Vanished like a fleeting vision, Vain, phantasmal and abortive. The third time is now, when being Something monstrous and abnormal, In a woman's dress thou see'st me With a warrior's arms adorned. And to pity and compassion That thou may'st be moved more strongly, Listen to the sad succession Of my tragical misfortunes. In the Court of Muscovy I was born of a noble mother, Who indeed must have been fair Since unhappiness was her portion. Fond and too persuading eyes Fixed on her, a traitor lover, Whom, not knowing, I don't name, Though mine own worth hath informed me What was his: for being his image, I sometimes regret that fortune Made me not a pagan born, That I might, in my wild folly, Think he must have been some god, Such as he was, who in golden Shower wooed Danae, or as swan Leda loved, as bull, Europa. When I thought to lengthen out, Citing these perfidious stories, My discourse, I find already That I have succinctly told thee How my mother, being persuaded By the flatteries of love's homage, Was a fair as any fair, And unfortunate as all are. That ridiculous excuse Of a plighted husband's promise So misled her, that even yet the remembrance brings her sorrow. For that traitor, that Aeneas Flying from his Troy, forgot there, Or left after him his sword. By this sheath its blade is covered, But it shall be naked drawn Ere this history is over. From this loosely fastened know Which binds nothing, which ties nothing, Call it marriage, call it crime, Names its nature cannot alter, I was born, a perfect image, A true copy of my mother, In her loveliness, ah, no! In her miseries and misfortunes. Therefore there is little need To say how the hapless daughter, Heiress of such scant good luck, Had her own peculiar portion. All that I will say to thee Of myself is, that the robber Of the trophies of my fame, Of the sweet spoils of my honour, Is Astolfo . . . . Ah! to name him Stirs and rouses up the choler Of the heart, a fitting effort When an enemy's name is spoken,— Yes, Astolfo was that traitor, Who, forgetful of his promise (For when love has passed away, Even its memory is forgotten), Came to Poland, hither called. From so sweet so proud a conquest, To be married to Estrella, Of my setting sun the torch light. Who'll believe that when one star Oft unites two happy lovers, Now one star, Estrella, comes Two to tear from one another? I offended, I deceived, Sad remained, remained astonished, Mad, half dead, remained myself; That's to say, in so much torment, That my heart was like a Babel Of confusion, hell, and horror: I resolving to be mute, (For there are some pains and sorrows That by feelings are expressed, Better than when words are spoken). I by silence spoke my pain, Till one day being with my mother Violante, she (oh, heavens!) Burst their prison; like a torrent Forth they rushed from out my breast, Streaming wildly o'er each other. No embarrassment it gave me To relate them, for the knowing That the person we confide to A like weakness must acknowledge Gives as 'twere to our confusion A sweet soothing and a solace, For at times a bad example Has its use. In fine, my sorrows She with pity heard, relating Even her own grief to console me: When he has himself been guilty With what ease the judge condoneth! Knowing from her own experience That 'twas idle, to slow-moving Leisure, to swift-fleeting time, To intrust one's injured honour. She could not advise me better, As the cure of my misfortunes, Than to follow and compel him By prodigious acts of boldness To repay my honour's debt: And that such attempt might cost me Less, my fortune wished that I Should a man's strange dress put on me. She took down an ancient sword, Which is this I bear: the moment Now draws nigh I must unsheath it, Since to her I gave that promise, When confiding in its marks, Thus she said, "Depart to Poland, And so manage that this steel Shall be seen by the chief nobles Of that land, for I have hope That there may be one among them Who may prove to thee a friend, An adviser and consoler." Well, in Poland I arrived; It is useless to inform thee What thou knowest already, how A wild steed resistless bore me To thy caverned tower, wherein Thou with wonder didst behold me. Let us pass too, how Clotaldo Passionately my cause supported, How he asked my life of the king Who to him that boon accorded; How discovering who I am He persuaded me my proper Dress to assume, and on Estrella To attend as maid of honour, So to thwart Astolfo's love And prevent the marriage contract. Let us, too, pass by, that here thou didst once again behold me In a woman's dress, my form Waking thus a twofold wonder, And approach the time, Clotaldo Being convinced it was important That should wed and reign together Fair Estrella and Astolfo, 'Gainst my honour, me advised To forego my rightful project. But, O valiant Sigismund, Seeing that the moment cometh For thy vengeance, since heaven wishes Thee to-day to burst the portals Of thy narrow rustic cell, Where so long immured, thy body Was to feeling a wild beast, Was to sufferance what the rock is, And that 'gainst thy sire and country Thou hast gallantly revolted, And ta'en arms, I come to assist thee, Intermingling the bright corselet Of Minerva with the trappings Of Diana, thus enrobing Silken stuff and shining steel In a rare but rich adornment. On, then, on, undaunted champion! To us both it is important To prevent and bring to nought This engagement and betrothal; First to me, that he, my husband, Should not falsely wed another, Then to thee, that their two staffs Being united, their joined forces Should with overwhelming power Leave our doubtful victory hopeless. Woman, I come here to urge thee To repair my injured honour, And as man I come to rouse thee Crown and sceptre to recover. Woman I would wake thy pity Since here at thy feet I throw me, And as man, my sword and person In thy service I devote thee. But remember, if to-day As a woman thou should'st court me, I, as man, will give thee death In the laudable upholding, Of my honour, since I am In this strife of love, this contest, Woman my complaints to tell thee, And a man to guard my honour.

SIGISMUND [aside]. Heavens! if it is true I dream, Memory then suspend thy office, For 'tis vain to hope remembrance Could retain so many objects. Help me, God! or teach me how All these numerous doubts to conquer, Or to cease to think of any!— Whoe'er tried such painful problems? If 'twas but a dream, my grandeur, How then is it, at this moment, That this woman can refer me To some facts that are notorious? Then 'twas truth, and not a dream; But if it was truth (another And no less confusion,) how Can my life be called in proper Speech a dream? So like to dreams Are then all the world's chief glories, That the true are oft rejected As the false, the false too often Are mistaken for the true? Is there then 'twixt one and the other Such slight difference, that a question May arise at any moment Which is true or which is false? Are the original and the copy So alike, that which is which Oft the doubtful mind must ponder? If 'tis so, and if must vanish, As the shades of night at morning, All of majesty and power, All of grandeur and of glory, Let us learn at least to turn To our profit the brief moment That is given us, since our joy Lasteth while our dream lasts only. In my power Rosaura stands, Thou, my heart, her charms adoreth, Let us seize then the occasion; Let love trample in its boldness All the laws on which relying She here at my feet has thrown her. 'Tis a dream; and since 'tis so, Let us dream of joys, the sorrows Will come soon enough hereafter. But with mine own words just spoken, Let me now confute myself! If it is a dream that mocks me, Who for human vanities Would forego celestial glory? What past bliss is not a dream? Who has had his happy fortunes Who hath said not to himself As his memory ran o'er them, "All I saw, beyond a doubt Was a dream." If this exposeth My delusion, if I know That desire is but the glowing Of a flame that turns to ashes At the softest wind that bloweth; Let us seek then the eternal, The true fame that ne'er reposeth, Where the bliss is not a dream, Nor the crown a fleeting glory. Without honour is Rosaura. But it is a prince's province To give honour, not to take it: Then, by Heaven! it is her honour That for her I must win back, Ere this kingdom I can conquer. Let us fly then this temptation. [To the Soldiers. 'Tis too strong: To arms! March onward! For to-day I must give battle, Ere descending night, the golden Sunbeams of expiring day Buries in the dark green ocean.

ROSAURA. Dost thou thus, my lord, withdraw thee? What! without a word being spoken? Does my pain deserve no pity? Does my grief so little move thee? Can it be, my lord, thou wilt not Deign to hear, to look upon me? Dost thou even avert thy face?

SIGISMUND. Ah, Rosaura, 'tis thy honour That requires this harshness now, If my pity I would show thee. Yes, my voice does not respond, 'Tis my honour that respondeth; True I speak not, for I wish That my actions should speak for me; Thee I do not look on, no, For, alas! it is of moment, That he must not see thy beauty Who is pledged to see thy honour. [Exit followed by the Soldiers.

ROSAURA. What enigmas, O ye skies! After many a sigh and tear, Thus in doubt to leave me here With equivocal replies!



* * * * *

SCENE XI.

CLARIN and ROSAURA.

CLARIN. Madam, is it visiting hour?

ROSAURA. Welcome, Clarin, where have you been?

CLARIN. Only four stout walls between In an old enchanted tower; Death was on the cards for me, But amid the sudden strife Ere the last trump came, my life Won the trick and I got free. I ne'er hoped to sound again.

ROSAURA. Why?

CLARIN. Because alone I know Who you are: And this being so, Learn, Clotaldo is . . . . . This strain Puts me out.

[Drums are heard.

ROSAURA. What can it be?

CLARIN. From the citadel at hand, Leagured round, an armed band As to certain victory Sallies forth with flags unfurled.

ROSAURA. 'Gainst Prince Sigismund! and I, Coward that I am, not by To surprise and awe the world, When with so much cruelty Each on each the two hosts spring! [Exit.



* * * * *

SCENE XII.

CLARIN; and Soldiers within.

Voices of some. Live, long live our victor King!

Voices of others. Live, long live our liberty!

CLARIN. Live, long live the two, I say! Me it matters not a pin, Which doth lose or which doth win, If I can keep out of the way!— So aside here I will go, Acting like a prudent hero, Even as the Emperor Nero Took things coolly long ago. Or if care I cannot shun, Let it 'bout mine ownself be; Yes, here hidden I can see All the fighting and the fun; What a cosy place I spy Mid the rock there! so secure, Death can't find me out I'm sure, Then a fig for death I say! [Conceals himself, drums beat and the sound of arms is heard.



* * * * *

SCENE XIII.

BASILIUS, CLOTALDO, ASTOLFO, flying. — CLARIN concealed.

BASILIUS. Hapless king! disastrous reign! Outraged father! guilty son!

CLOTALDO. See thy vanquished forces run In a panic o'er the plain!

ASTOLFO. And the rebel conqueror's stay, Proud, defiant.

BASILIUS. 'Tis decreed Those are loyal who succeed, Rebels those who lose the day. Let us then, Clotaldo, flee, Since the victory he hath won, From a proud and cruel son.

[Shots are fired within, and CLARIN falls wounded from his hiding-place.

CLARIN. Heaven protect me!

ASTOLFO. Who can be This last victim of the fight, Who is struck down in the retreat, Falls here bleeding at our feet?

CLARIN. I am an unlucky wight, Who to shun Death's fearful face Found the thing I would forget: Flying from him, him I've met. For there is no secret place Hid from death; and therefore I This conclusion hold as clear, He 'scapes best who goes more near, He dies first who first doth fly. Then return, return and be In the bloody conflict lost; Where the battle rages most, There is more security Than in hills how desolate, Since no safety can there be 'Gainst the force of destiny, And the inclemency of fate; Therefore 'tis in vain thou flyest From the death thou draw'st more nigh, Oh, take heed for thou must die If it is God's will thou diest! [Falls within.

BASILIUS. Oh, take heed for thou must die If it is God's will thou diest!— With what eloquence, O heaven! Does this body that here lieth, Through the red mouth of a wound To profoundest thoughts entice us From our ignorance and our error! The red current as it glideth Is a bloody tongue that teaches All man's diligence is idle, When against a greater power, And a higher cause it striveth. Thus with me, 'gainst strife and murder When I thought I had provided, I but brought upon my country All the ills I would have hindered.

CLOTALDO. Though, my lord, fate knoweth well Every path, and quickly findeth Whom it seeks; yet still it strikes me 'Tis not christian-like to say 'Gainst its rage that nought suffices. That is wrong, a prudent man Even o'er fate victorious rises; And if thou art not preserved From the ills that have surprised thee, From worse ills thyself preserve.

ASTOLFO. Sire, Clotaldo doth address thee As a cautious, prudent man, Whose experience time hath ripened. I as a bold youth would speak: Yonder, having lost its rider, I behold a noble steed Wandering reinless and unbridled, Mount and fly with him while I Guard the open path behind thee.

BASILIUS. If it is God's will I die, Or if Death for me here lieth As in ambush, face to face I will meet it and defy it.



* * * * *

SCENE XIV.

SIGISMUND, ESTRELLA, ROSAURA, Soldiers, Attendants, BASILIUS, ASTOLFO, and CLOTALDO.

A SOLDIER. 'Mid the thickets of the mountain, 'Neath these dark boughs so united, The King hides.

SIGISMUND. Pursue him then, Leave no single shrub unrifled, Nothing must escape your search, Not a plant, and not a pine tree.

CLOTALDO. Fly, my lord!

BASILIUS. And wherefore fly?

ASTOLFO. Come!

BASILIUS. Astolfo, I'm decided.

CLOTALDO. What to do?

BASILIUS. To try, Clotaldo, One sole remedy that surviveth. [To SIGISMUND. If 'tis me thou'rt seeking, Prince, At thy feet behold me lying. [Kneeling. Let thy carpet be these hairs Which the snows of age have whitened. Tread upon my neck, and trample On my crown; in base defilement Treat me with all disrespect; Let thy deadliest vengeance strike me Through my honour; as thy slave Make me serve thee, and in spite of All precautions let fate be, Let heaven keep the word it plighted.

SIGISMUND. Princes of the Court of Poland, Who such numerous surprises Have astonished seen, attend, For it is your prince invites ye. That which heaven has once determined, That which God's eternal finger Has upon the azure tablets Of the sky sublimely written, Those transparent sheets of sapphire Superscribed with golden ciphers Ne'er deceive, and never lie; The deceiver and the liar Is he who to use them badly In a wrongful sense defines them. Thus, my father, who is present, To protect him from the wildness Of my nature, made of me A fierce brute, a human wild-beast; So that I, who from my birth, From the noble blood that trickles Through my veins, my generous nature, And my liberal condition, Might have proved a docile child, And so grew, it was sufficient By so strange an education, By so wild a course of living, To have made my manners wild;— What a method to refine them! If to any man 'twas said, "It is fated that some wild-beast will destroy you," would it be Wise to wake a sleeping tiger As the remedy of the ill? If 'twere said, "this sword here hidden In its sheath, which thou dost wear, Is the one foredoomed to kill thee," Vain precaution it would be To preserve the threatened victim. Bare to point it at his breast. If 'twere said, "these waves that ripple Calmly here for thee will build Foam-white sepulchres of silver," Wrong it were to trust the sea When its haughty breast is lifted Into mountain heights of snow, Into hills of curling crystal. Well, this very thing has happened Unto him, who feared a wild-beast, And awoke him while he slept; Or who drew a sharp sword hidden Naked forth, or dared the sea When 'twas roused by raging whirlwinds And though my fierce nature (hear me) Was as 'twere the sleeping tiger, A sheathed sword my innate rage And my wrath a quiet ripple, Fate should not be forced by means So unjust and so vindictive, For they but excite it more; And thus he who would be victor O'er his fortune, must succeed By wise prudence and self-strictness. Not before an evil cometh Can it rightly be resisted Even by him who hath foreseen it, For although (the fact's admitted) By an humble resignation It is possible to diminish Its effects, it first must happen, And by no means can be hindered. Let it serve as an example This strange sight, this most surprising Spectacle, this fear, this horror, This great prodigy; for none higher E'er was worked than this we see, After years of vain contriving, Prostrate at my feet a father, And a mighty king submitted. This the sentence of high heaven Which he did his best to hinder He could not prevent. Can I, Who in valour and in science, Who in years am so inferior, It avert? My lord, forgive me, [To the King. Rise, sir, let me clasp thy hand; For since heaven has now apprized thee That thy mode of counteracting Its decree was wrong, a willing Sacrifice to thy revenge Let my prostrate neck be given.

BASILIUS. Son, this noble act of thine In my heart of hearts reviveth All my love, thou'rt there reborn. Thou art Prince; the bay that bindeth Heroes' brows, the palm, be thine, Let the crown thine own deeds give thee.

ALL. Long live Sigismund our King!

SIGISMUND. Though my sword must wait a little Ere great victories it can gain, I to-day will win the highest, The most glorious, o'er myself.— Give, Astolfo, give your plighted Hand here to Rosaura, since It is due and I require it.

ASTOLFO. Though 'tis true I owe the debt, Still 'tis needful to consider That she knows not who she is; It were infamous, a stigma On my name to wed a woman . . . .

CLOTALDO. Stay, Astolfo, do not finish; For Rosaura is as noble As yourself. My sword will right her In the field against the world: She's my daughter, that's sufficient.

ASTOLFO. What do you say?

CLOTALDO. Until I saw her To a noble spouse united, I her birth would not reveal. It were now a long recital, But the sum is, she's my child.

ASTOLFO. That being so, the word I've plighted I will keep.

SIGISMUND. And that Estrella May not now be left afflicted, Seeing she has lost a prince Of such valour and distinction, I propose from mine own hand As a husband one to give her, Who, if he does not exceed Him in worth, perhaps may rival. Give to me thy hand.

ESTRELLA. I gain By an honour so distinguished.

SIGISMUND. To Clotaldo, who so truly Served my father, I can give him But these open arms wherein He will find what'er he wishes.

A SOLDIER. If thou honorest those who serve thee, Thus, to me the first beginner Of the tumult through the land, Who from out the tower, thy prison, Drew thee forth, what wilt thou give?

SIGISMUND. Just that tower: and that you issue Never from it until death, I will have you guarded strictly; For the traitor is not needed Once the treason is committed.

BASILIUS. So much wisdom makes one wonder.

ASTOLFO. What a change in his condition!

ROSAURA. How discreet! how calm! how prudent!

SIGISMUND. Why this wonder, these surprises, If my teacher was a dream, And amid my new aspirings I am fearful I may wake, And once more a prisoner find me In my cell? But should I not, Even to dream it is sufficient: For I thus have come to know That at last all human blisses Pass and vanish as a dream, And the time that may be given me I henceforth would turn to gain: Asking for our faults forgiveness, Since to generous, noble hearts It is natural to forgive them.

THE END