Life Is a Dream by Calderón de la Barca, Pedro, 1600-1681, MacCarthy, Denis Florence, 1817-1882
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A word from our supporters: File extension DMG | 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. |



