Life Is A Dream [22]
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 III.
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
(A Battle may be supposed to take place; after which)
ACT III.
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