Life Is A Dream [20]
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
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