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Hammerton. + </title> + + <link rel="coverpage" href="images/coverpage.jpg" /> + + + +<style type="text/css"> + +body { + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + + h1,h2,h3,h4 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; +} + +p { + margin-top: .51em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .49em; +} + +.p1 {margin-top: 1em;} +.p2 {margin-top: 2em;} +.pmb1 {margin-bottom: 1em;} +.pmb2 {margin-bottom: 2em;} +.pmb3 {margin-bottom: 3em;} + +.px6 {position:relative; top:18%;} + +.font08 {font-size: 0.8em;} +.font09 {font-size: 0.9em;} +.font11 {font-size: 1.1em;} +.font12 {font-size: 1.2em;} + +.it1 {text-indent: 1.5em; + margin-top: -0.3em; + margin-bottom: 0.8em;} +.it2 {text-indent: 4em; + margin-top: -0.3em;} +.it11 {text-indent: 1.5em; + margin-top: -0.3em; + margin-left: 1.5em; + margin-bottom: 0.8em;} + +.ij1 {margin-top: -0.3em;} +.ij3 {margin-top: -0.5em;} +.ij4 {margin-top: -0.5em; + margin-left: 5em; + text-indent: -0.35em;} +.ij5 {margin-top: -0.4em; + margin-left: 5em; 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A. HAMMERTON</span><br /> + <span class="center font08">Editor of Harmsworth's Universal Encyclopaedia</span><br /> + <div class="figcenter" style="width: 30px;"> + <img src="images/002_deco.jpg" width="30" height="39" alt="Decoration" title="" /> </div> + <span class="center font12">VOL. XVII</span><br /> + <span class="center font12">POETRY AND DRAMA</span><br /> + </div> + </div> + </div> + </td> + </tr> +</table> + +<p class="pmb1" /> + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_iv" id="Page_iv">[Pg iv]</a></span></p> + + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_v" id="Page_v">[Pg v]</a></span></p> +<p class="pmb1"> </p> + + +<h2><a name="Table_of_Contents" id="Table_of_Contents"><i>Table of Contents</i></a></h2> + + +<div class="block3"> +<table border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" class="tdl" summary="Table of contents"> + <colgroup> <col width="70%" /> <col width="20%" /> </colgroup> + <tr> + <td><p class="it1 font09 smcap">Portrait of Molière</p></td> + <td><p class="ij1 font09 right"><i>Frontispiece</i></p></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td><p class="it1 font09"><span class="smcap">Goethe</span> (<i>Continued</i>)</p></td> + <td><p class="ij1 font08 right">PAGE</p></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td><p class="it2 font09 smcap">Goetz von Berlichingen</p></td> + <td><p class="ij1 font09 right"><a href="#Page_1">1</a></p></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td><p class="it2 font09 smcap">Iphigenia in Tauris</p></td> + <td><p class="ij1 font09 right"><a href="#Page_18">18</a></p></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td colspan="2"><p class="it1 font09 smcap">Gogol, Nicolai</p></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td><p class="it2 font09 smcap">Inspector-General</p></td> + <td><p class="ij1 font09 right"><a href="#Page_30">30</a></p></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td colspan="2"><p class="it1 font09 smcap">Goldsmith, Oliver</p></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td><p class="it2 font09 smcap">She Stoops to Conquer</p></td> + <td><p class="ij1 font09 right"><a href="#Page_39">39</a></p></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td colspan="2"><p class="it1 font09 smcap">Heine, Heinrich</p></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td><p class="it2 font09 smcap">Atta Troll</p></td> + <td><p class="ij1 font09 right"><a href="#Page_50">50</a></p></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td colspan="2"><p class="it1 font09 smcap">Homer</p></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td><p class="it2 font09 smcap">Iliad</p></td> + <td><p class="ij1 font09 right"><a href="#Page_66">66</a></p></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td><p class="it2 font09 smcap">Odyssey</p></td> + <td><p class="ij1 font09 right"><a href="#Page_78">78</a></p></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td colspan="2"><p class="it1 font09 smcap">Horace</p></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td><p class="it2 font09 smcap">Poems</p></td> + <td><p class="ij1 font09 right"><a href="#Page_91">91</a></p></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td colspan="2"><p class="it1 font09 smcap">Hugo, Victor</p></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td><p class="it2 font09 smcap">Hernani</p></td> + <td><p class="ij1 font09 right"><a href="#Page_110">110</a></p></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td><p class="it2 font09 smcap">Marion de Lorme</p></td> + <td><p class="ij1 font09 right"><a href="#Page_123">123</a></p></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td><p class="it2 font09 smcap">Ruy Blas</p></td> + <td><p class="ij1 font09 right"><a href="#Page_134">134</a></p></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td><p class="it2 font09 smcap">The King Amuses Himself</p></td> + <td><p class="ij1 font09 right"><a href="#Page_146">146</a></p></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td><p class="it2 font09 smcap">The Legend of the Alps</p></td> + <td><p class="ij1 font09 right"><a href="#Page_159">159</a></p></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td colspan="2"><p class="it1 font09 smcap">Ibsen, Henrik</p></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td><p class="it2 font09 smcap">Master Builder</p></td> + <td><p class="ij1 font09 right"><a href="#Page_171">171</a></p></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td><p class="it2 font09 smcap">Pillars of Society</p></td> + <td><p class="ij1 font09 right"><a href="#Page_186">186</a></p></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td colspan="2"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_vi" id="Page_vi">[Pg vi]</a></span> + <p class="it1 font09 smcap">Jonson, Ben</p></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td><p class="it2 font09 smcap">Every Man in His Humour</p></td> + <td><p class="ij1 font09 right"><a href="#Page_195">195</a></p></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td colspan="2"><p class="it1 font09 smcap">Juvenal</p></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td><p class="it2 font09 smcap">Satires</p></td> + <td><p class="ij1 font09 right"><a href="#Page_207">207</a></p></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td colspan="2"><p class="it1 font09 smcap">Klopstock, Friedrich Gottlieb</p></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td><p class="it2 font09 smcap">Messiah</p></td> + <td><p class="ij1 font09 right"><a href="#Page_217">217</a></p></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td colspan="2"><p class="it1 font09 smcap">Lessing, Gotthold Ephraim</p></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td><p class="it2 font09 smcap">Nathan the Wise</p></td> + <td><p class="ij1 font09 right"><a href="#Page_226">226</a></p></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td colspan="2"><p class="it1 font09 smcap">Longfellow</p></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td><p class="it2 font09 smcap">Evangeline</p></td> + <td><p class="ij1 font09 right"><a href="#Page_241">241</a></p></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td><p class="it2 font09 smcap">Hiawatha</p></td> + <td><p class="ij1 font09 right"><a href="#Page_250">250</a></p></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td colspan="2"><p class="it1 font09 smcap">Lucretius</p></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td><p class="it2 font09 smcap">On the Nature of Things</p></td> + <td><p class="ij1 font09 right"><a href="#Page_261">261</a></p></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td colspan="2"><p class="it1 font09 smcap">Macpherson, James</p></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td><p class="it2 font09 smcap">Ossian</p></td> + <td><p class="ij1 font09 right"><a href="#Page_272">272</a></p></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td colspan="2"><p class="it1 font09 smcap">Marlowe, Christopher</p></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td><p class="it2 font09 smcap">Dr. Faustus</p></td> + <td><p class="ij1 font09 right"><a href="#Page_282">282</a></p></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td colspan="2"><p class="it1 font09 smcap">Martial</p></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td><p class="it2 font09 smcap">Epigrams, Epitaphs, and Poems</p></td> + <td><p class="ij1 font09 right"><a href="#Page_295">295</a></p></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td colspan="2"><p class="it1 font09 smcap">Massinger, Philip</p></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td><p class="it2 font09 smcap">New Way to Pay Old Debts</p></td> + <td><p class="ij1 font09 right"><a href="#Page_305">305</a></p></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td colspan="2"><p class="it1 font09 smcap">Milton</p></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td><p class="it2 font09 smcap">Paradise Lost</p></td> + <td><p class="ij1 font09 right"><a href="#Page_319">319</a></p></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td><p class="it2 font09 smcap">Paradise Regained</p></td> + <td><p class="ij1 font09 right"><a href="#Page_342">342</a></p></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td><p class="it2 font09 smcap">Samson Agonistes</p></td> + <td><p class="ij1 font09 right"><a href="#Page_349">349</a></p></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td colspan="2"><p class="it1 font09 smcap">Molière</p></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td><p class="it2 font09 smcap">The Doctor in Spite of Himself</p></td> + <td><p class="ij1 font09 right"><a href="#Page_362">362</a></p></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td colspan="2"><p class="it1 center font08">(<span class="smcap">Molière:</span> <i>Continued in Vol. XVIII</i>)</p></td> + </tr> +</table> +</div> + +<hr class="r15" /> + +<p class="center font09 pmb3"> +A Complete Index of <span class="smcap">The World's Greatest Books</span> will be found at<br /> +the end of Volume XX.</p> + + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</a></span></p> + + +<h2><a name="Poetry_and_Drama" id="Poetry_and_Drama"><i>Poetry and Drama</i></a></h2> +<p class="pmb3" /> + + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<h2><a name="GOETHE" id="GOETHE">GOETHE</a></h2> + +<p class="center font09 pmb3"><i>(Continued)</i></p> + + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<h2><a name="Goetz_von_BerlichingenA" id="Goetz_von_BerlichingenA">Goetz von Berlichingen</a><span class="font08"><a name="FNanchor_A_1" id="FNanchor_A_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_A_1" class="fnanchor">[A]</a></span></h2> +<p class="pmb2" /> + + +<h3><i>Persons in the Drama</i></h3> + +<div class="block3"> +<table border="0" cellspacing="2" cellpadding="2" class="tdl" summary="Table of contents"> + <colgroup> <col width="50%" /> <col width="50%" /> </colgroup> + <tr> + <td><p class="ij3 smcap">The Emperor Maximilian</p></td> + <td><p class="ij3 smcap">The Bishop of Bamberg</p></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td><p class="ij3 smcap">Goetz von Berlichingen</p></td> + <td><p class="ij3 smcap">Franz Lerse</p></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td><p class="ij3 smcap">Adelbert von Weislingen</p></td> + <td><p class="ij3"><span class="smcap">Elizabeth</span>, <i>wife to Goetz</i></p></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td><p class="ij3 smcap">Franz von Sickingen</p></td> + <td><p class="ij3"><span class="smcap">Marie</span>, <i>his sister</i></p></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td><p class="ij3 smcap">Hans von Selbitz</p></td> + <td><p class="ij3 smcap">Adelheid von Walldorf</p></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td><p class="ij3"><span class="smcap">Franz</span>, <i>page to Weislingen</i></p></td> + <td><p class="ij3"><span class="smcap">Imperial Councillor</span></p></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td><p class="ij3"><span class="smcap">George</span>, <i>page to Goetz</i></p></td> + <td><p class="ij3"><span class="smcap">Usher</span></p></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td colspan="2"><p class="ij3"><span class="smcap">Faud</span></p></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td colspan="2"><p class="ij3 center"><span class="smcap">Max Stumpf</span>, <span class="smcap">Sievers</span>, + <span class="smcap">Metzler</span>, <span class="smcap">Link</span>, <span class="smcap">Kohl</span>,<br /> + <i>Leaders of the rebel peasants</i></p></td> + </tr> +</table> +</div> +<p class="pmb3" /> + +<div class="block2"> + +<h3><span class="smcap">Act I</span></h3> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="ij6 pmb1"><span class="smcap">Scene I.</span>—<i>Forest; a poor hut in the background</i>. <span class="smcap">Goetz</span> +<i>and</i> <span class="smcap">George</span>.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block2a"> +<p class="p1 it1"><span class="smcap">Goetz:</span> Where can my men be? Up and down I have +to walk, lest sleep should overcome me. Five days and +nights already in ambush. But when I get thee, Weislingen, +I shall make up for it! You priests may send + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</a></span> +round your obliging Weislingen to decry me—I am +awake. You escaped me, bishop! So your dear Weislingen +may pay the piper. George! George! (<i>Enter</i> +<span class="smcap">George</span>.) Tell Hans to get ready. My scouts may be +back any moment. And give me some more wine!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">George:</span> Hark! I hear some horses galloping—two<br /> +—it must be your men!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Goetz:</span> My horse, quick! Tell Hans to arm!</p> + +<p class="ij4 pmb1">[<i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Faud</span>, <i>who reports to</i> <span class="smcap">Goetz</span> <i>that</i> <span class="smcap">Weislingen</span> <i>is<br /> +approaching. Exit</i> <span class="smcap">Goetz</span> <i>and his men</i>.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">George:</span> Oh, St. George! Make me strong and +brave! And give me spear, armour, and horse!</p> + +<p class="ij4 pmb2">[<i>Exit.</i></p> +</div> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="ij6 pmb1"><span class="smcap">Scene II.</span>—<i>Hall at Jaxthausen</i>. <span class="smcap">Elizabeth</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Marie</span>.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block2a"> +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Marie:</span> If I had a husband who always exposed himself +to danger, I should die the first year.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Elizabeth:</span> Thank God, I am made of harder stuff! +God grant that my boy may take after his father, and +not become a treacherous hypocrite, like Weislingen.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Marie:</span> You are very bitter against him. Yet report +speaks well of him. Your own husband loved him, when +they were pages together to the margrave.</p> + +<p class="ij4 pmb1">[<i>The gay tune of a wind-instrument is heard</i>.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Elizabeth:</span> There he returns with his spoil! I must +get the meal ready. Here, take the cellar keys and let +them have of the best wine! They have deserved it.</p> + +<p class="ij4 pmb1">[<i>Exeunt. Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Goetz</span>, <span class="smcap">Weislingen</span>, <i>and men-at-arms.</i> +</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span></p> + +<p class="it1"> +<span class="smcap">Goetz</span> (<i>taking off his helmet and sword</i>): Unstrap +my cuirass and give me my doublet! Weislingen, you've +given us hard work! Be of good cheer. Where are +your clothes? I could lend you some of mine—a neat, +clean suit, which I wore at the wedding of my gracious +lord the Count Palatine, when your bishop got so vexed +with me, because I made him shake hands with me, unknown, +after having taken two of his ships a fortnight +before on the Main.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Weislingen:</span> I beg you to leave me alone.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Goetz:</span> Why? Pray, be cheerful. You are in my +power, and I shall not abuse it. You know my knight's +duty is sacred to me. And now I must go to see my +wife.</p> + +<p class="ij4 pmb1">[<i>Exit.</i></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Weislingen:</span> Oh, that it were all a dream! In Berlichingen's +power—and he, the old true-hearted Goetz! +Back again in the hall, where we played as boys, where +I loved him with all my heart! How strangely past and +present seem to intermingle here.</p> + +<p class="ij4 pmb1">[<i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Goetz</span>, <i>and a man with jug and goblet</i>.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Goetz:</span> Let us drink, until the meal is ready. Come, +you are at home. It is a long time since we last shared +a bottle. (<i>Raising his goblet</i>) A gay heart!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Weislingen:</span> Those times are past.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Goetz:</span> Heaven forbid! Though merrier days we<br /> +may not find. If you had only followed me to Brabant, +instead of taking to that miserable life at court! Are +you not as free and nobly born as anyone in Germany? +Independent, subject only to the emperor? And you +submit to vassals, who poison the emperor's ear against +me! They want to get rid of me. And you, Weislingen, +are their tool!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Weislingen:</span> Berlichingen!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Goetz:</span> No more of it! I hate explanations. They +only lead to deceiving one or the other, or both.</p> + +<p class="ij4 pmb1">[<i>They stand apart, their backs turned to each other. +Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Marie</span>.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Marie</span> (<i>to</i> <span class="smcap">Weislingen</span>): I come to greet and to invite +you in my sister's name. What is it? Why are you +silent both? You are host and guest. Be guided by a +woman's voice.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Goetz:</span> You remind me of my duty.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Weislingen:</span> Who could resist so heavenly a hint?</p> + +<p class="it1 pmb3"><span class="smcap">Marie:</span> Draw near each other, be reconciled! (<i>The +men shake hands</i>.) The union of brave men is the most +ardent wish of all good women.</p> +</div> + + +<h3><span class="smcap">Act II</span></h3> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="ij6 pmb1"><span class="smcap">Scene I.</span>—<i>A room at `</i>. Marie <i>and</i> Weislingen.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block2a"> +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Marie:</span> You say you love me. I willingly believe it, +and hope to be happy with you and to make you happy.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Weislingen:</span> Blessed be your brother and the day he +rode out to capture me!</p> + +<p class="ij4 pmb1">[<i>Enter</i> Goetz.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Goetz:</span> Your page is back. Whatever his news, +Adelbert, you are free! All I ask is your word that you +will not aid and abet my enemies.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Weislingen:</span> I take your hand. And may I at the +same time take the hand of this noblest of all women?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Goetz:</span> May I say "yes" for you, Marie? You need +not blush—your eyes have answered clearly. Well, then, +Weislingen, take her hand, and I say Amen, friend and +brother! I must call my wife. Elizabeth! (<i>Enter</i> +<span class="smcap">Elizabeth</span>.) Join your hand in theirs and say "God +bless you!" They are a pair. Adelbert is going back +to Bamberg to detach himself openly from the bishop, +and then to his estates to settle his affairs. And now +we'll leave him undisturbed to hear his boy's report.</p> + +<p class="ij4 pmb1">[<i>Exit with</i> Marie <i>and</i> Elizabeth.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Weislingen:</span> Such bliss for one so unworthy!</p> + +<p class="ij4 pmb1">[<i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Franz.</span></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Franz:</span> God save you, noble sir! I bring you greetings + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span> +from everybody in Bamberg—from the bishop down +to the jester. How they are distressed at your mishap! +I am to tell you to be patient—they will think the more +impatiently of your deliverance; for they cannot spare +you.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Weislingen:</span> They will have to. I'll return, but not +to stay long.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Franz:</span> Not to stay? My lord, if you but knew what +I know! If you had but seen her—the angel in the shape +of woman, who makes Bamberg a forecourt of heaven— +Adelheid von Walldorf!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Weislingen:</span> I have heard much of her beauty. Is +her husband at court?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Franz:</span> She has been widowed for four months, and +is at Bamberg for amusement. If she looks upon you, +it is as though you were basking in spring sunshine.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Weislingen:</span> Her charms would be lost on me. I +am betrothed. Marie will be the happiness of my life. +And now pack up. First to Bamberg, and then to my +castle.</p> + +<p class="ij4 pmb2">[<i>Exeunt.</i></p> +</div> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="ij6 pmb1"><span class="smcap">Scene II.</span>—<i>A forest. Some Nuremberg merchants, +who, attacked on their way to the Frankfurt Fair +by</i> Goetz <i>and his men, have escaped, leaving their +goods in the hands of the knights. The page</i> +George <i>has, however, recaptured two of the merchants +as</i> Goetz <i>and his men enter</i>.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block2a"> +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Goetz:</span> Search the forest! Let none escape!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">George</span> (<i>stepping forward</i>): I've done some preparatory +work. Here they are.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Goetz:</span> Welcome, good lad! Keep them well guarded! +(<i>Exit his men with the merchants</i>.) And now, what +news of Weislingen?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">George:</span> Bad news! He looked confused when I +said to him, "A few words from your Berlichingen." +He tried to put me off with empty words, but when I +pressed him he said he was under no obligation to you, + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span> +and would have nothing to do with you.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Goetz:</span> Enough! I shall not forget this infamous +treachery. Whoever gets into my power shall feel it. +(<i>Exit</i> <span class="smcap">George</span>.) I'll revel in their agony, deride their +fear. And how, Goetz, are you thus changed? Should +other people's faults and vices make you renounce your +chivalry, and abandon yourself to vulgar cruelty? I'll +drag him back in chains, if I can't get him any other way. +And there's an end of it, Goetz; think of your duty!</p> + +<p class="ij4 pmb1">[<i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">George</span> <i>with a casket</i>.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">George:</span> Now let your joke be ended, they are frightened +enough. One of them, a handsome young man, +gave me this casket, and said, "Take this as ransom! +The jewels I meant to take to my betrothed. Take them, +and let me escape."</p> + +<p class="it1 pmb3"><span class="smcap">Goetz</span> (<i>examining the jewels</i>): This time, Marie, I +shall not be tempted to bring it to you as a birthday gift. +Even in your misfortune you would rejoice in the happiness +of others. Take it, George. Give it back to the +lad. Let him take it to his bride, with greeting from +Goetz! And let all the prisoners free at sunset.</p> +</div> + +<h3><span class="smcap">Act III</span></h3> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="ij6 pmb1"><span class="smcap">Scene I.</span>—<i>Pleasure-garden at Augsburg. The</i> <span class="smcap">Emperor</span>, +<i>the</i> <span class="smcap">Bishop of Bamberg</span>, <span class="smcap">Weislingen</span>, <i>the</i> <span class="smcap">Lady +Adelheid</span>, <span class="smcap">Courtiers</span>.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block2a"> +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Emperor:</span> I am tired of these merchants with their +eternal complaints! Every shopkeeper wants help, and +no one will stir against the common enemy of the empire +and of Christianity.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Weislingen:</span> Who would be active abroad while he +is threatened at home?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Bishop:</span> If we could only remove that proud Sickingen +and Berlichingen, the others would soon fall asunder.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Emperor:</span> Brave, noble men at heart, who must be +spared and used against the Turks.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Weislingen:</span> The consequences may be dangerous. + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span> +Better to capture them and leave them quietly upon their +knightly parole in their castles.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Emperor:</span> If they then abide by the law, they might +again be honourably and usefully employed. I shall open +the session of the Diet to-morrow with this proposal.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Weislingen:</span> A clamour of joyful assent will spare +your majesty the end of the speech.</p> + +<p class="ij4 pmb1">[<i>Exit</i> <span class="smcap">Emperor</span>, <span class="smcap">Bishop</span>, <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Courtiers</span>.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Weislingen:</span> And so you mean to go—to leave the +festive scenes for which you longed with all your heart, +to leave a friend to whom you are indispensable, to delay +our union?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Adelheid:</span> The gayer, the freer shall I return to you.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Weislingen:</span> Will you be content if we proceed +against Berlichingen?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Adelheid:</span> You deserve a kiss! My uncle, Von +Wanzenau, must be captain!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Weislingen:</span> Impossible! An incompetent old +dreamer!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Adelheid:</span> Let the fiery Werdenhagen, his sister's +stepson, go with him.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Weislingen:</span> He is thoughtless and foolhardy, and +will not improve matters.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Adelheid:</span> We have to think of our relatives. For +love of me, you must do it! And I want some exemptions +for the convent of St. Emmeraru; you can work +the chancellor. Then the cup-bearer's post is vacant at +the Hessian Court, and the high stewardship of the +Palatinate. I want them for our friends Braimau and +Mirsing.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Weislingen:</span> How shall I remember it all?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Adelheid:</span> I shall train a starling to repeat the names +to you, and to add, "Please, please." (<i>Exit</i> <span class="smcap">Weislingen</span>. +<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Franz</span>, <i>whom she stops as he crosses to follow +his master</i>): Franz, could you get me a starling, or +would you yourself be my starling? You would learn +more rapidly.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Franz:</span> If you would teach me. Try. Take me with +you.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Adelheid:</span> No, you must serve me here. Have you +a good memory?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Franz:</span> For your words. I remember every syllable +you spoke to me that first day at Bamberg.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Adelheid:</span> Now, listen, Franz. I shall tell you the +names which I want you to repeat to your master, always +adding, "Please, please."</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Franz</span> (<i>seizing her hand passionately</i>): Please, please!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Adelheid</span> (<i>stepping back</i>): Hands are not wanted. +You must lose such bad manners. But you must not be +so upset at a little rebuke. One punishes the children +one loves.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Franz:</span> You love me, then?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Adelheid:</span> I might love you as a child, but you are +getting too tall and violent.</p> + +<p class="ij4 pmb2">[<i>Exeunt.</i></p> +</div> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="ij6 pmb1"><span class="smcap">Scene II.</span>—<i>Hall at Jaxthausen</i>. <span class="smcap">Sickingen</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Goetz</span>.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block2a"> +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Goetz:</span> So you want to marry a jilted woman?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Sickingen:</span> To be deceived by him is an honour for +you both. I want a mistress for my castles and gardens. +In the field, at court, I want to stand alone.</p> + +<p class="ij4 pmb1">[<i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Selbitz</span>.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Selbitz:</span> Bad news! The emperor has put you under +the ban, and has sent troops to seize you.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Goetz:</span> Sickingen, you hear. Take back your offer, +and leave me!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Sickingen:</span> I shall not turn from you in trouble. No +better wooing than in time of war and danger.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Goetz:</span> On one condition. You must publicly detach +yourself from me. The emperor loves and esteems you, +and your intercession may save me in the hour of need.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Sickingen:</span> But I can secretly send you twenty horsemen.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Goetz:</span> That offer I accept.</p> + +<p class="ij4 pmb2">[<i>Exeunt.</i></p> +</div> + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span></p> + +<blockquote> +<p class="ij6 pmb1"><span class="smcap">Scene III.</span>—<i>A hill with a view over a fertile country</i>. +<span class="smcap">George</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Goetz's</span> <i>men cross the stage, chasing +the imperial troops. Then</i> <span class="smcap">Selbitz</span> <i>is carried on, +wounded, accompanied by</i> <span class="smcap">Faud</span>.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block2a"> +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Selbitz:</span> Let me rest here!—and back to your master; +back to Goetz!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Faud:</span> Let me stay with you. I am no good below; +they have hammered my old bones till I can scarcely +move. (<i>Exit soldiers.</i>) Here from the wall I can +watch the fight.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Selbitz:</span> What do you see?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Faud:</span> Your horsemen are turning tail. I can see +Goetz's three black feathers in the midst of the turmoil. +Woe, he has fallen! And George's blue plume has disappeared! +Sickingen's horsemen in flight! Ha! I see +Goetz again! And George! Victory! Victory! They +are routed! Goetz is after them—he has seized their +flag! The fugitives are coming here! Oh! what will +they do with you?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Selbitz:</span> Come down and draw! My sword is ready. +I'll make it hot for them, even sitting or lying down!</p> + +<p class="ij4 pmb1">[<i>Enter imperial troops</i>. <span class="smcap">Selbitz</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Faud</span> <i>defend themselves +until</i> <span class="smcap">Lerse</span> <i>comes to their rescue, attacking +the soldiers furiously, killing some and putting +the rest to flight. Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Goetz</span>, <span class="smcap">George</span>, <i>a troop of +armed men.</i></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Selbitz:</span> Good luck, Goetz! Victory! Victory!<br /> +How did you fare?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Goetz:</span> To George and Lerse I owe my life; I was off +my horse when they came to the rescue. I have their +flag and a few prisoners.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Selbitz:</span> Lerse saved me, too. See what work he has +done here!</p> + +<p class="it1 pmb3"><span class="smcap">Goetz:</span> Good luck, Lerse! And God bless my +George's first brave deed! Now back to the castle, and +let us gather our scattered men.</p> +</div> + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span></p> + + +<h3><span class="smcap">Act IV</span></h3> + +<blockquote> +<p class="ij6 pmb1"><span class="smcap">Scene I.</span>—<i>Jaxthausen. A small room</i>. <span class="smcap">Marie</span> <i>and</i> +<span class="smcap">Sickingen</span>.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block2a"> +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Sickingen:</span> You may smile, but I felt the desire to +possess you when you first looked upon me with your +blue eyes, when you were with your mother at the Diet +of Speier. I have long been separated from you; but +that wish remained, with the memory of that glance.</p> + +<p class="ij4 pmb1">[<i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Goetz</span>.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Sickingen:</span> Good luck!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Marie:</span> Welcome, a thousand times!</p> + +<p class="it1 pmb2"><span class="smcap">Goetz:</span> Now quickly to the chapel! I've thought it +all out, and time presses.</p> +</div> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="ij6 pmb1"><span class="smcap">Scene II.</span>—<i>Large hall; in the background a door, leading +to the chapel</i>. <span class="smcap">Lerse</span> <i>and men-at-arms. Enter</i> +<span class="smcap">Goetz</span> <i>from chapel</i>.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block2a"> +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Goetz:</span> How now, Lerse? The men had better be +distributed over the walls. Let them take any breastplates, +helmets, and arms they may want. Are the gates +well manned?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Lerse:</span> Yes, sir.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Goetz:</span> Sickingen will leave us at once. You will +lead him through the lower gate, along the water, and +across the ford. Then look around you, and come back.</p> + +<p class="ij4 pmb1">[<i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Sickingen</span>, <span class="smcap">Marie</span>, <span class="smcap">Elizabeth</span>, <i>from chapel</i>. +<i>Drums in distance announce the enemy's approach</i>.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Goetz:</span> May God bless you and send you merry, happy +days!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Elizabeth:</span> And may He let your children be like +you!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Sickingen:</span> I thank you, and I thank you, Marie, who +will lead me to happiness.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Goetz:</span> A pleasant journey! Lerse will show you the +way.</p> + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Marie:</span> That is not what we meant. We shall not +leave you.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Goetz:</span> You must, sister! (<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Sickingen</span>) You +understand? Talk to Marie; she is your wife. Take +her to safety, and then think of me.</p> + +<p class="ij4 pmb1">[<i>Exeunt</i> <span class="smcap">Lerse</span>, <span class="smcap">Sickingen</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Marie</span>. <i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">George</span>.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">George:</span> They approach from all sides. I saw their +pikes glitter from the tower.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Goetz:</span> Have the gate barricaded with beams and +stones.</p> + +<p class="ij4 pmb1">[<i>Exit</i> <span class="smcap">George</span>. <i>A trumpeter is dimly heard from the +distance, requesting</i> <span class="smcap">Goetz</span> <i>to surrender unconditionally</i>.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Goetz</span> <i>refuses angrily, and slams the +window. Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Lerse</span>.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Lerse:</span> There is plenty of powder, but bullets are +scarce.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Goetz:</span> Look round for lead! Meanwhile, we must +make the crossbows do.</p> + +<p class="ij4 pmb1">[<i>Distant shooting is heard at +intervals. Exit</i> <span class="smcap">Goetz</span> <i>with crossbow</i>.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Lerse</span> (<i>breaking a window and detaching the lead +from the glass</i>): This lead has rested long enough; now +it may fly for a change. </p> + +<p class="ij4 pmb1">[<i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Goetz</span>.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Goetz:</span> They have ceased firing, and offer a truce with +all sorts of signs and white rags. They will probably +ask me to surrender on knightly parole.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Lerse:</span> I'll go and see. 'Tis best to know their mind.</p> + +<p class="ij4 pmb1">[<i>Goes out and returns shortly</i>.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Lerse:</span> Liberty! Liberty! Here are the conditions. +You may withdraw with arms, horses, and armour, leaving +all provisions behind. Your property will be carefully +guarded. I am to remain.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Goetz:</span> Come, take the best arms with you, and leave +the others here! Come, Elizabeth! Through this very +gate I led you as a young bride. Who knows when we + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span> +shall return?</p> + +<p class="ij4 pmb1">[<i>Exeunt</i> <span class="smcap">Goetz</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Elizabeth</span>, <i>followed by</i> <span class="smcap">George</span>. +<i>While the men are choosing arms and preparing</i>, +<span class="smcap">Lerse</span>, <i>who has heard shouting and firing without, +looks through the window</i>.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Lerse:</span> God! They are murdering our master! He +is off his horse! Help him!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Faud:</span> George is still fighting. Let's go! If they die,<br /> +I don't want to live!</p> + +<p class="ij4 pmb2">[<i>Exeunt.</i></p> +</div> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="ij6 pmb1"><span class="smcap">Scene III.</span>—<i>Night; anteroom in</i> <span class="smcap">Adelheid's</span> <i>castle</i>. +<span class="smcap">Weislingen</span>, <span class="smcap">Franz</span>, <span class="smcap">Adelheid</span>, <i>with a retinue of +masked and costumed revellers</i>.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block2a"> +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Weislingen:</span> May I, in these moments of lightheartedness, +speak to you of serious matters? Goetz is +probably by this time in our hands. The peasants' revolt +is growing in violence; and the League has given me the +command against them. We shall start before long. I +shall take you to my castle in Franconia, where you will +be safe, and not too far from me.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Adelheid:</span> We shall consider that. I may be useful +to you here.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Weislingen:</span> We have not much time, for we break +up to-morrow!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Adelheid</span> (<i>after a pause</i>): Very well, then; carnival +to-night, and war to-morrow!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Weislingen:</span> You are fond of change. A pleasant +night to you!</p> + +<p class="ij4 pmb1">[<i>Exit.</i></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Adelheid:</span> I understand. You would remove me +from the court, where Charles, our emperor's great successor, +is the object of all hope? You will not change +my plans. Franz!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Franz</span> (<i>entering</i>): Gracious lady!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Adelheid:</span> Watch all the masks, and find out for me +the archduke's disguise! You look sad?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Franz:</span> It is your will that I should languish unto +death.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Adelheid</span> <i>(apart)</i>: I pity him. (<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Franz</span>) You +are true and loving; I shall not forget you!</p> +</div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="ij6 pmb1"><span class="smcap">Scene IV.</span>—<i>Heilbronn Town Hall</i>. <span class="smcap">Imperial Councillor</span> +<i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Magistrates</span>, <span class="smcap">UsherS</span>, <span class="smcap">Goetz</span>.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block2a"> +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Councillor:</span> You know how you fell into our hands, +and are a prisoner at discretion?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Goetz:</span> What will you give me to forget it?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Councillor:</span> You gave your knightly parole to appear +and humbly to await his majesty's pleasure?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Goetz:</span> Well, here I am, and await it!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Councillor:</span> His majesty's mercy releases you from +the ban and all punishment, provided you subscribe to all +the articles which shall be read unto you.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Goetz:</span> I am his majesty's faithful servant. But, before +you proceed, where are my men; what is their fate?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Councillor:</span> That is no business of yours. Secretary, +read the articles! <i>(Reads)</i>: I, Goetz von Berlichingen, +having lately risen in rebellion against the emperor———</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Goetz:</span> 'Tis false! I am no rebel! I refuse to listen +any further!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Councillor:</span> And yet we have strict orders to persuade +you by fair means, or to throw you into prison.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Goetz:</span> To prison? Me? That cannot be the emperor's +order! To promise me permission to ward myself +on parole, and then again to break your treaty.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Councillor:</span> We owe no faith to robbers.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Goetz:</span> If you were not the representative of my +respected sovereign, you should swallow that word, or +choke upon it!</p> + +<p class="ij4 pmb1">[<span class="smcap">Councillor</span> <i>makes a sign, and a bell is rung. Enter +citizens with halberds and swords</i>.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Councillor:</span> You will not listen—seize him!</p> + +<p class="ij4 pmb1">[<i>They rush upon him. He strikes one down, and snatches<br /> +a sword from another. They stand aloof</i>.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Goetz:</span> Come on! I should like to become acquainted + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span> +with the bravest among you.</p> + +<p class="ij4 pmb1">[<i>A trumpet is heard without. Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Usher</span>.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Usher:</span> Franz von Sickingen is without and sends +word that having heard how faith has been broken with +his brother-in-law, he insists upon justice, or within an +hour he will fire the four quarters of the town, and abandon +it to be sacked by his men.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Goetz:</span> Brave friend!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Councillor:</span> YOU had best dissuade your brother-in-law +from his rebellious intention. He will only become +the companion of your fall! Meanwhile, we will consider +how we can best uphold the emperor's authority.</p> + +<p class="ij4 pmb1">[<i>Exeunt all but</i> <span class="smcap">Goetz</span>. <i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Sickingen</span>.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Goetz:</span> That was help from heaven. I asked nothing +but knightly ward upon my parole.</p> + +<p class="it1 pmb3"><span class="smcap">Sickingen:</span> They have shamefully abused the imperial +authority. I know the emperor, and have some influence +with him. I shall want your fist in an enterprise I am +preparing. Meanwhile, they will let you and your men +return to your castle upon the promise not to move beyond +its confines. And the emperor will soon call you. +Now back to the wigs! They have had time enough to +talk; let's save them the trouble!</p> +</div> + + +<h3><span class="smcap">Act V</span></h3> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="ij6 pmb1"><span class="smcap">Scene I.</span>—<i>Forest</i>. <span class="smcap">Goetz</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">George</span>.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block2a"> +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Goetz:</span> No further! Another step and I should have +broken my oath. What is that dust beyond? And that +wild mob moving towards us?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Lerse</span> (<i>entering</i>): The rebel peasants. Back to the +castle! They have dealt horribly with the noblest men!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Goetz:</span> On my own soil I shall not try to evade the +rabble.</p> + +<p class="ij4 pmb1">[<i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Stumpf</span>, <span class="smcap">Kohl</span>, <span class="smcap">Sievers</span>, <i>and armed peasants</i>.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Stumpf:</span> We come to ask you, brave Goetz, to be our +captain.</p> + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Goetz:</span> What! Me? To break my oath? Stumpf, +I thought you were a friend! Even if I were free, and +you wanted to carry on as you did at Weinsberg, raving +and burning, and murdering, I'd rather be killed than be +your captain!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Stumpf:</span> If we had a leader of authority, such things +would not happen. The princes and all Germany would +thank you.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Sievers:</span> You must be our captain, or you will have +to defend your own skin. We give you two hours to<br /> +consider it.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Goetz:</span> Why consider? I can decide now as well as +later. Will you desist from your misdeeds, and act like +decent folk who know what they want? Then I shall +help you with your claims, and be your captain for four +weeks. Now, come!</p> + +<p class="ij4 pmb2">[<i>Exeunt.</i></p> +</div> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="ij6 pmb1"><span class="smcap">Scene II.</span>—<i>Landscape, with village and castle in distance</i>. +<span class="smcap">Goetz</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">George</span>.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block2a"> +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">George:</span> I beseech you, leave this infamous mob of +robbers and incendiaries.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Goetz:</span> We have done some good and saved many a +convent, many a life.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">George:</span> Oh, sir, I beg you to leave them at once, before +they drag you away with them as prisoner, instead +of following you as captain! (<i>Flames are seen rising +from the distant village</i>.) See there! A new crime!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Goetz:</span> That is Miltenberg. Quick, George! Prevent +the burning of the castle. I'll have nothing further to +do with the scoundrels.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">George:</span> I shall save Miltenberg, or you will not see +me again.</p> + +<p class="ij4 pmb1">[<i>Exit.</i></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Goetz:</span> Everybody blames me for the mischief, and +nobody gives me credit for having prevented so much +evil. Would I were thousands of miles away!</p> + +<p class="ij4 pmb1">[<i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Sievers</span>, <span class="smcap">Link</span>, <span class="smcap">Metzler</span>, <i>peasants</i>.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Link:</span> Rouse yourself, captain; the enemy is near and +in great force!</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Goetz:</span> Who burnt Miltenberg?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Metzler:</span> If you want to make a fuss, we'll soon teach +you!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Goetz:</span> You threaten? Scoundrel! [<i>He knocks him +down with a blow of his fist</i>.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Kohl:</span> You are mad! The enemy is coming, and you +quarrel.</p> + +<p class="ij4 pmb1">[<i>Tumult, battle, and rout of the peasants. Then the +stage gradually fills with gypsies</i>. <span class="smcap">Goetz</span> <i>returns +wounded, is recognised by the gypsies, who bandage +him, help him on to his horse, and ask him to lead +them. Soldiers enter and level their halberds at</i> +<span class="smcap">Goetz</span>.</p> +</div> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="ij6 pmb1"><span class="smcap">Scene III.</span>—<span class="smcap">Adelheid's</span> <i>room. Night</i>. <span class="smcap">Adelheid</span>. +<span class="smcap">Franz</span>.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block2a"> +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Franz:</span> Oh, let me stay yet a little while—here, where +I live. Without is death!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Adelheid:</span> Already you hesitate? Then give me back +the phial. You played the hero, but you are only a boy; +A man who wooes a noble woman stakes his life, honour, +virtue, happiness! Boy, leave me!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Franz:</span> No, you are mine. And if I get your freedom +I get my own. With a firm hand I shall pour the poison +into my master's cup. Farewell.</p> + +<p class="ij4 pmb2">[<i>He embraces her and hurries away</i>.</p> +</div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="ij6 pmb1"><span class="smcap">Scene IV.</span>—<i>Rustic garden</i>. <span class="smcap">Marie</span> <i>sleeping in an arbour. +</i> <span class="smcap">Lerse</span>.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block2a"> +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Lerse:</span> Gracious lady, awake! We must away. +Goetz captured as a rebel and thrown into a dungeon! +His age! His wounds!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Marie:</span> We must hurry to Weislingen. Only dire +necessity can drive me to this step. Saving my brother's +life I go to death. I shall kneel to him, weep before him.</p> + +<p class="ij4 pmb2">[<i>Exit.</i></p> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span></p> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="ij6 pmb1"><span class="smcap">Scene V.</span>—<span class="smcap">Weislingen's</span> <i>hall</i>.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block2a"> +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Weislingen:</span> A wretched fever has dried my very +marrow. No rest for me, day or night! Goetz haunts +my very dreams. He is a prisoner, and yet I tremble +before him. (<i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Marie</span>.) Oh, heaven! Marie's +spirit, to tell me of her death!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Marie:</span> Weislingen, I am no spirit. I have come to +beg of you my brother's life.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Weislingen:</span> Marie! You, angel of heaven, bring +with you the tortures of hell. The breath of death is +upon me, and you come to throw me into despair!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Marie:</span> My brother is ill in prison. His wounds—his +age——</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Weislingen:</span> Enough. Franz! (<i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Franz</span> <i>in +great excitement</i>.) The papers there! (<span class="smcap">Franz</span> <i>hands +him a sealed packet</i>.) Here is your brother's death-warrant; +and thus I tear it. He lives. Do not weep, +Franz; there's hope for the living.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Franz:</span> You cannot, you must die! Poison from your +wife. [<i>Rushes to the window, and throws himself out +into the river</i>.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Weislingen:</span> Woe to me! Poison from my wife! +Franz seduced by the infamous woman! I am dying; +and in my agony throb the tortures of hell.</p> + +<p class="it1 pmb2"><span class="smcap">Marie</span> (<i>kneeling):</i> Merciful God, have pity on him!</p> +</div> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="ij6 pmb1"><span class="smcap">Scene VI.</span>—<i>A small garden outside the prison</i>, <span class="smcap">Goetz</span>, +<span class="smcap">Elizabeth</span>, <span class="smcap">Lerse</span>, <i>and prison-keeper</i>.<br /></p> +</blockquote> + + +<div class="block2a"> +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Goetz:</span> Almighty God! How lovely is it beneath +Thy heaven! Farewell, my children! My roots are cut +away, my strength totters to the grave. Let me see +George once more, and sun myself in his look. You turn +away and weep? He is dead! Then die, Goetz! How +did he die? Alas! they took him among the incendiaries, + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span> +and he has been executed?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Elizabeth:</span> No, he was slain at Miltenberg, fighting +like a lion.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Goetz:</span> God be praised! Now release my soul! My +poor wife! I leave you in a wicked world. Lerse, forsake +her not! Blessings upon Marie and her husband. +Selbitz is dead, and the good emperor, and my George. +Give me some water! Heavenly air! Freedom!</p> + +<p class="ij4 pmb1">[<i>He dies</i>.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Elizabeth:</span> Freedom is only above—with thee; the +world is a prison.</p> + +<p class="it1 pmb3"><span class="smcap">Lerse:</span> Noble man! Woe to this age that rejected +thee! Woe to the future that shall misjudge thee!</p> +</div> +</div> + + +<div class="footnotes"><span class="font11"><b>FOOTNOTES:</b></span><br /> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_A_1" id="Footnote_A_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_A_1"><span class="label">[A]</span></a> The story of "Goetz von Berlichingen" was founded on the +life of a German soldier of fortune who flourished between 1480 +and 1562. The possibilities of his biography inspired Goethe (Vol. +IV, p. 253) with the idea of doing for Germany what Shakespeare +had done for mediæval England. In a few weeks he had turned +the life into a series of vivid dramatic pictures, which so engrossed +him that he "forgot Homer, Shakespeare, and everything." +For the next two years the manuscript lay untouched. +In 1773 he made a careful revision and published it anonymously +under the title of "Goetz von Berlichingen of the Iron Hand"; +it is in this form we possess the work now. At a still later +period, in 1804, Goethe prepared another version of the play +for the stage. The subject-matter of "Goetz" is purely revolutionary. +Goetz, the hero himself, is a champion of a good cause—the +cause of freedom and self-reliance. He is the embodiment +of sturdy German virtues, the Empire and the Church playing +the unenviable role of intrigue and oppression. As a stage +play, "Goetz" is ill-constructed, but otherwise it stands a veritable +literary triumph, and a worthy predecessor to "Faust." +This epitome has been prepared from the German text.</p> +</div></div> +<p class="pmb3" /> + + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<h2><a name="Iphigenia_in_TaurisB" id="Iphigenia_in_TaurisB">Iphigenia in Tauris</a><span class="font08"><a name="FNanchor_B_2" id="FNanchor_B_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_B_2" class="fnanchor">[B]</a></span></h2> +<p class="pmb2" /> + + +<h3><i>Persons in the Drama</i></h3> + +<div class="block3"> +<table border="0" cellspacing="2" cellpadding="2" class="tdl" summary="Table of contents"> + <colgroup> <col width="50%" /> <col width="50%" /> </colgroup> + <tr> + <td><p class="ij3 smcap">Iphigenia</p></td> + <td><p class="ij3 smcap">Orestes</p></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td colspan="2"><p class="ij3"><span class="smcap">Thoas</span>, <i>King of Tauris</i></p></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td><p class="ij3 smcap">Pylades</p></td> + <td><p class="ij3 smcap">Arkas</p></td> + </tr> +</table> + +<blockquote> +<p class="it1"><i>The scene throughout is laid in a grove +before</i> <span class="smcap">Diana's</span> <i>temple in Tauris</i>.</p> +</blockquote> +</div> + +<p class="pmb3" /> + + +<div class="block2"> + +<h3><span class="smcap">Act I</span><br /><br /> + +<span class="smcap">Iphigenia</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Thoas</span>.<br /></h3> +<p class="pmb2" /> + +<div class="block2a"> +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Thoas:</span> To-day I come within this sacred fane,<br /> +Which I have often entered to implore<br /> +And thank the gods for conquest. In my breast<br /> +I bear an old and fondly-cherish'd wish,<br /> +To which methinks thou canst not be a stranger:<br /> +I hope, a blessing to myself and realm,<br /> +To lead thee to my dwelling as my bride.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Iphigenia:</span> Too great thine offer, king, to one unknown,<br /> +Who on this shore sought only what thou gavest,<br /> +Safety and peace.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Thoas:</span> Thus still to shroud thyself<br /> +From me, as from the lowest, in the veil<br /> +Of mystery which wrapp'd thy coming here,<br /> +Would in no country be deem'd just or right.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Iphigenia:</span> If I conceal'd, O king, my name, my race,<br /> +It was embarrassment, and not mistrust.<br /> +For didst thou know who stands before thee now,<br /> +Strange horror would possess thy mighty heart,<br /> +And, far from wishing me to share thy throne,<br /> +Thou wouldst more likely banish me forthwith.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Thoas:</span> Whate'er respecting thee the gods decree,<br /> +Since thou hast dwelt amongst us, and enjoy'd<br /> +The privilege the pious stranger claims,<br /> +To me hath fail'd no blessing sent from heaven.<br /> +End then thy silence, priestess!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Iphigenia:</span> I issue from the Titan's race.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Thoas:</span> From that same Tantalus, whom Jove himself<br /> +Drew to his council and his social board?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Iphigenia:</span> His crime was human, and their doom severe;<br /> +Alas, and his whole race must bear their hate.<br /> +His son, Pelops, obtained his second wife<br /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span> +Through treachery and murder. And Hebe's sons,<br /> +Thyestes and Atreus, envious of the love<br /> +That Pelops bore his first-born, murdered him.<br /> +The mother, held as murderess by the sire,<br /> +In terror did destroy herself. The sons,<br /> +After the death of Pelops, shared the rule<br /> +O'er Mycenæ, till Atreus from the realm<br /> +Thyestes drove. Oh, spare me to relate<br /> +The deeds of horror, vengeance, cruel infamy<br /> +That ended in a feast where Atreus made<br /> +His brother eat the flesh of his own boys.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Thoas:</span> But tell me by what miracle thou sprangest<br /> +From race so savage.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Iphigenia:</span> Atreus' eldest son<br /> +Was Agamemnon; he, O king, my sire;<br /> +My mother Clytemnestra, who then bore<br /> +To him Electra, and to fill his cup<br /> +Of bliss, Orestes. But misfortunes new<br /> +Befel our ancient house, when to avenge<br /> +The fairest woman's wrongs the kings of Greece<br /> +Round Ilion's walls encamp'd, led by my sire.<br /> +In Aulis vainly for a favouring gale<br /> +They waited; for, enrag'd against their chief,<br /> +Diana stay'd their progress, and requir'd,<br /> +Through Chalcas' voice, the monarch's eldest daughter.<br /> +They lured me to the altar, and this head<br /> +There to the goddess doomed. She was appeased,<br /> +And shrouded me in a protecting cloud.<br /> +Here I awakened from the dream of death,<br /> +Diana's priestess, I who speak with thee.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Thoas:</span> I yield no higher honour or regard<br /> +To the king's daughter than the maid unknown;<br /> +Once more my first proposal I repeat.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Iphigenia:</span> Hath not the goddess who protected me<br /> +Alone a right to my devoted head?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Thoas:</span> Not many words are needed to refuse,<br /> +The <i>no</i> alone is heard by the refused.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Iphigenia:</span> I have to thee my inmost heart reveal'd.<br /> +My father, mother, and my long-lost home<br /> +With yearning soul I pine to see.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Thoas:</span> Then go!<br /> +And to the voice of reason close thine ear.<br /> +Hear then my last resolve. Be priestess still<br /> +Of the great goddess who selected thee.<br /> +From olden time no stranger near'd our shore<br /> +But fell a victim at her sacred shrine;<br /> +But thou, with kind affection didst enthral<br /> +Me so that wholly I forgot my duty;<br /> +And I did not hear my people's murmurs.<br /> +Now they cry aloud. No longer now<br /> +Will I oppose the wishes of the crowd.<br /> +Two strangers, whom in caverns of the shore<br /> +We found conceal'd, and whose arrival here<br /> +Bodes to my realm no good, are in my power.<br /> +With them thy goddess may once more resume<br /> +Her ancient, pious, long-suspended rites!<br /> +I send them here—thy duty not unknown. [<i>Exit.</i></p> + +<p class="it1 pmb2"><span class="smcap">Iphigenia:</span> O goddess! Keep my hands from blood!</p> + +</div> +<p class="pmb3" /> + + +<h3><span class="smcap">Act II</span><br /><br /> + +<span class="smcap">Orestes</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Pylades</span>.<br /></h3> +<p class="pmb2" /> + +<div class="block2a"> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Orestes:</span> When I implor'd Apollo to remove<br /> +The grisly band of Furies from my side,<br /> +He promised aid and safety in the fane<br /> +Of his lov'd sister, who o'er Tauris rules.<br /> +Thus the prophetic word fulfils itself,<br /> +That with my life shall terminate my woe.<br /> +Thee only, friend, thee am I loath to take,<br /> +The guiltless partner of my crime and curse,<br /> +To yonder cheerless shore!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Pylades:</span> Think not of death!<br /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span> +But mark if not the gods perchance present<br /> +Means and fit moment for a joyful flight.<br /> +The gods avenge not on the son the deeds<br /> +Done by their father.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Orestes:</span> It is their decree<br /> +Which doth destroy us.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Pylades:</span> From our guards I learn<br /> +A strange and god-like woman holds in check<br /> +The execution of the bloody law.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Orestes:</span> The monarch's savage will decrees our death;<br /> +A woman cannot save when he condemns.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Pylades:</span> She comes: leave us alone. I dare not tell<br /> +At once our names, nor unreserv'd confide<br /> +Our fortunes to her. Now retire awhile.</p> + +<p class="ij5">[<i>Exit</i> <span class="smcap">Orestes</span>. <i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Iphigenia</span>.<br /></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Iphigenia:</span> Whence art thou? Stranger, speak! To me thy bearing<br /> +Stamps thee of Grecian, not of Scythian race.</p> + +<p class="ij5">[<i>She unbinds his chains</i>.<br /></p> + +<p>The gods avert the doom that threatens you!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Pylades:</span> Delicious music! Dearly welcome tones<br /> +Of our own language in a foreign land!<br /> +We are from Crete, Adrastus' sons; and I<br /> +Am Cephalus; my eldest brother, he,<br /> +Laodamas. Between us stood a youth<br /> +Whom, when our sire died (having return'd<br /> +From Troy, enrich'd with loot), in contest fierce<br /> +My brother slew! 'Tis thus the Furies now<br /> +For kindred-murder dog his restless steps.<br /> +But to this savage shore the Delphian god<br /> +Hath sent us, cheer'd by hope. My tale is told.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Iphigenia:</span> Troy fallen! Dear stranger, oh, say!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Pylades:</span> The stately town<br /> +Now lies in ruins. Many a hero's grave<br /> +Will oft our thoughts recall to Ilion's shore.<br /> +There lies Achilles and his noble friend;<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span> +Nor Palamedes, nor Ajax, e'er again<br /> +The daylight of their native land beheld.<br /> +Yet happy are the thousands who receiv'd<br /> +Their bitter death-blow from a hostile hand,<br /> +And not like Agamemnon, who, ensnared,<br /> +Fell murdered on the day of his return<br /> +By Clytemnestra, with Ægisthus' aid.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Iphigenia:</span> Base passion prompted then this deed of +shame?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Pylades:</span> And feelings, cherish'd long of deep revenge.<br /> +For such a dreadful deed, that if on earth<br /> +Aught could exculpate murder, it were this.<br /> +The monarch, for the welfare of the Greeks,<br /> +Her eldest daughter doomed. Within her heart<br /> +This planted such abhorrence that forthwith<br /> +She to Ægisthus hath resigned herself,<br /> +And round her husband flung the web of death.</p> + +<p class="it1 pmb2"><span class="smcap">Iphigenia</span> (<i>veiling herself</i>): It is enough! Thou wilt again behold me.<br /></p> +</div> +<p class="pmb3" /> + + +<h3><span class="smcap">Act III</span><br /><br /> + +<span class="smcap">Iphigenia</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Orestes</span>.<br /></h3> +<p class="pmb3" /> + +<div class="block2a"> +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Iphigenia:</span> Unhappy man, I only loose thy bonds<br /> +In token of a still severer doom.<br /> +For the incensed king, should I refuse<br /> +Compliance with the rites himself enjoin'd,<br /> +Will choose another virgin from my train<br /> +As my successor. Then, alas! with nought,<br /> +pave ardent wishes, can I succour you.<br /> +But tell me now, when Agamemnon fell,<br /> +Orestes—did he share his sire's fate?<br /> +Say, was he saved? And is he still alive?<br /> +And lives Electra, too?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Orestes:</span> They both survive.<br /> +Half of the horror only hast thou heard.<br /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span> +Electra, on the day when fell her sire,<br /> +Her brother from impending doom conceal'd;<br /> +Him Strophius, his father's relative,<br /> +Received with kindest care, and rear'd him up,<br /> +With his own son, named Pylades, who soon<br /> +Around the stranger twin'd love's fairest bonds.<br /> +The longing to revenge the monarch's death<br /> +Took them to Mycenæ, and by her son<br /> +Was Clytemnestra slain.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Iphigenia:</span> Immortal powers!<br /> +O tell me of the poor unfortunate!<br /> +Speak of Orestes!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Orestes:</span> Him the Furies chase.<br /> +They glare around him with their hollow eyes,<br /> +Like greedy eagles. In their murky dens<br /> +They stir themselves, and from the corners creep<br /> +Their comrades, dire remorse and pallid fear;<br /> +Before them fumes a mist of Acheron.<br /> +I am Orestes! and this guilty head<br /> +Is stooping to the tomb and covets death;<br /> +It will be welcome now in any shape.</p> + +<p class="ij5">[<span class="smcap">Orestes</span> <i>retires</i>. <span class="smcap">Iphigenia</span> <i>prays to the gods, and</i><br /></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Orestes</span> <i>returns</i>.<br /></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Orestes:</span> Who art thou, that thy voice thus horribly<br /> +Can harrow up my bosom's inmost depths?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Iphigenia:</span> Thine inmost heart reveals it. I am she—Iphigenia!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Orestes:</span> Hence, away, begone!<br /> +Leave me! Like Heracles, a death of shame,<br /> +Unworthy wretch, locked in myself, I'll die!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Iphigenia:</span> Thou shalt not perish! Would that I might hear<br /> +One quiet word from thee! Dispel my doubts,<br /> +Make sure the bliss I have implored so long.<br /> +Orestes! O my brother!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Orestes:</span> There's pity in thy look! oh, gaze not so—<br /> +'Twas with such looks that Clytemnestra sought<br /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span> +An entrance to her son Orestes' heart,<br /> +And yet his uprais'd arm her bosom pierced.<br /> +The weapon raise, spare not, this bosom rend,<br /> +And make an outlet for its boiling streams.</p> + +<p class="ij5">[<i>He sinks exhausted. Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Pylades</span>.<br /></p> + +<p class="it1 pmb2"><span class="smcap">Pylades:</span> Dost thou not know me, and this sacred grove,<br /> +And this blest light, which shines not on the dead?<br /> +Attend! Each moment is of priceless worth,<br /> +And our return hangs on a slender thread.<br /> +The favouring gale, which swells our parting sail,<br /> +Must to Olympus waft our perfect joy.<br /> +Quick counsel and resolve the time demands.</p> +</div> +<p class="pmb3" /> + + +<h3><span class="smcap">Act IV</span><br /><br /> + +<span class="smcap">Iphigenia</span> <i>alone</i>.<br /></h3> +<p class="pmb2" /> + +<div class="block2a"> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Iphigenia:</span> They hasten to the sea, where in a bay<br /> +Their comrades in the vessel lie concealed,<br /> +Waiting a signal. Me they have supplied<br /> +With artful answers should the monarch send<br /> +To urge the sacrifice. Detested falsehood!</p> + +<p class="ij5">[<i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Arkas</span>.<br /></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Arkas:</span> Priestess, with speed conclude the sacrifice!<br /> +Impatiently the king and people wait.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Iphigenia:</span> The gods have not decreed that it should be.<br /> +The elder of these men of kindred-murder<br /> +Bears guilt. The dread Erinnys here within<br /> +Have seized upon their prey, polluting thus<br /> +The sanctuary. I hasten now to bathe<br /> +The goddess' image in the sea, and there<br /> +With solemn rites its purity restore.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Arkas:</span> This hindrance to the monarch I'll announce.</p> + +<p class="ij5">[<i>Exit</i> <span class="smcap">Arkas</span>. Enter <span class="smcap">Pylades</span>.<br /></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Pylades:</span> Thy brother is restor'd! The fire of youth<br /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span> +With growing glory shines upon his brow.<br /> +Let us then hasten; guide me to the fane.<br /> +I can unaided on my shoulder bear<br /> +The goddess' image; how I long to feel<br /> +The precious burden! Hast thou to the king<br /> +Announced the prudent message as agreed?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Iphigenia:</span> The royal messenger arrived, and I,<br /> +According to thy counsel, fram'd my speech.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Pylades:</span> Danger again doth hover o'er our heads.<br /> +Alas! Why hast thou failed to shroud thyself<br /> +Within the veil of sacerdotal rights?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Iphigenia:</span> I never have employed them as a veil.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Pylades:</span> Pure soul! Thy scruples will alike destroy<br /> +Thyself and us. Come, let us be firm.<br /> +Nor with incautious haste betray ourselves.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Iphigenia:</span> It is an honest scruple, which forbids<br /> +That I should cunningly deceive the king,<br /> +And plunder him who was my second father.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Pylades:</span> Him dost thou fly, who would have slain thy brother.<br /> +If we should perish, bitter self-reproach,<br /> +Forerunner of despair, will be thy portion;<br /> +Necessity commands. The rest thou knowest. [<i>Exit.</i></p> + +<p class="it1 pmb3"><span class="smcap">Iphigenia:</span> I must obey him, for I see my friends<br /> +Beset with peril. Yet my own sad fate<br /> +Doth with increasing anguish move my heart<br /> +To steal the image, sacred and rever'd,<br /> +Confided to my care, and him deceive<br /> +To whom I owe my life and destiny!<br /> +Let not abhorrence spring within my heart!</p> +</div> +<p class="pmb3" /> + + +<h3><span class="smcap">Act V</span><br /><br /> + +<span class="smcap">Thoas</span> <i>alone</i>.<br /></h3> +<p class="pmb3" /> + +<div class="block2a"> +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Thoas:</span> Fierce anger rages in my riven breast,<br /> +First against her whom I esteem'd so pure;<br /> +Then 'gainst myself, whose foolish lenity<br /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span> +Hath fashion'd her for treason. Vain my hope<br /> +To bind her to me. Now that I oppose<br /> +Her wish, she seeks to gain her ends by fraud.</p> + +<p class="ij5">[<i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Iphigenia</span>.<br /></p> + +<p>Wherefore delay the sacrifice; inform me!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Iphigenia:</span> The goddess for reflection grants thee time.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Thoas:</span> To thee this time seems also opportune.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Iphigenia:</span> Are we not bound to render the distress'd<br /> +The gracious kindness from the gods received?<br /> +Thou know'st we are, and yet wilt thou compel me?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Thoas:</span> Obey thine office, not the king.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Iphigenia:</span> Oh, couldst thou see the struggle of my soul,<br /> +Courageously toward the first attack<br /> +Of an unhappy doom which threatens me;<br /> +Must I implore a miracle from heaven?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Thoas:</span> Extravagant thy interest in the fate<br /> +Of these two strangers. Tell me who they are.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Iphigenia:</span> They are—they seem, at least—I think them Greeks.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Thoas:</span> Thy countrymen; no doubt they have renewed<br /> +The pleasing picture of return.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Iphigenia</span> (<i>after a pause</i>): Attend,<br /> +O king, and honour truth in me. A plot<br /> +Deceitfully and secretly is laid<br /> +Touching the captives thou dost ask in vain.<br /> +They have escaped. The eldest is Orestes,<br /> +Whom madness seized, my brother; Pylades,<br /> +His early friend and confidant, the other.<br /> +From Delphi, Phoebus sent them to this shore,<br /> +To steal away the image of Diana,<br /> +And to him bear back the sister thither.<br /> +And for this, deliverance promised he<br /> +The Fury-haunted son.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Thoas:</span> The traitors have contrived a cunning web,<br /> +And cast it round thee, who, secluded long,<br /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span> +Giv'st willing credence to thine own desire.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Iphigenia:</span> No, no! I'd pledge my life these men are true;<br /> +And shouldst thou find them otherwise, O king,<br /> +Then let them perish both, and cast me forth.</p> + +<p class="ij5">[<i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Orestes</span>, <i>armed</i>.<br /></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Orestes</span> (<i>addressing his followers</i>): Redouble your exertions! Hold them back!<br /> +And keep a passage open to the ship!<br /> +(<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Iphigenia</span>) We are betray'd; brief time remains for flight!</p> + +<p class="ij5">[<i>He perceives the king</i>.<br /></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Thoas:</span> None in my presence with impunity<br /> +His naked weapon wears!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Iphigenia:</span> Do not profane<br /> +Diana's sanctuary with rage and blood.<br /> +In him revere the king, my second father!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Orestes:</span> Will he permit our peaceable return?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Iphigenia:</span> Thy gleaming sword forbids me to reply.</p> + +<p class="ij5">[<i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Pylades</span>, <i>followed by</i> <span class="smcap">Arkas</span>, <i>with drawn swords</i><br /></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Pylades:</span> Do not delay, our friends are putting forth<br /> +Their final strength!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Arkas:</span> They yield; their ship is ours!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Thoas:</span> Let none annoy the foe while we confer.</p> + +<p class="ij5">[<span class="smcap">Arkas</span> <i>retires</i>.<br /></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Thoas:</span> Now, answer me; how dost thou prove thyself<br /> +The priestess' brother, Agamemnon's son?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Iphigenia:</span> See here, the mark on his right hand impress'd<br /> +As of three stars, which on his natal day<br /> +Were by the priest declar'd to indicate<br /> +Some dreadful deed therewith to be perform'd!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Thoas:</span> E'en though thy words had banish'd every doubt,<br /> +Still must our arms decide. I see no peace;<br /> +Their purpose, as thou didst thyself confess,<br /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span> +Was to deprive me of Diana's image!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Orestes:</span> The image shall not be the cause of strife!<br /> +We now perceive the error which the god<br /> +Threw o'er our minds. His counsel I implor'd;<br /> +He answer'd, "Back to Greece the sister bring,<br /> +Who in the Tauris sanctuary abides."<br /> +To Phoebus' sister we applied the words,<br /> +And she referred to thee.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Iphigenia:</span> Oh, let thy heart<br /> +Be moved by what an honest tongue has spoken.<br /> +Look on us, king; an opportunity<br /> +For such a noble deed not oft occurs!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Thoas:</span> Then go!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Iphigenia:</span> Not so, my king! I cannot part<br /> +Without thy blessing, or in anger from thee.</p> + +<p class="it1 pmb3"><span class="smcap">Thoas</span> (<i>extending his hand</i>): Fare thee well!</p> + +</div> +</div> + + +<div class="footnotes"><span class="font11"><b>FOOTNOTES:</b></span><br /> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_B_2" id="Footnote_B_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_B_2"><span class="label">[B]</span></a> Goethe's fascinating and noble drama, "Iphigenia in Tauris," +was first written in prose, and recast into verse in 1786. Inspired +partly by his feelings towards Frau von Stein, whom +Goethe "credited with knowing every trait of his being," and +partly by the "Iphigenia in Tauris" of Euripides, the play is +totally different from anything that had as yet come from his +pen. Although it lacks some of the pomp and circumstance of +the best Greek tragedy, it is written with great dignity in the +strictest classical form, admirably suggesting the best in French +classical drama. The prominent motive of the piece is the struggle +between truth and falsehood. "It is," one critic has remarked, +"a poetic drama of the soul." On its production at +Weimar, the German public received it indifferently.</p> +</div></div> +<p class="pmb3" /> + + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span></p> +<p class="pmb3" /> + + +<h2><a name="GOGOLC" id="GOGOLC">GOGOL</a><span class="font08"><a name="FNanchor_C_3" id="FNanchor_C_3"></a><a href="#Footnote_C_3" class="fnanchor">[C]</a></span></h2> +<p class="pmb3" /> + + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<h2><a name="The_Inspector-General" id="The_Inspector-General">The Inspector-General</a></h2> +<p class="pmb2" /> + + +<h3><i>Persons in the Play</i></h3> + +<div class="block2"> +<p><span class="smcap">Anton Antonovitch</span>, <i>governor of a small town</i><br /> +<span class="smcap">Anna Andreyevna</span>, <i>his wife</i><br /> +<span class="smcap">Marya</span>, <i>their daughter</i><br /> +<span class="smcap">Luka</span>, <i>director of schools</i><br /> +<span class="smcap">Khelstakov</span>, <i>a St. Petersburg official</i><br /> +<span class="smcap">Osip</span>, <i>his servant-man</i><br /> +<span class="smcap">Bobchinski</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Dobchinski</span>, <i>independent gentlemen</i><br /> +<span class="smcap">A Judge</span>, <span class="smcap">A Charity Commissioner</span>, <span class="smcap">A Postmaster</span><br /> +<span class="smcap">Police Superintendent</span> and <span class="smcap">Constables</span><br /> +<span class="smcap">A Waiter at the Inn</span></p> +</div> +<p class="pmb3" /> + + +<div class="block2"> + +<h3><span class="smcap">Act I</span></h3> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="ij6 pmb1"><span class="smcap">Scene</span>.—<i>A room in the</i> <span class="smcap">Governor's</span> <i>house. The</i> <span class="smcap">Governor</span>, +<i>a coarse and ill-educated official, and several +functionaries of the town</i>.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block2a"> +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Governor</span> (<i>addressing the functionaries</i>): I have bad +news. An inspector-general is coming from St. Petersburg. +You must see that your various departments are +set in order. The hospital must be tidied up and the +patients must be provided with nice white night-caps. +The school-teachers must coach up the scholars in their +subjects.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span></p> + +<p class="ij5">[<i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Bobchinski</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Dobchinski</span> <i>breathlessly</i>.<br /></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Bobchinski:</span> What an extraordinary incident!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Dobchinski:</span> A startling announcement!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">All:</span> What is it? What is it?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Bobchinski:</span> I will tell you correctly. After you had +received the letter from St. Petersburg, I ran out to tell +the postmaster what it had announced. On the way +Dobchinski pressed me to go into the inn for refreshment. +Into the restaurant came an elegant young man with a +fashionable aspect. The landlord told us he was an +official on his way from Petersburg to Saratov, and that +he is acting strangely, for he has been here more than a +fortnight, and pays for nothing.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Governor:</span> Good lord! Surely it cannot be he! +Been here a fortnight? May heaven help us. You, sirs, +get all your departments in proper trim. In the meantime +I will take a stroll round the town, and satisfy myself +that travellers are treated with due respect.</p> +</div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="font09 pmb3">The governor orders the police to see that the street leading +to the inn is well swept. He threatens to punish severely any +of the townspeople who shall dare to bring complaints of any +kind to the visiting official.</p> +</blockquote> + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span></p> + + +<h3><span class="smcap">Act II</span></h3> + +<blockquote> +<p class="ij6 pmb1"><span class="smcap">Scene.</span>—<i>A small room in the inn</i>. <span class="smcap">Osip</span> <i>lying on his +master's bed</i>.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block2a"> +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Osip:</span> Devil take it! I am famishing. It is two +months since we left St. Petersburg. This master of +mine has squandered all his money on the way, and here +we are penniless. The old man sends his son money, but +he goes on the racket with it till all is spent, and then he +has to pawn his clothes almost to the last rag. And now +this landlord declares he will let us have nothing more to +eat unless we pay in advance. Ah, there's the knock.</p> + +<p class="ij5">[<i>He gets off the bed</i>. <span class="smcap">Khelstakov</span> <i>enters</i>.<br /></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Khelstakov:</span> Go down and ask for something to eat.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Osip:</span> No. The landlord will not let us have it. He +says we are swindlers, and he threatens to have you put +in prison.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Khelstakov:</span> Go to the devil! Call the landlord. +(<span class="smcap">Osip</span> <i>goes</i>.) How fearfully hungry I am. And I was +cheated at cards and cleaned right out at Penza by that +infantry captain. What a miserable little town this is. +They give no credit at the provision shops.</p> + +<p class="ij5">[<i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Waiter</span>.<br /></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Waiter:</span> The landlord asks what you want.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Khelstakov:</span> Please bring my dinner at once. I +must be busy directly I have dined.</p> +</div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="font09 pmb1">The waiter replies that the landlord refuses to supply anything +more, and seems likely to complain to the governor. But +presently dinner is brought in. To Khlestakov's great consternation +Osip announces that the governor has come and is +asking for him.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block2a"> +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Khelstakov:</span> What? The landlord has reported me! +I'll put on an aristocratic air, and ask him how he +dares——</p> +</div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="font09 pmb1">Governor, entering in trepidation and saluting humbly, astonishes +him by profuse offers of hospitality and entertainment, +though when at first mention is made of taking him to other + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span> +quarters, the guest in horror ejaculates that he supposes the +gaol is meant, and he asks what right the governor has to hint +at such a thing.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block2a"> +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Khelstakov</span> (<i>indignantly</i>): How dare you? I—I—I +am a government official at St. Petersburg. I—I—I——</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Governor</span> (<i>aside</i>): Good heavens, what a rage he is +in! He knows everything. Those confounded merchants +have told him all.</p> +</div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="font09 pmb1">Banging the table, Khelstakov declares he will <i>not</i> go to the +gaol, but will complain to the Minister of the Interior; and the +governor, trembling and terrified, pleads that he has a wife and +little children, and begs that he may not be ruined. The ridiculous +misunderstanding on both sides grows more confused every +minute. The governor pours forth the most abject apologies; +declares that if the people accuse him of oppression and extortion, +and even of flogging women, they are a slandering mob.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block2a"> +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Khelstakov:</span> What have I to do with your enemies or +the women you have flogged? Don't attempt to flog me. +Now, look here, I will pay this landlord's account, but +just now I have not the money. That is why I am staying +here.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Governor</span> (<i>aside</i>): Sly rogue, trying to mystify me! +(<i>Aloud</i>) If you really are short of money, I am ready +to serve you at once.</p> +</div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="font09 pmb1">The visitor says that he will in that case borrow 200 roubles, +and the money is readily handed over; in fact, the governor +quietly slips in 200 extra roubles. The governor, convinced that +the inspector-general is simply determined to keep up his <i>incognito</i>, +resolves to act accordingly, and to tell falsehoods appropriate +for mutual deception. He invites the guest to visit +Various institutions, and a round is made.</p> +</blockquote> + + +<h3><span class="smcap">Act III</span></h3> + +<blockquote> +<p class="ij6 pmb1"><span class="smcap">Scene.</span>—<i>A room in the</i> <span class="smcap">Governor's</span> <i>house</i>. <span class="smcap">Governor</span>, +<span class="smcap">Khelstakov</span>, <i>and other functionaries</i>.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block2a"> +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Khelstakov:</span> Fine establishments! In other towns +they showed me nothing.</p> + +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Governor:</span> In other towns I venture to say that the +officials think most about their own profit; here we only +aim at winning the approbation of the government.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Khelstakov:</span> That lunch was very good! The fish +was delicious! Where was it that we lunched? Was it +not at the hospital? I saw the beds, but there were not +many patients. Have the sick recovered?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Governor:</span> Yes. Since I became governor they all +get well like flies, not so much by doctoring as by honesty +and regularity. Thank God, everything goes satisfactorily +here! Another governor would undoubtedly look +after his own advantage; but, believe me, when I lie down +to sleep, my prayer is, "O Thou my Lord, may the government +perceive my zeal and be satisfied." So I have +an easy conscience.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Khelstakov:</span> Are there any clubs here where a game +at cards could be had?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Governor:</span> God forbid! Here such a thing as a card-club +is never heard of. I am disgusted at the sight of a +card, and never dealt one in my life. Once to amuse the +children I built a house of cards, and had accursed dreams +all night.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Luka</span> (<i>aside</i>): But the villain cheated me yesterday +out of a hundred roubles!</p> +</div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="font09 pmb1">Introduced to the governor's wife and daughter, Khlestakov +addresses them in the manner of a gallant from the metropolis, +and chatters boastfully of his influence, his position, and his +connections. His house is the first in St. Petersburg. Meantime, +the various functionaries meet in the house of the governor +to concert measures for propitiating this great courtier. They +resolve to present him with a substantial token of regard. With +great trepidation they wait on him.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block2a"> +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Judge</span> (<i>entering very nervously</i>): I have the honour +to present myself. I have been judge here since 1816, +and have been decorated with the Vladimir of the Fourth +Class.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Khelstakov:</span> What have you there in your hand?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Judge</span> (<i>in bewilderment drops banknotes on the floor</i>): +Nothing.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Khelstakov:</span> How nothing? I see some money has +been dropped.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Judge</span> (<i>trembling and aside</i>): O heaven, I am already +before the tribunal, and they have brought the cart to take +me into exile.</p> +</div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="font09">Khelstakov picks up the notes, and asks that the money may +be lent him, as he has spent all his cash on the journey. He +promises to return it as soon as he reaches home, but the judge +protests that the honour of lending it is enough, and he begs +that there shall be no injunction against him.</p> + +<p class="font09 pmb1">Next to present himself is the postmaster, in full uniform, +sword in hand. After a little conversation with this functionary, +Khlestakov thinks he may just as well borrow of him also, and +he forthwith mentions that a singular thing has happened to +him, for he has lost all his money on the way, and would be +glad to be obliged with the loan of three hundred roubles. It +is instantly counted out with alacrity, and the postmaster hastily +retires. Also, in a very nervous state, Luka, the School Director, +the Charity Commissioner, Bobchinski and Dobchinski, come to +pay their homage, and Khlestakov borrows easily from each in +turn.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block2a"> +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Khelstakov</span> <i>(alone):</i> There are many officials here; +it seems to me, however, that they take me for a government +functionary. What fools! I must write about it +all to Tryapitchkin at Petersburg; he will write sketches +of it in the papers. Here, Osip, bring me paper and ink! +I will just see how much money I have got. Oh, more +than a thousand!</p> +</div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="font09 pmb1">While he is writing a letter Osip interrupts him with earnest +assurances that it will be prudent to depart speedily from the +town; for people have been mistaking him for somebody else, +and awkward complications may ensue. It is really time to go. +There are splendid horses here, and these can be secured for +the journey. Khlestakov consents, tells Osip to take the letter +to the post, and to obtain good posthorses. Suddenly some +merchants present themselves with petitions, bringing with them +gifts of sugar-loaves and wine. They pour forth bitter complaints +against the governor. They accuse him of constant and +outrageous extortion. They beg Khlestakov to secure his deposition +from office. When they offer the sugar-loaves and the +wine, Khlestakov protests that he cannot accept bribes, but if +they would offer him a loan of three hundred roubles that would +be another matter. They do so and go out.</p> +</blockquote> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span></p> + +<div class="block2a"> +<p class="ij5">[<i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Marya</span> <i>nervously</i>.<br /></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Marya:</span> Ach!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Khelstakov:</span> Why are you so frightened?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Marya:</span> No; I am not frightened. I thought mamma<br /> +might be here. I am disturbing you in your important<br /> +business.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Khelstakov:</span> But your eyes are more attractive than +important business.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Marya:</span> You are talking in St. Petersburg style.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Khelstakov:</span> May I venture to be so happy as to +offer you a chair? But no; you should be offered a +throne, not a chair! I offer you my love, which ever +since your first glance——</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Marya:</span> Love! I do not understand love!</p> +</div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="font09 pmb1">He kisses her on the shoulder, and, when she rises angrily +to go, falls on his knees. At that moment her mother enters. +With a show of indignation she orders Marya away.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block2a"> +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Khelstakov</span> (<i>kneeling at her feet</i>): Madame, you +see I burn with love.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Anna Andreyevna:</span> But permit me, I do not quite +comprehend you. If I am not mistaken, you were making +a proposal to my daughter?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Khelstakov:</span> No; I am in love with you.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Anna Andreyevna:</span> But I am married!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Khelstakov:</span> That is nothing. Let us flee under the +canopy of heaven. I crave your hand!</p> +</div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="font09">Marya enters, and seeing Khlestakov on his knees, shrieks. +The mother scolds her for her bad manners, and declares that +he was, after all, asking for the daughter's hand. Then enters +the governor. He breathlessly begins to bewail the base, lying +conduct of the merchants who have been slandering him, and +swears he is innocent of oppressing anybody.</p> + +<p class="font09 pmb1">To his profound amazement, Anna informs her husband that +the great man has honoured them by asking for their daughter's +hand. On recovering from his amazement, he sees the couple +kissing, and gives them his blessing. Osip enters at this juncture +to say the horses are ready, and Khlestakov informs the governor +that he is only off to visit for a day a rich uncle. He +will quickly return. He presently rides off after affectionate +farewell expressions on both sides.</p> +</blockquote> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span></p> + + +<h3><span class="smcap">Act IV</span></h3> + +<blockquote> +<p class="ij6 pmb1"><span class="smcap">Scene.</span>—<i>As before. The</i> <span class="smcap">Governor</span>, <span class="smcap">Anna Andreyevna</span>, +<i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Marya</span>. <i>A police-officer enters</i>.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block2a"> +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Governor</span> (<i>addressing the policeman</i>): Ivan Karpovitch, +summon the merchants here, brother. Complaining +of me, indeed! Cursed lot of Jews! Little turtle +doves! Ascertain who brought petitions; and take care +to let them know how heaven has honoured the governor. +His daughter is going to marry a man without an equal +in the world; who can achieve everything, everything, +everything. Let everybody know! Shout it out to everybody! +Ring the bells! Devil take it; now that at length +I triumph, triumph I will!</p> +</div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="font09 pmb1">The police-officer retires. The governor and Anna indulge in +roseate prospects of their coming prosperity. Of course they +will not stay in these mean surroundings, but will remove to +St. Petersburg. Suddenly the merchants enter. The governor +receives them with the utmost indignation, assails them with +a shower of vituperation. They abjectly entreat pardon. They +promise to make amends by sending very handsome presents, +and they are enjoined not to forget to do so. The wedding +gifts are to be worthy of the occasion. The merchants retire +crestfallen, and callers stream in with profuse congratulations. +Anna, with studied haughtiness, makes them fully understand +that the family will now be far above them all. All the people +secretly express to each other their hatred and contempt for the +governor and his family.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block2a"> +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Postmaster</span> (<i>breathlessly entering with an open letter +in his hand</i>): An astonishing fact, gentlemen! The +official which we took for an inspector-general is not one! +I have discovered this from a letter which he wrote and +which I saw was addressed "Post Office Street." So, as +I said to myself that he had been reporting to the authorities +something he had found wrong in the postal department, +I felt a supernatural impulse constraining me to +open the letter.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Governor:</span> You dared to open the letter of so powerful +a personage?</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Postmaster:</span> That is just the joke; that he is neither +powerful nor a personage. I will read the letter. +(<i>Reads</i>) "I hasten to inform you, my dear Tryapitchkin, +of my experiences. I was cleared out of everything +on the way by an infantry captain, so that an innkeeper +wanted to put me in prison; when, owing to my Petersburg +appearance and dress, the whole town suddenly took +me for the governor-general. So now I am living with +the governor, enjoy myself, and flirt with his wife and +daughter. These people all lend me as much money as +ever I please. The governor is as stupid as a grey gelding. +The postmaster is a tippler. The charity commissioner +is a pig in a skull-cap."</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Governor:</span> I am crushed—crushed—completely +crushed. Catch him!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Postmaster:</span> How can we catch him? I, as if purposely, +specially ordered for him the very best post-carriage +and three horses.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Governor:</span> What an old fool I am! I have been thirty +years in the service; not a tradesman nor contractor could +cheat me; rogues upon rogues have I outwitted; three +governors-general have I deceived!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Anna Andreyevna:</span> But this cannot be, Antosha. +He is engaged to Mashenka.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Governor</span> (<i>enraged</i>): Engaged! Rubbish! Look, +look; all the world, all Christendom, all of you look how +the governor is fooled! Fool, fool; old driveller that I +am! (<i>Shakes his fist at himself</i>) Ah, you fat-nose! +Taking a rag for a man of rank! And now he is jingling +his bells along the road. Who first said he was an inspector-general? +Answer!</p> + +<p class="ij5">[<i>All point to</i> <span class="smcap">Bobchinski</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Dobchinski</span>, <i>who fall to +accusing each other. A gendarme enters</i>.<br /></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Gendarme:</span> The inspector-general sent by imperial +command has arrived, and requires you to attend him +immediately. He awaits you at the inn.</p> + +<p class="ij5">[<i>Thunderstruck at this announcement, the whole group +remained as if petrified, and the curtain falls</i>.<br /></p> +</div> +</div> + + +<div class="footnotes"><b><span class="font11">FOOTNOTES:</span></b> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_C_3" id="Footnote_C_3"></a><a href="#FNanchor_C_3"><span class="label">[C]</span></a> Nicolai Vasilieyitch Gogol is famous not only as the prince +of Russian humorists, but as the real founder of both the modern +drama and the novel in Russian literature. He was born on +March 31, 1809, in the province of Poltava, in South, or "Little," +Russia, and died at Moscow on March 3, 1852. His life was replete +with romantic episodes. After a short career on the stage, +in St. Petersburg, followed by the tenure of a minor Government +office, he returned to the South, and at once found his true vocation +and achieved a wide popularity by a collection of stories +and sketches of Cossack life, entitled "Evenings at a Farm +House," which appeared in 1830. Other "Cossack Tales" rapidly +followed, including the famous "Taras Bulba"; in recognition +of which, and of his project for writing a history of Russia in +the Middle Ages, he was rewarded with a chair of history at +St. Petersburg. This he held but for a short time, however. +Turning his attention to comedy, Gogol now produced the drama +"The Inspector-General" ("Revizor") in 1836, the play achieving +a tremendous success on the stage in the spring of the same +year, whilst in 1842 his novel entitled "Dead Souls" embodied +the fruits of the same idea in fiction. The play is intended to +bring a scathing indictment against the corruptions and abuses +of officialism and administration. The following epitome has +been prepared from the original Russian.</p> +</div></div> +<p class="pmb3" /> + + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span></p> +<p class="pmb3" /> + + +<h2><a name="OLIVER_GOLDSMITHD" id="OLIVER_GOLDSMITHD">OLIVER GOLDSMITH</a><span class="font08"><a name="FNanchor_D_4" id="FNanchor_D_4"></a><a href="#Footnote_D_4" class="fnanchor">[D]</a></span></h2> +<p class="pmb3" /> + + +<hr class="chap" /> + + +<h2><a name="She_Stoops_to_Conquer" id="She_Stoops_to_Conquer">She Stoops to Conquer</a></h2> +<p class="pmb2" /> + + +<h3><i>Persons in the Play</i></h3> + +<div class="block3"> +<table border="0" cellspacing="2" cellpadding="2" class="tdl" summary="Persons in Play - 3"> + <colgroup> <col width="50%" /> <col width="50%" /> </colgroup> + <tr> + <td><p class="ij3 smcap">Mr. Hardcastle</p></td> + <td><p class="ij3 smcap">Marlow</p></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td><p class="ij3 smcap">Tony Lumpkin</p></td> + <td><p class="ij3 smcap">Kate Hardcastle</p></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td><p class="ij3 smcap">Hastings</p></td> + <td><p class="ij3 smcap">Sir Charles Marlow</p></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td><p class="ij3 smcap">Mrs. Hardcastle</p></td> + <td><p class="ij3 smcap">Constance Neville</p></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td colspan="2" align="center"><p class="ij3 smcap">Servants</p></td> + </tr> +</table> + +</div> +<p class="pmb3" /> + + +<div class="block2"> + +<h3><span class="smcap">Act I</span></h3> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="ij6 pmb2"><span class="smcap">Scene I.</span>—<span class="smcap">Mr. Hardcastle's</span> <i>house</i>. <span class="smcap">MR.</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">MRS. +Hardcastle</span>.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block2a"> +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Mrs. Hardcastle:</span> I vow, Mr. Hardcastle, I hate +such old-fashioned trumpery.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Hardcastle:</span> And I love it; old friends, old times, +old manners, old books, old wine, and I believe you'll +own I've been pretty fond of an old wife.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Mrs. Hardcastle:</span> Oh, you're for ever at your old +wife. I'm not so old as you'd make me. I was twenty +when my son Tony was born, and he's not come to years +of discretion yet.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Hardcastle:</span> Nor ever will, I dare answer; you've +taught him finely. Alehouse and stable are his only +schools.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Mrs. Hardcastle:</span> Poor boy, anyone can see he's +consumptive.</p> + +<p class="ij5">[<span class="smcap">Tony</span> <i>is heard hallooing</i>.<br /></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Hardcastle:</span> Oh, very consumptive!</p> + +<p class="ij5">[<span class="smcap">Tony</span> <i>crosses, and</i> <span class="smcap">Mrs. Hardcastle</span> <i>follows him out. +Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Kate Hardcastle</span>.<br /></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Hardcastle:</span> Blessings on my pretty innocence! +What a quantity of superfluous silk hast thou got about +thee, girl!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Kate:</span> But in the evening I am to wear my housewife's +dress to please you; you know our agreement, sir.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Hardcastle:</span> By the bye, I shall have to try your +obedience this very evening. In fact, Kate, I expect the +young gentleman I have chosen to be your husband, +this very day; and my old friend his father, Sir Charles +Marlow, soon after him. I shall not control your choice, +but I am told that he is of an excellent understanding.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Kate:</span> Is he?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Hardcastle:</span> Very generous.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Kate:</span> I believe I shall like him.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Hardcastle:</span> Young and brave.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Kate:</span> I'm sure I shall like him.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Hardcastle:</span> And very handsome.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Kate:</span> Say no more; he's mine.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Hardcastle:</span> And, to crown all, he's one of the most +reserved and bashful young fellows in the world.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Kate:</span> That word has undone all the rest, still I think +I'll have him. (<i>Exit</i> <span class="smcap">Hardcastle</span>.) Reserved and +sheepish. Can't he be cured? (<i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Miss Neville.</span>) +I'm glad you came, my dear. I am threatened with a +lover, the son of Sir Charles Marlow.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Miss Neville:</span> The most intimate friend of Mr. +Hastings, my admirer; and such a character. Among +ladies of reputation the modestest man alive, but with +others——</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Miss Hardcastle:</span> And has my mother been courting +you for my brother Tony, as usual? I could almost love +him for hating you so.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Miss Neville:</span> It is a good-natured creature at bottom, +and I'm sure would wish to see me married to anyone +but himself.</p> + +<p class="ij5">[<i>Exeunt</i>.</p> +</div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="ij6 pmb1"><span class="smcap">Scene II.</span>—<i>An alehouse</i>. <span class="smcap">Tony Lumpkin</span> <i>carousing +with the village riff-raff</i>. <span class="smcap">Marlow</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Hastings</span> +<i>arrive, and inquire the way to</i> <span class="smcap">Mr. Hardcastle's</span> +<i>house</i>. <span class="smcap">Tony</span> <i>tells them they cannot possibly reach +the house that night, but directs them to it as an inn</i>.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block2a"> +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Tony:</span> The old Buck's Head on the hill, one of the +best inns in the whole county. But the landlord is rich +and just going to leave off business; so he wants to be +thought a gentleman, and will be for giving you his +company. Ecod, he'll persuade you that his mother was +an alderman, and his aunt a justice of the peace. I'll +just step myself, and show you a piece of the way.</p> + +<p class="ij5 pmb3">[<i>Exeunt.</i></p> +</div> + + +<h3><span class="smcap">Act II</span></h3> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="ij6 pmb2"><span class="smcap">Scene.</span>—<i>The hall of</i> <span class="smcap">Hardcastle's</span> <i>house</i>. <span class="smcap">Marlow</span> +<i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Hastings</span> <i>have just arrived at the supposed +inn, and the supposed innkeeper is paying hospitable +attention to their belongings. Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Marlow</span> +<i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Hastings</span>.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block2a"> +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Hastings:</span> Upon my word, a very well-looking house; +antique, but creditable.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Marlow:</span> The usual fate of a large mansion. Having +just ruined the master by good housekeeping, it at +last comes to levy contributions as an inn.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Hastings:</span> Good and bad, you have lived pretty much +among them; and yet, with all your experience you have +never acquired any show of assurance. How shall you +behave to the lady you have come down to visit?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Marlow:</span> As I behave to all other ladies. A barmaid, +or a milliner—but to me a modest woman dressed +out in her finery is the most tremendous object in creation. +An impudent fellow may counterfeit modesty, +but I'll be hanged if a modest man can counterfeit impudence. +I shall bow very low, answer yes and no, and +I don't think I shall venture to look her in the face. The +fact is, I have really come down to forward your affair, +not mine. Miss Neville loves you, the family don't know +you, as my friend you are sure of a reception, and——Here +comes mine host to interrupt us.</p> + +<p class="ij5">[<i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Hardcastle</span>.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Hardcastle:</span> Heartily welcome once more, gentlemen; +which is Mr. Marlow? Sir, you are heartily welcome.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Marlow:</span> He has got our names from the servants<br /> +already.</p> + +<p class="ij5">[<span class="smcap">Marlow</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Hastings</span> <i>converse together, ostentatiously +ignoring</i> <span class="smcap">Hardcastle's</span> <i>attempts to join in +with a story of Marlborough at the siege of Denain</i>.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Marlow:</span> My good friend, a glass of that punch +would help us to carry on the siege.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Hardcastle:</span> Punch sir! (<i>Aside</i>) This is the most +unaccountable kind of modesty I ever met with. Well, +here, Mr. Marlow, here's to our better acquaintance.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Marlow:</span> A very impudent fellow, but a character;<br /> +I'll humour him. Sir, my service to you. (<i>They drink</i>.)<br /> +Well, now, what have you in the house for supper?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Hardcastle:</span> For supper! (<i>Aside</i>) Was ever such +a request to a man in his own house!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Marlow:</span> Yes, sir; supper. I begin to feel an appetite.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Hardcastle:</span> Sure, such a brazen dog——Sir, I believe +the bill of fare is drawn out; you shall see it. +(<i>The menu is produced and discussed in scathing terms. +Then</i> <span class="smcap">Marlow</span> <i>insists on seeing himself that the beds +are properly aired</i>.) Well, sir, I will attend you. This +may be modern modesty, but I never saw anything so +like old-fashioned impudence.</p> + +<p class="ij5">[<i>Exeunt</i> <span class="smcap">Hardcastle</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Marlow</span>.<br /></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Hastings:</span> This fellow's civilities begin to grow +troublesome. (<i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Miss Neville</span>.) Miss Neville, +by all that's happy!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Miss Neville:</span> My dear Hastings!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Hastings:</span> But how could I have hoped to meet my +dearest Constance at an inn?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Miss Neville:</span> An inn! You mistake. My aunt, +my guardian, lives here. How could you think this +house an inn?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Hastings:</span> My friend, Mr. Marlow, and I were directed +hither by a young fellow——</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Miss Neville:</span> One of my hopeful cousin's tricks.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Hastings:</span> We must keep up the deception with +Marlow; else he will fly.</p> +</div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="font09 pmb1">Hastings has planned to elope with Miss Neville; she wishes +first to get into her own hands her jewelry, which is in Mrs. +Hardcastle's possession. As they complete their plot Marlow +enters.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block2a"> +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Hastings:</span> My dear Marlow, the most fortunate +event! Let me present Miss Constance Neville. She +and Miss Hardcastle have just alighted to take fresh +horses. Miss Hardcastle will be here directly. Isn't it +fortunate?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Marlow:</span> Oh, yes; very fortunate, a most joyful encounter; +but our dresses, George! To-morrow will be +every bit as convenient. Let it be to-morrow.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Hastings:</span> Pshaw, man! Courage, courage! It is +but the first plunge.</p> + +<p class="ij5">[<i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Kate</span> <i>as from a walk</i>. <span class="smcap">Hastings</span> <i>introduces +them</i>.<br /></p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Kate</span> (<i>after a pause</i>): I am glad of your safe arrival, +sir. I am told you had some accidents by the way.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Marlow:</span> A few, madam. Yes, we had some. Yes, +a good many. But should be sorry, madam—I mean +glad—of any accidents that are so agreeably concluded. +George, sure you won't go?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Hastings:</span> You don't consider, man, that we are to +manage a little <i>tête-à-tête</i> of our own.</p> + +<p class="ij5">[<i>Exeunt</i> <span class="smcap">Hastings</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Miss Neville</span>.<br /></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Marlow:</span> I am afraid, madam, I—hem—grow tiresome.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Kate:</span> Not at all, sir; there is nothing I like so much +as grave consideration. You were going to observe——</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Marlow:</span> I was about to observe, madam—I was—I +protest, I forgot——</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Kate:</span> Something about hypocrisy—this age of hypocrisy.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Marlow:</span> Ah, yes. In this age of hypocrisy there +are few who—a—a—— But I see Miss Neville expects +us; shall I——</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Kate:</span> I'll follow you. If I could teach him a little +confidence!</p> + +<p class="ij5">[<i>Exeunt</i>.<br /></p> +</div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="font09 pmb3">Mrs. Hardcastle, Miss Neville, Hastings and Tony enter. In +pursuance of their plot, Constance engages Tony in a determined +flirtation, to his extreme disgust, while Hastings wins the heart +of Mrs. Hardcastle by extravagant flatteries. On the pretext of +bringing the "dear, sweet, pretty, provoking, undutiful boy" to a +better mind, Hastings gets rid of the ladies, and then offers to +take Miss Neville off Tony's hands. Tony joyfully engages to +help the elopement, and procure Miss Neville's jewels.</p> +</blockquote> + + +<h3><span class="smcap">Act III</span></h3> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="ij6 pmb1"><span class="smcap">Scene.</span>—<i>As before. Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Tony</span> <i>with a casket</i>.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block2a"> +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Tony:</span> Ecod, I've got 'em. Cousin Con's necklaces, +bobs and all. My mother shan't cheat the poor souls out +of their fortin. Here's (<i>enter</i> <span class="smcap">Hastings</span>) your sweetheart's + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span> +jewels. If I hadn't a key to every drawer in my +mother's bureau—— Never you mind me. Zounds, here +she comes. Keep 'em. Morrice! Prance!</p> + +<p class="ij5">[<i>Exit</i> <span class="smcap">Hastings</span>. <i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Miss Neville</span>, <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Mrs. Hardcastle</span>, +<i>who refuses to let her ward have her jewels</i>.<br /></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Mrs. Hardcastle:</span> They are missing, I assure you. +My son knows they are missing, and not to be found.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Tony:</span> I can bear witness to that. I'll take my oath +on't.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Mrs. Hardcastle:</span> In the meantime you can use my +garnets.</p> + +<p class="ij5">[<i>Exit.</i><br /></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Miss Neville:</span> I detest garnets.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Tony:</span> Don't be a fool! If she gives 'em you, take +what you can get. I've stolen your jewels out of the +bureau. She's found it out, ecod, by the noise. Fly +to your spark, and he'll tell you all about it. Vanish!</p> + +<p class="ij5">[<i>Exit</i> <span class="smcap">Miss Neville</span>.</p> +</div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="font09 pmb1">Kate has reported Marlow's bashfulness to Hardcastle, who has +told another tale. She has since learnt Marlow's blunder, and +that he has taken her in her "housewife's dress" for the barmaid. +She has resolved to test him in this character. She enters +at the same time as Marlow, who is studying his notebook.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block2a"> +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Kate:</span> Did you call, sir?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Marlow</span> (<i>not looking up</i>): No, child.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Kate:</span> Perhaps it was the other gentleman?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Marlow:</span> No, no, child, I tell you! (<i>Looking up</i>.) +That is—yes, I think I did call. I vow, child, you're +vastly handsome.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Kate:</span> Oh, la, sir, you'll make me ashamed!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Marlow:</span> Suppose I should call for a taste of the nectar +of your lips?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Kate:</span> Nectar? Nectar? We keep no French wines. +(<i>He tries to kiss her</i>.) Pray keep your distance. I'm +sure you didn't treat Miss Hardcastle so. Are you a +favourite among the ladies?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Marlow:</span> Yes, my dear. At the ladies' club up in +town they call me their Agreeable Rattle. Do you ever +work, child?</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Kate:</span> Ay, sure. There's not a screen or a quilt in the +house but bears witness to that.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Marlow:</span> You must show me your embroidery.</p> + +<p class="ij5 pmb3">[<i>As he seizes her hand</i>, <span class="smcap">Hardcastle</span> <i>enters. Exit</i> <span class="smcap">Marlow</span>. +<span class="smcap">Kate</span> <i>persuades her father to give her an hour +to clear</i> <span class="smcap">Marlow's</span> <i>character</i>.<br /></p> +</div> + +<h3><span class="smcap">Act IV</span></h3> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="ij6 pmb1"><span class="smcap">Scene.</span>—<i>As before</i>. <span class="smcap">Hastings</span> <i>has passed over the +jewels to</i> <span class="smcap">Marlow's</span> <i>care. The unconscious</i> <span class="smcap">Marlow</span> +<i>has told him that the servant by his order has placed +them in charge of the landlady. Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Hardcastle</span>, +<i>solus</i>.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block2a"> +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Hardcastle:</span> My house is turned topsy-turvy. His +servants are drunk already. For his father's sake, I'll be +calm. (<i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Marlow</span>.) Mr. Marlow, sir, the conduct +of your servants is insufferable. Their manner of drinking +is setting a very bad example.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Marlow:</span> I protest, my good friend, that's no fault of +mine. They had my positive orders to drink as much as +they could.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Hardcastle:</span> Zounds, I shall go distracted! I'll stand +it no longer! I desire that you and your drunken pack +shall leave my house directly.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Marlow:</span> Leave your house? I never heard such +cursed impudence. Bring me my bill.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Hardcastle:</span> Nor I, confound me if ever I did!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Marlow:</span> My bill, I say.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Hardcastle:</span> Young man, young man, from your +father's letter I expected a well-bred, modest visitor, not +a coxcomb and a bully. But he will be down here presently, +and shall hear more of it.</p> +<p class="ij5">[<i>Exit.</i></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Marlow:</span> How's this? Surely I have not mistaken +the house? Everything looks like an inn. The barmaid, +too. (<i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Kate</span>.) A word with you, child. Who are +you?</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Kate:</span> A poor relation, sir, who looks after the guests.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Marlow:</span> That is, you're the barmaid of this inn.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Kate:</span> Inn? Oh, la! What brought that into your +head? Old Mr. Hardcastle's house an inn!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Marlow:</span> Mr. Hardcastle's house? Mr. Hardcastle's? +So all's out. I shall be laughed at over the whole town. +To mistake this house of all others—and my father's old +friend. What must he think of me! And may I be +hanged, my dear, but I mistook you for the barmaid. I +mistook—but it's all over. This house I no more show +my face in. By heaven, she weeps! But the difference +of our birth, fortune, education—an honorable connection +would be impossible, and I would never harbour a +thought of any other. Farewell. [<i>Exit</i>.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Kate:</span> He shall not go, if I have power to detain him. +I will undeceive my father, and he shall laugh him out of +his resolution.</p> +<p class="ij5">[<i>Exit</i>.</p> +</div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="font09 pmb3">The second couple are about to take flight without the jewels, +by Tony's help, when he receives a note from Hastings, which—not +knowing its source—he hands to his mother to decipher. +She resolves to carry Miss Neville off forthwith, to place her +in charge of her old Aunt Pedigree, in the coach prepared for +the elopement. Tony being ordered to attend them on horseback, +hits on an expedient which he does not reveal, but contents +himself with bidding Hastings meet him two hours hence in the +garden. The party start on their journey.</p> +</blockquote> + + +<h3><span class="smcap">Act V</span></h3> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="ij6 pmb1"><span class="smcap">Scene I.</span>—<span class="smcap">Sir Charles Marlow</span> <i>has arrived, and the +two elders have been making merry over the blunder; +both are now eager for the marriage. But they +are mystified by</i> <span class="smcap">Marlow's</span> <i>assertion that he is indifferent +to</i> <span class="smcap">MISS Hardcastle</span>, <i>and his assertion is +corroborated by what</i> <span class="smcap">Hardcastle</span> <i>saw</i>.</p> +</blockquote> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="ij6 pmb1"><span class="smcap">Scene II.</span>—<i>The back of the garden. Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Tony</span>, +<i>booted and spurred, meeting</i> <span class="smcap">Hastings</span>.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block2a"> +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Tony:</span> Ecod, five-and-twenty miles in two hours and a +half is no such bad driving.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Hastings:</span> But where are your fellow-passengers? +Where have you left the ladies?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Tony:</span> Why, where I found 'em! Led 'em astray, +man. There's not a pond or a slough within five miles +of the place but they can tell the taste of; and finished +with the horsepond at the back of the garden. Mother's +confoundedly frightened, and thinks herself forty miles +off. So now, if your own horses be ready, you can whip +off with my cousin, and no one to budge an inch after +you.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Hastings:</span> My dear friend, how can I be grateful.</p> + +<p class="ij5">[<i>Exit</i>.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Tony:</span> Here she comes—got up from the pond.</p> + +<p class="ij5">[<i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Mrs. Hardcastle</span>.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Mrs. Hardcastle:</span> Oh, Tony, I'm killed—shook—battered +to death! That last jolt has done for me. +Whereabouts are we?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Tony:</span> Crackskull Common by my guess, forty miles +from home. Don't be afraid. Is that a man galloping +behind us? Don't be afraid.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Mrs. Hardcastle:</span> Oh, there's a man coming! We +are undone!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Tony</span> (<i>aside</i>): Father-in-law, by all that's unlucky! +Hide yourself, and keep close; if I cough it will mean +danger.</p> + +<p class="ij5">[<i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Hardcastle</span>.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Hardcastle:</span> I am sure I heard voices. What, Tony? +Are you back already? (<span class="smcap">Tony</span> <i>laughs</i>.)</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Mrs. Hardcastle</span> (<i>running forward</i>): Oh, lud; he'll +murder my poor boy! Here, good gentleman, whet your +rage on me. Take my money, take my life, good Mr. +Highwayman, but spare my child.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Hardcastle:</span> Sure, Dorothy, you have lost your wits? +This is one of your tricks, you graceless rogue. Don't +you remember me, and the mulberry-tree, and the horsepond?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Mrs. Hardcastle:</span> I shall remember it as long as I +live. And this is your doing—you——</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Tony:</span> Ecod, mother, all the parish says you've spoilt +me, so you may take the fruits on't.</p> +<p class="ij5">[<i>Exeunt</i>.</p> +</div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="font09 pmb1">Miss Neville thinks better of the elopement, and resolves to +appeal to Mr. Hardcastle's influence with his wife. This improved +plan is carried to a successful issue, with great satisfaction +to Tony Lumpkin.</p> +</blockquote> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="ij6 pmb1"><span class="smcap">Scene III.</span>—<i>The hall</i>. <span class="smcap">Sir Charles Marlow</span> <i>and</i> +<span class="smcap">Hardcastle</span> <i>witness, from concealment, the formal +proposal of</i> <span class="smcap">Marlow</span> <i>to make the supposed "poor +relation" his wife. They break in</i>.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block2a"> +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Sir Charles:</span> Charles, Charles, how thou hast deceived +me! Is this your indifference?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Hardcastle:</span> Your cold contempt? Your formal interview? +What have you to say?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Marlow:</span> That I'm all amazement. What does it +mean?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Hardcastle:</span> It means that you say and unsay things +at pleasure; that you can address a lady in private and +deny it in public; that you have one story for us and another +for my daughter.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Marlow:</span> Daughter? This lady your daughter? Oh, +the devil! Oh—!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Kate:</span> In which of your characters may we address +you? The faltering gentleman who looks on the ground +and hates hypocrisy, or the bold, forward Agreeable +Rattle of the ladies' club?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Marlow:</span> Zounds, this is worse than death! I must<br /> +be gone.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Hardcastle:</span> But you shall not! I see it was all a +mistake. She'll forgive you; we'll all forgive you. +Courage, man! And if she makes as good a wife as she +has a daughter, I don't believe you'll ever repent your +bargain. So now to supper. To-morrow we shall gather +all the poor of this parish about us; the mistakes of the +night shall be crowned with a merry morning.</p> +</div> +</div> + +<div class="footnotes"><span class="font11">FOOTNOTES:</span> + +<div class="footnote"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_D_4" id="Footnote_D_4"></a><a href="#FNanchor_D_4"><span class="label">[D]</span></a> The Life of Goldsmith, by John Forster, may be found in +Volume IX of the <span class="smcap">World's Greatest Books</span> (see also Vol. IV, +p. 275). "The Mistakes of a Night, or She Stoops to Conquer," +appeared at Covent Garden, in March, 1773. So convinced was +George Colman that the public would endure nothing but sentiment, +that he could hardly be induced to accept the play, and was +extremely nervous about its success, almost until the fall of the +curtain on the first night. Nevertheless, its success was immediate +and decisive, and it became established as a stock piece. +The play loses nothing by the suppression of sentimental passages +between Hastings and Miss Neville, without which Colman would +certainly have declined it altogether. Apart from the main +argument—the wooing of Kate Hardcastle—the plot turns on +the points that Tony Lumpkin is the son of Mrs. Hardcastle by +her first marriage, and that Constance Neville is her niece and +ward, not her husband's.</p> +</div></div> + + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span></p> +<p class="pmb3" /> + + +<h2><a name="HEINRICH_HEINEE" id="HEINRICH_HEINEE">HEINRICH HEINE</a><span class="font08"><a name="FNanchor_E_5" id="FNanchor_E_5"></a><a href="#Footnote_E_5" class="fnanchor">[E]</a></span></h2> +<p class="pmb3" /> + + +<hr class="chap" /> + + +<h2><a name="Atta_Troll" id="Atta_Troll">Atta Troll</a><br /><br /> + +<i>A Summer Night's Dream</i><br /><br /></h2> +<p class="pmb2" /> + + +<div class="block2"> + +<h3>I</h3> + +<div class="block2a"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In the valley lies attractive Cauterets. The shining houses<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gay with balconies, and on them<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stand fair ladies loudly laughing.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Laughing as they look beneath them<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On the brightly swarming market,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where are dancing bear and she-bear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the droning of the bagpipes.<br /></span> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Atta Troll and his good lady,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whom the people call black Mumma,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are the dancers; the Biscayans<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shout aloud in admiration.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Atta Troll, who once paraded<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like a mighty lord of deserts,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Free upon the mountain summit,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dances in the vale to rabble!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Both the music and the laughter<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Quickly cease, and shrieking loudly,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From the market fly the people,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the ladies they are fainting.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yes, the slavish chain that bound him<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Suddenly hath rent asunder<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Atta Troll. And, wildly springing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Up the rocks he nimbly clambers.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In the empty market standing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All alone are left black Mumma<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the keeper. Wild with fury<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On the ground his hat he dashes.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">On the wretched poor black Mumma<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Falls this much-enraged one's fury<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Doubly down at last; he beats her,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then he calls her Queen Christina.<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> +<p class="pmb2" /> + + +<h3>II</h3> + +<div class="block2a"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In the vale of Ronceval<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not far off from Roland's cleft,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And by savage fir-trees hidden,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lies the cave of Atta Troll.<br /></span> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In the bosom of his family,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There he rests from all his hardships.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tender meeting! All his young ones<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Found he in the well-loved cavern:<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Well-licked, lady-like young bears,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Blonde their hair, like parson's daughters;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Brown the boys, the youngest only<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With the single ear is black.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Gladly now relates the old one<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What he's in the world experienced,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the overwhelming plaudits<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Reaped by his great skill in dancing.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Overcome by self-laudation,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now he calls on deeds to witness<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That he is no wretched boaster,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That he's really great at dancing.<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> +<p class="pmb2" /> + + +<h3>III</h3> + +<div class="block2a"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In the caverns with his offspring,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sick at heart, upon his back lies<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Atta Troll; in meditation<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Licks his paws, and, licking, growls:<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Mumma, Mumma, pearl of blackness,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whom I fished from out life's ocean,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is it thus that in life's ocean<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I am forced again to lose thee!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Might I only once more sniffle<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That sweet odour, the peculiar,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of my black, my darling Mumma,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fragrant as the scent of roses!<br /></span> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"But, alas! my Mumma pineth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the fetters of those rascals,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who, the name of Men assuming,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Call themselves Creation's lords.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Mankind, are ye any better<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than we others, just because ye<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Boiled and baked devour your victuals?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In a raw state we eat ours.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Children," grumbles Atta Troll,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Children, we must seize the future!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If each bear but thought as I do,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We should soon subdue the tyrants.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Let the boar but form alliance<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With the horse, the elephant<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Coil his trunk with love fraternal<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Round the valiant bullock's horn;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Bear and wolf of every colour,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Goat and monkey; even hares, too,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let them work awhile together,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the victory cannot fail us.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Equal rights for all God's creatures,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Be our fundamental maxim;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Absolutely no distinction<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In belief, or skin, or smell.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Strict equality! Ev'ry jackass<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Competent for highest office;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On the other hand, the lion<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Trotting with the corn to grind."<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> +<p class="pmb2" /> + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span></p> + +<h3>IV</h3> + +<div class="block2a"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Many an honest, virtuous burgher<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lives on earth in evil odour,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whilst your princely people reek of<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lavender and ambergris.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Therefore do not make wry faces,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gentle reader, if the cave of<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Atta Troll should not remind you<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the spices of Arabia.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Tarry with me in the steamy<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Confines in the dismal odour,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the hero to his youngest<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Speaks as if from out a cloud:<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Ever shun men's ways of thinking!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not a creature that is decent<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Can be found among these creatures.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Even Germans, once much better,<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"In primeval times our cousins,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">These alike are now degen'rate:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Traitors to their creed and godless,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now they preach e'en atheism!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Only be no atheist,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like a non-bear who respects not<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His great Maker—Yes, a Maker<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hath this universe created.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Yonder in the starred pavilion,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On the golden throne of power,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">World-controlling and majestic,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sits a giant Polar bear.<br /></span> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"At his feet are sitting gentle<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sainted bears, who in their life-time<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Uncomplaining suffered; in their<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Paws the palm of martyrdom.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Shall I ever, drunk with heaven,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yonder in the starred pavilion,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With the Glory, with the palm-branch,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dance before the throne of God?"<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> +<p class="pmb2" /> + + +<h3>V</h3> + +<div class="block2a"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Figures twain, morose and baleful,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And on all-fours slowly creeping,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Break themselves a gloomy passage<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through the underwood at midnight.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">That is Atta Troll, the father,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And his son, young Master One-Ear.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"This old stone"—growls Atta Troll—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Is the altar, where the Druids<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"In the days of superstition<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Human sacrifices butchered.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, the overwhelming horror!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shedding blood to honour God!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Now indeed far more enlightened<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are these men—they only murder<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now from selfishness and grasping.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each one plunders for himself!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Nature never yet created<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Owners, no—for void of pockets,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not a pocket in our fur coats,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We were born, the whole of us.<br /></span> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Only man, that smooth-skinned being,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Could in borrowed wool, so artful,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dress himself, or could, so artful,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus provide himself with pockets.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Be the mortal foe of all such<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fierce oppressors, reconcileless,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the end of thy existence—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Swear it, swear it here, my son!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And the youngest swore as once did<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hannibal. The moon illumined<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With her yellow light the Blood-stone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the pair of misanthropes.<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> +<p class="pmb2" /> + + +<h3>VI</h3> + +<div class="block2a"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I was early one fine morning<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With Lascaro setting forward<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On the bear-hunt. And at mid-day<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We arrived at Pont-d'Espagne.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Evening shades were dark'ning round us<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When we reached the wretched hostel,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the Ollea-Podrida<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Steamed up from the dirty soup-dish.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Corresponding to the kitchen<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was the bed. It swarmed with insects,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Just as if it had been peppered!—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bugs are man's most mortal foe.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What a raving with these poets,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">E'en the tame ones! Why, they never<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cease to sing and say, that Nature<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is the Maker's mighty temple.<br /></span> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Well, so be it, charming people!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But confess that in this temple<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All the stairs are slightly awkward.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Miserably bad the stairs!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Close beside me strides Lascaro,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pale and long, just like a taper;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Never speaking, never smiling,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He, the dead son of a witch.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yes, 'tis said, he is a dead one,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Long defunct, although his mother,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Old Uraka, by enchantments<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Keeps him living to appearance.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In the little fishing cottage,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On the Lac-de-Gobe we met with<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shelter and some trout for dinner;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And they tasted quite delicious.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">If the stuff I drank was really<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wine, at this same Lac-de-Gobe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I know not. I think in Brunswick<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They would simply call it swipes.<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> +<p class="pmb2" /> + + +<h3>VII</h3> + +<div class="block2a"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">From the sunny golden background<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Smile the violet mountain peaks,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On the ridge there clings a village,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like a boldly ventured birds'-nest.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Having climbed there, 'twas apparent<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That the old ones wing had taken,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And behind were tarrying only<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All the young brood, not yet fledged.<br /></span> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Nearly all that day I lingered<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With the children, and we chatted<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Quite familiar. They were curious<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who I was, what I was doing?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Germany, dear friends"—so said I—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Is the land where I was born;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bears live there in any number,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I took to hunting bears.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"There I drew the skin for many<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Over very bearish ears;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And between them I was sometimes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Roughly by their bear claws handled.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"But with merely unlicked blockheads<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Every day to be contending<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In my well-loved home, at last I<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Found to be too much for me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"So at last have journeyed hither,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Seeking out some better sport;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I intend to try my prowess<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On the mighty Atta Troll."<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> +<p class="pmb2" /> + + +<h3>VIII</h3> + +<div class="block2a"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Like a narrow street the valley,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And its name is Spectre Hollow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rugged crags rise up abruptly<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Either side of giddy heights.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">On a dizzy, steep projection,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Peeping downwards, like a watch-tower,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stands Uraka's daring cottage;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thither I Lascaro followed.<br /></span> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">With his mother he took counsel,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Using secret signs as language,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How might Atta Troll be tempted,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How he might be put to death.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For right well had we his traces<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Followed up. And now no longer<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dare escape be thought of. Numbered<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are thy days, O Atta Troll!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What Uraka as her lawful<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Business followed, that was honest;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For she dealt in mountain simples<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And she also sold stuffed birds.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Full of all these natural wonders<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was the hut. The smell was dreadful<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the henbane, cuckoo-flowers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dandelion and deadmen's fingers.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Vultures, too, a large collection,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Carefully arranged on all sides,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With the wings at full extended<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the most enormous beaks.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Was't the odour of the foolish<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Plants which stupefied my senses?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Strange sensations crept about me<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At the sight of all these birds.<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> +<p class="pmb2" /> + + +<h3>IX</h3> + +<div class="block2a"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Argonauts without a ship,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who on foot the mountain traverse,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And instead of golden fleeces<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Only look to win a bear-skin<br /></span> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ah, we are but sorry devils!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Heroes of a modern pattern,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And there's not a classic poet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Would in song immortalise us!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And for all that we have suffered<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mighty hardships! What a shower<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Overtook us on the summit,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And no tree and no <i>fiacre</i>!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Tired to death, and out of humour,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like two well-drenched poodles, once more,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Very late at night, we clambered<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the witch's hut above.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Shivering, and with teeth a-chatter,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Near the hearth I stood awhile;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then, as though the warmth o'ercame me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sank at last upon the straw.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">How the roaring of the chimney<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Terrified me. Like the moaning<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of poor, wretched, dried-up souls—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Quite familiar seemed the voices.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sleep completely overcame me<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the end, and then in place of<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Waking phantasm, rose before me<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Quite a wholesome, firm-set dream.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And I dreamed the little cottage<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Suddenly became a ballroom.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Carried up aloft on pillars<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And by chandeliers illumined.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then invisible musicians<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Struck up from "Robert le Diable"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That ungodly dance of nuns;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I was walking all alone there.<br /></span> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But at last the portals open<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of themselves, and then come marching,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Measured footsteps, slow and solemn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Most extraordinary guests.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Nothing now but bears and spectres,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Walking upright, every he-bear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On the arm a ghost conducted,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Muffled in a long white shroud.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sometimes in the dance's bustle,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tore a bear the burial garment<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Off the head of his companion;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lo! a death's-head came to view.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But at last sounds forth a joyous<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Crashing of the horns and cymbals;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the kettle-drums they thunder,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And there came the galopade.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">This I did not dream the end of—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For a most ill-mannered bruin<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Trod upon my favourite corn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So that, shrieking out, I woke.<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> +<p class="pmb2" /> + + +<h3>X</h3> + +<div class="block2a"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In the cavern, with his offspring,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Atta Troll lies, and he slumbers<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With the snoring of the righteous;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But at last he wakes up yawning.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Children!"—sighs he, whilst are trickling<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tears from those large eyes unbidden—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Children! Finished is my earthly<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pilgrimage, and we must part.<br /></span> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Just at mid-day whilst I slumbered<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Came a dream, which has its meaning.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then my spirit sweetly tasted<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Omens of my coming death.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"On the world and fate reflecting,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yawning I had fallen asleep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When I dreamed that I was lying<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Underneath a lofty tree.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"From the tree's o'erspreading branches<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dribbled down transparent honey.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Joyous blinking, up above me<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Seven little bears I noticed.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Tender, graceful little creatures,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rosy coloured were their fur coats,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As they clambered; from their shoulders<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Just like silk two wings were sprouting.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"And with soft and supernatural<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Flute-like voices they were singing!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While thus singing, icy coldness<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Crept throughout my skin, and flame-like<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"From my skin my soul departed;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Soared in brightness up to heaven."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus in tender words and falt'ring<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Grunted Atta Troll. His ears then<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Pricked themselves and strangely worked,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And from his repose he started,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Trembling, and with rapture bellowing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Children, do ye hear those sounds?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Is it not the voice melodious<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of your mother? Oh, I know it,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis the growling of my Mumma!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mumma! Yes, my own black Mumma!"<br /></span> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Atta Troll, whilst these words utt'ring,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like a madman headlong bounded<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From the cavern to destruction!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ah! he rushed upon his doom!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In the vale of Ronceval,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On the very spot where whilom<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Charlemagne's peerless nephew<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gasped away his fleeting spirit,<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There fell also Atta Troll,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fell through treason, like the other,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whom the traitor, knighthood's Judas,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ganelon of Mainz, betrayed.<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> +<p class="pmb2" /> + + +<h3>XI</h3> + +<div class="block2a"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Four gigantic men in triumph<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Brought along the slaughtered Bear.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upright sat he in an armchair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like a patient at the hot-wells.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">That same day soon after skinning<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Atta Troll, they up to auction<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Put the skin. For just a hundred<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Francs a furrier purchased it.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Elegantly then he trimmed it,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And he edged it round with scarlet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And again he sold it quickly<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Just for double what it cost.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">So, at last, third hand possessed it—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Julietta, and at Paris<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It reposes in her chamber,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Serving as a bed-side carpet.<br /></span> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What of Mumma? Ah, the Mumma<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is a poor weak woman! Frailty<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is her name! Alas, the women<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are as so much porcelain frail.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When the hand of Fate had parted<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mumma from her noble husband,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Neither did she die of sorrow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor succumb to melancholy.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And at last a fixed appointment,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And for life a safe provision,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Far away she found at Paris<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the famed Jardin des Plantes.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sunday last as I was walking<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the gardens with Julietta,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By the railing round the bear-pit—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gracious Heavens! What saw we there!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Twas a powerful desert bear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From Siberia, snow-white coated,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Playing there an over-tender,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Amorous game with some black she-bear.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And, by Jupiter! 'twas Mumma!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twas the wife of Atta Troll!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I remember her distinctly<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By the moist eye's tender glances.<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> +<p class="pmb2" /> + + +<h3>XII</h3> + +<div class="block2a"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Where in heaven, Master Louis,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have you all this crazy nonsense<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Scraped together? Such the question<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the Cardinal of Este,<br /></span> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span> +<span class="i0">After having read the poem<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of Rolando's frenzied doings,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which Ariosto with submission<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To his Eminence dedicated.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yes, Varnhagen, worthy friend,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yes, I see the same words nearly<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On thy lips this moment hanging<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With the same sarcastic smile.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Sounds this not like youthful visions,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which I once dreamt with Chamisso<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Brentano and Fouqué,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On those deep-blue moonlight evenings?"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yes, my friend, it is the echo<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of those long-forgotten dream-days;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Only that a modern trilling<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mingles with the ancient cadence.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Other seasons, other songsters!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Other songsters, other ditties!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What a cackling, as of geese, which<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Once preserved the Capitol!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Other seasons, other songsters!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Other songsters, other ditties!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I might take a pleasure also<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In them had I other ears!<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> +</div> +<p class="pmb3" /> + + +<div class="footnotes"><span class="font11"><b>FOOTNOTES:</b></span> + +<div class="footnote"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_E_5" id="Footnote_E_5"></a><a href="#FNanchor_E_5"><span class="label">[E]</span></a> Heinrich Heine was born on December 13, 1797, at Düsseldorf, +the son of Jewish parents. After quitting school he was +sent to Frankfort to the banking establishment of an uncle, but +a commercial career failed to appeal to him, and in 1819 he +entered the University of Bonn, with a view of studying for +law. His thoughts, however, were given to poetry; and 1822 +saw the publication of his first volume of poems. Up to this +time he was largely dependent upon the generosity of his uncle. +Thus, in order to fulfil his obligations, he entered the University +of Göttingen, where he obtained his degree of law, having +previously qualified himself for practice by renouncing the +Jewish faith for Christianity. A voluminous prose-writer, a +wonderful satirist, and an ardent politician, Heine's present-day +fame rests largely on his poetry, and especially the wonderful +lyrical pieces. "Atta Troll" (1846), which has been described +as the "Swan-song of Romanticism," was written in the hey-day +of his activities, and admirably conveys something of the temper +and genius of its many-sided author. Heine died on February +17. 1856.</p></div></div> + + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span></p> +<p class="pmb3" /> + + +<h2><a name="HOMERF" id="HOMERF">HOMER</a><span class="font08"><a name="FNanchor_F_6" id="FNanchor_F_6"></a><a href="#Footnote_F_6" class="fnanchor">[F]</a></span></h2> +<p class="pmb3" /> + + +<hr class="chap" /> + + +<h2><a name="The_Iliad" id="The_Iliad">The Iliad</a></h2> + + +<div class="block2"> + +<p class="pmb2" /> +<h3><i>I.—Of the Wrath of Achilles; and of Hector</i></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Achilles' baneful wrath resound, O goddess, that impos'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Infinite sorrows on the Greeks, and many brave souls loos'd.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From breasts heroic; sent them far to that invisible cave<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That no light comforts; and their limbs to dogs and vultures gave;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To all which Jove's will gave effect; from whom strife first begun<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Betwixt Atrides, king of men, and Thetis' god-like son.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span></p> + +<blockquote> +<p class="font09 pmb1">To appease Phoebus, Agamemnon restored the captive daughter +of the sun-god's priest, allotted to him for spoil; but took +Briseis from Achilles to replace her. Achilles vowed to render +no more aid to the Greeks, telling his mother, the sea-nymph +Thetis, what had befallen, calling on Jove to aid his vengeance.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">So Peleus' son, swift-foot Achilles, at his swift ship sate,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Burning in wrath, nor ever came to councils of estate<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That make men honour'd, never trod the fierce embattled field,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But kept close, and his lov'd heart pined, what fight and cries could yield,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thirsting at all parts to the host.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="font09 pmb1">To satisfy Thetis, Jupiter sent a false dream to Agamemnon, +the king of men, persuading him that Troy should now fall to his +attack. Beguiled by the dream, Agamemnon set forth in battle +array the whole Greek host, save that Achilles and his followers +were absent. And the whole host of Troy came forth to meet +them. Then Menelaus challenged Paris to single combat; for +the twain were the cause of the war, seeing that Paris had stolen +away Helen, the wife of Menelaus. Truce was struck while the +combat should take place. Paris hurled his javelin, but did not +pierce his foe's shield; Menelaus, having called on Jove,</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Shook and threw his lance; which struck through Paris' shield,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And with the strength he gave to it, it made the curets yield,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His coat of mail, his breast; yet he prevented sable death.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This taint he followed with his sword, drawn from a silver sheath,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which lifting high, he struck his helm full where the plume did stand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On which it piecemeal brake, and fell from his unhappy hand ...<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Lo, now my lance hath missed his end, my sword in shivers flew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And he 'scapes all." With this again he rushed upon his guest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And caught him by the horse-hair plume that dangled on his crest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With thought to drag him to the Greeks; which he had surely done,<br /></span> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span> +<span class="i0">And so, besides the victory, had wondrous glory won.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But Cyprian Venus brake the string; and so the victor's palm<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was, for so full a man at arms, only an empty helm.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That then he swung about his head, and cast among his friends,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who scrambled and took it up with shouts. Again then he intends<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To force the life-blood of his foe, and ran on him amain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With shaken jav'lin; when the queen that lovers love, again<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Attended and now ravish'd him from that encounter quite,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With ease, and wondrous suddenly; for she, a goddess, might.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She hid him in a cloud of gold, and never made him known<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till in his chamber fresh and sweet she gently set him down.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="font09 pmb1">Thereupon the truce was treacherously broken by Pandarus, +who, incited by Minerva, wounded Menelaus with an arrow; and +the armies closed with each other. Great deeds were done by +Diomedes on the Greek side. But Hector had gone back to +Troy to rouse Paris; on the walls his wife Andromache saw him.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She ran to Hector, and with her, tender of heart and hand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her son borne in his nurse's arms; when, like a heavenly sign<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Compact of many golden stars, the princely child did shine.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hector, though grief bereft his speech, yet smiled upon his joy.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Andromache cried out, mix'd hands, and to the strength of Troy<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus wept forth her affection: "O noblest in desire!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy mind inflamed with other's good will set thyself on fire.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Nor pitiest thou my son, nor wife, that must thy widow be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If now thou issue; all the field will only run on thee."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Nay," answered he; "but in this fire must Hector's trial shine;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here must his country, father, friends, be made in him divine.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet such a stormy day shall come (in mind and soul I know),<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When sacred Troy shall shed her towers for tears of overthrow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When Priam, all his birth and power, shall in those tears be drown'd.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But neither Troy's posterity so much my soul doth wound,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Priam nor Hecuba herself, nor all my brother's woes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(Who, though so many, and so good must all be food for foes),<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As thy sad state; when some rude Greek shall lead thee weeping hence,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">These free days clouded, and a night of captive violence<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Loading thy temples, out of which thine eyes must never see,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But spin the Greek wives webs of task, and their fetch-water be."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This said, he reached to take his son; who of his arms afraid,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And then the horse-hair plume, with which he was so overlaid,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nodded so horribly, he cling'd back to his nurse and cried.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Laughter affected his great sire, who doff'd and laid aside<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His fearful helm, that on the earth cast round about its light;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then took and kiss'd his loving son. "Afflict me not, dear wife,<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">With these vain griefs. He doth not live that can disjoin my life<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And this firm bosom, but my fate; and fate whose wings can fly?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Noble, ignoble, fate controls. Once born, the best must die."<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<p class="pmb2" /> +<h3>II.—<i>Of the Battle by the Ships</i></h3> + +<blockquote> +<p class="font09 pmb1">After this, Hector fought with Ajax, and neither had the +better. And after that the Greeks set a rampart and a ditch +about their ships. Also, Agamemnon would have bidden the +Greeks depart altogether, but Diomedes withstood him. And in +the fighting that followed, Agamemnon showed himself the best +man among the Greeks, seeing that neither Achilles nor Diomedes +joined the fray; and the Trojans had the better, driving the +Greeks back to the rampart, and bursting through, so that they +were like to have burnt the Greek ships where they lay, led on +by Hector. To and fro swayed the tide of battle; for while Jove +slept, Neptune and Juno gave force and courage to the Greeks, +and the Trojans were borne back; Hector being sore hurt with +a stone cast by Ajax. But Jove, awaking, restored Hector's +strength, sending Apollo to him. Then Apollo and Hector led</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The Trojan forces. The Greeks stood. A fervent clamour spread<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The air on both sides as they joined. Out flew the shafts and darts,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some falling short, but other some found butts in breasts and hearts.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As long as Phoebus held but out his horrid shield, so long<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The darts flew raging either way, and death grew both ways strong.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But when the Greeks had seen his face, and who it was that shook<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The bristled targe, known by his voice, then all their strength forsook<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their nerves and minds. And then look how a goodly herd of neat,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or wealthy flock of sheep, being close, and dreadless at their meat,<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In some black midnight, suddenly, and not a keeper near,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A brace of horrid bears rush in, and then fly here and there.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The poor affrighted flocks or herds, so every way dispersed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The heartless Grecians, so the Sun their headlong chase reversed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To headlong flight, and that day rais'd with all grace Hector's head.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">... When Hector saw his sister's son lie slaughtered in the sand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He called to all his friends, and prayed they would not in that strait<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Forsake his nephew, but maintain about his corse the fight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And save it from the spoil of Greece.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="font09 pmb1">The archery of Teucer, brother of Ajax, was dealing destruction +among the Trojans, when Jove broke the bow-string; and +thereafter the god stirred</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">With such addition of his spirit the spirit Hector bore<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To burn the fleet, that of itself was hot enough before.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But now he fared like Mars himself, so brandishing his lance<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As through the deep shades of a wood a raging fire should glance,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Held up to all eyes by a hill; about his lips a foam<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stood, as when th' ocean is enraged; his eyes were overcome<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With fervour, and resembled flames, set off by his dark brows,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And from his temples his bright helm abhorred lightnings throws.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He, girt in fire borne for the fleet, still rushed at every troop,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And fell upon it like a wave, high raised, that then doth stoop<br /></span> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Out from the clouds, grows as it stoops with storms, then down doth come<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And cuff a ship, when all her sides are hid in brackish foam,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Strong gales still raging in her sails, her sailors' minds dismay'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Death being but little from their lives; so Jovelike Hector fray'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And plied the Greeks, who knew not what would chance, for all their guards.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And as the baneful king of beasts, leapt in to oxen herds<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fed in the meadows of a fen exceeding great, the beasts<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In number infinite, 'mongst whom (their herdsmen wanting breasts<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To fight with lions for the price of a black ox's life)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He here and there jumps first and last, in his bloodthirsty strife;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Chased and assaulted, and at length down in the midst goes one,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all the rest 'sperst through the fen; so now all Greece was gone.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="font09 pmb1">On the Grecian side Ajax</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Stalked here and there, and in his hand a huge great bead-hook held,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Twelve cubits long, and full of iron. And then again there grew<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A bitter conflict at the fleet. You would have said none drew<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A weary breath, nor ever did, they laid so freshly on.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="font09 pmb1">It seemed that even Ajax would be overborne. But Patroclus, +the loved friend of Achilles, saw this destruction coming upon +the Greeks, and he earnestly besought Achilles, if he would +not be moved to sally forth to the rescue himself, to suffer him +to go out against the Trojans, bearing the arms of Achilles and +leading his Myrmidons into the fray. Which leave Achilles +granted him.</p> +</blockquote> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span></p> + + +<p class="pmb2" /> + +<h3><i>III</i>.—<i>Of Patroclus, and the Rousing of Achilles</i></h3> + +<blockquote> +<p class="font09 pmb1">Bearing the armour of Achilles, save the spear which none +other could wield, Patroclus sped forth, leading the Myrmidons.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And when ye see upon a mountain bred<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A den of wolves about whose hearts unmeasured strengths are fed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">New come from currie of a stag, their jaws all blood-besmeared,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And when from some black-water fount they all together herd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There having plentifully lapped with thin and thrust-out tongues<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The top and clearest of the spring, go, belching from their lungs<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The clottered gore, look dreadfully, and entertain no dread,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their bellies gaunt, all taken up with being so rawly fed;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then say that such in strength and look, were great Achilles' men<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now ordered for the dreadful fight.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="font09">The Trojans, taking Patroclus for Achilles, were now driven +before him and the other Grecian chiefs. Patroclus slew Sarpedon, +king of Lycia, and the fight raged furiously about the +corse. The Trojans fled, Patroclus pursued. At last Phoebus +Apollo smote his armour from him; Euphorbus thrust him +through from behind, and Hector slew him. Ajax and Menelaus +came to rescue Patroclus' body; Hector fled, but had already +stripped off the armour of Achilles, which he now put on in +place of his own. Again the battle waxed furious about the +dead Patroclus until Menelaus and Meriones bore the corpse +while the two Ajaces stood guard.</p> + +<p class="font09 pmb1">Now, when the ill news was brought to Achilles, he fell into +a great passion of grief; which lamentation Thetis, his mother, +heard from the sea-deeps; and came to him, bidding him not go +forth to the war till she had brought him new armour from +Vulcan. Nevertheless, at the bidding of Iris, he arose:</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And forth the wall he stepped and stood, and sent abroad his voice;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which Pallas far-off echoed, who did betwixt them noise<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Shrill tumult to a topless height. His brazen voice once heard,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The minds of all were startled, so they yielded. Thrice he spake,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thrice, in heat of all the charge, the Trojans started back.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="font09 pmb1">In this wise was the dead Patroclus brought back to Achilles. +But Thetis went to Vulcan and besought him, and he wrought +new armour for Achilles—a shield most marvellous, and a cuirass +and helmet—which she bore to her son. And the wrath of +Achilles against Agamemnon was assuaged; and they two were +reconciled at a gathering of the chiefs. And when by the counsel +of Ulysses they had all well broken their fast, the Greeks +went forth to the battle, Achilles leading. Now, in this contest, +by Jove's decree, all the Olympian gods were suffered to take +part.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And thus the bless'd gods both sides urged; they all stood in the midst<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And brake contention to their hosts. And over all their heads<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The gods' king in abhorred claps his thunder rattled out.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beneath them, Neptune tossed the earth; the mountains round about<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bowed with affright and shook their heads, Jove's hill the earthquake felt,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Steep Ida trembling at her roots, and all her fountains spilt,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With crannied brows; the infernal king, that all things frays, was fray'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When this black battle of the gods was joining. Thus array'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Gainst Neptune Phoebus with winged shafts, 'gainst Mars the blue-eyed maid,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Gainst Juno Phoebe, whose white hands bore stinging darts of gold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her side armed with a sheaf of shafts, and (by the birth two-fold<br /></span> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Of bright Latona) sister-twin to him that shoots so far.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Against Latona, Hermes stood, grave guard in peace and war<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of human beings. Against the god whose empire is on fire,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wat'ry godhead, that great flood, to show whose pow'r entire<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In spoil as th' other, all his streams on lurking whirlpits trod,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Xanthus by gods, by men Scamander called. Thus god 'gainst god<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Entered the field.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<p class="pmb2" /> +<h3><i>IV</i>.—<i>Of Achilles and Hector</i></h3> + +<blockquote> +<p class="font09 pmb1">Now Achilles fell upon the Trojan host, slaying one after +another of their mighty men; but Æneas and Hector the gods +shielded from him. Twelve he took captive, to sacrifice at the +funeral of Patroclus. And he would have stormed into Troy +itself but that Phoebus deceived him, and all the Trojans fled +within the walls save Hector. But when he saw Achilles coming, +cold fear shook Hector from his stand.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">No more stay now, all posts we've left, he fled in fear the hand<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of that Fear-Master, who, hawk-like, air's swiftest passenger,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That holds a timorous dove in chase, and with command doth bear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His fiery onset, the dove hastes, the hawk comes whizzing on.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This way and that he turns and winds and cuffs the pigeon:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So urged Achilles Hector's flight.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="font09 pmb1">They ran thrice about the walls, until Hector, beguiled by +Athene in the form of his brother Deiphobus, stayed to fight +Achilles. Having cast his lance in vain,</p> +</blockquote> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then forth his sword flew, sharp and broad, and bore a deadly weight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With which he rushed in. And look how an eagle from her height<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stoops to the rapture of a lamb, or cuffs a timorous hare;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So fell in Hector; and at him Achilles.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="font09 pmb1">Achilles smote Hector through with his javelin, and thus death +closed his eyes. Then, in his wrath for the death of Patroclus, +Achilles bound the dead Hector by his feet to his chariot,</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And scourged on his horse that freely flew;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A whirlwind made of startled dust drave with them as they drew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With which were all his black-brown curls knotted in heaps and fill'd.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="font09 pmb1">Which piteous sight was seen from the walls by Priam and +Hecuba; but Andromache did not know that Hector had stayed +without, until the clamour flew</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Up to her turret; then she shook; her work fell from her hand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And up she started, called her maids; she needs must understand<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That ominous outcry. "Come," said she; then fury-like she went,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Two women, as she willed, at hand, and made her quick ascent<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Up to the tower and press of men, her spirit in uproar. Round<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She cast her greedy eye, and saw her Hector slain, and bound<br /></span> +<span class="i0">T'Achilles' chariot, manlessly dragged to the Grecian fleet.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Black night struck through her, under her trance took away her feet.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="font09 pmb1">Thus all Troy mourned; but Achilles dragged the slain Hector +to the slain Patroclus, and did despite to his body in his + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span> +wrath; and made ready to hold high obsequies for his friend. +And on the morrow</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">They raised a huge pile, and to arms went every Myrmidon,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Charged by Achilles; chariots and horse were harnessed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fighters and charioteers got up, and they the sad march led,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A cloud of infinite foot behind. In midst of all was borne<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Patroclus' person by his peers.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="font09 pmb1">Fit feastings were held, and games with rich prizes, racings +and wrestlings, wherein the might of Ajax could not overcome +the skill of Ulysses, nor his skill the might of Ajax. Then +Thetis by the will of the gods bade Achilles cease from his +wrath against Hector; and suffer the Trojans to redeem his +body for a ransom. And Iris came to Priam where the old +king sate: the princesses his seed, the princesses his sons' fair +wives, all mourning by. She bade him offer ransom to Achilles; +and then, guided by Hermes, Priam came to the tent of Achilles, +bearing rich gifts, and he kneeled before him, clasping his knees, +and besought him, saying:</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Pity an old man like thy sire, different in only this,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That I am wretcheder, and bear that weight of miseries<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That never man did, my cursed lips enforced to kiss that hand<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That slew my children." At his feet he laid his reverend head.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Achilles' thoughts now with his sire, now with his friend were fed.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="font09 pmb1">Moved by compassion, and by the message which Thetis had +brought him, Achilles accepted the ransom, and suffered Priam +to bear away the body, granting a twelve days' truce. And +Troy mourned for him, Andromache lamenting and Hecuba, his +mother. And on this wise spake Helen herself.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"O Hector, all my brothers more were not so loved of me<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As thy most virtues. Not my lord I held so dear as thee,<br /></span> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span> +<span class="i0">That brought me hither; before which I would I had been brought<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To ruin; for what breeds that wish, which is the mischief wrought<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By my access, yet never found one harsh taunt, one word's ill<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From thy sweet carriage. Twenty years do now their circles fill<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since my arrival; all which time thou didst not only bear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thyself without check, but all else that my lord's brothers were.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their sisters' lords, sisters themselves, the queen, my mother-in-law<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(The king being never but most mild) when thy man's spirit saw<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sour and reproachful, it would still reprove their bitterness<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With sweet words and thy gentle soul."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="font09 pmb3">So the body of Hector was laid upon the fire, and was burnt; +and his ashes were gathered into an urn of gold and laid in a grave.</p> +</blockquote> +</div> + + +<div class="footnotes"><span class="font11"><b>FOOTNOTES:</b></span> + +<div class="footnote"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_F_6" id="Footnote_F_6"></a><a href="#FNanchor_F_6"><span class="label">[F]</span></a> Of the personality of Homer, the maker of the "Iliad" and +the "Odyssey," those great epic poems which were the common +heritage of all Greeks, we have no knowledge. Tradition pictures +him as blind and old. Seven cities claimed to be his +birthplace. Probably he lived in the ninth century <span class="smcap">b.c.</span>, since +the particular stages of social life which he portrays probably +belong to that era. Beyond this, all is conjecture. The poems +were not written down till a later date, when their authorship +was already a matter of tradition; and when what we may call +the canon of the text of the epics was laid down in the sixth +century <span class="smcap">b.c.</span>, it may be readily supposed that they were not in +the exact form which the master-poet himself had given them. +Hence the ingenuity of the modern commentator has endeavoured +to resolve Homer into an indefinite number of ballad-mongers, +whose ballads were edited into their existing unity. +On the whole, this view may be called Teutonic. Of the "Iliad," +it suffices to say that it relates events immediately preceding +the fall of Troy, at the close of the tenth year of the siege +undertaken by the Greeks on account of the abduction of Helen +from Menelaus by Paris. Of Chapman's translation we shall +speak in the introduction to the "Odyssey."</p> +</div></div> +<p class="pmb3" /> + + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<h2><a name="The_OdysseyG" id="The_OdysseyG">The Odyssey</a><span class="font08"><a name="FNanchor_G_7" id="FNanchor_G_7"></a><a href="#Footnote_G_7" class="fnanchor">[G]</a></span></h2> + + +<p class="pmb2" /> +<div class="block2"> + + +<h3><i>I</i>.—<i>How Ulysses Came to Phæacia, and of Nausicaa</i></h3> + +<blockquote> +<p class="font09 pmb1">Years had passed since the fall of Troy, yet alone Ulysses +came not to his home in Ithaca. Therefore many suitors came +to woo his wife Penelope, devouring his substance with riotous +living, sorely grieving her heart, and that of her young son, +Telemachus. But Ulysses the nymph Calypso had held for seven +years an unwilling guest in the island of Ogygia. And now the +gods were minded to bring home the man—</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">That wandered wondrous far, when he the town<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of sacred Troy had sacked and shivered down;<br /></span> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span> +<span class="i0">The cities of a world of nations<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With all their manners, minds, and fashions<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He was and knew; at sea felt many woes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Much care sustained to save from overthrows<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Himself and friends in their retreat for home;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But so their fates he could not overcome.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="font09 pmb1">Then came Pallas Athene to Telemachus, and bade him take +ship that he might get tidings of his sire. And he spake words +of reproach to the company of suitors. To whom</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Antinous only in this sort replied:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"High-spoken, and of spirit unpacified,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How have you shamed us in this speech of yours!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will you brand us for an offence not ours?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your mother, first in craft, is first in cause.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Three years are past, and near the fourth now draws,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since first she mocked the peers Achaian;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All she made hope, and promised every man."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="font09 pmb1">The suitors suffered Telemachus to depart, though they repented +after; and he came with Athene, in disguise of Mentor, +to Nestor at Pylos, and thence to Menelaus at Sparta, who told +him how he had laid hold on Proteus, the seer, and learnt from +him first of the slaying of his own brother Agamemnon; and, +secondly, concerning Ulysses,</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i18">Laertes' son; whom I beheld<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In nymph Calypso's palace, who compell'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His stay with her, and since he could not see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His country earth, he mourned incessantly.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span></p> + +<blockquote> +<p class="font09 pmb1">Laden with rich gifts, Telemachus set out on his return home, +while the suitors sought to way-lay him. And, meantime. Calypso, +warned by Hermes, let Ulysses depart from Ogygia on +a raft. Which, being overwhelmed by storms, he yet made +shore on the isle of Phæacia; where, finding shelter, he fell +asleep. But Pallas visited the Princess Nausicaa in a dream.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Straight rose the lovely morn, that up did raise<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fair-veiled Nausicaa, whose dream her praise<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To admiration took.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="font09 pmb1">She went with her maidens, with raiment for cleansing, to the +river, where, having washed the garments,</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">They bathed themselves, and all with glittering oil<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Smoothed their white skins, refreshing then their toil<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With pleasant dinner. Then Nausicaa,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With other virgins did at stool-ball play,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their shoulder-reaching head-tires laying by.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nausicaa, with wrists of ivory,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The liking stroke struck, singing first a song,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As custom ordered, and, amidst the throng,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nausicaa, whom never husband tamed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Above them all in all the beauties flamed.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The queen now for the upstroke, struck the ball<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Quite wide off th' other maids, and made it fall<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Amidst the whirlpools. At which, out-shrieked all,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And with the shriek did wise Ulysses wake;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who, hearing maidish voices, from the brake<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Put hasty head out; and his sight did press<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The eyes of soft-haired virgins ... Horrid was<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His rough appearance to them; the hard pass<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He had at sea stuck by him. All in flight<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The virgins scattered, frighted with this sight.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All but Nausicaa fled; but she stood fast;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pallas had put a boldness in her breast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in her fair limbs tender fear compress'd.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And still she stood him, as resolved to know<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What man he was, or out of what should grow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His strange repair to them. Then thus spake he;<br /></span> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span> +<span class="i0">"Let me beseech, O queen, this truth of thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are you of mortal or the deified race?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If of the gods that th' ample heavens embrace,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I can resemble you to none alive<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So near as Cynthia, chaste-born birth of Jove.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If sprung of humans that inhabit earth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thrice blest are both the authors of your birth;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But most blest he that hath the gift to engage<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your bright neck in the yoke of marriage."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="font09 pmb1">He prayed her then for some garment, and that she would +show him the town. Then she, calling her maidens, they brought +for him food and oil and raiment, and went apart while he +should cleanse and array himself.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And Pallas wrought in him a grace full great<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From head to shoulders, and as sure did seat<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His goodly presence. As he sat apart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nausicaa's eyes struck wonder through her heart;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He showed to her till now not worth the note;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But now he seemed as he had godhead got.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="font09 pmb1">Then, fearing the gossip of the market-place, she bade him +follow afoot with her maidens, giving him directions how he +should find her father's palace, which entering,</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Address suit to my mother, that her mean<br /></span> +<span class="i0">May make the day of your redition seen.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For if she once be won to wish you well,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your hope may instantly your passport seal,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thenceforth sure abide to see your friends,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fair house, and all to which your heart contends."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="font09 pmb1">Nausicaa and her maidens went forward, Ulysses following +after a time; whom Pallas met, and told him of the King Alcinous +and the Queen Arete. Then he, being wrapped in a cloud +which she had set about him, entered unmarked; and, the cloud +vanishing, embraced the knees of Arete in supplication, as one +distressed by many labours. And they all received him graciously. +Now, as they sat at meat, a bard sang of the fall of Troy; +and Alcinous, the king, marked how Ulysses wept at the tale; +and then Ulysses told them who he was, and of his adventures, +on this wise.</p> +</blockquote> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span></p> + + +<p class="pmb2" /> + +<h3><i>II</i>.—<i>Ulysses Tells of his Wanderings</i></h3> + +<blockquote> +<p class="font09 pmb1">After many wanderings, we came to the isle of the Cyclops, +and I, with twelve of my men, to his cave. He coming home +bespake us.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Ho! guests! What are ye? Whence sail ye these seas?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Traffic or rove ye, and, like thieves, oppress<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Poor strange adventurers, exposing so<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your souls to danger, and your lives to woe?"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Reverence the gods, thou greatest of all that live,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We suppliants are." "O thou fool," answered he,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"To come so far, and to importune me<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With any god's fear or observed love!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We Cyclops care not for your goat-fed Jove<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor other blest ones; we are better far.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To Jove himself dare I bid open war."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Cyclop devoured two sailors, and slept. I slew him not sleeping—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For there we all had perished, since it past<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our powers to lift aside a log so vast<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As barred all our escape.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="font09 pmb1">At morn, he drove forth the flocks, but barred the entry again, +having devoured two more of my comrades. But we made ready +a great stake for thrusting out his one eye. And when he came +home at night, driving in all his sheep,</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i19">Two of my soldiers more<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At once he snatched up, and to supper went.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then dared I words to him, and did present<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A bowl of wine with these words: "Cyclop! take<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A bowl of wine." "Thy name, that I may make<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A hospitable gift; for this rich wine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fell from the river, that is more divine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of nectar and ambrosia." "Cyclop, see,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My name is No-Man." Cruel answered he.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"No-Man! I'll eat thee last of all thy friends."<br /></span> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He slept; we took the spar, made keen before,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And plunged it in his eye. Then did he roar<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In claps like thunder.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="font09 pmb1">Other Cyclops gathered, to inquire who had harmed him; but +he—</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i24">"by craft, not might,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No-Man hath given me death." They then said right,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"If no man hurt thee, and thyself alone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That which is done to thee by Jove is done."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then groaning up and down, he groping tried<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To find the stone, which found, he put aside,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But in the door sat, feeling if he could,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As the sheep issued, on some man lay hold.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="font09 pmb1">But we, ranging the sheep three abreast, were borne out under +their bellies, and drove them in haste down to our ship; and +having put out, I cried aloud:</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Cyclop! if any ask thee who imposed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Th' unsightly blemish that thine eye enclosed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Say that Ulysses, old Laertes' son,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose seat is Ithaca, who hath won<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Surname of city-razer, bored it out."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At this he brayed so loud that round about<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He drove affrighted echoes through the air<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In burning fury; and the top he tare<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From off a huge rock, and so right a throw<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Made at our ship that just before the prow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It overflew and fell, missed mast and all<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Exceeding little; but about the fall<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So fierce a wave it raised that back it bore<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our ship, so far it almost touched the shore.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="font09 pmb1">So we escaped; but the Cyclop stirred up against us the wrath +of his father Neptune. Thereafter we came to the caves of +Æolus, lord of the winds, and then to the land of the giants +called Laestrygones, whence there escaped but one ship of all our +company.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then to the isle of Ææa we attained,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where fair-haired, dreadful, eloquent Circe reigned.<br /></span> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then I sent a company, led by Eurylochus, to search the land.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">These in a dale did Circe's house descry;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Before her gates hill-wolves and lions lie;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which, with her virtuous drugs, so tame she made<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That wolf nor lion would no man invade<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With any violence, but all arose,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their huge, long tails wagged, and in fawns would close,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As loving dogs. Amaz'd they stay'd at gate,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And heard within the goddess elevate<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A voice divine, as at her web she wrought,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Subtle and glorious and past earthly thought.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="font09 pmb1">She called them in, but Eurylochus, abiding without, saw her +feast them, and then turn them with her wand into swine. +From him hearing these things I hastened thither. But Hermes +met me, and gave me of the herb Moly, to be a protection against +her spells, and wise counsel withal. So when she had feasted +me she touched me with her wand.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I drew my sword, and charged her, as I meant<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To take her life. When out she cried, and bent<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beneath my sword her knees, embracing mine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And full of tears, said, "Who, of what high line<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Art thou? Deep-souled Ulysses must thou be."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then I, "O Circe, I indeed am he.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dissolve the charms my friends' forced forms enchain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And show me here those honoured friends like men."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="font09 pmb1">Now she restored them, and knowing the will of the gods, +made good cheer for us all, so that we abode with her for one +year. Nor might we depart thence till I had made journey to +the abode of Hades to get speech of Tiresias the Seer. Whereby +I saw made shades of famous folk, past recounting. Thence +returning, Circe suffered us to be gone; with warning of perils +before us, and of how we should avoid them.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">First to the Sirens. Whoso hears the call<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of any Siren, he will so despise<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Both wife and children, for their sorceries,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That never home turns his affection's stream,<br /></span> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Nor they take joy in him nor he in them.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Next monstrous Scylla. Six long necks look out<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of her rank shoulders; every neck doth let<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A ghastly head out; every head, three set,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thick thrust together, of abhorred teeth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And every tooth stuck with a sable death;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Charybdis, too, whose horrid throat did draw<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The brackish sea up. These we saw<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="font09 pmb1">And escaped only in part. Then came they to the island where +are fed the Oxen of the Sun; and because his comrades would +slay them, destruction came upon them, and Ulysses alone came +alive to the isle of Calypso.</p> +</blockquote> + + +<p class="pmb2" /> + +<h3><i>III</i>.—<i>How Ulysses Came Back to Ithaca</i></h3> + +<blockquote> +<p class="font09">Now, when Ulysses had made an end, it pleased Alcinous +and all the Phæacians that they should speed him home with +many rich gifts. So they set him in a ship, and bore him to +Ithaca, and laid him on the shore, yet sleeping, with all the +goodly gifts about him, and departed. But he, waking, wist not +where he was till Pallas came to him. Who counselled him how +he should deal with the Wooers, and disguised him as a man +ancient and worn.</p> + +<p class="font09 pmb1">Then Ulysses sought and found the faithful swine-herd Eumæus, +who made him welcome, not knowing who he was, and +told him of the ill-doing of the suitors. But Pallas went and +brought back Telemachus from Sparata, evading the Wooers' +ambush.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Out rushed amazed Eumæus, and let go<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The cup to earth, that he had laboured so,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cleansed for the neat wine, did the prince surprise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Kissed his fair forehead, both his lovely eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And wept for joy. Then entering, from his seat<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His father rose to him; who would not let<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The old man remove, but drew him back, and prest<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With earnest terms his sitting, saying, "Guest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Take here your seat again."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="font09 pmb1">Eumæus departing, Pallas restored Ulysses to his own likeness, +and he made himself known to Telemachus, and instructed +him.</p> +</blockquote> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Go them for home, and troop up with the Wooers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy will with theirs joined, power with their rude powers;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And after shall the herdsmen guide to town<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My steps, my person wholly overgrown<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With all appearance of a poor old swain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Heavy and wretched. If their high disdain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of my vile presence made them my desert<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Affect with contumelies, let thy loved heart<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beat in fixed confines of thy bosom still,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And see me suffer, patient of their ill.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But when I give the sign, all th' arms that are<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Aloft thy roof in some near room prepare—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Two swords, two darts, two shields, left for us twain.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But let none know Ulysses near again."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But when air's rosy birth, the morn, arose,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Telemachus did for the turn dispose<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His early steps; went on with spritely pace,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And to the Wooers studied little grace ...<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And now the king and herdsman from the field<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Drew nigh the town; when in the yard there lay<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A dog called Argus, which, before his way<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Assumed for Ilion, Ulysses bred,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet stood his pleasure then in little stead,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As being too young, but, growing to his grace,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Young men made choice of him for every chase,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or of their wild goats, of their hares, or harts;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But, his king gone, and he, now past his parts,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lay all abjectly on the stable's store<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Before the ox-stall, and mules' stable-door,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To keep the clothes cast from the peasants' hands<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While they laid compass on Ulysses' lands,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The dog, with ticks (unlook'd to) overgrown.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But by this dog no sooner seen but known<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was wise Ulysses; who now enter'd there.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Up went his dog's laid ears, coming near,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Up he himself rose, fawned, and wagged his stern,<br /></span> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Couch'd close his ears, and lay so; nor discern<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Could ever more his dear-loved lord again.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ulysses saw it, nor had power t'abstain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From shedding tears; but (far-off seeing his swain)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His grief dissembled.... Then they entered in<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And left poor Argus dead; his lord's first sight<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since that time twenty years bereft his sight.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="font09 pmb1">Telemachus welcomed the wayworn suppliant; the feasting +Wooers, too, sent him portions of meat, save Antinous, who</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Rapt up a stool, with which he smit<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The king's right shoulder, 'twixt his neck and it.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He stood him like a rock. Antinous' dart<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stirred not Ulysses, who in his great heart<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Deep ills projected.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="font09">The very Wooers were wroth. Which clamour Penelope hearing, +she sent for Eumæus, and bade him summon the stranger +to her; but he would not come till evening, by reason of the +suitors, from whom he had discourteous treatment.</p> + +<p class="font09 pmb1">Now Ulysses coming to Penelope, did not discover himself, +but told her made-up tales of his doings; as, how he had seen +Ulysses, and of a robe he had worn which Penelope knew for +one she had given him; so that she gave credence to his words. +Then she bade call the ancient nurse Euryclea, that she might +wash the stranger's feet. But by a scar he came to be discovered +by the aged dame. Her he charged with silence and to +let no ear in all the court more know his being there. As for +Penelope, she told him of her intent to promise herself to the +man who could wield Ulysses' bow, knowing well that none had +the strength and skill.</p> +</blockquote> + + +<p class="pmb2" /> + +<h3><i>IV.—Of the Doom of the Suitors</i></h3> + +<blockquote> +<p class="font09 pmb1">On the morrow came Penelope to the Wooers, bearing the +bow of her lord.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Her maids on both sides stood; and thus she spake:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Hear me, ye Wooers, that a pleasure take<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To do me sorrow, and my house invade<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To eat and drink, as if 'twere only made<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To serve your rapines, striving who shall frame<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Me for his wife. And since 'tis made a game,<br /></span> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span> +<span class="i0">I here propose divine Ulysses' bow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For that great master-piece, to which ye row.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He that can draw it with least show to strive,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And through these twelve axe-heads an arrow drive,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Him will I follow, and this house forego."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whereat the herd Eumæus wept for woe.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="font09 pmb1">Then Telemachus set up the axe-heads, and himself made +vain essay, the more to tempt the Wooers. And while they +after him strove all vainly, Ulysses went out and bespake Eumæus +and another herd, Philoetius.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"I am your lord; through many a sufferance tried<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Arrived now here, whom twenty years have held<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Forth from my home. Of all the company<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now serving here besides, not one but you<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mine ear hath witnessed willing to bestow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their wishes of my life, so long held dead.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The curious Wooers will by no means give<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The offer of the bow and arrow leave<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To come at me; spite then their pride, do thou,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My good Eumæus, bring both shaft and bow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To my hands' proof; and charge the maids before<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That instantly they shut the door.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Do thou, Philoetius, keep their closure fast."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="font09 pmb1">Then Ulysses claiming to make trial of the bow, the Wooers +would have denied him; but Penelope would not; whereas Telemachus +made a vow that it was for himself and none other to +decide, and the guest should make trial. But he, handling it +while they mocked, with ease</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Drew the bow round. Then twanged he up the string,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That as a swallow in the air doth sing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So sharp the string sung when he gave it touch,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Once having bent and drawn it. Which so much<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Amazed the Wooers, that their colours went<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And came most grievously. And then Jove rent<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The air with thunder; which at heart did cheer<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The now-enough-sustaining traveller.<br /></span> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then through the axes at the first hole flew<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The steel-charged arrow. Straightway to him drew<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His son in complete arms....<br /></span> +<span class="i31">"Now for us<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There rests another mark more hard to hit,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And such as never man before hath smit;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose full point likewise my hands shall assay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And try if Phoebus will give me his day."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He said, and off his bitter arrow thrust<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Right at Antinous, that struck him just<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As he was lifting up the bowl, to show<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That 'twixt the cup and lip much ill may grow.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="font09 pmb1">Then the rest cried out upon him with threats, while they made +vain search for weapons in the hall.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He, frowning, said, "Dogs, see in me the man<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye all held dead at Troy. My house it is<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That thus ye spoil, and thus your luxuries<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fill with my women's rapes; in which ye woo<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wife of one that lives, and no thought show<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of man's fit fear, or gods', your present fame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or any fair sense of your future name;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, therefore, present and eternal death<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall end your base life."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="font09 pmb1">Then the Wooers made at Ulysses and Telemachus, who +smote down first Eurymachus and then Amphinomus. But a way +to the armoury having been left, the Wooers got arms by aid +of a traitor; whom Eumæus and Philoetius smote, and then +came to Ulysses and his son. Moreover, Pallas also came to +their help; so that the Wooers, being routed—</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ulysses and his son the flyers chased<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As when, with crooked beaks and seres, a cast<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of hill-bred eagles, cast off at some game,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That yet their strengths keep, but, put up, in flame<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The eagle stoops; from which, along the field<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The poor fowls make wing this and that way yield<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their hard-flown pinions, then the clouds assay<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For 'scape or shelter, their forlorn dismay<br /></span> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span> +<span class="i0">All spirit exhaling, all wings strength to carry<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their bodies forth, and, truss'd up, to the quarry<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their falconers ride in, and rejoice to see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their hawks perform a flight so fervently;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So in their flight Ulysses with his heir<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Did stoop and cuff the Wooers, that the air<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Broke in vast sighs, whose heads they shot and cleft,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The pavement boiling with the souls they reft.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="font09 pmb1">Now all the Wooers were slain, and they of the household that +were their accomplices; and the chamber was purified.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i19">Then first did tears ensue<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her rapt assurance; when she ran and spread<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her arms about his neck, kiss'd oft his head.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He wept for joy, t'enjoy a wife so fit<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For his grave mind, that knew his depth of wit.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="font09 pmb1">But as for the Wooers, Hermes gathered the souls of them +together, and, as bats gibbering in a cavern rise, so came they +forth gibbering and went down to the House of Hades.</p> +</blockquote> +</div> + + +<div class="footnotes"><span class="font11"><b>FOOTNOTES:</b></span> + +<div class="footnote"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_G_7" id="Footnote_G_7"></a><a href="#FNanchor_G_7"><span class="label">[G]</span></a> Of the "Odyssey" it may be said with certainty that its +composition was later than that of the "Iliad," but it cannot +be affirmed that both poems were not composed within the life-time +of one man. It may be claimed that the best criticism +declines to reject the identity of authorship of the poet of the +"Iliad" and the poet of the "Odyssey," while admitting the +probability that the work of other poets was incorporated in +his. We have given our readers the translation by George Chapman, +Shakespeare's contemporary, with which may be compared +the fine modern prose translation by Professor Butcher and Mr. +Andrew Lang. On the other hand, Alexander Pope's verse rendering +has nothing Homeric about it. It may be regretted that +Chapman did not in the "Odyssey" retain the swinging metre +which he used in the "Iliad." The poem relates the adventures +of Odysseus (latinised into Ulysses) on his homeward voyages, +after the fall of Troy.</p> +</div></div> +<p class="pmb3" /> + + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span></p> +<p class="pmb3" /> + + +<h2><a name="HORACEH" id="HORACEH">HORACE</a><span class="font08"><a name="FNanchor_H_8" id="FNanchor_H_8"></a><a href="#Footnote_H_8" class="fnanchor">[H]</a></span></h2> +<p class="pmb3" /> + + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<h2><a name="Poems" id="Poems">Poems</a></h2> +<p class="pmb3" /> + + +<h3><a name="Satires" id="Satires"><i>Satires</i></a></h3> + + +<div class="block3"> + +<h4>HUMAN DISCONTENT</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Whence is it, sir, that none contented lives<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With the fair lot which prudent reason gives,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or chance presents, yet all with envy view<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The schemes that others variously pursue?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Broken with toils, with ponderous arms oppressed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The soldier thinks the merchant solely blest.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In opposite extreme, when tempests rise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"War is a better choice," the merchant cries.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When early clients thunder at his gate,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Te barrister applauds the rustic's fate;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While, by <i>sub-poenas</i> dragged from home, the clown<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thinks the supremely happy dwell in town!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not to be tedious, mark the moral aim<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of these examples. Should some god proclaim,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Your prayers are heard: you, soldier, to your seas;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You, lawyer, take that envied rustic's ease,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each to his several part—What! Ha! not move<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Even to the bliss you wished!" And shall not Jove,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With cheeks inflamed and angry brow, forswear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A weak indulgence to their future prayer?<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="pmb2" /> + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span></p> + +<h4>AVARICE</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Some, self-deceived, who think their lust of gold<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is but a love of fame, this maxim hold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"No fortune is enough, since others rate<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our worth proportioned to a large estate."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Say, for their cure what arts would you employ?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let them be wretched, and their choice enjoy.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Would you the real use of riches know?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bread, herbs, and wine are all they can bestow.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or add, what nature's deepest wants supplies;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">These and no more thy mass of money buys.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But with continual watching almost dead,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Housebreaking thieves, and midnight fires to dread,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or the suspected slave's untimely flight<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With the dear pelf—if this be thy delight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Be it my fate, so heaven in bounty please,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still to be poor of blessings such as these!<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="pmb2" /> + + +<h4>A PARAGON OF INCONSISTENCY</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Nothing was of a piece in the whole man:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sometimes he like a frightened coward ran,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose foes are at his heels; now soft and slow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He moved, like folks who in procession go.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now with two hundred slaves he crowds his train;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now walks with ten. In high and haughty strain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At morn, of kings and governors he prates;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At night, "A frugal table, O ye Fates,<br /></span> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span> +<span class="i0">A little shell the sacred salt to hold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And clothes, though coarse, to keep from me the cold."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet give this wight, so frugally content,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A thousand pounds, 'tis every penny spent<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Within the week! He drank the night away<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till rising dawn, then snored out all the day.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sure, such a various creature ne'er was known.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But have you, sir, no vices of your own?<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="pmb2" /> + + +<h4>ON JUDGING FRIENDS</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A kindly friend, who balances my good<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And bad together, as in truth he should,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If haply my good qualities prevail,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Inclines indulgent to the sinking scale:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For like indulgence let his friendship plead,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His merits be with equal measure weighed;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For he who hopes his wen shall not offend<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Should overlook the pimples of his friend.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="pmb2" /> + + +<h4>ON LOYALTY TO ABSENT FRIENDS</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He who, malignant, tears an absent friend,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or fails, when others blame him, to defend,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who trivial bursts of laughter strives to raise<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And courts for witty cynicism praise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who can, what he has never seen, reveal,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And friendship's secrets knows not to conceal—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Romans beware—that man is black of soul.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="pmb2" /> + + +<h4>HORACE'S DEBT TO HIS FATHER</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">If some few trivial faults deform my soul<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(Like a fair face, when spotted with a mole),<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If none with avarice justly brand my fame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With sordidness, or deeds too vile to name;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If pure and innocent; if dear (forgive<br /></span> +<span class="i0">These little praises) to my friends I live,<br /></span> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span> +<span class="i0">My father was the cause, who, though maintained<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By a lean farm but poorly, yet disdained<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The country schoolmaster, to whose low care<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The mighty captain sent his high-born heir,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With satchel, copy-book, and pelf to pay<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wretched teacher on the appointed day.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To Rome by this bold father was I brought,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To learn those arts which well-born youths are taught,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So dressed, and so attended, you would swear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I was some wealthy lord's expensive heir.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Himself my guardian, of unblemished truth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Among my tutors would attend my youth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thus preserved my chastity of mind—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That prime of virtue in its highest kind.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="pmb2" /> + + +<h4>HORACE'S HABITS IN THE CITY</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Alone I saunter, as by fancy led,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I cheapen herbs, or ask the price of bread,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I watch while fortune-tellers fate reveal,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then homeward hasten to my frugal meal,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Herbs, pulse, and pancakes (each a separate plate),<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While three domestics at my supper wait.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A bowl on a white marble table stands,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Two goblets, and a ewer to wash my hands,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And hallowed cup of true Campanian clay<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My pure libation to the gods to pay.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I then retire to rest, nor anxious fear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Before dread Marsyas early to appear.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I lie till ten; then take a walk, or choose<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A book, perhaps, or trifle with the muse.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For cheerful exercise and manly toil<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Anoint my body with the pliant oil—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet not with such as Natta's, when he vamps<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His filthy limbs and robs the public lamps.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But when the sun pours down his fiercer fire,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And bids me from the toilsome sport retire,<br /></span> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span> +<span class="i0">I haste to bathe, and in a temperate mood<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Regale my craving appetite with food<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(Enough to nourish nature for a day);<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then trifle my domestic hours away.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such is the life from bad ambition free;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such comfort has one humble born like me:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With which I feel myself more truly blest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than if my sires the quæstor's power possessed.<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> +<p class="pmb3" /> + + +<div class="footnotes"><span class="font11">FOOTNOTES:</span> + +<div class="footnote"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_H_8" id="Footnote_H_8"></a><a href="#FNanchor_H_8"><span class="label">[H]</span></a> Horace (Q. Horatius Flaccus), who was born near Venusia, +in Apulia, in 65 <span class="smcap">b.c.</span>, and died in 8 <span class="smcap">b.c.</span>, was a southern Italian. +When twenty, Horace was a student of philosophy at Athens. +A period of poverty-stricken Bohemianism followed his return +to Rome, till acquaintance with Virgil opened a path into the +circle of Mæcenas and of the emperor. His literary career falls +into three divisions—that of his "Epodes" and "Satires," down +to 30 <span class="smcap">b.c.</span>; that of his lyrics, down to 23 <span class="smcap">b.c.</span>, when the first three +books of the "Odes" appeared; and that of the reflective and +literary "Epistles," which include the famous "Art of Poetry," +and, with sundry official odes, belong to his later years. Horatian +"satire," it should be observed, does not imply ferocious +personal onslaughts, but a miscellany containing good-humoured +ridicule of types, and lively sketches of character and incident. +So varied a performance as satirist, lyrist, moralist and critic, +coupled with his vivid interest in mankind, help to account for +the appeal which Horace has made to all epochs, countries, and +ranks. Of the translations of Horace here given, some are by +Prof. Wight Duff, and have been specially made for this +selection, whilst a few are by Milton, Dryden, Cowper, and +Francis.</p></div></div> +<p class="pmb3" /> + + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<h3><a name="Horace_and_the_Bore" id="Horace_and_the_Bore"><i>Horace and the Bore</i></a></h3> + + +<div class="block2"> + +<blockquote> +<p class="ij6 pmb1"><span class="smcap">Scene.</span>—<i>Rome, on the Sacred Way. The poet is walking +down the street, composing some trifle, in a +brown study, when a person, known to him only by +name, rushes up and seises his hand</i>.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block2a"> +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Bore</span> (<i>effusively</i>): How d'ye do, my dear fellow?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Horace</span> (<i>politely</i>): Nicely at present. I'm at your +service, sir. (<span class="smcap">Horace</span> <i>walks on, and as the</i> <span class="smcap">Bore</span> <i>keeps +following, tries to choke him off</i>.) You don't want anything, +do you?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Bore:</span> You must make my acquaintance, I'm a savant.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Horace:</span> Then I'll think the more of you. (<span class="smcap">Horace</span>, +<i>anxious to get away, walks fast one minute, halts the +next, whispers something to his attendant slave, and is +bathed in perspiration all over. Then, quietly to himself</i>) +Lucky Bolanus, with your hot temper!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Bore</span> (<i>whose chatter on things in general, and about +the streets of Rome in particular, has been received with +dead silence</i>): You're frightfully keen to be off. I've +noticed it all along. But it's no good. I'm going to stick +to you right through. I'll escort you from here to your +destination.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Horace</span> (<i>deprecatingly</i>): No need for you to make +such a detour. (<i>Inventing fibs as he goes along</i>) There's +someone I want to look up—a person you don't know, + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span> +on the other side of the river—yes, far away—he's confined +to bed—near Cæsar's Park.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Bore:</span> Oh, I've nothing to do, and I don't dislike exercise. +I'll follow you right there. (<span class="smcap">Horace</span> <i>is as crestfallen +as a sulky donkey when an extra heavy load is +dumped upon its back. The</i> <span class="smcap">Bore</span> <i>continues</i>) If I +know myself, you'll not value Viscus more highly as a +friend, or Varius either; for who can write verses faster, +and more of them, than I can? Who's a greater master +of deportment? As for my singing, it's enough to make +even Hermogenes jealous!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Horace</span> (<i>seizing the chance of interrupting</i>): Have +you a mother—any relatives to whom your health is of +moment?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Bore:</span> Not one left. I've laid them all to rest.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Horace:</span> Lucky people! Now I'm the sole survivor. +Do for <i>me</i>! The melancholy fate draws near which a +fortune-telling Sabellian crone once prophesied in my +boyhood: "This lad neither dread poison nor hostile +sword shall take off, nor pleurisy, nor cough, nor crippling +gout. A chatterbox will one day be his death!"</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Bore</span> (<i>realising that, as it is the hour for opening the +law course, he must answer to his recognisances, or lose +a suit to which he is a party</i>): Oblige me with your assistance +in court for a little.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Horace:</span> Deuce take me if I've strength to hang about +so long, or know any law. Besides, I'm hurrying, you +know where.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Bore:</span> I'm in a fix what to do—whether to give you +up or my case.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Horace:</span> Me, please.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Bore:</span> Shan't! (<i>Starts ahead of</i> <span class="smcap">Horace</span>, <i>who, beaten +at every point, has to follow. The other opens conversation +again</i>.) On what footing do you and Mæcenas +stand?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Horace</span> (<i>haughtily</i>): He has a select circle, and thoroughly + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span> +sound judgment.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Bore</span> (<i>unimpressed</i>): Ah! No one ever made a +smarter use of his chances. You'd have a powerful supporter, +a capable understudy, if you'd agree to introduce +your humble servant. Deuce take me if you wouldn't +clear everybody out of your way.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Horace</span> (<i>disgusted</i>): We don't live on the terms <i>you</i> +fancy. No establishment is more honest than his, or +more foreign to such intrigues. It does me no harm, I +tell you, because this one has more money or learning +than I. Everybody has his own place.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Bore:</span> A tall story—hardly believable.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Horace:</span> A fact, nevertheless.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Bore:</span> You fire my anxiety all the more to be one of +his intimate friends.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Horace</span> (<i>sarcastically</i>): You've only got to wish. +Such are <i>your</i> qualities, you'll carry him by storm.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Bore</span> (<i>on whom the irony is lost</i>): I'll not fail myself. +I'll bribe his slaves. If I find the door shut in my +face I'll not give up. I'll watch for lucky moments. I'll +meet him at street corners. I'll see him home. Life +grants man nothing without hard work.</p> + +<p class="ij5">[<i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Fuscus</span>, <i>a friend of</i> <span class="smcap">Horace</span>. <i>Knowing the</i> +<span class="smcap">Bore's</span> <i>ways, he reads the situation</i>. <span class="smcap">Horace</span> <i>furtively +tugs at</i> <span class="smcap">Fuscus's</span> <i>gown, pinches him, nods and +winks to</i> <span class="smcap">Fuscus</span> <i>to rescue him</i>. <span class="smcap">Fuscus</span> <i>smiles, and +with a mischievous fondness for a joke, pretends he +does not understand</i>.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Horace</span> (<i>angry with</i> Fuscus): Of course, you <i>did</i> say +you wanted to talk over something with me in private.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Fuscus:</span> Ah, yes, I remember; but I'll tell you at a +more convenient season. (<i>Inventing an excuse with +mock solemnity</i>.) To-day is the "Thirtieth Sabbath." +You wouldn't affront the circumcised Jews, would you?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Horace:</span> I have no scruples.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Fuscus:</span> But <i>I</i> have. I'm a slightly weaker brother—one, +of many. Pardon, I'll talk about it another time.</p> + +<p class="ij5">[<i>Exit, leaving</i> <span class="smcap">Horace</span> <i>like a victim under the knife</i>.</p> + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Horace</span> (<i>to himself</i>): To think this day should have +dawned so black for me!</p> + +<p class="ij5">[<i>Suddenly enter the</i> <span class="smcap">Plaintiff</span> <i>in the suit against the</i> +<span class="smcap">Bore</span>.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Plaintiff</span> (<i>loudly to the</i> <span class="smcap">Bore</span>): Where are you off +to, you scoundrel? (<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">HORACE</span>) May I call you as a +witness to his contempt of court?</p> + +<p class="ij5">[<span class="smcap">Horace</span> <i>lets his ear be touched, according to legal form. +The</i> <span class="smcap">Bore</span> <i>is hauled away to court, he and the</i> <span class="smcap">Plaintiff</span> +<i>bawling at each other. The arrest attracts a +large crowd</i>.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Horace</span> (<i>quietly disappearing</i>): What an escape! +Thank Apollo!</p> +</div> +<p class="pmb3" /> + + +<h3><a name="The_Art_of_Poetry" id="The_Art_of_Poetry"><i>The Art of Poetry</i></a></h3> + + +<p class="pmb2" /> + +<div class="block2"> + +<h4>UNITY AND SIMPLICITY ARE REQUISITE</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Suppose a painter to a human head<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Should join a horse's neck, and wildly spread<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The various plumage of the feather'd kind<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'er limbs of different beasts, absurdly joined.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or if he gave to view of beauteous maid<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Above the waist with every charm arrayed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But ending, fish-like, in a mermaid tail,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Could you to laugh at such a picture fail?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such is the book that, like a sick man's dreams,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Varies all shapes, and mixes all extremes.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Painters and poets our indulgence claim,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their daring equal, and their art the same."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I own the indulgence, such I give and take;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But not through nature's sacred rules to break.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your opening promises some grand design,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And purple patches with broad lustre shine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sewed on the poem; here in laboured strain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A sacred grove, or fair Diana's fane<br /></span> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Rises to view; there through delightful meads<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A murmuring stream its winding water leads.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Why will you thus a mighty vase intend,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If in a worthless bowl your labours end?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then learn this wandering humour to control,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And keep one equal tenour through the whole.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="pmb2" /> + + +<h4>THE FALSEHOOD OF EXTREMES IN STYLE</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But oft our greatest errors take their rise<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From our best views. I strive to be concise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And prove obscure. My strength, or passion, flees,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When I would write with elegance and ease.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Aiming at greatness, some to fustian soar:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some, bent on safety, creep along the shore.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus injudicious, while one fault we shun,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Into its opposite extreme we run.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="pmb2" /> + + +<h4>CHOICE OF THEME</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Examine well, ye writers, weigh with care,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What suits your genius, what your strength can bear;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For when a well-proportioned theme you choose,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor words, nor method shall their aid refuse.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="pmb2" /> + + +<h4>WORDS OLD AND NEW</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The author of a promised work must be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Subtle and careful in word-harmony.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To choose and to reject. You merit praise<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If by deft linking of known words a phrase<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Strikes one as new. Should unfamiliar theme<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Need fresh-invented terms, proper will seem<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Diction unknown of old. This licence used<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With fair discretion never is refused.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As when the forest, with the bending year,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">First sheds the leaves, which earliest appear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So an old race of words maturely dies,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And some, new born, in youth and vigour rise.<br /></span> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Many shall rise which now forgotten lie;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Others, in present credit, soon shall die,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If custom will, whose arbitrary sway<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Words and the forms of language must obey.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="pmb2" /> + + +<h4>WORDS MUST SUIT CHARACTER</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Tis not enough, ye writers, that ye charm<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With pretty elegance; a play should warm<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With soft concernment—should possess the soul,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, as it wills, the listeners control.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With those who laugh, our social joy appears;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With those who mourn, we sympathise in tears;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If you would have me weep, begin the strain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then I shall feel your sorrow, feel your pain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But if your heroes act not what they say,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I sleep or laugh the lifeless scene away.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="pmb2" /> + + +<h4>ON LITERARY BORROWING</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">If you would make a common theme your own,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dwell not on incidents already known;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor word for word translate with painful care,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor be confined in such a narrow sphere.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="pmb2" /> + + +<h4>ON BEGINNING A HEROIC POEM</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Begin your work with modest grace and plain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not in the cyclic bard's bombastic strain:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"I chant the glorious war and Priam's fate——"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How will the boaster keep this ranting rate?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The mountains laboured with prodigious throes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And lo! a mouse ridiculous arose.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Far better Homer, who tries naught in vain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Opens his poem in a humbler strain:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Muse, tell the many who after Troy subdued,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Manners and towns of various nations viewed."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Right to the great event he speeds his course,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And bears his readers, with impetuous force,<br /></span> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Into the midst of things, while every line<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Opens by just degrees his whole design.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="pmb2" /> + + +<h4>ACTION AND NARRATION IN PLAYS</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The business of the drama must appear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In action or description. What we hear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With slower passion to the heart proceeds<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than when an audience views the very deeds.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But let not such upon the stage be brought<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which better should behind the scenes be wrought;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor force the unwilling audience to behold<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What may with vivid elegance be told.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let not Medea with unnatural rage<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Murder her little children on the stage.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="pmb2" /> + + +<h4>GOOD SENSE A WELL-SPRING OF POETRY</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Good sense, the fountain of the muse's art,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let the strong page of Socrates impart;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For if the mind with clear conceptions glow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The willing words in just expressions flow.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The poet who with nice discernment knows<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What to his country and his friends he owes;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How various nature warms the human breast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To love the parent, brother, friend, or guest;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What the high duties of our judges are,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of senator or general sent to war;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He surely knows, with nice self-judging art,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The strokes peculiar to each different part.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Keep nature's great original in view,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thence the living images pursue.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For when the sentiments and manners please,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all the characters are wrought with ease,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your play, though weak in beauty, force, and art,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">More strongly shall delight, and warm the heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than where a lifeless pomp of verse appears,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And with sonorous trifles charms our ears.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="pmb2" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span></p> + + +<h4>PERFECTION CANNOT BE EXPECTED</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Where beauties in a poem faults outshine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I am not angry if a casual line<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(That with some trivial blot unequal flows)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A careless hand or human frailty shows.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then shall I angrily see no excuse<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If honest Homer slumber o'er his muse?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet surely sometimes an indulgent sleep<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'er works of length allowably may creep!<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="pmb2" /> + + +<h4>A HIGH STANDARD MUST BE EXACTED</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In certain subjects, Piso, be assured,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tame mediocrity may be endured.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But god, and man, and booksellers deny<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A poet's right to mediocrity!<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="pmb2" /> + + +<h4>ARE POETS BORN OR MADE?</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Tis long disputed whether poems claim<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From art or nature their best right to fame;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But art, if un-enriched by nature's vein,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And a rude genius of uncultured strain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are useless both: they must be fast combined<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And mutual succour in each other find.<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> +<p class="pmb3" /> + + + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<h3><a name="Odes" id="Odes"><i>Odes</i></a></h3> + + +<div class="block2"> + +<h4>A DEDICATION</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Mæcenas, sprung from regal line,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bulwark and dearest glory mine!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some love to stir Olympic dust<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With glowing chariot-wheels which just<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Avoid the goal, and win a prize<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fit for the rulers of the skies.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One joys in triple civic fame<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Conferred by fickle Rome's acclaim;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Another likes from Libya's plain<br /></span> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span> +<span class="i0">To store his private barns with grain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A third who, with unceasing toil,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hoes cheerful the paternal soil,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No promised wealth of Attalus<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall tempt to venture timorous<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sailing in Cyprian bark to brave<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The terrors of Myrtoan wave.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Others in tented fields rejoice,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Trumpets and answering clarion-voice.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Be mine the ivy, fair reward,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which blissful crowns the immortal bard;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Be mine amid the breezy grove,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In sacred solitude to rove—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To see the nymphs and satyrs bound,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Light dancing in the mazy round,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While all the tuneful muses join<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their various harmony divine.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Count me but in the lyric choir—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My crest shall to the stars aspire.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="pmb2" /> + + +<h4>TO PYRRHA</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What slender youth bedewed with liquid odours<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Courts thee on roses in some pleasant cave,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Pyrrha? For whom bind'st thou<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In wreaths thy golden hair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Plain in thy neatness? Oh, how oft shall he<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On faith and changed gods complain, and seas<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Rough with black winds, and storms<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Unwonted shall admire!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who now enjoys thee credulous, all gold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who always vacant, always amiable<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Hopes thee, of flattering gales<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Unmindful. Hapless they<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To whom thou untried seem'st fair. Me, in my vowed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Picture, the sacred wall declares to have hung<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My dank and dropping weeds<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To the stern god of sea.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="pmb2" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span></p> + + +<h4>WINTER CHEER</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Seest thou yon mountain laden with deep snow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The groves beneath their fleecy burthen bow,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The streams congealed, forget to flow?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Come, thaw the cold, and lay a cheerful pile<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of fuel on the hearth;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Broach the best cask and make old winter smile<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With seasonable mirth.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">This be our part—let Heaven dispose the rest;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">If Jove commands, the winds shall sleep<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That now wage war upon the foamy deep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And gentle gales spring from the balmy west.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">E'en let us shift to-morrow as we may:<br /></span> +<span class="i4">When to-morrow's passed away,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">We at least shall have to say,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">We have lived another day;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your auburn locks will soon be silvered o'er,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Old age is at our heels, and youth returns no more.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="pmb2" /> + + +<h4>"GATHER YE ROSEBUDS WHILE YE MAY"</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Secure those golden early joys,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That youth unsoured with sorrow bears,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ere withering time the taste destroys<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With sickness and unwieldy years.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For active sports, for pleasing rest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This is the time to be possessed;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The best is but in season best.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The appointed tryst of promised bliss,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The pleasing whisper in the dark,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The half-unwilling willing kiss,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The laugh that guides thee to the mark,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the kind nymph would coyness feign,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And hides but to be found again—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">These, these are joys the gods for youth ordain.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="pmb2" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span></p> + + +<h4>GOD AND EMPEROR</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Saturnian Jove, parent and guardian god<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of human kind, to thee the Fates award<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The care of Cæsar's reign; to thine alone<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Inferior, let his empire rise.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whether the Parthian's formidable power<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or Indians or the Seres of the East,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With humbled pride beneath his triumph fall,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wide o'er a willing world shall he<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Contented rule, and to thy throne shall bend<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Submissive. Thou in thy tremendous car<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shalt shake Olympus' head, and at our groves<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Polluted hurl thy dreadful bolts.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="pmb2" /> + + +<h4>THE STRENGTH OF INNOCENCE</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The man of life, unstained and free from craft,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ne'er needs, my Fuscus, Moorish darts to throw;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He needs no quiver filled with venomed shaft,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Nor e'er a bow.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Whether he fare thro' Afric's boiling shoals,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or o'er the Caucasus inhospitable,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or where the great Hydaspes river rolls,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Renowned in fable.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Once in a Sabine forest as I strayed<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Beyond my boundary, by fancy charmed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Singing my Lalage, a wolf, afraid,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Shunned me unarmed.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The broad oak-woods of hardy Daunia,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Rear no such monster mid their fiercest scions,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor Juba's arid Mauretania,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The nurse of lions.<br /></span> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Set me where, in the heart of frozen plains,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">No tree is freshened by a summer wind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A quarter of the globe enthralled by rains,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And Jove unkind;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Or set me 'neath the chariot of the Sun,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where, overnear his fires, no homes may be;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'll love, for her sweet smile and voice, but one—<br /></span> +<span class="i4">My Lalage.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="pmb2" /> + + +<h4>TRANQUILLITY</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Should fortune frown, live thou serene;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor let thy spirit rise too high,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though kinder grown she change the scene;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Bethink thee, Delius, thou must die.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Whether thy slow days mournful pass,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or swiftly joyous fleet away,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While thou reclining on the grass<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Dost bless with wine the festal day.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Where poplar white and giant pine<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ward off the inhospitable beam;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where their luxuriant branches twine,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where bickers down its course the stream,<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Here bid them perfumes bring, and wine,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the fair rose's short-lived flower,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While youth and fortune and the twine<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Spun by the Sisters, grant an hour.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">We all must tread the path of Fate,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And ever shakes the fateful urn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose lot embarks us, soon or late,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On Charon's boat—beyond return.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="pmb2" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span></p> + + +<h4>TO A FAIR DECEIVER</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Did any punishment attend<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thy former perjuries,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I should believe a second time,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thy charming flatteries:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Did but one wrinkle mark thy face<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or hadst thou lost one single grace.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">No sooner hast thou, with false vows,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Provoked the powers above,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But thou art fairer than before,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And we are more in love.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus Heaven and Earth seem to declare<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They pardon falsehood in the fair.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The nymphs, and cruel Cupid too,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sharpening his pointed dart<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On an old home besmeared with blood,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Forbear thy perjured heart.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fresh youth grows up to wear thy chains,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the old slave no freedom gains.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="pmb2" /> + + +<h4>THE GOLDEN MEAN</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The man who follows Wisdom's voice,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And makes the Golden Mean his choice,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor plunged in squalid gloomy cells<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Midst hoary desolation dwells;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor to allure the envious eye<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rears a proud palace to the sky;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The man whose steadfast soul can bear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fortune indulgent or severe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hopes when she frowns, and when she smiles<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With cautious fear eludes her wiles.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="pmb2" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span></p> + + +<h4>TO THE FOUNTAIN OF BANDUSIA</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Bandusia's Well, that crystal dost outshine,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Worthy art thou of festal wine and wreath!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An offered kid to-morrow shall be thine,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whose swelling brows his earliest horns unsheath.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And mark him for the feats of love and strife.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In vain: for this same youngling from the fold<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of playful goats shall with his crimson life<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Incarnadine thy waters fresh and cold.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The blazing Dog-star's unrelenting hour<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Can touch thee not: to roaming herd or bulls<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'erwrought by plough, thou giv'st a shady bower,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thou shalt be one of Earth's renowned pools!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For I shall sing thy grotto ilex-crowned,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whence fall thy waters of the babbling sound.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="pmb2" /> + + +<h4>TO THE GOD FAUNUS</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O Faun-god, wooer of each nymph that flees,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Come, cross my land! Across those sunny leas,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tread thou benign, and all my flock's increase<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Bless ere thou go.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In each full year a tender kid be slain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If Venus' mate, the bowl, be charged amain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With wine, and incense thick the altar stain<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of long ago.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The herds disport upon the grassy ground,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When in thy name December's Nones come round;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Idling on meads the thorpe, with steers unbound,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Its joys doth show.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Amid emboldened lambs the wolf roams free;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The forest sheds its leafage wild for thee;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thrice the delver stamps his foot in glee<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On earth, his foe.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="pmb2" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span></p> + + +<h4>AN ENVOI</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now have I reared memorial to last<br /></span> +<span class="i0">More durable than brass, and to o'ertop<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The pile of royal pyramids. No waste<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of rain or ravening Boreas hath power<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To ruin it, nor lapse of time to come<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the innumerable round of years.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I shall not wholly die; great part of me<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall 'scape the Funeral Goddess. Evermore<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fresh shall my honours grow, while pontiffs still<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Do climb the Capitol with silent maid.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It shall be told where brawls the Aufidus<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In fury, and where Daunus poor in streams<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Once reigned o'er rural tribes, it shall be told<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That Horace rose from lowliness to fame<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And first adapted to Italian strains<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Æolian lay. Assume the eminence,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My own Melpomene, which merit won,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And deign to wreath my hair in Delphic bays.<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> +<p class="pmb2" /> + + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span></p> +<p class="pmb3" /> + + +<h2><a name="VICTOR_HUGOI" id="VICTOR_HUGOI">VICTOR HUGO</a><span class="font08"><a name="FNanchor_I_9" id="FNanchor_I_9"></a><a href="#Footnote_I_9" class="fnanchor">[I]</a></span></h2> +<p class="pmb2" /> + + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<h2><a name="Hernani" id="Hernani">Hernani</a></h2> + + +<h3><i>Persons in the Drama</i></h3> + +<div class="block3"> +<table border="0" cellspacing="2" cellpadding="2" class="tdl" summary="Table of contents"> + <colgroup> <col width="50%" /> <col width="50%" /> </colgroup> + <tr> + <td><p class="ij3 smcap">Hernani</p></td> + <td><p class="ij3 smcap">A Mountaineer</p></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td><p class="ij3 smcap">Charles V. of Spain</p></td> + <td><p class="ij3 smcap">A Page</p></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td><p class="ij3 smcap">Don Ricardo</p></td> + <td><p class="ij3 smcap">Soldiers</p></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td><p class="ij3 smcap">Don Ruy Gomez</p></td> + <td><p class="ij3 smcap">Conspirators</p></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td><p class="ij3 smcap">Doña Sol</p></td> + <td><p class="ij3 smcap">Retainers</p></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td colspan="2" align="center"><p class="ij3">Date of action, 1519.</p></td> + </tr> +</table> + +</div> +<p class="pmb3" /> + + +<h3><span class="smcap">Act I</span></h3> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="ij6 pmb1"><span class="smcap">Scene</span>—<span class="smcap">King Charles</span> <i>and some of his noblemen are +creeping into the courtyard of the palace of</i> <span class="smcap">Don +Ruy Gomez de Silva</span> <i>at Saragossa. It is midnight, +and the palace is dark, save for a dim light coming +from a balcony window</i>.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block2"> +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">The King:</span> Here will I wait till Doña Sol comes down.<br /> +Guard every entrance. And if Hernani<br /> +Attempts to fight you need not kill the man.<br /> +Brigand although he is, he shall go free,<br /> +If I can win his lady.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Don Ricardo:</span> Shoot the hawk<br /> +If you would keep the dove. The mountaineer<br /> +Is a most desperate outlaw.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">The King:</span> Let him live.<br /> +If I were not so passionately in love<br /> +With Doña Sol I would help Hernani<br /> +To rescue her from her old guardian.<br /> +To think that Don Ruy Gomez should have kept<br /> +So beautiful a girl a prisoner,<br /> +And tried to marry her! Had Hernani<br /> +Eloped with her before I fell in love<br /> +I would have praised his courage.</p> + +<p class="ij5">[<i>The balcony window opens, and as the noblemen retire</i>, +<span class="smcap">Doña Sol</span> <i>comes down</i>.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Doña Sol:</span> Hernani!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">The King</span> (<i>holding her</i>): Sweet Doña Sol.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Doña Sol:</span> Oh, where is Hernani?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">The King:</span> I am the king, King Charles. I worship you,<br /> +And I will make you happy.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Doña Sol:</span> Hernani!<br /> +Help! Help me, Hernani! [<i>She tries to escape</i>.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">The King:</span> I am your king!<br /> +I love you, Doña Sol. Come, you shall be<br /> +A duchess.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Doña Sol:</span> No.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">The King:</span> Princess.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Doña Sol:</span> No.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">The King:</span> Queen of Spain!<br /> +Yes; I will marry you if you will come.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Doña Sol:</span> I cannot; I love Hernani.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">The King:</span> That brigand is not worthy of you. A throne<br /> +Is waiting. If you will not come with me,<br /> +My men must carry you away by force.</p> + +<p class="ij5">[<i>While he is talking</i> <span class="smcap">Hernani</span> <i>appears</i>.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Hernani:</span> King Charles, you are a coward and a cur!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Doña Sol</span> (<i>clasping him</i>): Save me!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Hernani:</span> I will, my love.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">The King:</span> Where are my men?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Hernani:</span> In my hands. I have sixty followers<br /> +Waiting out there. And now a word with you.<br /> +Your father killed my father; you have stolen<br /> +My lands and titles from me; and I vowed<br /> +To kill you.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">The King:</span> Titles? Lands? Who are you, then?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Hernani:</span> But meeting Doña Sol, I lost all thought<br /> +Of vengeance. Now I come to rescue her,<br /> +And find you in my path again—a wretch<br /> +Using his strength against a helpless girl.<br /> +Quick! Draw your sword, and prove you are a man!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">The King:</span> I am your king. I shall not fight with you.<br /> +Strike if you want to murder me.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Hernani:</span> You think<br /> +I hold with the divinity of kings?<br /> +Now, will you fight?</p> + +<p class="ij5">[<i>Striking him with the flat of his sword</i>.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">The King:</span> I will not. Murder me,<br /> +You bandit, as you murder every man<br /> +That you desire to rob! Cross swords with you?<br /> +A common thief? No; get to your trade.<br /> +Creep round; assassinate me from behind!</p> + +<p class="ij5">[<span class="smcap">King Charles</span> <i>fixes his fierce, hawk-like eyes on the +young brigand.</i> <span class="smcap">Hernani</span> <i>recoils, lowers his sword; +then, moved beyond himself by the strength of character</i> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span> +<i>displayed by</i> <span class="smcap">The King</span>, <i>he breaks his blade on +the pavement.</i></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Hernani:</span> Be off, then.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">The King:</span> Very well, sir. I shall set<br /> +A price upon your head, and hound you down.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Hernani:</span> I cannot kill you now, with Doña Sol<br /> +Looking at us. But I will keep my vow<br /> +When next we meet.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">The King:</span> Never shall you obtain<br /> +Mercy, respite, or pardon at my hands.</p> + +<p class="ij5">[<i>He departs.</i></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Doña Sol:</span> Now let us fly.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Hernani:</span> No; I must go alone.<br /> +It means death! Did you see King Charles's face?<br /> +It means death. Oh, my love, my sweet, true love!<br /> +You would have shared with me the wild, rough life<br /> +I lead up in the mountains: the green couch<br /> +Beneath the trees, the water from the brook.<br /> +But now I shall be hunted down and killed.<br /> +You must not come. Good-bye.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Doña Sol:</span> Oh, Hernani!<br /> +Will you leave me like this?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Hernani:</span> No, I will stay!<br /> +Fold your arms closely round me, love, and rest<br /> +Your dear head on my shoulder. Let us talk<br /> +In whispers, as we used to, when I came<br /> +At night beneath your window. Do you still<br /> +Remember our first meeting?</p> + +<p class="ij5">[<i>There is a clash of bells.</i></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Doña Sol:</span> Hernani,<br /> +It is the tocsin!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Hernani:</span> No; our wedding-bells.</p> + +<p class="ij5">[<i>Shouts are heard. Lights appear in all the windows.<br /> +The noise of the bells grows louder. A mountaineer<br /> +runs in, with his sword drawn.</i></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">The Mountaineer:</span> The streets are filled with soldiers.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Doña Sol:</span> Save yourself!<br /> +Here is a side gate.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">The Crowd</span> (<i>out in the street</i>): Bring the brigand out!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Hernani:</span> One kiss, then, and farewell.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Doña Sol</span> (<i>embracing him</i>): It is our first.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Hernani:</span> And it may be our last. Farewell, my love!</p> +</div> + + +<h3><span class="smcap">Act II</span></h3> + +<blockquote> +<p class="ij6 pmb1"><span class="smcap">Scene</span>—<span class="smcap">Don Ruy Gomez</span>, <i>an old, grey-haired, but superb-looking +man, is standing in the hall of his castle +in the Aragon mountains.</i></p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block2"> +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Don Ruy Gomez:</span> Only an hour, and then she is my wife!<br /> +I have been jealous and unjust, and used<br /> +Some violence. But now she is my bride<br /> +She shall know how a man can love.</p> + +<p class="ij5">[<i>A</i> <span class="smcap">Page</span> <i>enters.</i></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Page:</span> My lord,<br /> +There is a pilgrim at the gate, who craves<br /> +For shelter.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Don Ruy Gomez:</span> Let him in. On this glad day<br /> +Give friend or stranger welcome. Is there news<br /> +Of Hernani?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Page:</span> King Charles has routed him<br /> +And killed him, so they say.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Don Ruy Gomez:</span> Thank Heaven for that!<br /> +My cup of happiness is full. Run, boy!<br /> +Bid Doña Sol put on her wedding-gown,<br /> +And as you go admit my pilgrim guest.</p> + +<p class="ij5">[<i>The</i> <span class="smcap">Page</span> <i>retires.</i></p> + +<p>Would I could let the whole world see my joy!</p> + +<p class="ij5">[<span class="smcap">Hernani</span> <i>enters, disguised as a pilgrim.</i></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Hernani:</span> To you, my lord, all peace and happiness!</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Don Ruy Gomez:</span> And peace and happiness to you, my guest!<br /> +Where are you bound for?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Hernani:</span> For Our Lady's shrine.</p> + +<p class="ij5">[<span class="smcap">Doña Sol</span> <i>enters, arrayed in a wedding-dress.</i></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Don Ruy Gomez:</span> Here is the lady at whose shrine I pray.<br /> +My dearest bride! Where is your coronet?<br /> +You have forgotten it, and all the gems<br /> +I gave you as a wedding gift.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Hernani</span> (<i>in a wild, loud voice</i>): What man<br /> +Wishes to gain ten thousand golden crowns?<br /> +This is the price set upon Hernani.</p> + +<p class="ij5">[<i>Everyone is amazed. Tearing off his pilgrim robe, he<br /> +shows himself in the dress of a mountaineer.</i></p> + +<p class="it1">I am Hernani.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Doña Sol:</span> Ah! he is not dead!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Hernani:</span> Ten thousand crowns for me!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Don Ruy Gomez:</span> The sum is great.<br /> +I am not sure of all my men.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Hernani:</span> Which one<br /> +Will sell me to King Charles? Will you? Will you?</p> + +<p class="ij5">[<i>The retainers move away from him.</i> <span class="smcap">Doña Sol</span> <i>makes +an imploring gesture; she is speechless with fear.</i></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Don Ruy Gomez:</span> My friend, you are my guest, and I will slay<br /> +The man that dare lay hands on you. I come<br /> +Of noble race. And were you Hernani<br /> +Or Satan, I would keep the sacred law<br /> +Of hospitality. My honour is<br /> +A thing I prize above all else on earth,<br /> +And King Charles shall not stain it while I live!<br /> +Come, men, and arm, and close the castle gate.</p> + +<p class="ij5">[<i>He goes out, followed by all his retainers.</i> <span class="smcap">Doña Sol</span> +<i>remains, her face white with anguish.</i> <span class="smcap">Hernani</span> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span> +<i>glares at her</i>.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Hernani:</span> So he has bought you, this old wealthy man!<br /> +Bought you outright!<br /> +Oh, God, how false and vain<br /> +All women are!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Doña Sol:</span> When I refused the throne<br /> +Offered me by King Charles, was I then false?<br /> +Is this an ornament vain women wear<br /> +Upon their wedding day?</p> + +<p class="ij5">[<i>She takes a dagger from her bosom.</i></p> + +<p>Oh, Hernani,<br /> +They told me you were killed! I have been dressed<br /> +For marriage, but against the bridal night<br /> +I kept this dagger.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Hernani:</span> Slay me with it, love!<br /> +I am unworthy of you! Blind and mad<br /> +Was I to doubt the sweetest, bravest soul<br /> +That ever walked in beauty on this earth.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Doña Sol</span> (<i>clasping him in her arms</i>): My hero and my lover, and my lord,<br /> +Love me, and love me always!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Hernani:</span> Unto death.</p> + +<p class="it1">[<i>As he embraces her,</i> <span class="smcap">Don Ruy Gomez</span> <i>enters.</i></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Don Ruy Gomez:</span> Judas!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Hernani:</span> Yes. Draw your sword and take my life.<br /> +But spare your bride, for she is innocent.<br /> +I came to carry her away, but she<br /> +Refused to follow me.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Doña Sol:</span> It is not true.<br /> +I love him. Slay us both, or pardon us!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Don Ruy Gomez:</span> You love him, Doña Sol? Then he must die.</p> + +<p class="ij5">[<i>There is a sound of trumpets outside. A</i> <span class="smcap">Page</span> <i>enters.</i></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">The Page:</span> His Majesty King Charles is at the gate,<br /> +With all his army.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Don Ruy Gomez:</span> Open to the king!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Doña Sol:</span> Nothing can save him now!</p> + +<p class="ij5">[<span class="smcap">Don Ruy Gomez</span> <i>presses a spring in the wall, and a +door opens into a hiding-place.</i></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Don Ruy Gomez</span> (<i>to</i> <span class="smcap">Hernani</span>): Here you are safe.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Hernani:</span> Surrender me! I am a prisoner now,<br /> +And not a guest.</p> + +<p class="ij5">[<i>He enters the hiding-place.</i> <span class="smcap">Don Ruy Gomez</span> <i>closes it.</i></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">The Page:</span> His Majesty, the King!</p> + +<p class="ij5">[<span class="smcap">King Charles</span> <i>enters, followed by his soldiers.</i> <span class="smcap">Doña +Sol</span> <i>covers herself hastily in her bridal veil.</i></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">The King</span> (<i>to the soldiers</i>): Seize all the keys, and guard the gates!<br /> +(<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Don Ruy Gomez</span>) My lord,<br /> +I hear that you are sheltering my foe,<br /> +The brigand Hernani.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Don Ruy Gomez:</span> Sire, that is true.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">The King:</span> I want his head—or yours.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Don Ruy Gomez:</span> He is my guest.<br /> +I come of men who are not used to sell<br /> +The head of any guest, even to their king.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">The King:</span> Why, man, he is your rival! You resolved<br /> +To help me hunt him down. You gave your word.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Don Ruy Gomez:</span> But now he is my guest.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">The King:</span> He shall be found,<br /> +Though every stone in all your castle walls<br /> +Fall ere I find him.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Don Ruy Gomez:</span> Raze my castle, then;<br /> +I cannot play the traitor.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">The King:</span> Well, two heads<br /> +Are better, some men say, than one. My lord,<br /> +I must have yours as well as Hernani's.<br /> +Arrest this man!</p> + +<p class="ij5">[<i>As the soldiers come forward</i>, <span class="smcap">Doña Sol</span> <i>throws up her +veil and strides up hastily to</i> <span class="smcap">King Charles</span>.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Doña Sol:</span> You are a wicked and cruel king!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">The King:</span> What? Doña Sol? (<i>In a whisper</i>)<br /> +It is my love for you<br /> +That stirs in me this passion. You alone<br /> +Can calm it. (To <span class="smcap">Don Ruy Gomez</span>)<br /> +Until you deliver up<br /> +Hernani, I shall keep your lovely ward<br /> +As hostage.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Doña Sol</span> (<i>taking the dagger, and hiding it again in<br /> +her bosom</i>): It will save him! I must go!</p> + +<p class="ij5">[<i>She goes up to</i> <span class="smcap">King Charles</span> <i>and he leads her out.</i></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Don Ruy Gomez</span> <i>runs to the wall to press the +spring.</i> <span class="smcap">Doña Sol</span> <i>turns as she passes through the +door, and stops him by a wild glance. He waits, +with heaving breast, till the hall is empty, and then +lets</i> <span class="smcap">Hernani</span> <i>out.</i></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Don Ruy Gomez:</span> The king is gone. Here are two swords. Now fight.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Hernani:</span> No! You have saved me! No. I cannot fight.<br /> +My life belongs to you. But ere I die<br /> +Let me see Doña Sol.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Don Ruy Gomez:</span> Did you not hear<br /> +What happened? Till I give you up, King Charles<br /> +Holds her as hostage.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Hernani:</span> Fool! He loves her.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Don Ruy Gomez:</span> Quick!<br /> +Call up my men! To horse! Pursue the king!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Hernani:</span> Leave it to me. I will avenge us both.<br /> +My way is best—a dagger in the dark.<br /> +Let us go forth on foot and track him down.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Don Ruy Gomez:</span> And when your rival dies?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Hernani</span> (<i>taking a horn from his belt</i>): Then claim your debt!<br /> +My life belongs to you. At any time<br /> +You wish to take it, sound upon this horn,<br /> +And I will kill myself.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Don Ruy Gomez:</span> Your hand on it!</p> + +</div> + +<p class="pmb2" /> + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span></p> + + +<h3><span class="smcap">Act III</span></h3> + +<blockquote> +<p class="ij6 pmb1"><span class="smcap">Scene</span>—<span class="smcap">Charles of Spain</span>, <i>who has just been elected +Emperor of the Holy Roman Empire, is kneeling +by the tomb of Charlemagne in the underground +vault at Aix-la-Chapelle.</i></p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block2"> +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Charles:</span> O mighty architect of Christendom,<br /> +Inspire me now to carry on thy work!<br /> +Ah, let me with the lightning of thy sword<br /> +Smite the rebellious people down, and make<br /> +Their kings my footstool! Warrior of God!<br /> +Give me the power to subjugate and weld<br /> +The warring races in a hierarchy<br /> +Of Christian government throughout the world!</p> + +<p class="ij5">[<i>The tramp of many feet is heard.</i></p> + +<p>Here my assassins come! Oh, let me creep,<br /> +Thou mighty spirit, into thy great tomb!<br /> +Counsel me from thy ashes; speak to me;<br /> +Instruct me how to rule with a strong hand,<br /> +And punish these wild men as they deserve!</p> + +<p class="ij5">[<i>He hides in the tomb: the</i> <span class="smcap">Conspirators</span> <i>enter.</i></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Their Leader:</span> Since Charles of Spain aims at a tyranny,<br /> +We, whom he threatens with his power, must use<br /> +The only weapon of defence still left—<br /> +Assassination! Here, before the tomb<br /> +Of Charlemagne, let us decide by lot<br /> +On whom the noble task shall fall to strike<br /> +The tyrant down.</p> + +<p class="ij5">[<i>The</i> <span class="smcap">Conspirators</span> <i>write their names on pieces of +parchment, and throw them into an urn. They kneel +down in silent prayer. Then their leader draws one +of the names.</i></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">The Conspirators:</span> Who is it?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Their Leader:</span> Hernani.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Hernani:</span> I have won! I hold thee now at last!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Don Ruy Gomez:</span> No, I must strike the blow!<br /> +Take back your life,<br /> +Take Doña Sol, but let me strike the blow!</p> + +<p class="ij5">[<i>He offers</i> <span class="smcap">Hernani</span> <i>the horn.</i></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Hernani:</span> No! I have more than you have to avenge.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Their Leader:</span> Don Ruy Gomez de Silva, you shall strike<br /> +The second blow if the first fail. And now<br /> +Let us all swear to strike and die in turn,<br /> +Until Charles falls.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">The Conspirators:</span> We swear!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Charles</span> (<i>coming out of the tomb</i>): You are dead men.</p> + +<p class="ij5">[<i>The great vault is lighted up by torches, and a band of +soldiers who have been hiding behind the pillars +surround the</i> <span class="smcap">Conspirators</span>.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Charles</span> (<i>to a soldier</i>): Bring in the lady. (<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Hernani</span>)<br /> +What is your true name?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Hernani:</span> I will reveal it now that I must die.<br /> +Don Juan of Aragon, Duke of Segorbe,<br /> +Duke of Cardona, Marquis of Monroy,<br /> +Count Albatera, and Viscount of Gor,<br /> +And lord of scores of towns and villages<br /> +Whose names I have forgotten. You, no doubt,<br /> +Remember all of them, Charles of Castile,<br /> +For they belong to you now.</p> + +<p class="ij5">[<i>The soldier returns with</i> <span class="smcap">Doña Sol</span>. <i>She throws herself +at the emperor's feet</i>.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Doña Sol:</span> Pardon him!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Charles:</span> Rise, Duchess of Segorbe and Cardona.<br /> +Marquise of Monroy—and your other names, Don Juan?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Hernani:</span> Who is speaking thus—the king?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Charles:</span> No. It is the emperor. He is a man<br /> +Different from the king (<i>turning to the astonished</i> <span class="smcap">Conspirators</span>); and he will win<br /> +Your loyalty, my friends, and your good aid,<br /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span> +If God in His great mercy will but guide<br /> +His erring feet along the pathway trod<br /> +By Charlemagne. Don Juan of Aragon,<br /> +Forgive me, and receive now from my hands<br /> +A wife full worthy of you, Doña Sol.</p> + +<p class="ij5">[<i>The two lovers kneel at his feet. Taking from his neck +the Golden Fleece, he puts it on</i> <span class="smcap">Hernani</span>.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">The Spectators:</span> Long live the emperor.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Don Ruy Gomez:</span> I have the horn.</p> + +</div> +<p class="pmb2" /> + + +<h3><span class="smcap">Act IV</span></h3> + +<blockquote> +<p class="ij6 pmb1"><span class="smcap">Scene</span>—<i>A terrace by the palace of Aragon. It is midnight, +and the guests are departing from the marriage +feast of</i> <span class="smcap">Hernani</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Doña Sol</span>.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block2"> +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Doña Sol:</span> At last, my husband, we are left alone.<br /> +How glad I am the feast and noise is done—<br /> +Are over.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Hernani:</span> I, too, am weary of the loud, wild joy.<br /> +Happiness is a deep and quiet thing,<br /> +As deep and grave and quiet as true love.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Doña Sol:</span> Yes, happiness and love are like a strain<br /> +Of calm and lovely music. Hernani,<br /> +Listen! (<i>The sound of a mountain horn floats on the air.</i>)<br /> +It is some mountaineer that plays<br /> +Upon your silver horn. [<span class="smcap">Hernani</span> <i>staggers back.</i></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Hernani:</span> The tiger comes!<br /> +The old, grey tiger! Look! In the shadows there!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Doña Sol:</span> What is it frightens you?</p> + +<p class="ij5">[<i>The horn sounds again.</i></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Hernani:</span> He wants my blood! I cannot!</p> + +<p class="ij5">[<span class="smcap">Don Ruy Gomez</span> <i>enters, playing on the horn like a madman.</i></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Don Ruy Gomez:</span> So you have not kept your word.<br /> +"My life belongs to you. At any time<br /> +You wish to take it, sound upon this horn<br /> +And I will kill myself." You are forsworn!</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Hernani:</span> I have no weapon on me.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Don Ruy Gomez</span> (<i>offering a dagger and a phial</i>):<br /> +Which of these<br /> +Do you prefer?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Hernani:</span> The poison.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Doña Sol:</span> Are you mad?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Hernani:</span> He saved my life at Aragon. I gave<br /> +My word of honour I would kill myself<br /> +When he desired.</p> + +<p class="ij5">[<i>He raises the phial to his lips, but his wife wrests it +from him.</i></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Doña Sol</span> (<i>to her guardian</i>): Why do you desire<br /> +To kill my husband?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Don Ruy Gomez:</span> I have sworn no man<br /> +Shall marry you but me. I keep my oath!</p> + +<p class="ij5">[<i>With a wild gesture</i> <span class="smcap">Doña Sol</span> <i>drinks half of the +poison, and hands</i> <span class="smcap">Hernani</span> <i>the rest.</i></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Doña Sol:</span> You are two cruel men. Drink, Hernani,<br /> +And let us go to sleep!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Hernani</span> (<i>emptying the phial</i>): Kiss me, my sweet.<br /> +It is our bridal night.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Doña Sol</span> (<i>falling beside him on the ground</i>): Fold me, my love,<br /> +Close in your arms. [<i>They die.</i></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Don Ruy Gomez:</span> Oh, I am a lost soul!</p> + +<p class="ij5 pmb3">[<i>He kills himself.</i></p> +</div> + +<div class="footnotes"><span class="font11"><b>FOOTNOTES:</b></span><br /> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_I_9" id="Footnote_I_9"></a><a href="#FNanchor_I_9"><span class="label">[I]</span></a> Victor Hugo (see Vol. V, p. 122) occupies an anomalous +position among the great dramatists of the world. He is really a poet +with a splendid lyrical inspiration; but he combines this in his plays +with an acquired but effective talent for stage-craft. "Hernani" is the +most famous play in the European literature of the nineteenth century. +This is partly due to the fact that it was the first great romantic +drama given on the French stage. When it was produced, on February 25, +1830, there was a fierce battle in the theatre between the followers +of the new movement and the adherents of the classic school of French +playwriting. Little of the play itself was heard on the first night. +The voices of the players were drowned in a storm of denunciations +from the classicists, and counter-cheers from the romanticists. The +admirers of Victor Hugo won. "Hernani" is certainly the most romantic +of romantic dramas. The plot is striking, and full of swift and +astonishing changes, but the characters are not always true to life. +Nevertheless, "Hernani" is a fine, interesting, poetic melodrama, with +a rather weak last act. The gloomy scene with which it closes lacks +the inevitability of true tragedy. Had the play ended happily it would +undoubtedly have retained its popularity.</p> +</div></div> +<p class="pmb3" /> + + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span></p> + + +<h2><a name="Marion_de_LormeJ" id="Marion_de_LormeJ">Marion de Lorme</a><span class="font08"><a name="FNanchor_J_10" id="FNanchor_J_10"></a><a href="#Footnote_J_10" class="fnanchor">[J]</a></span></h2> + + +<p class="pmb2" /> +<h3><i>Persons in the Drama</i></h3> + +<div class="block3"> +<table border="0" cellspacing="2" cellpadding="2" class="tdl" summary="Persons - Marion de Lorme"> + <colgroup> <col width="30%" /> <col width="30%" /> <col width="30%" /> </colgroup> + <tr> <td colspan="3"><p class="ij3 smcap">Marion de Lorme</p></td> </tr> + <tr> <td colspan="3"><p class="ij3 smcap">Didier</p></td> </tr> + <tr> <td colspan="3"><p class="ij3 smcap">Louis XIII.</p></td> </tr> + <tr> <td colspan="3"><p class="ij3 smcap">The Marquis de Saverny</p></td> </tr> + <tr> <td colspan="3"><p class="ij3 smcap">The Marquis de Nangis</p></td> </tr> + <tr> <td colspan="3"><p class="ij3 smcap">The Comte de Gasse</p></td> </tr> + <tr> <td colspan="3"><p class="ij3 smcap">Brichanteau</p></td> </tr> + <tr> <td colspan="3"><p class="ij3"><span class="smcap">L'Angely</span>, <i>the King's Jester</i></p></td> </tr> + <tr> + <td><p class="ij3 smcap">Rochebaron</p></td> + <td colspan="2"><p class="ij3 smcap">Laffemas</p></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td><p class="ij3 smcap">Town Crier</p></td> + <td><p class="ij3 smcap">Headsman</p></td> + <td><p class="ij3 smcap">Two Workmen</p></td> + </tr> + <tr> <td colspan="3"><p class="ij3 center smcap"><span class="smcap">Soldiers</span>, <span class="smcap">Officials</span>, <i>and a crowd of people</i></p></td> </tr> +</table> +</div> +<p class="pmb3" /> + + +<h3><span class="smcap">Act I</span></h3> + +<blockquote> +<p class="ij6 pmb1"><span class="smcap">Scene</span>—<i>A street in Blois in 1638. Some officers are +sitting in the twilight outside a tavern, chatting, +smoking, and drinking. They rise up to welcome +the</i> <span class="smcap">Comte de Gasse</span>.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block2a"> +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Brichanteau:</span> You come to Blois to join the regiment?<br /> +We all condole with you. What is the news<br /> +From Paris?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Gasse:</span> The duel has come in again. Richelieu<br /> +Is furious.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Rochebaron:</span> That's no news. We duel here,<br /> +To pass the time away.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Gasse:</span> But have you heard<br /> +Of the incredible, mysterious flight<br /> +Of Marion de Lorme?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Brichanteau:</span> We have some news,<br /> +Gasse, for you. Marion is here.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Gasse:</span> At Blois?<br /> +You jest! The Queen of Beauty? Marion<br /> +In a place like this?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Brichanteau:</span> Saverny was attacked<br /> +Last night by footpads. They were killing him,<br /> +When a man beat them off, and took our friend<br /> +Into a house.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Gasse:</span> But Marion de Lorme?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Brichanteau:</span> It was her house. Saverny's rescuer<br /> +Was the young man with whom she is in love.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Rochebaron:</span> What is the man like?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Brichanteau:</span> Ask Saverny that.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">The Town Crier</span> (<i>arriving with a crowd</i>):<br /> +"Ordinance. Louis, by the grace of God,<br /> +King of France and Navarre, unto all men,<br /> +To whom these presents come, greeting! We will,<br /> +Ordain, and rule, henceforward, that all men,<br /> +Nobles or commoners, who break the law<br /> +By duelling, whether one survive or two,<br /> +Shall be hanged by the neck till they are dead.<br /> +Such is our good pleasure."</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Gasse:</span> Hang us like thieves.</p> + +<p class="ij5">[<i>Two officers of the town fix the edict to the wall, and +the</i> <span class="smcap">Crier</span> <i>and the crowd depart.</i> <span class="smcap">Saverny</span> <i>enters. +The street grows dark.</i></p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Saverny:</span> Fair Marion de Lorme has left her house.<br /> +I cannot find her.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Gasse:</span> What was the man like?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Saverny:</span> I do not know. On entering the house<br /> +I recognised sweet Marion, and began<br /> +To speak to her. Before I could turn round<br /> +And thank the man to whom I owed my life,<br /> +He knocked the candle over. I withdrew,<br /> +Seeing I was not wanted. All I know<br /> +Is that his name is Didier.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Rochebaron:</span> It smacks<br /> +Of vulgar origin. To think a man<br /> +With such a name should carry Marion off—<br /> +Marion, the queen of beauty and of love!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Saverny:</span> There may be men with greater names, but none<br /> +With greater hearts. To leap from Marion's arms,<br /> +And fight with footpads for a stranger's life!<br /> +The thing's heroic! I owe Didier<br /> +A debt that I would pay, if need there was,<br /> +With all my blood. I wish he were my friend!</p> + +<p class="ij5"><span class="smcap">[L'Angely</span>, <i>the King's jester—a mournful-looking creature—comes +and sits with the officers. He is followed +by a tall, pale, handsome young man. It is</i> +<span class="smcap">Didier</span>.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Didier:</span> The Marquis of Saverny! So the fop<br /> +Called himself. Oh, the easy, impudent air<br /> +With which he spoke to Marie! And I saved<br /> +The creature's life. If I meet him again——</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Gasse:</span> Saverny!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Didier:</span> Here's my man.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Gasse:</span> Have you observed<br /> +The edict against duelling, on pain<br /> +Of hanging?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Saverny:</span> Hanging? Hang a gentleman?<br /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span> +You jest! That is a punishment for serfs.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Brichanteau:</span> Well, read the edict underneath the lamp.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Saverny</span> (<i>annoyed at</i> <span class="smcap">Didier</span> <i>for staring at him</i>):<br /> +Go, read it for me, pale face!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Didier:</span> I?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Saverny:</span> Yes, you.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Didier</span> (<i>rising</i>): It is an ordinance that punishes<br /> +By gibbeting all squabbling noblemen.<br /> +Having done all you wanted, may I claim<br /> +A slight reward? Will you now fight with me?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Saverny:</span> Certainly. Where?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Didier:</span> Here. Who will lend a sword?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">L'Angely:</span> For this wild folly, take a fool's sword, friend,<br /> +And in exchange, bequeath to me, for luck,<br /> +The bit of rope that hangs you.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Didier</span> (<i>taking his sword</i>): Now, marquis!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Saverny:</span> Sir, at your service.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Didier:</span> Guard!</p> + +<p class="ij5">[<i>As their swords clash,</i> <span class="smcap">Marion de Lorme</span> <i>appears.</i></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Marion</span> (<i>seeing</i></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Didier</span> <i>fighting</i>): Stop! Help! Help! Help!</p> + +<p class="ij5">[<i>In answer to her cries the town guard arrive.</i></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">The Captain of the Guard:</span> Down with your swords! What! Duelling beneath<br /> +The edict of the king! You are dead men.</p> + +<p class="ij5">[<span class="smcap">Didier</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Saverny</span> <i>are disarmed and led away.</i></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Marion:</span> What has he done?</p> + +<p class="ij5">[<span class="smcap">L'Angely</span> <i>points to the edict: she reads it.</i><br /> +Oh, when I called for help<br /> +Death came! Is there no way to rescue him?<br /> +The king is kind at heart, he will forgive——</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">L'Angely:</span> But Richelieu will not! He loves red blood,<br /> +The scarlet cardinal, he loves red blood!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Marion:</span> You frighten me! Who are you?</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">L'Angely:</span> The king's fool.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Marion:</span> Ah, Didier! If a woman's feeble hand<br /> +Can save you, mine shall do it! [<i>She departs</i>.</p> + +<p class="it1 pmb3"><span class="smcap">L'Angely</span> (<i>picking up the sword he lent to</i> Didier):<br /> +Ha! Ha! Ha!<br /> +It was not I that played the fool to-night!</p> +</div> +<p class="pmb2" /> + + +<h3><span class="smcap">Act II</span></h3> + +<blockquote> +<p class="ij6 pmb1"><span class="smcap">Scene</span>—<i>A hall in the castle of Chambord.</i> <span class="smcap">King Louis +XIII.</span>, <i>a grey-haired, weak-minded man, is sitting, +pale and sorrowful, in a chair of state.</i> <span class="smcap">L'Angely</span> +<i>stands beside him.</i></p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block2a"> +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">The King:</span> Oh, it is miserable to be a king<br /> +That lives but does not govern. Richelieu<br /> +Is killing all my friends. I sometimes think<br /> +He wants their blood to dye his scarlet robes.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">L'Angely:</span> He works for France, sire——</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">The King:</span> Yes, and for himself.<br /> +I hate him. Never did a king of France<br /> +Govern with so tyrannical a hand<br /> +As he now does. A single word from me<br /> +And all his pomp and splendour, all his power,<br /> +Would vanish. But I cannot say the word;<br /> +He will not let me. Come, amuse me, fool!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">L'Angely:</span> Is not life, sire, a thing of bitterness?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">The King:</span> It is. Man is a shadow.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">L'Angely:</span> And a king<br /> +The miserablest creature on this earth.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">The King:</span> It gives me pleasure when you speak like that.<br /> +I wish that I were dead. In all the world<br /> +You are the only man I ever found<br /> +Worth listening to. I often wonder why<br /> +You care to live. What are you? A poor fool—<br /> +A puppet that I jerk to make me laugh.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">L'Angely:</span> I live on out of curiosity.<br /> +The puppet of the king, I sit and watch<br /> +The antics of the puppet of the priest!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">The King:</span> Yes, that is what I am. You speak the truth.<br /> +Could Satan not become a cardinal,<br /> +And take possession of my very soul?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">L'Angely:</span> I think that's what has happened.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">The King:</span> He loves blood,<br /> +The cardinal! It was the Huguenots<br /> +Yesterday that he wanted to behead,<br /> +And now it is the duellists. Blood! Blood!<br /> +He cannot live unless he lives in blood.</p> + +<p class="ij5">[<span class="smcap">L'Angely</span> <i>makes a sign.</i> <span class="smcap">Marion de Lorme</span> <i>and the</i> +<span class="smcap">Marquis de Nangis</span> <i>enter.</i></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Marion:</span> Pardon!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">The King:</span> For whom?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Marion:</span> Didier.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Nangis:</span> And the Marquis of Saverny.<br /> +They are two boys of twenty years of age—<br /> +Two children—they were quarrelling, when some spies<br /> +Posted by Richelieu ...</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Marion:</span> Pardon them, my king!<br /> +You will have pity on them. Two young boys,<br /> +Caught in a boyish quarrel! No blood shed.<br /> +You will not kill my Didier for that!<br /> +You will not! Oh, you will not!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">The King</span> (<i>wiping the tears from his eyes</i>): Richelieu<br /> +Has ordered that all duellists be hanged.<br /> +You make my head ache. Go. Leave me!<br /> +It must be so, for he has ordered it.</p> + +<p class="ij5">[<span class="smcap">L'Angely</span> <i>signs to</i> <span class="smcap">Marion</span> <i>to hide herself in the dark +hall. She does so.</i> <span class="smcap">Nangis</span> <i>goes out.</i></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">The King</span> (<i>yawning</i>): I wish they would not come and worry me.<br /> +Amuse me, L'Angely, for I am sad.<br /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span> +Can you not talk to me of death again?<br /> +That is a pleasant subject. Your gay talk<br /> +Alone enables me to bear with life.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">L'Angely:</span> Sire, I have come to say farewell to you.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">The King:</span> Farewell? You cannot leave me! Only death<br /> +Can end your service to a king.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">L'Angely:</span> 'Tis death<br /> +That ends it. You condemn me to be hanged,<br /> +Since you refuse to pardon those two boys.<br /> +For it was I who made them fight. I lent<br /> +My sword to Didier.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">The King</span> (<i>sadly</i>): Oh, my poor fool!<br /> +So they will break your neck as well! Farewell!<br /> +Life will be dull without you. When you die,<br /> +L'Angely, come and tell me how it feels,<br /> +If you can, as some dead men do return<br /> +In ghostly form to earth.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">L'Angely</span> (<i>to himself</i>): A pleasant task!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">The King:</span> No! It would frighten me if you came back.<br /> +You must not die. L'Angely, do you think<br /> +That I could master Richelieu, if I wished?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">L'Angely:</span> Try!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">The King:</span> Some paper!</p> + +<p class="ij5">[<span class="smcap">L'Angely</span> <i>gives him some; he hurriedly scrawls a few +words, and hands the writing to the fool.</i></p> + +<p>I have pardoned all of you.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">L'Angely</span> (<i>running to</i> <span class="smcap">Marion</span>): Here is the pardon.<br /> +Thank the king for it.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">The King</span> (<i>as</i> <span class="smcap">Marion</span> <i>throws herself at his feet</i>):<br /> +I must not! Give the paper back to me!<br /> +Richelieu will be angry.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Marion</span> (<i>thrusting the pardon in her bosom</i>): You must tear<br /> +My heart out ere you take it from me, sire!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">The King</span> (<i>lowering his eyes, dazzled by her beauty</i>):<br /> +Are you a sorceress? You frighten me!<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span> +Keep it and go!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Marion</span> (<i>as she departs</i>): My Didier is saved!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">The King:</span> At last I have shown Cardinal Richelieu<br /> +That I am King of France—</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">L'Angely:</span> Who in a fright<br /> +Made a mistake, and once did what was right!</p> +</div> +<p class="pmb2" /> + + +<h3><span class="smcap">Act III</span></h3> + +<blockquote> +<p class="ij6 pmb1"><span class="smcap">Scene</span>—<i>A field by the castle of Beaugenoy. A great gap +has been made in the outer wall, through which +looms the castle-keep. Two workmen are covering +the gap with a vast black cloth.</i></p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block2a"> +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">A Workman:</span> If they would hang the two young gentlemen<br /> +Outside the wall, the cardinal could see<br /> +The execution without breaking down<br /> +The ramparts in this way.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">His Mate:</span> Could he not come<br /> +Through the great gate?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">A Workman:</span> What! In a litter borne<br /> +By four-and twenty men? No! Richelieu<br /> +Travels in greater state than any king.<br /> +He enters, like a conqueror, through the breach<br /> +Made in the castles of our noblemen.<br /> +He means to kill them all, they say.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">His Mate:</span> And now<br /> +He comes in his great litter through this wall,<br /> +To see these poor boys hanged? What cruelty!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">A Workman:</span> Now come and see the gallows we have built.</p> + +<p class="ij5">[<i>As they depart,</i> <span class="smcap">Marion</span> <i>arrives at the castle gate. She +knocks, but before the door opens,</i> <span class="smcap">Laffemas</span>, +<span class="smcap">Richelieu's</span> <i>agent, gallops up.</i></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Marion:</span> An order from the king.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">The Gatekeeper:</span> You cannot pass.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Laffemas:</span> An order from the cardinal.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">The Gatekeeper:</span> Pass in.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Marion:</span> I have a pardon for two prisoners!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Laffemas:</span> And I the document revoking it!<br /> +The cardinal is coming here to-night<br /> +To see the execution. It is fixed<br /> +For nine o'clock.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Marion:</span> Then there is no more hope!<br /> +Oh, God! Oh, God! My Didier must die!<br /> +Nothing can save him!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Laffemas:</span> You can, Marion.<br /> +Yes, you can still! I will let Didier escape<br /> +If, Marion, you will——</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Marion:</span> No!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Laffemas:</span> Then he dies!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Marion:</span> And if he lives, I lose him. (<i>A long silence.</i>)<br /> +He shall live.</p> + +<p class="ij5">[<i>She goes into the castle with</i> <span class="smcap">Laffemas</span>. <span class="smcap">Didier</span> <i>and</i> +<span class="smcap">Saverny</span> <i>appear, guarded by the jailer and his men. +It is now night.</i></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">The Jailer</span> (<i>in a whisper to</i> <span class="smcap">Saverny</span>): You can<br /> +escape. The Marquis of Nangis<br /> +Has made all preparations for the flight.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Saverny:</span> For both of us?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">The Jailer:</span> No; only you. And that<br /> +May cost me my own life.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Saverny:</span> Well, save my friend.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">The Jailer:</span> I cannot.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Saverny:</span> Then I must remain with him.<br /> +(<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Didier</span>) They will hang us, friend, to-night.</p> + +<hr class="tb" /> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Didier:</span> Are you sure,<br /> +Saverny, she is Marion de Lorme?<br /> +On your honour, are you sure?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Saverny:</span> Yes, I am.<br /> +I cannot understand you, Didier.<br /> +Are you not proud to think that you have made<br /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span> +So great a conquest?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Didier:</span> And I thought she was<br /> +As innocent as she was beautiful!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Saverny:</span> She loves you. You should be content with that.<br /> +You will not die while Marion de Lorme<br /> +Lives. And I hope that she will not forget<br /> +I am your friend, but come and save me, too.</p> + +<p class="ij5">[<i>It grows darker</i> <span class="smcap">Saverny</span> <i>falls asleep.</i> <span class="smcap">Marion</span> +<i>comes out of the gate carrying a bundle, and accompanied +by</i> <span class="smcap">Didier</span>.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Marion:</span> Put on these clothes. Richelieu has arrived;<br /> +Can you not hear the guns announcing him?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Didier:</span> Raise your eyes! Raise your eyes, and look at me!<br /> +What sort of man, think you, am I? A fool,<br /> +Or libertine?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Marion</span> (<i>trembling, as she fixes her eyes passionately<br /> +on his</i>): I love you Didier,<br /> +More than my life. Your eyes are terrible.<br /> +What have I done? Am I not your Marie?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Didier:</span> Marie? Or Marion de Lorme?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Marion:</span> Didier,<br /> +Forgive me! I—I—meant to tell you all.<br /> +I feared to lose you if you learnt my name.<br /> +You had redeemed me by your love. I longed<br /> +To raise all memories of my former self,<br /> +And live a new life with you, Didier.<br /> +For, oh, I love you, and I love you still,<br /> +Deeply and truly! Didier, be kind,<br /> +Or you will kill me!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Didier:</span> How have you obtained<br /> +This favour for me? Why is Laffemas<br /> +Risking his neck by letting me escape?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Marion:</span> Not now! I cannot tell you now!<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span>Fly! Fly!<br /> +Hark, they are coming! Do not stop to speak.<br /> +Save yourself!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Didier:</span> No; I have no wish to live!<br /> +Thank God, here is the headsman!</p> + +<p class="ij5">[<i>A</i> <span class="smcap">Headsman</span>, <i>carrying his axe, appears with a crowd +of soldiers, officials, and</i> <span class="smcap">Saverny</span>.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Marion</span> (<i>falling to the earth</i>): Didier!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Saverny:</span> What a shame<br /> +To rob me of my sleep!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">The Headsman</span> (<i>grimly</i>): The time has come<br /> +To put you both to bed.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Saverny</span> (<i>gaily</i>): A headsman! Good!<br /> +I like the axe much better than the rope.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Didier</span> (<i>embracing him</i>): Good-bye, my friend!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Marion</span> (<i>clinging to him</i>): And me! Didier, me!<br /> +Will you not say good-bye to me?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Didier</span> (<i>wildly, as the soldiers drag him off</i>): No! No!<br /> +My heart is breaking! Oh, Marie, Marie!<br /> +I love you. I was wrong!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Marion:</span> You pardon me?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Didier:</span> I ask your pardon. Think of me sometimes.<br /> +Good-bye, my darling. [<i>He is dragged behind the wall.</i></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">An Official</span> (<i>catching</i> <span class="smcap">Marion</span> <i>in his arms as she falls</i>):<br /> +All hope is not lost.<br /> +Look, here is Richelieu! Go and plead with him.</p> + +<p class="ij5">[<i>The castle guns are fired. The cloth, hiding the great +breach in the wall, drops. The</i> <span class="smcap">Cardinal</span> <i>comes +in his gigantic scarlet litter, borne by twenty-four +footguards. Scarlet curtains conceal him from the +shouting mob.</i></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Marion</span> (<i>dragging herself on her knees to the litter</i>):<br /> +In the name of God, oh, my Lord Cardinal,<br /> +Pardon these two poor boys!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">A Voice</span> (<i>from the litter</i>): No pardon!</p> + +<p class="ij5 pmb3">[<i>The litter passes on, and the crowd surges through the +wall after it</i>. <span class="smcap">Marion</span> <i>is left alone.</i></p> +</div> +</div> + + +<div class="footnotes"><span class="font11"><b>FOOTNOTES:</b></span> + +<div class="footnote"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_J_10" id="Footnote_J_10"></a><a href="#FNanchor_J_10"><span class="label">[J]</span></a> Victor Hugo wrote "Marion de Lorme" in 1829, three months +before he composed "Hernani." King Charles X., however, +refused to license the play, because of the terrible way in which +his ancestor, Louis XIII., was portrayed in it. But after the +Revolution of 1830, and the success of "Hernani," the forbidden +drama was produced on the stage. Its original title was "A +Duel Under Richelieu." The whole play is built around the +frustrated duel in which two young men engage against the +edict of the great cardinal. This economy of stage-craft makes +"Marion de Lorme" a superior work, in point of construction, +to "Hernani." And though it may be less picturesque than that +more famous example of the romantic drama, it is on the whole +a finer effort of genius.</p> +</div></div> +<p class="pmb3" /> + + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span></p> + + + +<h2><a name="Ruy_BlasK" id="Ruy_BlasK">Ruy Blas</a><span class="font08"><a name="FNanchor_K_11" id="FNanchor_K_11"></a><a href="#Footnote_K_11" class="fnanchor">[K]</a></span></h2> + + +<p class="pmb2" /> +<h3><i>Persons in the Drama</i></h3> + +<div class="block3"> +<table border="0" cellspacing="2" cellpadding="2" class="tdl" summary="Persons - Ruy Blas"> + <colgroup> <col width="45%" /> <col width="10%" /> <col width="45%" /> </colgroup> + <tr> + <td colspan="2"><p class="ij3 smcap">Don Sallust de Bazan</p></td> + <td><p class="ij3"><i>President of the Magistrates</i></p></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td colspan="2"><p class="ij3 smcap">Ruy Blas</p></td> + <td><p class="ij3"><i>Lackey to Don Sallust</i></p></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td colspan="2"><p class="ij3 smcap">Don Cesar de Bazan</p></td> + <td><p class="ij3"><i>Cousin to Don Sallust</i></p></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td><p class="ij3 smcap">Don Manuel Arias</p></td> + <td><p class="ij3 center">}</p></td> + <td rowspan="2"><p class="ij3"><i>Counsellors</i></p></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td><p class="ij3 smcap">The Count of Camporeal</p></td> + <td><p class="ij3 center">}</p></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td colspan="3"><p class="ij3"><span class="smcap">Doña Maria</span>, Queen of Spain</p></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td colspan="3"><p class="ij3 center"><i>A crowd of</i> Spanish Grandees, Counsellors, <i>and</i> Alguazils</p></td> + </tr> +</table> +</div> +<p class="pmb3" /> + + +<div class="block2"> +<h3><span class="smcap">Act I</span></h3> + +<blockquote> +<p class="ij6 pmb1"><span class="smcap">Scene</span>—<i>A room in the palace of King Charles II., at +Madrid, about 1695.</i></p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block2a"> +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Don Sallust:</span> So, after twenty years of constant toil,<br /> +And twenty years of honour and high power,<br /> +The weak hand of a woman strikes me down<br /> +Into the dust. Dishonoured and exiled!<br /> +And by the queen, a foolish, foreign girl<br /> +Ignorant of our ways, who has no fear<br /> +Because she has no knowledge. Had she guessed<br /> +I had so many weapons of revenge<br /> +That I am now perplexed which one to use,<br /> +She would have been more careful. Poisoning,<br /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span> +Of course, is easy; and when she was dead<br /> +I could retrieve the power that I have lost.<br /> +But I would rather crush and conquer her<br /> +Some other way; make her a very slave<br /> +Obedient to my slightest wish, and rule<br /> +The country in her name. The king is mad,<br /> +And she will soon be regent. (<i>Calling</i>) Ruy Blas!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Ruy Blas</span> (<i>appearing at the door</i>): Sir?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Don Sallust:</span> Order my men to gather up and pack<br /> +My papers, books and documents! I leave<br /> +The palace at the break of day. But you<br /> +Must wait here till the queen comes through this room<br /> +At morning, on her way to mass. Who's that?</p> + +<p class="ij4">[<span class="smcap">Don Cesar</span> <i>enters, and he and</i> <span class="smcap">Ruy Blas</span> <i>look at +each other in surprise. Then, seeing he is not +wanted, the lackey departs.</i></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Don Cesar:</span> Well, here I am, dear cousin! Have you found,<br /> +After a search of twenty years, a post<br /> +Worthy of me? Upon the principle<br /> +Of setting thieves to capture thieves, I'd make<br /> +A splendid captain of your alguazils!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Don Sallust:</span> I know all your remarkable exploits,<br /> +My cousin. Were I not chief magistrate,<br /> +Your murders, thefts, and acts of brigandage<br /> +Would long since have been punished, and Don Cesar,<br /> +Count of Garofa—</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Don Cesar:</span> He died years ago.<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span> +I now am Zafari.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Don Sallust:</span> Zafari can die,<br /> +And Cesar, Count of Garofa, revive,<br /> +And dazzle all the ladies of the court<br /> +With his fine presence, and the wealth I'll give,<br /> +If he will serve me, as a cousin should,<br /> +Boldly and faithfully.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Don Cesar:</span> Ah, this sounds well.<br /> +Give me a hundred ducats to begin,<br /> +And I am your man! What do you want of me?<br /> +Some rival quietly despatched?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Don Sallust:</span> I need<br /> +A daring, gallant and ambitious man<br /> +To help me to avenge myself.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Don Cesar:</span> On whom?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Don Sallust:</span> A woman.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Don Cesar:</span> I have fallen very low,<br /> +Don Sallust, but I have not come to that.<br /> +Murder may be my trade, but to bring down<br /> +A woman by a dastardly intrigue<br /> +Is something I would never stoop to do!<br /> +I am a wolf, maybe, but not a snake!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Don Sallust:</span> Give me your hand, my cousin! You have come<br /> +Out of the ordeal I prepared for you<br /> +Better than I expected.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Don Cesar:</span> Then this plot<br /> +Against a woman——</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Don Sallust:</span> Merely was a test.<br /> +I'll give you now the money you require.<br /> +A hundred ducats, was it? I will fetch them.</p> + +<p class="ij4">[<i>He departs, and signs to</i> <span class="smcap">Ruy Blas</span> <i>to enter.</i></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Don Cesar:</span> I knew you in your strange disguise, Ruy Blas.<br /> +What are you doing here?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Ruy Blas:</span> Ah, Zafari!<br /> +Hunger has now compelled me to adopt<br /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span> +The livery of a lackey. Don Sallust<br /> +To-night engaged me as his servitor,<br /> +And brought me here. And I came, Zafari,<br /> +Because—— (<i>He hesitates.</i>)</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Don Cesar:</span> You wanted food!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Ruy Blas:</span> No. It was love<br /> +I hungered for.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Don Cesar:</span> There are some pretty maids<br /> +In this great palace.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Ruy Blas:</span> I am mad, mad, mad!<br /> +I am in love, Zafari, with the queen—<br /> +I, a lackey. Night after night I creep<br /> +Into the royal park, and leave some flowers<br /> +Upon her favourite seat. This evening<br /> +I put a letter with them.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Don Cesar:</span> My poor friend,<br /> +You certainly are mad!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Don Sallust</span> (<i>opening the door slightly and pointing<br /> +out</i> <span class="smcap">Don Cesar</span> <i>to three armed alguazils as he<br /> +whispers</i>): That is the man. Arrest him when he leaves.<br /> +And kill him quickly. [<i>He then enters the room, and<br /> +gives a purse to</i> <span class="smcap">Don Cesar</span>, <i>saying:</i> Here is what<br /> +you want.<br /> +Call on me to-morrow.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Don Cesar</span> (<i>giving</i> <span class="smcap">Ruy Blas</span> <i>half the ducats</i>):<br /> + Come with me.<br /> +Be a free man again.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Don Sallust</span> (<i>in an aside</i>): The devil!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Ruy Blas</span> (<i>refusing the money</i>): No;<br /> +I never shall be a free man again.<br /> +My heart is captive; I must stay on here.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Don Cesar:</span> Well, each man to his fate. Your hand, old friend!</p> + +<p class="ij4">[<i>After shaking hands, he goes out—to his doom.</i></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Don Sallust:</span> No one has seen you yet, I think, Ruy Blas,<br /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span> +Clad in this livery?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Ruy Blas:</span> No one, my lord.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Don Sallust:</span> Good! Shut the doors, and put on this attire.</p> + +<p class="ij4">[<i>Bringing out the costume of a nobleman of high +rank, he helps his lackey to dress in it.</i></p> + +<p>Splendid! You have a very gallant air,<br /> +And you will make a perfect nobleman.<br /> +Now listen. I've your interests at heart,<br /> +And if you will obey me faithfully,<br /> +You shall succeed in all that you desire.<br /> +But stay. There is a letter I must send<br /> +Before I leave Madrid. Write it for me.</p> + +<p class="ij4">[<span class="smcap">Ruy Blas</span> <i>sits down at the table, and</i> <span class="smcap">Don Sallust</span> +<i>dictates to him:</i></p> + +<p>"My life is in great danger. You alone<br /> +Can save me. Come this evening to my house.<br /> +No one will recognise you if you use<br /> +The side-door by the corner." Now sign it<br /> +"Cesar," the name I commonly employ<br /> +In love affairs.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Ruy Blas:</span> Shall I address the note?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Don Sallust:</span> Ah, no! I must deliver it myself.<br /> +Hark! There is someone coming. 'Tis the Queen!</p> + +<p class="ij4">[<i>Dragging</i> <span class="smcap">Ruy Blas</span> <i>with him, he opens the door, +and says to the noblemen surrounding the</i> <span class="smcap">QUEEN:</span></p> + +<p class="pmb3">Allow me to present to you, my friends,<br /> +Don Cesar, Count of Garofa, my cousin.</p> +</div> + + +<h3><span class="smcap">Act II</span></h3> + +<blockquote> +<p class="ij6 pmb1"><span class="smcap">Scene.</span>—<i>The Hall of Government in the palace at Madrid, +six months after. The Privy Counsellors are +sitting,—among them</i> <span class="smcap">Don Manuel Arias</span> <i>and the</i> +<span class="smcap">Count of Camporeal</span>.</p> +</blockquote> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span></p> + +<div class="block2a"> +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Don Manuel:</span> How quickly he has climbed to supreme power!<br /> +General Secretary, Minister,<br /> +And now Duke of Olmedo!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Camporeal:</span> It is strange,<br /> +A cousin of that fallen president,<br /> +Don Sallust, could have won to such a height<br /> +Within six months!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Don Manuel:</span> The queen reigns over us<br /> +And he reigns, over her.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Camporeal:</span> That is not so.<br /> +Don Cesar never sees the queen alone.<br /> +I know it. I have had them watched by spies.<br /> +They shun each other. Do you know, he lives<br /> +By Tormez mansion, in a shuttered house,<br /> +With two black mutes to wait on him?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Don Manuel:</span> Two mutes!<br /> +He is, indeed, a terrible, strange man.<br /> +And now to business! We must re-arrange<br /> +Some of the taxes and monopolies.<br /> +We want a fair division.</p> + +<p class="ij4">[<i>All the</i> <span class="smcap">Counsellors</span> <i>seat themselves.</i></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">A Counsellor:</span> I must have<br /> +The salt monopoly.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Camporeal:</span> No; that is mine!<br /> +You have the tax upon the trade in slaves.<br /> +I'll change that for the arsenic, if you like.</p> + +<p class="ij4">[<span class="smcap">Ruy Blas</span> <i>has entered at the beginning of the dispute: +after listening some time he comes forward</i>.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Ruy Blas:</span> You vile, rapacious gang of quarrelling thieves!<br /> +What! Can you rob the dead? Here by the grave<br /> +Of the great empire that was Spain, you sit,<br /> +Like greedy vultures, preying on her corpse!<br /> +We were the conquerors of the world, but now<br /> +Our army dwindled to four thousand men<br /> +That never get their arms, their food, their pay,<br /> +Is but a mob of brigands, and they live<br /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span> +By pillaging their wretched countrymen.<br /> +Our hardy peasantry is crushed beneath<br /> +A load of taxes and monopolies,<br /> +But not a ducat of the revenue<br /> +Is spent on Spain. Bankrupt in wealth and power,<br /> +Dead to all sense of honour, justice, right,<br /> +She lies, while you, you foul hyenas, snarl<br /> +Over her stricken body.</p> + +<p class="ij4">[<i>Turning to the</i> <span class="smcap">Count of Camporeal</span>, <i>and the</i> +<span class="smcap">Counsellor</span> <i>who was quarrelling with him, he says +sternly:</i></p> + +<p class="it1"> Let me not see<br /> +Either of you again at court.</p> + +<p class="ij4">[<i>As they depart</i>, <span class="smcap">Ruy Blas</span> <i>speaks to the other +consternated</i> <span class="smcap">Counsellors:</span></p> + +<p class="it1"> Every man<br /> +Who will not serve Spain honestly must go.<br /> +If there are any who will work with me<br /> +In building up our country's power and fame,<br /> +On equal laws for rich and poor alike,<br /> +I shall be pleased to meet them in this room<br /> +In two hours' time.</p> + +<p class="ij4">[<i>All the</i> <span class="smcap">CounsellorS</span> <i>go out, bowing low to</i> <span class="smcap">Ruy +Blas</span> <i>as they pass by him. When he is alone, the</i> +<span class="smcap">Queen</span> <i>comes from behind the tapestry; her face +is radiant with joy.</i></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">The Queen:</span> You spoke to them as I would like to speak<br /> +Were I a man. Oh, let me take, dear Duke,<br /> +This loyal hand, so strong, and so sincere.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Ruy Blas:</span> How did you hear me, madam?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">The Queen</span> (<i>showing a secret door</i>): In this place<br /> +That Philip made to watch his counsellors.<br /> +How often have I seen poor Carlos here,<br /> +Listening to the villains robbing him,<br /> +And ruining the state!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Ruy Blas:</span> What did he say?</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">The Queen:</span> Nothing, but it drove him mad at last.<br /> +But you! How masterful you were! The voice<br /> +With which you thundered still rings in my ears.<br /> +I raised the tapestry to look at you.<br /> +You towered above them terrible and great,<br /> +A king of men! What was it that inspired<br /> +Such fury in you?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Ruy Blas:</span> Love for you, my queen!<br /> +If Spain falls, you will fall with it. But I<br /> +Will save it for your sake. Oh, I am mad!<br /> +I love you! Love you with a love that eats<br /> +The life out of me! God! What shall I do?<br /> +Die? Shall I die? Pardon me! Pardon me!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">The Queen:</span> No, live! Live for your country, and your queen!<br /> +Both of us need you. For the last six months<br /> +I have been watching from my hiding-place<br /> +Your struggle with my treacherous counsellors,<br /> +And seeing in you the master-mind of Spain, have, without consulting you, advanced<br /> +Your interests. And now your strong, pure hands<br /> +Grasp all the reins of government and power,<br /> +Perform the work entrusted unto you!<br /> +Rescue our people from their misery.<br /> +Raise Spain up from her grave; restore to her<br /> +The strength that made her empress of the world;<br /> +And love me as I love you—</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Ruy Blas:</span> Oh, my queen!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">The Queen:</span> With a pure, steady, honourable love,<br /> +Working and waiting with a patient heart<br /> +Till I am free to marry you. Farewell!</p> + +<p class="ij4 pmb3">[<i>She kisses him on the brow, and departs by the secret door.</i></p> +</div> + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span></p> + + +<h3><span class="smcap">Act III</span></h3> + +<blockquote> +<p class="ij6 pmb1"><span class="smcap">Scene.</span>—<i>A small, dark room in the house lent by</i> <span class="smcap">Don +Sallust</span> <i>to</i> <span class="smcap">Ruy Blas</span>. <i>It is late at night, and</i> <span class="smcap">Ruy +Blas</span> <i>is pacing up and down in a state of wild agitation.</i></p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block2a"> +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Ruy Blas:</span> I only am a pawn with which he plays<br /> +Against the queen. He seeks to ruin her<br /> +By means of me. No! I will save her yet.<br /> +Save her and lose her! Cunning though you are,<br /> +Don Sallust, you have overlooked one thing;<br /> +Even a lackey will lay down his life<br /> +To save a noble woman whom he loves<br /> +From ruin and dishonour.</p> + +<p class="ij4">[<i>Going to the table, he pours something into glass.</i></p> + +<p> Oh, my queen!<br /> +Never more shall we meet upon this earth.</p> + +<p class="ij4">[<i>As he raises the glass to his lips,</i> <span class="smcap">The Queen</span> <i>enters.</i></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">The Queen:</span> Don Cesar!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Ruy Blas:</span> Oh, my God, my God!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">The Queen:</span> Fear not.</p> +I shall protect you.<br /> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Ruy Blas:</span> What has brought you here?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">The Queen:</span> Your letter, Cesar.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Ruy Blas:</span> Letter? I have sent<br /> +No letter.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">The Queen:</span> What is this, then? Look and read.</p> + +<p>[<i>She gives him the note he wrote for</i> <span class="smcap">Don Sallust</span> <i>as +his lackey.</i></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Ruy Blas</span> (<i>reading it</i>): "My life is in great danger.<br /> +You alone can save me."</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">The Queen</span> (<i>continuing</i>): "Come this evening to my house.<br /> +No one will recognise you if you use<br /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span> +The side door by the corner." Here's your name, "Cesar."</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Ruy Blas:</span> Go! Go! It is a plot against you.<br /> +I cannot now explain. Fly for your life!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">The Queen:</span> But you are in great danger. No! I'll stay,<br /> +And help you, Cesar.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Ruy Blas:</span> Go, I tell you! Go!<br /> +The letter is not mine. Who let you in?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Don Sallust</span> (<i>striding into the room</i>): I did.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Ruy Blas:</span> Go, madam, while the way is clear.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Don Sallust:</span> It is too late. Doña Maria is<br /> +No longer Queen of Spain.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">The Queen</span> (<i>in terror</i>): What, then, am I?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Don Sallust:</span> A lady who has sold her throne for love.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Ruy Blas:</span> No!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Don Sallust</span> (<i>whispering to</i> <span class="smcap">Ruy Blas</span>): I am working in your interests.<br /> +(<i>Aloud to</i><span class="smcap">The Queen</span>) Now listen, madam. I have found you here,<br /> +Alone with Cesar, in his room, at night.<br /> +This conduct—in a queen—would lead the Pope—<br /> +Were the fact published—to annul your marriage.<br /> +Why not avoid the scandal?</p> + +<p class="ij4">[<i>Taking a parchment from his pocket, he presents it to</i> +<span class="smcap">The Queen</span>.</p> + +<p> Sign this deed<br /> +Admitting everything, and we can keep<br /> +All the proceedings secret. I have put<br /> +Plenty of money in the coach that waits<br /> +Outside the door. Ride off in it and take<br /> +Cesar with you, to France or Portugal.<br /> +No one will stop you. But if you refuse<br /> +Everything shall be published. Here's a pen.</p> + +<p class="ij4">[<i>He leads the terrified</i> <span class="smcap">Queen</span> <i>to a writing-table, and +puts a pen in her hand.</i> <span class="smcap">Ruy Blas</span> <i>stands in a corner, +motionless and bewildered.</i></p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">The Queen:</span> Oh, I am lost! Lost, and yet innocent!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Don Sallust:</span> You lose a crown; but think of what you gain—<br /> +A life of love and peace and happiness.<br /> +Don Cesar loves you, and is worthy of you.<br /> +A man of noble race; almost a prince.</p> + +<p class="ij4">[<span class="smcap">The Queen</span> <i>is about to sign, but</i> <span class="smcap">Ruy Blas</span> <i>snatches +the pen from her hand, and tears up the parchment.</i></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Ruy Blas:</span> You must not sign it! This man lies to you.<br /> +I am Ruy Blas, a common serving-man.</p> + +<p class="ij4">[<i>Turning fiercely on</i> <span class="smcap">Don Sallust</span>.</p> + +<p>No more of it, I say! I'll have no more!<br /> +You mean, contemptible scoundrel! Tell the truth!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Don Sallust:</span> This creature is, in fact, my serving-man,<br /> +Only he has blabbed too soon.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">The Queen:</span> Great Heavens!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Don Sallust:</span> No matter. My revenge is good enough.<br /> +What do you think of it? Madrid will laugh!<br /> +You exiled me, my lady; brought me down<br /> +Into the dust. I'll drag you from the throne<br /> +And hold you up—the laughing-stock of Spain!</p> + +<p class="ij4">[<i>While he is speaking</i> <span class="smcap">Ruy Blas</span> <i>silently bolts the door; +then, creeping behind</i> <span class="smcap">Don Sallust</span>, <i>he snatches his +sword from the scabbard.</i></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Ruy Blas:</span> Insult the queen again, you wretch, and I<br /> +Will kill you where you stand. You foul, black snake,<br /> +Crawl in the further room and say your prayers.</p> + +<p class="ij4">[<span class="smcap">Don Sallust</span> <i>rushes towards the outer door;</i> <span class="smcap">Ruy +Blas</span> <i>pushes him back at the sword's point.</i></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">The Queen:</span> You are not going to slay him?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Ruy Blas:</span> This affair<br /> +Must be now settled once for all. Go in!</p> + +<p class="ij4">[<i>This to</i> <span class="smcap">Don Sallust</span>, <i>whom he has now almost +driven into the further room.</i></p> + +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Don Sallust:</span> Give me a sword, and let us fight it out.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Ruy Blas:</span> Surely a nobleman would never stoop<br /> +To fight a duel with his serving-man?<br /> +No! I am going to kill you like a dog!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">The Queen:</span> Spare him!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Don Sallust:</span> Help! Murder! Help!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Ruy Blas:</span> Have you done?</p> + +<p class="ij4">[<span class="smcap">Don Sallust</span> <i>leaps at</i> <span class="smcap">Ruy Blas</span>, <i>and the two men reel +into the further room, and the door closes behind +them.</i> <span class="smcap">The Queen</span> <i>covers her face.</i></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">The Queen:</span> Oh, God!</p> + +<p class="ij4">[<i>There is a silence.</i> <span class="smcap">Ruy Blas</span> <i>returns without the +sword.</i></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Ruy Blas</span> (<i>falling on his knees</i>): Pardon me, madam, pardon me!<br /> +I am less guilty than I seem. At heart,<br /> +I am an honest man. My love for you<br /> +Led me into the trap that villain laid.<br /> +Will you not pardon me?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">The Queen:</span> No!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Ruy Blas:</span> Never?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">The Queen:</span> No!</p> + +<p class="ij4">[<i>Staggering to the table, he seizes the glass and +drains it.</i></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Ruy Blas:</span> Well, that is over, then.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">The Queen</span> (<i>running up to him</i>): What have you <i>done</i>?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Ruy Blas:</span> Nothing. But, oh, to think you loved me once!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">The Queen:</span> What was there in that glass? I love you still!<br /> +What was it? Poison? Tell me.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Ruy Blas</span> (<i>as she clasps him</i>): Yes, my queen.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">The Queen:</span> Then I have killed you! But I love you now!<br /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span> +More than before. Had I but pardoned you—</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Ruy Blas:</span> I should have drunk the poison all the same.<br /> +I could not bear to live. Good-bye!</p> + +<p class="ij4">[<i>He falls down, and</i> <span class="smcap">The Queen</span> <i>holds him up in her +arms.</i></p> + +<p class="it1"> Fly! Fly!<br /> +No one will know. That door.</p> + +<p class="ij4">>[<i>He tries to point to it, but sinks back in the agony +of death.</i></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">The Queen</span> (<i>throwing herself on him</i>): Ruy Blas!</p> + +<p class="it1 pmb3"><span class="smcap">Ruy Blas</span> (<i>reviving at the sound of his name</i>):<br /> +Thanks! Thanks! [<i>He dies.</i></p> +</div> +</div> + + +<div class="footnotes"><span class="font11">FOOTNOTES:</span> + +<div class="footnote"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_K_11" id="Footnote_K_11"></a><a href="#FNanchor_K_11"><span class="label">[K]</span></a> In appearance, "Ruy Blas" is a pendant to "Hernani." In +the earlier play, Victor Hugo gives a striking picture of the +Spanish nobility in the days of its power and splendour. In the +later drama, which he composed in 1838, he depicts in lurid +light the corruption into which that nobility afterwards fell. +But, as a matter of fact, "Ruy Blas" is a violent party pamphlet +with a direct bearing on the French politics of the thirties. +It is the decadent French nobility—vanquished in the revolution +of 1830—that Hugo really attacks; and Ruy Blas himself +is a representative Frenchman of the era of romanticism. Stendhal +(Vol. VIII) was the first writer to study this new type of +character—the young man of the lower middle classes, full of +grandiose dreams and wild ambitions and strange weaknesses, +who thought to arrive by intrigue at the high position which +the great soldiers of the preceding generation had won on the +battlefield. Balzac (Vol. I) elaborated the character in his "Human +Comedy"; and Hugo, by ennobling and enlarging it, created +the sombre, magnificent figure of Ruy Blas.</p> +</div></div> +<p class="pmb3" /> + + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<h2><a name="The_King_Amuses_HimselfL" id="The_King_Amuses_HimselfL">The King Amuses Himself</a><span class="font08"><a name="FNanchor_L_12" id="FNanchor_L_12"></a><a href="#Footnote_L_12" class="fnanchor">[L]</a></span></h2> + + +<h3><i>Persons in the Drama</i></h3> + +<div class="block3"> +<table border="0" cellspacing="1" cellpadding="1" class="tdl" summary="Persons - The King Amuses Himself"> + <tr> <td><p class="ij3"><span class="smcap">François I.</span>, <i>King of France</i></p></td> </tr> + <tr> <td><p class="ij3"><span class="smcap">Triboulet</span>, <i>his jester</i></p></td> </tr> + <tr> <td><p class="ij3"><span class="smcap">Blanche</span>, <i>Triboulet's daughter</i></p></td> </tr> + <tr> <td><p class="ij3"><span class="smcap">Saltabadil</span>, <i>an assassin</i></p></td> </tr> + <tr> <td><p class="ij3"><span class="smcap">Maguelonne</span>, <i>his sister</i></p></td> </tr> + <tr> <td><p class="ij3 smcap">Dame Berarde</p></td> </tr> + <tr> <td><p class="ij3 center"><i>A woman; a man; a crowd of people</i></p></td> </tr> +</table> +</div> +<p class="pmb3" /> + + +<div class="block2"> + +<h3><span class="smcap">Act I</span></h3> + +<blockquote> +<p class="ij6 pmb1"><span class="smcap">Scene.</span>—<span class="smcap">Triboulet</span>, <i>the ugly little hunchback jester to</i> +<span class="smcap">King François</span>, <i>has stolen from the Louvre to a +secluded house in a remote part of Paris. He takes +out the key to open the door, then stops and glances +round uneasily.</i></p> +</blockquote> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span></p> + +<div class="block2a"> +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Triboulet:</span> I thought I heard a footstep.<br /> +Blanche must go<br /> +Back to the country. In this wild, rough town<br /> +My little lonely girl may come to harm.<br /> +I was a fool to bring her here. A fool!<br /> +Ah, if she learns what a vile part I play<br /> +In this vile city—sees her father dressed<br /> +In patchwork, using his deformities<br /> +To make sport for a proud, vain, wicked king.<br /> +Oh, how I hate the man who laughs at me!<br /> +When I am sick and miserable, and creep<br /> +Into some corner to bewail my lot,<br /> +He kicks me out into the light, and cries,<br /> +"Amuse me, fool!" Some day I shall go mad,<br /> +And kill——</p> + +<p class="ij5">[<span class="smcap">Saltabadil</span>, <i>who has been following him, comes forward +and bows.</i></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Saltabadil:</span> Your servant, sir!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Triboulet</span> (<i>startled</i>): What! Who are you?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Saltabadil:</span> Excuse me. I have watched you for a week<br /> +Come to this house at evening. Every time<br /> +You seem afraid some foe is following you.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Triboulet</span> (<i>still more startled</i>): What do you want?<br /> +Who are you? Go away!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Saltabadil:</span> I want to help you. Do you need a sword?<br /> +I am an honest man, and at a price<br /> +I'll rid you of your enemy.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Triboulet</span> (<i>relieved by the bravo's air</i>): What price?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Saltabadil:</span> According to the job. If he is armed<br /> +'Tis best to get my sister, Maguelonne,<br /> +To help me. She will lure him to our house—</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Triboulet:</span> I understand.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Saltabadil</span> (<i>confidentially</i>): No noise, you see; no risk.<br /> +Give me your custom, sir, and you will find<br /> +I do the work better than any man<br /> +In Paris.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Triboulet:</span> But at present I've no need—</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Saltabadil:</span> Well, think about it. I am Saltabadil.<br /> +I wait for clients every day at noon<br /> +By the Hôtel du Maine.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Triboulet:</span> Good-night to you.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Saltabadil:</span> Believe me, I am honest. Times are bad;<br /> +I have four children, and at least my trade<br /> +Is better than mere beggary.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Triboulet:</span> Of course.<br /> +One must bring up one's children.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Saltabadil:</span> Thanks. Good-night.</p> + +<p class="ij5">[<i>He departs.</i> <span class="smcap">Triboulet</span> <i>then opens the door leading +into a courtyard, and knocks at an inner entrance. +This is opened by a charming young girl, who +throws herself into the jester's arms.</i></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Triboulet:</span> My daughter! When I see your sweet, bright face<br /> +My grief and trouble vanish. Kiss me, Blanche;<br /> +I am in need of love. Have you been out?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Blanche:</span> Only to church. It is so dull in town<br /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span> +That, were it not for you, dear, I should like<br /> +To go back to Chinon.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Triboulet:</span> It would be best;<br /> +put now I could not live in solitude.<br /> +My darling, I have no one in the world<br /> +But you to love me!</p> + +<p class="ij5">[<i>Hiding his face in his hands, he weeps.</i></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Blanche:</span> Father, trust in me.<br /> +Tell me your name and calling. Every night<br /> +You come by stealth to see me; every day<br /> +You disappear. Oh, how it troubles me<br /> +To see you weep!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Triboulet:</span> You would be troubled more<br /> +If you could see me laugh! No, no, my child!<br /> +Know me but as your father; let me be<br /> +Something that you can venerate and love.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Blanche:</span> My father!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Triboulet:</span> But I cannot stay to-night;<br /> +I only came to see if you were safe.<br /> +Good-bye, my darling! Do not leave the house.</p> + +<p class="ij5">[<i>While he is speaking,</i> <span class="smcap">King François</span> <i>glides into the +courtyard, and hides behind a tree there. He is +dressed like a student.</i></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Blanche:</span> Good-bye, my father!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">The King:</span> Father! Triboulet +Her father! What a joke!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Triboulet:</span> May God guard you!</p> + +<p class="ij5">[<i>He kisses her again and departs.</i> <span class="smcap">Blanche</span> <i>stands at +the door watching him, and</i> <span class="smcap">Dame Berarde</span>, <i>her +housekeeper, joins her.</i></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Blanche:</span> I have not told him.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Dame Berarde:</span> What?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Blanche:</span> That a young man<br /> +Follows me when I come from church.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Dame Berarde</span> (<i>laughing</i>): You wish<br /> +To chase this handsome man away?</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Blanche:</span> Ah, no!<br /> +1 think he loves me. Oh, when Sunday comes<br /> +I shall be happy!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Dame Berarde:</span> I should think he was<br /> +Some noble lord.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Blanche:</span> No! Lords, my father says,<br /> +Are men of little faith or honesty.<br /> +I hope he is a poor young scholar, filled<br /> +With noble thoughts rather than noble blood.<br /> +How long it is to Sunday! Would he were<br /> +Kneeling before me here. I then would say<br /> +Be happy, for I——</p> + +<p class="ij5">[<i>The</i> <span class="smcap">King</span> <i>comes from behind the tree, and kneels before her.</i></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">The King:</span> Love you! Say it sweet:<br /> +I love you!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Blanche:</span> If my father comes! Ah, go!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">The King:</span> Go? When my life is bound to yours? Sweet Blanche,<br /> +There is one heavenly thing alone on earth,<br /> +And that is love. Glory and wealth and power<br /> +Are base and worthless when compared with it.<br /> +Blanche, it is happiness your lover brings,<br /> +Happiness, shyly waiting on your wish.<br /> +Life is a flower, and love the honey of life.<br /> +Come, let us taste it, mouth to mouth, my sweet.</p> + +<p class="ij5">[<i>Taking her in his arms, he kisses her.</i></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Blanche:</span> I do not know your name. Are you a lord?<br /> +My father does not like them.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">The King</span> (<i>confused</i>): Yes.... My name—<br /> +Gaucher Mahiet, a poor young scholar.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Dame Berarde:</span> Look!<br /> +Someone is coming.</p> + +<p class="ij5">[<i>It is</i> <span class="smcap">Triboulet</span>. <i>Seeing his daughter in the arms of +a man, he rushes forward with a terrible cry.</i> <span class="smcap">King +François</span> <i>leaves</i> <span class="smcap">Blanche</span>, <i>and, brushing past the + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span> +jester, who staggers as he catches a glimpse of his +face, hastens away.</i></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Triboulet:</span> The King! Oh, God, the King!</p> + +<p class="ij5">[<i>Then, in a sort of madness, he mutters to himself.</i></p> + +<p>That man that spoke to me ... Hôtel du Maine;<br /> +At noon ... yes; in his house ... no noise, no risk ...<br /> +Oh, King François, the grave is dug for you!</p> +</div> +<p class="pmb3" /> + + +<h3><span class="smcap">Act II</span></h3> + +<blockquote> +<p class="ij6 pmb1"><span class="smcap">Scene.</span>—<i>A tumble-down inn on the outskirts of Paris +by the edge of the Seine. The scene is represented +on the stage in a sort of section, so that the spectator +sees everything that goes on in the interior of +the inn, as well as on the road outside. Besides this, +the building is so cracked and ruined that any +passer-by can see into the room through the holes +in the wall. It is night.</i> <span class="smcap">Triboulet</span> <i>and his daughter +appear in the road.</i> <span class="smcap">Saltabadil</span> <i>is sitting in +the inn.</i></p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block2a"> +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Triboulet:</span> I will avenge you, Blanche.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Blanche:</span> He cannot be<br /> +False and untrue.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Triboulet</span> (<i>whispering, as he leads her to a hole in the wall</i>):<br /> + + Come. See with your own eyes,<br /> +What kind of man our great King François is.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Blanche</span> (<i>whispering, as she sees only</i> <span class="smcap">Saltabadil</span>):<br /> +I only see a stranger.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Triboulet:</span> Wait awhile.</p> + +<p class="ij5">[<i>As he whispers,</i> <span class="smcap">King François</span> <i>enters the room by a +little door leading from an inner chamber.</i></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Blanche:</span> Father!</p> + +<p class="ij5">[<i>She trembles, and follows with angry eyes the movements of</i> <span class="smcap">The King</span>.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Triboulet:</span> This is the man you wish to save.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">The King</span> (<i>slapping</i> <span class="smcap">Saltabadil</span> <i>on the back</i>):<br /> +Tell Maguelonne to bring me in some wine.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Triboulet:</span> King by the grace of God he is, with all<br /> +The wealth and splendour of the land of France<br /> +At his command; but to amuse himself<br /> +He drinks himself asleep in thieves' kitchens.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">The King</span> (<i>singing while</i> <span class="smcap">Triboulet</span> <i>talks outside</i>):<br /> +Oh, woman is fickle, and man is a fool<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">To trust in her word!</span><br /> +She changes without any reason or rule,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">As her fancies are stirred.</span><br /> +A weather-cock veering to every wind<br /> +Is constant and true when compared to her mind.</p> + +<p class="ij5">>[<i>While he sings</i> <span class="smcap">Maguelonne</span> <i>enters with a skin of +wine.</i> <span class="smcap">Saltabadil</span> <i>goes out, and seeing</i> <span class="smcap">Triboulet</span>, +<i>approaches him with an air of mystery.</i> <span class="smcap">Blanche</span> +<i>continues to watch</i> <span class="smcap">The King</span>.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Saltabadil:</span> We've caught our man! And now it rests with you<br /> +To let him live or die.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Triboulet</span> (<i>looking at</i> <span class="smcap">Blanche</span>): Wait for a while.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">The King</span> (<i>to</i> <span class="smcap">Maguelonne</span>):<br /> +Life is a flower and love the honey of life;<br /> +Come, let us taste it, mouth to mouth, my sweet.</p> + +<p class="ij5">[<i>He tries to kiss her, but she escapes.</i></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Maguelonne:</span> You got that from a book.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">The King:</span> Your dark, sweet eyes<br /> +Inspired me! It was only yesterday<br /> +We met at the Hôtel du Maine, and yet<br /> +I love you with as passionate a love<br /> +As if we had been sweethearts all our lives.<br /> +Come, let me kiss you!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Maguelonne</span> (<i>sitting herself gaily on the table where<br /> +he is drinking</i>): When you have drunk your wine.</p> + +<p class="ij5">[<span class="smcap">The King</span> <i>empties the flagon of drugged liquor, and +with a mocking laugh the girl jumps down and sits +on his knee.</i></p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">The King:</span> Oh, you delicious, fascinating thing.<br /> +What a wild dance you've led me! Feel my heart<br /> +Seating with love for you!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Maguelonne:</span> And for a score<br /> +Of other women!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">The King:</span> No, for you alone!</p> + +<p class="ij5">[<span class="smcap">Blanche</span> <i>cannot bear to look at them any longer. Pale +and trembling, she turns away, and falls into her +father's arms.</i></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Blanche:</span> Oh, God, how he deceived me! My heart breaks.<br /> +All that he said to me he now repeats<br /> +To this low, shameless slut. He is a man<br /> +Without a soul.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Triboulet</span> (<i>in a whisper</i>): Hush, hush! or he will hear!<br /> +You leave him in my hands then?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Blanche:</span> What is it<br /> +You mean to do?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Triboulet:</span> Avenge you and myself!<br /> +Run home and dress yourself in the boy's clothes<br /> +Prepared for you. Take all the gold you find,<br /> +And ride to Evreux, and there wait for me.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Blanche</span> (<i>entreatingly</i>): Come with me, father!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Triboulet</span> (<i>sternly</i>): I have work to do,<br /> +Terrible work! Do not return for me,<br /> +But ride your horse as fast as it will go.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Blanche:</span> I am afraid.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Triboulet:</span> Obey me, Blanche! Good-bye!</p> + +<p class="ij5">[<i>He kisses her, and she staggers away.</i> <span class="smcap">Triboulet</span> <i>then +signs to</i> <span class="smcap">Saltabadil</span>, <i>who comes running up, and +gives him ten crowns in gold.</i></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Triboulet:</span> Here is half of the sum. I'll bring the rest<br /> +When you hand me the body in a sack.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Saltabadil:</span> It shall be done to-night.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Triboulet:</span> At midnight, then.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span></p> + +<p class="ij5">[<i>He goes in. During this scene outside, the drowsy</i> +<span class="smcap">King</span> <i>has been flirting with</i> <span class="smcap">Maguelonne</span>. <i>She +jumps off his knee as</i> <span class="smcap">Saltabadil</span> <i>enters.</i> <span class="smcap">Triboulet</span> +<i>departs.</i></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Saltabadil:</span> What a wild night! The rain is pouring down<br /> +In torrents.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">The King</span> (<i>sleepily</i>): You must find me a bed.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Maguelonne</span> (<i>in a fierce whisper</i>): Go! Go!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">The King:</span> What? And be drowned? You are unkind, my sweet.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Saltabadil</span> (<i>Whispering to his sister</i>):<br /> +Keep him here. We have twenty golden crowns<br /> +To earn to-night. (<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">King François</span>) Sir, you can have my room.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">The King:</span> Ah, you are kinder than your sister is!<br /> +Show me the bed.</p> + +<p class="ij5">[<span class="smcap">Saltabadil</span> <i>takes the lamp and leads him upstairs.</i></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Saltabadil:</span> This way.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Maguelonne</span> (<i>in the darkness</i>): Poor, poor young man!</p> + +<p class="ij5">[<span class="smcap">Saltabadil</span> <i>returns with the lamp. He sits at the table +in silence; his sister watches him.</i></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Maguelonne</span> (<i>fiercely</i>): You must not kill him!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Saltabadil:</span> Twenty golden crowns!<br /> +Look, here are ten of them! The rest I get<br /> +At midnight. Pest! There is no time to lose.<br /> +Quick, sew this sack! My client will return<br /> +In a few minutes.</p> + +<p class="ij5">[<i>Terrified by his look, she takes up the sack and begins +to mend it. There is again a silence, and in the +sinister and momentary radiance of the lightning +the figure of</i> <span class="smcap">Blanche</span> <i>is seen approaching the inn. +She is dressed in a man's clothes, and booted and +spurred.</i></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Blanche:</span> Terrible work to do! I cannot go.<br /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span> +Father, I cannot! Oh, this horrible dream!<br /> +Let me awake from it ere I go mad.<br /> +This dream, this horrible dream!</p> + +<p class="ij5">[<i>Seeing the light from the window, she totters up to the +hole in the wall and looks in again.</i></p> + +<p class="it1"><span style="margin-left: 18em;">God! it is true!</span><br /> +There they are! There!—the man with murderous looks,<br /> +The girl with shameless eyes! Where is the king?</p> + +<p class="ij5">[<i>Her cries are drowned in the thunder.</i></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Maguelonne:</span> Brother!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Saltabadil:</span> Yes.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Maguelonne:</span> Do not kill him.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Saltabadil:</span> Ten more crowns!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Maguelonne:</span> He is worth more than that. Handsome and young,<br /> +And noble too, I'll take my oath on it.<br /> +Besides, he loves me.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Saltabadil:</span> Get on with the sack.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Maguelonne:</span> You only want the money. Take and kill<br /> +The little hunchback when he comes with it.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Blanche:</span> My father!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Saltabadil</span> (<i>angrily</i>): What! Am I a common thief?<br /> +Kill my own client? I will have you know,<br /> +My sister, that I am an honest man.<br /> +I do the work I'm paid for.</p> + +<p class="ij5">[<i>Drawing his dagger, he goes towards the stairs.</i></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Maguelonne</span> (<i>barring the way</i>): Stop, I say!<br /> +Or I will go and rouse him.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Blanche:</span> Good, brave girl!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Saltabadil:</span> Well, let us make a bargain, Maguelonne.<br /> +If anyone comes knocking at our inn<br /> +By midnight, he shall go into the sack.<br /> +My client only wants to fling some corpse<br /> +Into the river, and on this wild night<br /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span> +He will not see what he is throwing in.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Maguelonne:</span> It is just on the hour. No one will come.<br /> +Cannot you ram this faggot in the sack?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Saltabadil:</span> Who would take that for a limp body? No!<br /> +Either a traveller or the man upstairs.<br /> +That is all! Will you take the chance?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Maguelonne</span> (<i>weeping</i>): I must.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Blanche:</span> Oh, God, I cannot! No! I am too young.<br /> +He does not love me.</p> + +<p class="ij5">[<i>A church-bell begins to chime the hour.</i></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Saltabadil:</span> Midnight!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Maguelonne:</span> Hark, a knock!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Blanche</span> (<i>stumbling to the door</i>):<br /> +My father hates him.... Perhaps it will not hurt,<br /> +If they strike hard and kill me at a blow.<br /> +Oh, if he only loved me!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Maguelonne</span> (<i>opening the door</i>): Who is there?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Blanche:</span> Give me a shelter for the night.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Maguelonne:</span> Come in.</p> + +<p class="ij5 pmb3">[<i>She enters. As she crosses the threshold</i>, <span class="smcap">Saltabadil</span> +<i>raises his dagger, and the curtain falls.</i></p> +</div> + + +<h3><span class="smcap">Act III</span></h3> + +<blockquote> +<p class="ij6 pmb1"><span class="smcap">Scene.</span>—<i>The same; but when the curtain rises, only the +outside of the inn is now seen. It is unlighted; +everything is in darkness.</i></p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block2a"> +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Triboulet</span> (<i>knocking at the door</i>): Make haste!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Saltabadil</span> (<i>bringing out a sack</i>): Here is your man.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Triboulet</span> (<i>helping him carry it</i>): Give me a light.<br /> +I want to see him—is he really dead?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Saltabadil:</span> We must not use a light. We might be seen.<br /> +Where is the money?</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Triboulet</span> (<i>giving him a bag</i>): Here. (<i>Looking at<br /> +the sack</i>) I have you at last!</p> + +<p>Long have I waited for this happy hour!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Saltabadil:</span> Come, throw it in the Seine!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Triboulet:</span> I want no help.<br /> +Your part is done. Leave me alone.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Saltabadil:</span> Quick, then!<br /> +Somebody may come by. Is the man mad?</p> + +<p>[<span class="smcap">Triboulet</span> <i>has knelt down in the mud by the sack. +The rain streams on him, and his face, convulsed +with hideous joy, is illumined by the lightning.</i> +<span class="smcap">Saltabadil</span> <i>enters the inn and shuts the door.</i></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Triboulet</span> (<i>feeling the sack</i>): Yes! I can feel his +spurs. It is the King!<br /> +Now let the heavens break above my head,<br /> +And the earth rock and open at my feet!<br /> +The vengeance of a clown shakes the whole world!<br /> +François, the pivot on which Europe turns,<br /> +Is broken. German, Spaniard, and Turk<br /> +Can make a slaughterhouse of Christendom.<br /> +The King of France is dead!</p> + +<p class="ij5">[<i>Leaping up in a fury, he kicks the sack.</i></p> + +<p>François the First,<br /> +Do you remember how you treated me?<br /> +Who is the dog now, eh?—the dog to kick<br /> +And tumble about to make the courtiers laugh?<br /> +You liked my daughter, did you? A clown's brat<br /> +Found favour with a king! You stooped too low.<br /> +This is the road that you must take.</p> + +<p class="ij5">[<i>He drags the sack to the parapet. While he is doing +so,</i> <span class="smcap">Maguelonne</span> <i>opens the door of the inn and lets +out</i> <span class="smcap">The King</span>, <i>who goes off singing gaily in the +opposite direction.</i></p> + + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Triboulet</span> (<i>lifting the sack on the parapet, to push<br /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span> +it over</i>): Go down!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">The King:</span> Oh, woman is fickle, and man is a fool<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">To trust in her word!</span></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Triboulet:</span> Oh, God! Whose voice is that?</p> + +<p class="ij5">[<i>He pulls back the sack.</i></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">The King</span> (<i>now unseen in the darkness</i>): She changes without any reason or rule,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">As her fancies are stirred.</span></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Triboulet:</span> He has escaped! (<i>Running up to the<br /> +inn</i>) Accursed villains, you have cheated me! (<i>He<br /> +pulls at the door, but it will not open</i>.)<br /> +<br /> +Who have they put in the sack?</p> + +<p class="ij5">[<i>He returns to it.</i></p> + +<p>Some innocent wayfarer? I must see.</p> + +<p class="ij5">[<i>He tears open the sack, and peers into it.</i></p> + +<p>It is too dark (<i>wildly</i>). Has no one got a light?</p> + +<p class="ij5">[<i>As he is dragging the body out of the sack the lightning +irradiates it.</i></p> + +<p>My daughter! God! My daughter! No, Blanche, no!<br /> +I sent you to Evreux. It is not her.</p> + +<p class="ij5">[<i>The lightning again flashes out, and clearly shows the +pale face and closed eyes of the girl.</i></p> + +<p>Speak, for the love of God! Speak! Oh, the blood!<br /> +Blanche, are you hurt? Speak to me! Blanche!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Blanche</span> (<i>opening her eyes</i>): Where am I? Father!</p> + +<p class="ij5">[<i>She tries to rise, but falls back groaning.</i> <span class="smcap">Triboulet</span> +<i>takes her in his arms.</i></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Triboulet:</span> Blanche, have they struck you?<br /> +It is too dark to see.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Blanche</span> (<i>in a broken, gasping voice</i>):<br /> +The dagger struck me ... but I ...<br /> +Saved the king ...<br /> +I love him. Father ... have they let him live?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Triboulet:</span> I cannot understand.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Blanche:</span> It was my fault ...<br /> +Forgive me ... father, I——</p> + +<p class="ij5">[<i>She struggles, speechless, in the agony of death.</i></p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Triboulet</span> (<i>shrieking</i>): Help! Help! Oh, help!</p> + +<p class="ij5">[<i>Rushing to the ferry-bell by the riverside, he rings it +madly. The people in the cottages around come +running out in wild alarm.</i></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">A Woman:</span> What is it? Is she wounded?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">A Man:</span> She is dead.</p> + +<p class="it1 pmb3"><span class="smcap">Triboulet</span> (<i>taking the lifeless body in his arms and +hugging it to his breast</i>): I have killed my child! +I have killed my child!</p> +</div> +</div> +<p class="pmb3" /> + + +<div class="footnotes"><span class="font11"><b>FOOTNOTES:</b></span> + +<div class="footnote"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_L_12" id="Footnote_L_12"></a><a href="#FNanchor_L_12"><span class="label">[L]</span></a> Victor Hugo was a man with a remarkable aptitude for divining +the real course of popular feeling and giving violent expression +to it. It was this that made him one of the leaders +of the modern republican movement in France. Precluded by +his earlier works from attacking the monarchy openly, he set +about discrediting it by a series of historical plays in which the +French kings were depicted in a sinister light. In "Marion de +Lorme" he holds up the weakest of the Bourbons to bitter +contempt; in "The King Amuses Himself" ("Le roi s'amuse"), +produced in 1832, he satirises the most brilliant of the +Valois—François I. The portrait is a clever but one-sided piece of +work; it is based on facts; but not on all the facts. It is true +that François used to frequent low taverns and mix in disreputable +company, but he was also the most chivalrous king +of his age, and a man of fine tastes in art and letters. Nevertheless, +the play is one of the best of Victor Hugo's by reason +of the strange and terrible character of the king's jester, +Triboulet. This ugly little hunchback is surely a memorable +figure in literature. The horror and pity which he excites as +he sits by the river in the storm and darkness, rejoicing in the +consummation of his scheme of revenge, have something of that +awfulness which is the note of veritable tragedy. The scene is +a superb example of dramatic irony.</p> +</div></div> +<p class="pmb3" /> + + +<hr class="chap" /> +<p class="pmb3" /> + +<h2><a name="The_Legend_of_the_AgesM" id="The_Legend_of_the_AgesM">The Legend of the Ages</a><span class="font08"><a name="FNanchor_M_13" id="FNanchor_M_13"></a><a href="#Footnote_M_13" class="fnanchor">[M]</a></span></h2> + + +<div class="block3"> + +<h3><i>Conscience</i></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Cain, flying from the presence of the Lord,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Came through the tempest to a mountain land;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And being worn and weary with the flight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His wife and children cried to him, and said:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Here let us rest upon the earth and sleep."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, folded in the skin of beasts, they slept.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But no sleep fell on Cain; he raised his head,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And saw, amid the shadows of the night,<br /></span> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span> +<span class="i0">An eye in heaven sternly fixed on him.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"I am too near," he said, with trembling voice.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rousing his weary children and worn wife,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He fled again along the wilderness.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For thirty days and thirty nights he fled.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Silent and pale, and shuddering at a sound,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He walked with downcast eyes, and never turned<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To look behind him. On the thirtieth day<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He came unto the shore of a great sea.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Here we will live," he said. "Here we are safe.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here on the lonely frontier of the world!"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, sitting down, he gazed across the sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And there, on the horizon, was the eye<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still fixed on him. He leaped up, wild with fear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Crying, "Oh, hide me! Hide me!" to his sons.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Jabal, the tent-maker, sheltered him<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Within his tent, and fastened down with stones<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The flapping skins. But Cain still saw the eye<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Burning upon him through the leathern tent.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Enoch said, "Come, let us build with stone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A city with a wall and citadel,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And hide our father there, and close the gates."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then Tubalcain, the great artificer,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Quarried the granite, and with iron bands<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bound the huge blocks together, and he made<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A city, with a rampart like a hill<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Encircling it, and towers that threw a shade<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Longer than any mountain's on the plain.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Deep in the highest and the strongest tower,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cain was enclosed. "Can the eye see you now?"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His children asked him. "Yes, it is fixed on me,"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He answered. And with haggard face he crept<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Out of the tower, and cried unto his sons,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"I will go down into the earth, and live<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alone, within a dark and silent tomb.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No one shall ever see my face again,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I will never look at anything."<br /></span> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">They made a vaulted tomb beneath the earth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And he was lowered into it; the hole<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Above his head was closed; but in the tomb<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cain saw the eye still sternly fixed on him.<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> +<div class="pmb2"></div> + + +<h3><i>Eviradnus</i></h3> + +<div class="block3"> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When John the Striker, lord of Lusace, died,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Leaving his kingdom to his gentle niece,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mahaud, great joy there was in all the land;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For she was beautiful, and sweet and young,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Kind to the people, and beloved by them.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But Sigismund, the German emperor,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Ladislas of Poland were not glad.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Long had they coveted the wide domains<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of John the Striker; and Eviradnus,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The tall, white-haired Alastian warrior,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Home from his battles in the Holy Land,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Heard, as he wandered through the castle grounds,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Strange talk between two strangers—a lute-player<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And troubadour—who with their minstrelsy<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had charmed the lovely lady of Lusace.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And she was taking them with her that night<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To Corbus Castle—an old ruined keep<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From which her race was sprung. Ere she was crowned,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An ancient custom of the land required<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mahaud to pass the night in solitude<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At Corbus, where her ancestors reposed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Amid the silence of the wooded hills<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On which the stronghold stands. Being afraid<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the ordeal, Mahaud took with her<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The two strange minstrels, so that they might make<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Music and mirth until she fell asleep.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An old priest, cunning in the use of herbs,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Came with her to the border of the wood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And gave her a mysterious wine to drink<br /></span> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span> +<span class="i0">To make her slumber till the break of day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When all the people of Lusace would come<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And wake her with their shouts, and lead her forth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the cathedral where she would be crowned.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<hr class="tb" /> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">To enter Corbus on this solemn night,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or linger in the woods encircling it,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was death to any man. Eviradnus<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Did not fear death. Opening the castle gate<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He strode into the chamber where Mahaud<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Would have to pass the night. Two long, dim lines<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of armed and mounted warriors filled the hall,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each with his lance couched ready for the shock,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sternly silent. Empty panoplies<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They were, in which the lords of old Lusace<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had lived and fought and died, since the red days<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When Attila, from whom their race was sprung,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Swept over Europe. Now, on effigies<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the great war-horses they loved and rode,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their armoured image sat; and eyeless holes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gaped in their visors, black and terrible.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Seizing the leader of this spectral host,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Eviradnus dragged his clanging body down,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And hid it; and then leaped upon the horse.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And with closed visor, motionless mail and lance<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Clenched in his gauntlet, he appeared transformed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Into an iron statue, like the rest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As through the open window came the sound<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of lute-playing and laughter, and a song<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sung by the troubadour, rang righ and clear:</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<div class="pmb2"></div> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Come, and let us dream a dream!</span> +<span class="i4">Mount with me, and ride away,</span> +<span class="i2">By the winding moonlight stream,</span> +<span class="i4">Through the shining gates of day!</span> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Come, the stars are bright above!</span> +<span class="i4">All the world is in our scope.</span> +<span class="i2">We have horses—joy and love!</span> +<span class="i4">We have riches—youth and hope!</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Mount with me, and ride away,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Through the greenness and the dew;</span> +<span class="i2">Through the shining gates of day,</span> +<span class="i4">To the land where dreams come true!</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<div class="pmb2"></div> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Look!" cried Mahaud, as she came in the hall<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With the two minstrels. "It is terrible!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sooner would I have lost my crown than come<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alone at midnight to this dreadful place."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Does this old iron," said the troubadour,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Striking the armour of Eviradnus,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Frighten you?" "Leave my ancestors in peace!"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Exclaimed Mahaud. "A little man like you<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Must not lay hands on them." The troubadour<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Grew pale with anger, but the tall lute-player<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Laughed, and his blue eyes flamed upon Mahaud.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Now I must sleep," she said, "the priest's strange wine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Begins to make me drowsy. Stay with me!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stay and watch over me all night, my friends."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Far have we travelled," said the troubadour,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"In hopes to be alone with you to-night."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And his dark face lightened with a grim smile,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When, as he spoke, Mahaud fell fast asleep.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"I'll take the girl," he cried to the lute-player,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"And you can have the land! Are you content?"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Yes," said the lute-player, "but love is sweet."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Revenge is sweeter!" cried the troubadour.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"'A little man like me!' Those were her words.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Neither as queen nor empress shall she reign!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I swore it when she flouted me. She dies!"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"I cannot kill her," said the lute-player,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"I love her." "So do I!" the other said.<br /></span> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span> +<span class="i0">"I love her and hate her. If she lived,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There would be war between us two. She dies!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We love her; we must kill her." As he spoke<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The troubadour pulled at a ring, and raised<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A flagstone in the floor. "I know this place,"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He said. "A lord of Lusace had this trap<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Made for his enemies. 'Twill serve our need!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Help me to lift her. All the land is yours."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Look!" screamed the lute-player. "Oh, God! Oh, God!"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The troubadour turned round, and his knees shook.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One of the iron images had leapt<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Down from its lifeless horse, and with drawn sword<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And clank of armour, it now drove at them.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"King Ladislas and Emperor Sigismund!"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It shouted in a terrible voice that fell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upon them like a judgment from on high.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They grovelled at its iron feet, and shrieked,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Mercy! Oh, mercy!" And Eviradnus,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Doffing his helmet and cuirass, exclaimed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"I am a man and not an iron ghost!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It sickens me to see such cowardice<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the two greatest conquerors of the age.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Look! I have taken all my armour off;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Meet me like men, and use what arms you will."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"'Tis only an old man," said Ladislas.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Hold him in front, while I strike from behind."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Eviradnus laid down his sword, to loose<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The last piece of his armour, and the Pole<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ran at him with a dagger; with one hand<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The old man gripped the little king, and shook<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The life out of him. Then, as Sigismund<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Snatched up his sword, and left him still unarmed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Eviradnus stooped, and, seizing the dead king,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He whirled him by the feet, like a huge club.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stricken with terror, Sigismund recoiled<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Into the open trap. Eviradnus<br /></span> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Flung his strange weapon after him, and they fell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The living emperor, and the lifeless king,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Into the dark abyss. Closing the stone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Eviradnus put on his mail, and set<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The hall in order. And when he had placed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The iron image on its horse, the dawn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gleamed through the windows, and the noise<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And murmur of the people of Lusace<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Coming with branches of green broom to greet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their lady, filled the air. Mahaud awoke.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Where is my troubadour and lute-player?"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She said. Eviradnus bent over her,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His old grey eyes shining with tenderness.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Lady," he said, "I hope that you slept well?"<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> +<div class="pmb2"></div> + + +<h3><i>The Temple of the Captives</i></h3> + +<div class="block3"> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The high-priest said unto the King of Kings:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"We need a temple to commemorate<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your glorious victories." The King of Kings<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Called unto him the captives he had made,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And bade them build the temple, and he asked:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Is there a man among you who can plan<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And raise this monument unto my fame?"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"No," said they. "Kill a hundred of these slaves!"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The King of Kings exclaimed. And this was done.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One of the captives promised then to build<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A temple on the mountain looking down<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upon the city of the King of Kings.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Loaded with chains, the prisoners were dragged<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Along the streets and up the mountain track,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And there they toiled with grim and angry eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cutting a building in the solid rock.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"'Tis but a cavern!" said the King of Kings.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"We found a lion's lair," the captive said,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"And fashioned it into your monument.<br /></span> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Enter, O King of Kings, and see the work<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your slaves have built for you!" The conqueror<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And captive entered. To a royal throne<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The King of Kings was led, that he might view<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The temple; and the builder flung himself<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Face downwards at his feet. Then, suddenly,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The throne began to sink below the floor.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Where are we going?" said the King of Kings.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Down the deep pit into the inner hall!"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The captive said. A sound like thunder rang<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Above them, and the King of Kings exclaimed:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"What noise was that?" "The block of stone<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That covers in this pit," the captive said,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Has fallen in its place!" The King of Kings<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Groped in the darkness, and with trembling voice<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He asked: "Is there no way out of this pit?"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Surely," the captive said, "the King of Kings,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose hands are swift like lightning, and whose feet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tread down all nations, can find out a way?"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"There is no light, no sound, no breath of air!"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cried out the King of Kings. "Why is it dark<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And cold within the temple to my fame?"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Because," the captive said, "it is your tomb!"<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> +<div class="pmb2"></div> + + +<h3><i>Jean Chouan</i></h3> + +<div class="block3"> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The work of pacifying Brittany<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was going on; and children, women, men,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fled from the revolutionary troops<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In wild disorder. Over a bare plain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And up a hill, swept by the guns of France,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They ran, and reached the shelter of a wood.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There they re-formed—the peasant royalists.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And then Jean Chouan, who was leading them,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cried: "Is there any missing?" "No," they said,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Counting their numbers. "Scatter along the wood!"<br /></span> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Jean Chouan cried again. The women caught<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their babies to their breasts, and the old men<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tottered beside the children. Panic, fear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Possessed the broken, flying peasantry.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Only Jean Chouan stayed behind to watch<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The movements of the enemy. He stood<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Silent in prayer below the sheltering hill;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A tall, wild figure, with his long, loose hair<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Streaming upon the wind. And suddenly,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A cry rang shrill and keen above the roar<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the French guns. A woman's cry it was;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, looking from the hill, Jean Chouan saw<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A woman labouring, with bare, torn feet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And haggard, terror-stricken face, to reach<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A refuge in the forest. Up the hill,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Swep by the French artillery, she toiled,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the shells burst around her. "She is lost!"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Jean Chouan murmured. "She will be destroyed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Before she reaches shelter. Oh, the brutes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To mass their fire upon a woman's head!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<hr class="tb" /> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Then on the height that overlooked the plain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Jean Chouan sprang, and stood against the sky,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fearless and proud, superb and motionless,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And cried, "I am Jean Chouan!" The French troops<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gazed for a moment in astonishment<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At his tall figure. "Yes, it is the chief!"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They said to one another, as they turned<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their guns upon him. "Save yourself!" he cried,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"My sister, save yourself!" as, mad with fright,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The woman stumbled onward. Like a pine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Too strongly rooted in the rock to bend<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or break beneath the fury of the storm,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He towered amid the hurricane of death<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That roared and flamed around him. "I will wait<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Until you gain the forest!" he exclaimed.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The woman hastened. Over the hill she crept,<br /></span> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span> +<span class="i0">And staggered down the valley. "Is she safe?"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Jean Chouan shouted, as a bullet passed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Right through his body. Standing still erect,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He waited, with a smile upon his lips,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The answer. When some voices in the wood<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cried, "Jeanne is safe. Return!" Jean Chouan said,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Ave Maria!" and then fell down dead.<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> +<div class="pmb2"> </div> + + +<h3><i>Civil War</i></h3> + +<div class="block3"> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Kill him!" the mob yelled. "Kill him!" as they surged<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In fury round their prisoner. Unmoved<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And unafraid he stood: a constable<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of Paris, captured by the Communards.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His hands were black with gunpowder; his clothes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Were red with blood. A simple, fearless man,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Charged with the task of carrying out the law,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He gave no quarter, and he asked for none.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All the day he had fought against the mob<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That swept with sword and flame along the streets<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of Paris, while the German conqueror<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Battened on France. A woman sprang at him,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And shrieked, "You have been killing us!" "That's true,"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The man replied. "Come, shoot him here!" she screamed.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"No! Farther on! At the Bastille!" "No! Here!"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And while the crowd disputed, the man said:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Kill me just where you like; but kill me quick."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Yes!" cried the woman, "shoot him where he stands.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He is a wolf!" "A wolf that has been caught,"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The prisoner said, "by a vile pack of curs!"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"The wretch insults us!" yelled the furious mob.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Down with him! Death! Death! Death!" And with clenched fists<br /></span> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span> +<span class="i0">They struck him on the face. An angry flame<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gleamed in his eyes, but, silent and superb,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He marched along the street amid the howls<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the ferocious, maddened multitude!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">God! How they hated him! To shoot him seemed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Too light a sentence, as he calmly strode<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Over the corpses of their comrades strewn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Along the street. "How many did you kill?"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They shrieked at him. "Murderer! Traitor! Spy!"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He did not answer; but the waiting mob<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Heard a small voice cry: "Daddy!" and a child<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of six years' age ran from a house close by,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And struggled to remain and clasped his knees,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Saying, "He is my daddy. Don't hurt him!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He is my daddy—" "Down with the cursed spy!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shoot him at once!" a hundred voices said;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Then we can get on with our work!" Their yells,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The clangour of the tocsin, and the roar<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of cannon mingled. 'Mid the dreadful noise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The child, still clinging to his father's knees,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cried, "I tell you he's my daddy. Let him go!"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pale, tearful, with one arm thrown out to shield<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His father, and the other round his leg,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The child stood. "He is pretty!" said a girl.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"How old are you, my little one?" The child<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Answered, "Don't kill my daddy!" Many men<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lowered their eyes, and the fierce hands that gripped<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The prisoner began to loose their hold.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Send the kid to its mother!" one man cried,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"And end this job!" "His mother died last month,"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The prisoner said. "Do you know Catherine?"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He asked his little boy. "Yes," said the child,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"She lives next door to us." "Then go to her,"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He said, in grave, calm, kindly tones. "No! No!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I cannot go without you!" cried his son.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"They're going to hurt you, daddy, all these men!"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The father whispered to the Communards<br /></span> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span> +<span class="i0">That held him. "Let me say good-bye to him,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And you can shoot me round the corner-house;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or where you will!" They loosed their prisoner<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A moment, and he said unto his child:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"You see, we're only playing. They are friends,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I am going for a walk with them.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Be a good boy, my darling, and run home."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Raising his face up to be kissed, the child<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Smiled through his tears, and skipped into the house.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Now," said his father to the silent mob,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Where would you like to shoot me; by this wall,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or round the corner?" Through the crowd of men,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mad with the lust for blood, a shudder passed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And with one voice they cried: "Go home! Go home!"<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> +<div class="pmb3"></div> + + +<div class="footnotes"><span class="font11">FOOTNOTES:</span> + +<div class="footnote"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_M_13" id="Footnote_M_13"></a><a href="#FNanchor_M_13"><span class="label">[M]</span></a> English poetry of the last eighty years is fine in quality and +great in volume, but it would be difficult to maintain that it is +the finest and greatest poetry of the period. It was France +that produced the master-singer, and with rare generosity both +Tennyson and Swinburne acknowledged that Victor Hugo was +their superior. The range of power of the Frenchman was +marvellous; he was a great novelist, a great playwright, a great +political writer; but, above all, he was a poet. His immense +force of imagination and narrative power is displayed at its +best in "The Legend of the Ages" ("La Légende des Siécles"). +The first part appeared in 1859, the second in 1877, and the last +in 1883. It consists of a series of historical and philosophic +poems, in which the story of the human race is depicted in the +lightning flashes of a resplendent imagination. Some of the +poems, given here for the first time in English, contain stories +as fine as the masterpieces of the great novelists.</p> +</div></div> +<p class="pmb3" /> + + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span></p> +<p class="pmb3" /> + + +<h2><a name="HENRIK_IBSENN" id="HENRIK_IBSENN">HENRIK IBSEN</a><span class="font08"><a name="FNanchor_N_14" id="FNanchor_N_14"></a><a href="#Footnote_N_14" class="fnanchor">[N]</a></span></h2> +<p class="pmb3" /> + + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<h2><a name="The_Master_Builder" id="The_Master_Builder">The Master Builder</a></h2> + + +<h3><i>Persons in the Drama</i></h3> + +<div class="block3a"> +<p class="pmb3"><span class="smcap">Halvard Solness</span>, <i>the Master Builder</i><br /> +<span class="smcap">Aline Solness</span>, <i>his wife</i><br /> +<span class="smcap">Dr. Herdal</span>, <i>physician</i><br /> +<span class="smcap">Knut Brovik</span>, <i>formerly an architect, now in Solness's employment</i><br /> +<span class="smcap">Ragnar Brovik</span>, <i>his son</i><br /> +<span class="smcap">Kaia Fosli</span>, <i>his niece, book-keeper</i><br /> +<span class="smcap">Hilda Wangel</span><br /> +</p> +</div> + + +<div class="block2"> + + +<h3><a name="Act_I" id="Act_I"><span class="smcap">Act I</span></a></h3> + +<blockquote> +<p class="ij6 pmb1"><span class="smcap">Scene.</span>—<i>A plainly furnished work-room in the house of</i> +<span class="smcap">Halvard Solness</span>. <i>At the back, visible through an +open door, is the draughtsman's office, where sit</i> +<span class="smcap">Knut Brovik</span> <i>and his son</i>, <span class="smcap">Ragnar</span>, <i>occupied with +plans and calculations. At the desk in the outer +office</i> <span class="smcap">Kaia Fosli</span> <i>is writing in the ledger. She is +young, slight, and delicate-looking. She wears a +green shade over her eyes. All three work for some +time in silence</i>.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block2a"> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Knut Brovik</span> <i>(rising as if in distress</i>): No, I can't +bear it much longer!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Kaia:</span> You're feeling very ill, aren't you, uncle?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Brovik:</span> Oh, I seem to get worse every day!</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Ragnar</span> <i>(advancing)</i>: You ought to go home, father.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Brovik:</span> Not till <i>he</i> comes! I'm determined to have +it out—with the chief!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Kaia</span> <i>(anxiously)</i>: Oh, no, uncle! Wait awhile. +Hush! I hear him on the stairs.</p> + +<p class="ij4">[<i>They go back to their work</i>. <span class="smcap">Halvard Solness</span>, <i>mature, +healthy, vigorous, comes in</i>.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Solness:</span> Are they gone?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Kaia:</span> No. <i>[She takes the shade off her eyes</i>.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Solness</span> <i>(approaching her and whispering</i>): Kaia! +Why do you always take off that shade when I come?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Kaia:</span> I look so ugly with it on.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Solness</span> <i>(stroking her hair</i>): Poor, poor little +Kaia———</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Kaia:</span> Hush———</p> + + +<p class="ij4">[<span class="smcap">Brovik</span> <i>comes into the front room</i>.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Brovik:</span> May I have a few words with you?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Solness:</span> Certainly.</p> + +<p class="ij4">[<span class="smcap">Brovik</span> <i>sends</i> <span class="smcap">Kaia</span> <i>out</i>.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Brovik:</span> It will soon be all over with me. (<span class="smcap">Solness</span> +<i>places him in an armchair</i>.) Thanks. Well, you see, it's +about Ragnar. That weighs most upon me. What's to +become of him?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Solness:</span> Your son will stay with me as long as ever +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span>he likes. +<span class="smcap">Brovik:</span> But he wants to have a chance. He must do +something on his own account.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Solness:</span> Well, but he has learnt nothing, except, of +course, to draw.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Brovik:</span> You had learnt little enough when you were +with me, and yet you cut me out. Now, how can you +have the heart to let me go to my grave without having +seen what Ragnar is fit for? And I'm anxious to see +him and Kaia married—before I go.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Solness:</span> I can't drag commissions down from the +moon for him.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Brovik:</span> He can have the building of that villa at Lövstrand, +if you would only approve of his plans, and +retire———</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Solness</span> <i>(angrily):</i> Retire? I?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Brovik:</span> From the agreement, that is.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Solness:</span> So that's it, is it? Halvard Solness to make +room for younger men! Never in the world!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Brovik</span> <i>(rising painfully</i>): Then I'm to die without +any certainty, any gleam of happiness or trust in Ragnar?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Solness:</span> You must pass out of life as best you can.</p> + +<p class="ij4">[<span class="smcap">Brovik</span> <i>reels</i>. <span class="smcap">Ragnar</span> <i>enters and takes his father +home.</i> <span class="smcap">Solness</span> <i>detains</i> <span class="smcap">Kaia</span>.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Solness:</span> You want to marry Ragnar.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Kaia:</span> I cared for him once—before I met you. I +can't be separated from you———</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Solness:</span> Marry him as much as you please. Make +him stay here, and then I can keep <i>you</i>, too, my dear +Kaia.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Kaia</span> <i>(sinks down before him</i>): Oh, how unspeakably +good you are to me!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Solness:</span> Get up! For goodness' sake get up! I +think I hear someone.</p> + +<p class="ij4">[<span class="smcap">Mrs. Solness</span> <i>enters. She is wasted with grief, but has +once been beautiful</i>.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Mrs. Solness</span> <i>(with a glance at</i> <span class="smcap">Kaia</span>): Halvard! +I'm afraid I'm disturbing you.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Solness:</span> Not in the least. What is it, Aline?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Mrs. Solness:</span> Merely that Dr. Herdal is in the drawing-room.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Solness:</span> I'll come later on, dear—later on.</p> + +<p class="ij4">[<i>Exit</i> <span class="smcap">Mrs. Solness</span>.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Kaia:</span> Oh, dear! Oh, dear! I'm sure Mrs. Solness +thinks ill of me in some way!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Solness:</span> Oh, not in the least! You'd better go now, +all the same, Kaia. And mind you get that matter about +Ragnar settled for me. Please give me Ragnar's drawings +before you go. I might glance over them.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Kaia</span> <i>(happy):</i> Oh, yes, please do!</p> + +<p class="ij4">[<span class="smcap">Mrs. Solness</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Dr. Herdal</span> <i>enter</i>.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Mrs. Solness:</span> Halvard, I cannot keep the doctor any +longer.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Solness:</span> Well, then, come in here.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Kaia:</span> Good-night, Mrs. Solness.</p> + +<p class="ij4">[<span class="smcap">Kaia</span> <i>goes out</i>.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Mrs. Solness:</span> She must be quite an acquisition to you, +Halvard, this Miss Fosli.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Solness:</span> Yes, indeed. She's useful in all sorts of +ways.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Mrs. Solness:</span> So it seems.</p> + +<p class="ij4">[<span class="smcap">Mrs. Solness</span> <i>goes out</i>.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Solness:</span> Tell me, doctor, did you notice anything odd +about Aline?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Dr. Herdal</span> <i>(smiling</i>): Well, one couldn't help noticing<br /> +that your wife—h'm———</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Solness:</span> Well?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Dr. Herdal:</span> That your wife isn't particularly fond +of this Miss Fosli. There's nothing of any sort in the +case, is there?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Solness:</span> Not on <i>my</i> side.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Dr. Herdal:</span> On hers, then?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Solness:</span> Hardly a fair question! Still, you know +she's engaged to Ragnar; but since she came here she + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span> +seemed to drift quite away from <i>him</i>.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Dr. Herdal:</span> She drifted over to you, then?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Solness:</span> Yes, entirely. She quivers when she comes +near me.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Dr. Herdal:</span> Why on earth don't you tell your wife +the rights of it?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Solness:</span> Because I seem to find a sort of—of salutary +self-sacrifice in allowing Aline to do me an injustice. +It's like paying off a little bit of a huge, immeasurable +debt I owe her. Oh, I know she thinks I'm ill—crazy. +And, I think, so do you.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Dr. Herdal:</span> And what then?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Solness:</span> Then I dare say you fancy I'm an extremely +happy man—Solness, the master builder!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Dr. Herdal:</span> You've certainly had luck on your side. +First of all, the home of your wife's family was burnt +down for you. A great grief to her—but <i>you</i> rose on the +ruins. Yes, you've had luck.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Solness:</span> But luck must turn. The younger generation +will come knocking at my door. Then there's an +end of Halvard Solness, the master builder. (<i>A knock +at the door. Starts</i>.) What's that?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Dr. Herdal: </span>Someone is knocking at the door.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Solness</span> (<i>loudly</i>): Come in!</p> + +<p class="ij4">[<span class="smcap">Hilda Wangel</span> <i>enters. She is dressed in a tourist +costume, skirt caught up for walking, and carries a +knapsack and alpenstock</i>.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Hilda:</span> You don't recognise me?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Solness</span> (<i>doubtfully</i>): No. I must admit that—just +for the moment.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Dr. Herdal:</span> But I recognise you, Miss Wangel.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Solness:</span> Wangel? You must be the doctor's daughter +up at Lysanger?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Hilda:</span> Yes. Who else's daughter should I be?</p> + +<p class="ij4">[<span class="smcap">Solness</span> <i>calls in his wife, an old friend of</i> <span class="smcap">Miss Wangel's</span>. +<span class="smcap">Hilda</span> <i>asks leave to stay the night</i>. <span class="smcap">Mrs. +Solness</span> <i>consents amiably. She and the doctor go +out.</i> <span class="smcap">Hilda</span> and <span class="smcap">Solness</span> <i>alone</i>.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Hilda:</span> Mr. Solness, have you a bad memory?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Solness:</span> Not that I'm aware of.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Hilda:</span> Don't you remember what happened up at +Lysanger?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Solness:</span> It was nothing much, was it?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Hilda:</span> How can you say that? Don't you remember +how you climbed the new church tower when it was finished, +and hung a great wreath on the weather-cock; and +how I stood with the other white-frocked schoolgirls and +screamed, "Hurrah for Mr. Solness?" And you sang +up there—like harps in the air! And afterwards you +kissed me, kissed me and said in ten years I'd be <i>your</i> +princess, and you'd come back and give me a castle in +Spain—a kingdom—</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Solness</span> (<i>open-mouthed</i>): <i>I</i> did?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Hilda:</span> Yes, <i>you</i>. Well, the ten years are up to-day. +I want my kingdom! Out with my kingdom, Mr. Solness! +On the table!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Solness:</span> But, seriously, what do you want to do here?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Hilda:</span> I don't want that stupid imaginary kingdom—I've +set my heart upon quite a different one.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Solness</span> (<i>gazing at her</i>): I seem—it's strange—to +have gone about all these years torturing myself with the +effort to recover something—some experience which I +seem to have forgotten. What a good thing it is that +you have come to me now. I'd begun to be so afraid—so +terribly afraid of the younger generation. One day +they'll thunder at my door.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Hilda:</span> Then I'd go out and open it. Let them come +in to you on friendly terms, as it were.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Solness:</span> No, no, no! The younger generation—it +means retribution.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Hilda</span> (<i>with quivering lips</i>): Can <i>I</i> be of any use to +you, Mr. Solness?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Solness:</span> Yes, you can. For you, too, come—under +a new banner, it seems to me. Youth marshalled against + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span> +youth! <i>You</i> are the very one I have most needed.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Hilda</span> (<i>with happy, wondering eyes</i>): Oh, heavens, +how lovely!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Solness:</span> What?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Hilda:</span> Then I <i>have</i> my kingdom!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Solness</span> <i>(involuntarily)</i>: Hilda!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Hilda</span> <i>(with quivering lips): Almost</i>—I was going to +say.</p> + +<p class="ij4 pmb3">[<i>She goes out</i>. <span class="smcap">Solness</span> <i>follows her</i>.</p> +</div> + +<h3><span class="smcap">Act II</span></h3> + +<blockquote> +<p class="ij6 pmb1"><span class="smcap">Scene.</span>—<i>A small drawing-room in the house of</i> <span class="smcap">Solness</span>. +<span class="smcap">Solness</span> <i>is examining</i> <span class="smcap">Ragnar Brovik's</span> <i>drawings</i>. +<span class="smcap">Mrs. Solness</span> <i>is attending to her flowers</i>.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block2a"> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Solness:</span> Is she still asleep?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Mrs. Solness</span> <i>(looking at him</i>): Is it Miss Wangel +you are sitting there thinking about? She was up long +ago.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Solness:</span> Oh, was she? So we've found a use for one +of our three nurseries, after all, Aline, now that Hilda +occupies one of them.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Mrs. Solness:</span> Yes, we have. Their emptiness is +dreadful.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Solness:</span> We'll get on far better after this, Aline. +Things will be easier.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Mrs. Solness:</span> Because <i>she</i> has come?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Solness</span> <i>(checking himself</i>): I mean when once we've +moved into our new house. It's for your sake I've +built it.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Mrs. Solness:</span> You do far too much for me.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Solness:</span> I can't bear to hear you say that. Stick to +what I said. Things 'll be easier in the new place.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Mrs. Solness</span> <i>(lamenting)</i>: Oh heavens, easier! +Halvard, you can never build up a real home again for +<i>me. This</i> is no home; It will be just as desolate, as +empty there as here.</p> + +<p class="ij4">[<span class="smcap">Hilda Wangel</span> <i>comes in</i>.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Hilda:</span> Good-morning, Mr. Solness!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Solness</span> (<i>nods</i>): Slept well?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Hilda:</span> Deliciously! As if in a cradle. Oh, I lay +and stretched myself like—like a princess. But I +dreamed I was falling over a precipice. It's tremendously +thrilling when you fall and fall——</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Mrs. Solness</span> (<i>ready to go out</i>): I must go into town +now, Halvard. (<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Hilda</span>) And I'll try to get one or +two things that may be of use to you.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Hilda:</span> Oh, you dear, sweet Mrs. Solness. You're +frightfully kind——</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Mrs. Solness:</span> It's only my duty.</p> + +<p class="ij4">[<span class="smcap">Mrs. Solness</span> <i>goes out</i>.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Hilda:</span> What made her say that about her duty? +Doesn't it sting you?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Solness:</span> H'm! Haven't thought much about it.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Hilda:</span> Yes it does. Why should she talk in that +way? She might have said something really warm and +cordial, you understand.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Solness:</span> Is that how you'd like to have it?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Hilda:</span> Yes, precisely. (<i>She wanders over to the +table and looks over</i> <span class="smcap">Ragnar's</span> <i>portfolio of drawings</i>.) +Are all these drawings yours?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Solness:</span> No; they're drawn by a young man I employ.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Hilda</span> (<i>sits down</i>): Then I suppose he's frightfully +clever.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Solness:</span> Oh, he's not bad, for my purpose.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Hilda:</span> I can't understand why you should be so +stupid as to go about teaching people. No one but yourself +should be allowed to build.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Solness:</span> I keep brooding on that very thought. +(<i>Calling her to the window</i>) Look over there; that's +my new house.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Hilda:</span> It seems to have a tremendously high tower. +Are there nurseries in <i>that</i> house, too?</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Solness:</span> Three—as there are here. But there will +never be any child in them. We have had children, +Aline and I, but we didn't keep them long, our two +little boys. The fright Aline got when our old house +was burnt down affected her health, and she failed to +rear them. Yet that fire made me. I built no more +churches; but cosy, comfortable homes for human beings. +But my position as an artist has been paid for in Aline's +happiness. I could have prevented that fire by seeing to +a flue. But I didn't. And yet the flue didn't actually +cause the fire. Yet it was my fault in a certain sense.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Hilda:</span> I'm afraid you must be—ill.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Solness:</span> I don't think I'll ever be quite of sound +mind on that point.</p> + +<p class="ij4">[<span class="smcap">Ragnar</span> <i>enters, and begs a few kind words about his +drawings to cheer his father, who is dying</i>. <span class="smcap">Solness</span> +<i>dismisses him almost brutally, and bids him +never think of building on his own account</i>.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Hilda</span> (<i>when</i> <span class="smcap">Ragnar</span> <i>has gone</i>): That was horribly +ugly—and hard and bad and cruel as well.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Solness:</span> Oh, you don't understand my position, +which I've paid so dear for. <i>(Confidentially)</i> Hilda, +don't you agree with me that there exists special chosen +people, who have the power of desiring, <i>craving</i> a thing, +until at last it <i>has</i> to happen? And aren't there helpers +and servers who must do their part too? But they never +come of themselves. One has to call them very persistently, +inwardly. So the fire happened conveniently +for me; but the two little boys and Aline were sacrificed. +She will never be the woman she longed to be.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Hilda:</span> I believe you have a sickly conscience. I +should like your conscience to be thoroughly robust.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Solness:</span> Is <i>yours</i> robust?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Hilda:</span> I think it is.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Solness:</span> I think the Vikings had robust consciences. +And the women they used to carry off had robust consciences, +too. They often wouldn't leave their captors + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span> +on any account.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Hilda:</span> These women I can understand exceedingly +well.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Solness:</span> Could you come to love a man like that?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Hilda:</span> One can't choose whom one's going to love.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Solness:</span> Hilda, there's something of the bird of prey +in you!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Hilda:</span> And why not? Why shouldn't I go a-hunting +as well as the rest? Tell me, Mr. Solness, have you +never called me to you—inwardly, you know?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Solness</span> <i>(softly)</i>: I almost think I must have.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Hilda:</span> What did you want with me?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Solness:</span> You are the younger generation, Hilda.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Hilda:</span> Which you fear so much——</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Solness:</span> Towards which, in my heart, I yearn so +deeply.</p> + +<p class="ij4">[<i>In the next scene</i> <span class="smcap">Hilda</span> <i>compels</i> <span class="smcap">Solness</span> <i>to write a +few kind words on</i> <span class="smcap">Ragnar's</span> <i>drawings, and send +them to</i> <span class="smcap">Brovik</span>. <i>He entrusts the portfolio to</i> <span class="smcap">Kaia</span>, +<i>and thereupon dismisses her and</i> <span class="smcap">Ragnar</span> <i>from his +service.</i> <span class="smcap">Mrs. Solness</span> <i>re-enters.</i></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Mrs. Solness:</span> Are you really dismissing them, Halvard?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Solness:</span> Yes.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Mrs. Solness:</span> Her as well?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Solness:</span> Wasn't that what you wished?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Mrs. Solness:</span> But how can you get on without +<i>her</i>——? Oh, no doubt you've someone else in reserve, +Halvard.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Hilda</span> <i>(playfully)</i>: Well, <i>I</i> for one am not the person +to stand at that desk.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Solness:</span> Never mind, never mind. It'll be all right, +Aline. Now for moving into our new home—as quickly +as we can. This evening we'll hang up the wreath—right +on the pinnacle of the tower. What do you say to +that, Hilda?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Hilda</span> <i>(with sparkling eyes</i>): It'll be splendid to see +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span>you up so high once more. +<span class="smcap">Mrs. Solness:</span> For heaven's sake, don't, Miss Wangel. +My husband!—when he always gets so dizzy.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Hilda:</span> He—dizzy? I've seen him with my own eyes +at the top of a high church tower.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Mrs. Solness:</span> Impossible!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Solness:</span> True, all the same.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Mrs. Solness:</span> You, who can't even go out on the +second-floor balcony?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Solness:</span> You will see something different this evening.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Mrs. Solness:</span> You're ill, you're ill! I'll write at +once to the doctor. Oh, God, Oh, God!</p> + +<p class="ij4">[<i>She goes out.</i></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Hilda:</span> Don't tell me <i>my</i> master builder daren't, <i>cannot</i> +climb as high as he builds. You promised me a kingdom, +and then you went and—well! Don't tell me you +can ever be dizzy!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Solness:</span> This evening, then, we'll hang up the wreath, +Princess Hilda.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Hilda</span> (<i>bitterly</i>): Over your new home—yes.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Solness:</span> Over the new house, which will never be a +<i>home</i> for <i>me</i>.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Hilda</span> (<i>looks straight in front of her with a far-away +expression, and whispers to herself. The only words +audible are</i>): Frightfully thrilling——</p> +</div> +<p class="pmb3" /> + +<h3><span class="smcap">Act III</span></h3> + +<blockquote> +<p class="ij6 pmb1"><span class="smcap">Scene.</span>—<i>A large, broad verandah attached to</i> <span class="smcap">Solness's</span> +<i>dwelling-house. A flight of steps leads down to the +garden below. Far to the right, among the trees, +is a glimpse of the new villa, with scaffolding round +the tower. Evening sky, with sun-lit clouds.</i></p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block2a"> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Mrs. Solness:</span> Have you been round the garden, Miss +Wangel?</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Hilda:</span> Yes, and I've found heaps of flowers.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Mrs. Solness:</span> Are there, really? You see, I seldom +go there. I don't feel that it is <i>mine</i> any longer. They've +parcelled it out and built houses for strangers, who can +look in upon me from their windows.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Hilda:</span> Mrs. Solness—may I stay here with you a +little?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Mrs. Solness:</span> Yes, by all means, if you care to; but +I thought you wanted to go in to my husband—to help +him?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Hilda:</span> No, thanks. Besides, he's not in. He's with +the men over there. He looked so fierce, I didn't dare +to talk to him.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Mrs. Solness:</span> He's so kind and gentle in reality.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Hilda:</span> <i>He</i>———</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Mrs. Solness:</span> You don't really know him yet, Miss +Wangel.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Hilda:</span> Are you pleased about the new house?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Mrs. Solness:</span> It's what Halvard wants. It's simply +my duty to submit myself to <i>him</i>.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Hilda:</span> That must be difficult, indeed, when one has +gone through so much as you have—the loss of your two +little boys———</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Mrs. Solness:</span> One must bow to Providence and be +thankful, too.</p> + +<p class="ij4">[<span class="smcap">Dr. Herdal</span> <i>enters and goes in again with</i> <span class="smcap">Mrs. Solness</span>. +<i>She wishes to talk to him about her husband's +mad scheme. As they go</i> <span class="smcap">Solness</span> <i>enters</i>.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Solness:</span> Poor Aline! I suppose she was talking +about the two little boys? (<span class="smcap">Hilda</span> <i>shudders</i>) Poor +Aline, she will never get over it.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Hilda:</span> I am going away.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Solness:</span> I won't allow you to. I wish you simply to +<i>be</i> here, Hilda.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Hilda:</span> Oh, thank you. You know it wouldn't end +there. That's why I'm going. You have duties to <i>her</i>. +Live for those duties.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Solness:</span> Too late! Those powers—devils, if you +will!—and the troll within me as well, have drawn the +life-blood out of her. I'm chained alive to a dead +woman!—(<i>in wild anguish</i>) <i>I—I</i>, who cannot live without +joy in life.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Hilda:</span> What will you build next?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Solness</span> (<i>shaking his head</i>): Not much more.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Hilda</span> (<i>with an outburst</i>): Oh, it seems all so foolish—not +to be able to grasp your own happiness, merely because +someone you know happens to stand in the way——</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Solness:</span> If only one had the Viking spirit in life——</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Hilda:</span> And the other thing? What was that?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Solness:</span> A robust conscience.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Hilda</span> (<i>radiant</i>): I know what you're going to build +next.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Solness:</span> What?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Hilda:</span> The castle—<i>my</i> castle. Build it for me this +moment. The ten years are up. Out with my castle, +Mr. Solness! It shall stand on a very great height, so +that I can see far—far around. We shall build—we two +together—the very loveliest thing in all the world!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Solness:</span> Hilda, tell me what it is.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Hilda:</span> Builders are such very, very stupid people——</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Solness:</span> No doubt—but tell me what we two are to +build together?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Hilda:</span> Castles in the air! So easy to build (<i>scornfully</i>), +especially for builders who have a—a dizzy conscience.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Solness:</span> We shall build one—with a firm foundation. +(<span class="smcap">Ragnar</span> <i>enters with the wreath</i>) Have <i>you</i> brought +the wreath, Ragnar? Then I suppose your father's better? +Wasn't he cheered by what I wrote him?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Ragnar:</span> It came too late—he was unconscious. He +had had a stroke.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Solness:</span> Go home to him. Give <i>me</i> the wreath.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Ragnar:</span> You don't mean that you yourself—no—I'll +stop.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Hilda:</span> Mr. Solness, I will stand here and look at you.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span></p> + +<p class="ij4">[<span class="smcap">Solness</span> <i>takes the wreath and goes down through the +garden.</i> <span class="smcap">Mrs. Solness</span>, <i>in an agony of apprehension, +re-enters and sends</i> <span class="smcap">Ragnar</span> <i>to fetch her husband +back from the new building. She returns +indoors.</i></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Solness</span> (<i>re-entering</i>): Oh, it's <i>you</i>, Hilda! I was +afraid it was Aline or the doctor that wanted me.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Hilda:</span> You're easily frightened. They say you're +afraid to climb about scaffoldings. Is it true you're +afraid?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Solness:</span> Not of death—but—of retribution.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Hilda:</span> I don't understand that.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Solness:</span> Sit down, and I'll tell you something. You +know I began by building churches. I'd been piously +brought up. I thought it was the noblest task, pleasing +to Him for Whom churches are built. Then up at Lysanger +I understood that He meant me to have no love +and happiness of my own, but just to be a master builder +for Him all my life long. That was why He took my +little children! Then, that day, I did the impossible. I +was able to climb up to a great height. As I stood hanging +the wreath on the vane, I cried, "O Mighty One, I +will be a free builder—I, too, in my sphere as Thou in +Thine. I will build no more churches for Thee—only +homes for human beings." But <i>that</i> is not worth six-pence, +Hilda.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Hilda:</span> Then you will never build anything more?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Solness:</span> On the contrary, I'm just going to begin—the +only possible dwelling-place for human happiness———</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Hilda:</span> Our castles in the air.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Solness:</span> Our castles in the air—yes.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Hilda:</span> Then let me see you stand free and high up +(<i>passionately</i>). I will have you do it—just once more, +Mr. Solness. Do the <i>impossible</i>, once again.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Solness:</span> If I do, I will talk to Him once again up +there—"Mighty Lord, henceforth I will build nothing +but the loveliest thing in the world."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Hilda</span> (<i>carried away</i>): Yes—yes—yes! My lovely, +lovely castle! My castle in the air!</p> + +<p class="ij4">[<i>The others go out upon the verandah. The band of the +Masons' Union is heard</i>. <span class="smcap">Ragnar</span> <i>tells</i> <span class="smcap">Solness</span> +<i>that the foreman is ready to go up with the wreath</i>. +<span class="smcap">Solness</span> <i>goes out. The others watch eagerly</i>.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Dr. Herdal:</span> There goes the foreman up the ladder.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Ragnar:</span> Why, but it's———</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Hilda</span> (<i>jubilant</i>): It's the master builder himself.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Mrs. Solness:</span> Oh, my God! Halvard, Halvard! I +must go to him!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Dr. Herdal</span> (<i>holding her</i>): Don't move, any of you. +Not a sound.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Ragnar:</span> I feel as if I were looking at something +utterly impossible.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Hilda</span> (<i>ecstatically</i>): It is the <i>impossible</i> that he is +doing now. Can you see anyone else up there with him? +There is One he is striving with. I hear a song—a +mighty song. He is waving to us. Oh, wave back. +Hurrah for Master Builder Solness!</p> + +<p class="ij4">[<i>The shout is taken up. Then a shriek of horror. A +human body, with planks and pieces of wood, is +vaguely seen crashing down behind the trees</i>.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Hilda:</span> <i>My</i> Master Builder!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">A Voice:</span> Mr. Solness is dead. He fell right into the +quarry.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Ragnar:</span> So, after all, he could not do it.</p> + +<p class="it1 pmb3"><span class="smcap">Hilda:</span> But he mounted right up to the top. And I +heard harps in the air. (<i>Waves her shawl, and shrieks +with wild intensity) My—my</i> Master Builder!</p> +</div> +</div> +<p class="pmb3" /> + + +<div class="footnotes"><span class="font11"><b>FOOTNOTES:</b></span> + +<div class="footnote"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_N_14" id="Footnote_N_14"></a><a href="#FNanchor_N_14"><span class="label">[N]</span></a> Henrik Ibsen, poet and the creator of a new type of drama, was +born at Skien, in South Norway, on March 20, 1828. Apprenticed +first to a chemist at Grimstad, he next entered Christiania +University, but speedily wearied of regular academic studies. He +then undertook journalistic work for two years, and afterwards +became a theatrical manager at Bergen. In 1857 he was appointed +director of the National Theatre at Christiania, and about +this time wrote, at intervals, plays in the style of the ancient +Norse sagas. "The Master Builder" ("Bygmester Solness") +belongs to his later efforts, and was completed in 1892. In it +many critics discern the highest attainments of Ibsen's genius, +and its realism is strangely combined with romance. It is a +plea for the freedom of the human spirit; and the terrible drama +is wrought out in language of extraordinary symbolism. Hilda +Wangel is the "superwoman," who will suffer nothing to stand +between her and the realisation of herself. Had Solness been as +strong a spirit, the end might have been different. But he has a +"sickly conscience," unable to bear the heights of freedom. Here +again Ibsen is unique in his estimate of mankind. Nevertheless, +his characters are all actual personalities, and live vividly. Ibsen +died on May 23, 1906.</p> +</div></div> +<p class="pmb3" /> + + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span></p> + + +<h2><a name="The_Pillars_of_SocietyO" id="The_Pillars_of_SocietyO">The Pillars of Society</a><span class="font08"><a name="FNanchor_O_15" id="FNanchor_O_15"></a><a href="#Footnote_O_15" class="fnanchor">[O]</a></span></h2> + + +<h3><i>Persons in the Drama</i></h3> + +<div class="block2"> + +<div class="block2a"> +<p class="pmb3"> +<span class="smcap">Consul Bernick</span><br /> +<span class="smcap">Mrs. Bernick</span><br /> +<span class="smcap">Olaf</span>, <i>their son</i><br /> +<span class="smcap">Martha Bernick</span>, <i>sister of the consul</i><br /> +<span class="smcap">Lona Hessel</span>, <i>elder stepsister of Mrs. Bernick</i><br /> +<span class="smcap">Johan Tönnesen</span>, <i>her younger brother</i><br /> +<span class="smcap">Hilmar Tönnesen</span>, <i>Mrs. Bernick's brother</i><br /> +<span class="smcap">Rector Rörlund</span><br /> +<span class="smcap">Dina Dorf</span>, <i>a young lady living at the consul's</i><br /> +<span class="smcap">Krap</span>, <i>the consul's clerk</i><br /> +<span class="smcap">Shipbuilder Aune</span><br /> +<span class="smcap">Mrs. Rummel</span> <i>and other ladies, friends of the consul's family</i><br /> +</p> +</div> + + +<h3><span class="smcap">Act I</span></h3> + +<blockquote> +<p class="ij6 pmb1"><span class="smcap">Scene.</span>—<i>A large garden-room in</i> <span class="smcap">Consul Bernick's</span> +<i>house. A number of ladies are seated in the room</i>. +<span class="smcap">Aune</span>, <i>who has been sent for by the</i> <span class="smcap">Consul</span>, <i>is +addressed by</i> <span class="smcap">Krap</span> <i>at the door of the</i> <span class="smcap">Consul's</span> +<i>room</i>.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block2a"> +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Krap:</span> I am ordered by the consul to tell you that you +must stop those Saturday talks to the workmen about the +injury that our new machines will do to them. Your +first duty is to this establishment. Now you know the +will of the consul.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Aune:</span> The consul would have said it differently. +But I know I have to thank for this the American that +has put in for repairs.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Krap:</span> That is enough. You know the consul's +wishes. Pardon, ladies!</p> + +<p class="ij4">[<span class="smcap">Krap</span> <i>bows to ladies, and he and</i> <span class="smcap">Aune</span> <i>go into the +street</i>. <span class="smcap">Rector Rörlund</span> <i>has been reading aloud, +and now shuts the book and begins to converse with +the ladies</i>.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Rörlund:</span> This book forms a welcome contrast to the +hollowness and rottenness we see every day in the papers +and magazines, which reflect the condition of the whited +sepulchres, the great communities to-day. Doubt, restlessness, +and insecurity are undermining society.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Dina:</span> But are not many great things being accomplished?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Rörlund:</span> I do not understand what you mean by +great things.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Mrs. Rummel:</span> Last year we narrowly escaped the +introduction of a railroad.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Mrs. Bernick:</span> My husband managed to block the +scheme, but the papers, in consequence, said shameful +things about him. But we are forgetting, dear rector, +that we have to thank you for devoting so much time +to us.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Rörlund:</span> Do you not all make sacrifices in a good +cause to save the lapsed and lost?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Hilmar Tönnesen</span> (<i>coming in with a cigar in his +mouth</i>): I have only looked in in passing. Good-morning, +ladies! Well, you know Bernick has called a cabinet +council about this railway nonsense again. When it is a +question of money, then everything here ends in paltry +material calculations.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Mrs. Bernick:</span> But at any rate things are better than +formerly, when everything ended in dissipation. + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span> +<span class="smcap">Mrs. Rummel:</span> Only think of fifteen years ago. +What a life, with the dancing club and music club! I +well remember the noisy gaiety among families.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Mrs. Lynge:</span> There was a company of strolling players, +who, I was told, played many pranks. What was +the truth of the matter?</p> +</div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="font09">Mrs. Rummel, when Dina is out of the room, explains to the +ladies that the girl is the daughter of a strolling player who years +before had come to perform for a season in the town. Dorf, +the actor, had deserted both wife and child, and the wife had to +take to work to which she was unaccustomed, was seized with +a pulmonary malady, and died. Then Dina had been adopted +by the Bernicks.</p> + +<p class="font09 pmb3">Mrs. Rummel goes on to explain that at that season also +Johan, Mrs. Bernick's brother, had run away to America. After +his departure it was discovered that he had been playing tricks +with the cash-box of the firm, of which his widowed mother had +become the head. Karsten, now Consul, Bernick had just come +home from Paris. He became engaged to Betty Tönnesen, now +his wife, but when he entered her aunt's room, with the girl on +his arm, to announce his betrothal, Lona Hessel rose from her +chair and violently boxed his ear. Then she packed her box, +and went off to America. Little had been heard of Lona, except +that she had in America sung in taverns, and had given +lectures, and had written a most sensational book.</p> +</blockquote> + + +<h3><span class="smcap">Act II</span></h3> + +<blockquote> +<p class="ij6 pmb1"><span class="smcap">Scene.</span>—<i>The same garden-room.</i> <span class="smcap">Mrs. Bernick</span>. +<span class="smcap">Aune</span> <i>enters and greets</i> <span class="smcap">Consul Bernick</span>.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block2a"> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Bernick:</span> I am not at all pleased, Aune, with the way +things are going on in the yard. The repairs are slow. +The <i>Palm Tree</i> should long since have been at sea. +That American ship, the <i>Indian Girl</i>, has been lying here +five weeks. You do not know how to use the new machines, +or else you will not use them.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Aune:</span> Consul, the <i>Palm Tree</i> can go to sea in two +days, but the <i>Indian Girl</i> is as rotten as matchwood in +the bottom planking. Now, I am getting on for sixty, +and I cannot take to new ways. I am afraid for the +many folk whom the machinery will deprive of a livelihood.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Bernick:</span> I did not send for you to argue. Listen +now. The <i>Indian Girl</i> must be got ready to sail in two +days, at the same time as our own ship. There are reasons +for this decision. The carping newspaper critics +are pretending that we are giving all our attention to the +<i>Palm Tree</i>. If you will not do what I order, I must +look for somebody who will.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Aune:</span> You are asking impossibilities, consul. But +surely you cannot think of dismissing me, whose father +and grandfather worked here all their lives before me. +Do you know what is meant by the dismissal of an old +workman?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Bernick:</span> You are a stubborn fellow, Aune. You +oppose me from perversity. I am sorry indeed if we +must part, Aune.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Aune:</span> We will not part, consul. The <i>Indian Girl</i> +shall be cleared in two days.</p> + +<p class="ij4">[<span class="smcap">Aune</span> <i>bows and retires.</i> <span class="smcap">Hilmar Tönnesen</span> <i>comes +through the garden gate.</i></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Hilmar:</span> Good-day, Betty! Good-day, Bernick. +Have you heard the new sensation? The two Americans +are going about the streets in company with Dina Dorf. +The town is all excitement about it.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Bernick</span> (<i>looking out into the street</i>): They are +coming here. We must be sure to treat them well. +They will soon be away again.</p> + +<p class="ij4">[<span class="smcap">Johan</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Lona</span> <i>enter. Presently all disperse into +the garden, and</i> <span class="smcap">Bernick</span> <i>goes up to</i> <span class="smcap">Johan</span>.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Bernick:</span> Now we are alone, Johan, I must thank +you. For to you I owe home, happiness, position, and +all that I have and am. Not one in ten thousand would +have done all that you then did for me. I was the guilty +one. On the night when that drunken wretch came home +it was for Betty's sake that I broke off the entanglement +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span> +with Madame Dorf; but still, that you should act in such +a noble spirit of self-sacrifice as to turn appearances +against yourself, and go away, can never be forgotten +by me.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Johan:</span> Oh, well, we were both young and thoughtless. +I was an orphan, alone and free, and was glad to get +away from office drudgery. You had your old mother +alive, and you had just engaged yourself to Betty, who +was very fond of you. We agreed that you must be +saved, and I was proud to be your friend. You had +come back like a prince from abroad, and chose me for +your closest friend. Now I know why. You were +making love to Betty. But I was proud of it.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Bernick:</span> Are you going back to your American +farm? Not soon, I hope.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Johan:</span> As soon as possible. I only came over to +please Lona. She felt homesick. You can never think +what she has been to me. You never could tolerate her, +but to me she has been a mother, singing, lecturing, writing +to support me when I was ill and could not work. +And I may as well tell you frankly that I have told her +all. But do not fear her. She will say nothing. But +who would have dreamt of your taking into your house +that little creature who played angels in the theatre, and +scampered about here? What became of her parents?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Bernick:</span> I wrote you all that happened. The +drunken scoundrel, after leaving his wife, was killed in +a drinking bout. After the wife died it was through +Martha that we took little Dina in charge.</p> +</div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="font09 pmb3">To the amazement of the Bernicks and some others, Johan +makes it known that he has asked Dina to be his wife, and that +she has consented. To their further astonishment and annoyance, +Lona declares her profound approval of this engagement. +Moreover, Lona now challenges Bernick to clear his soul of the +lie on which he has stood for these fifteen years. It is a three-fold +lie—the lie towards Lona, then the lie towards Betty, then +the lie towards Johan. But Bernick shrinks from the terrible +shame that would come on him as one of the "pillars of society."</p> +</blockquote> + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span></p> + + +<h3><span class="smcap">Act III</span></h3> + +<blockquote> +<p class="ij6 pmb1"><span class="smcap">Scene.</span> <span class="smcap">Consul Bernick's</span> <i>garden-room again</i>. <span class="smcap">Krap</span> +<i>is speaking to the</i> <span class="smcap">Consul</span>.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block2a"> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Krap:</span> The <i>Palm Tree</i> can sail to-morrow, but as for +the <i>Indian Girl</i>, in my opinion she will not get far. I +have been secretly examining the bottom of the ship, +where the repairs have been pushed on very fast. The +rotten place is patched up, and made to look like new, for +Aune has been working himself all night at it. There is +some villainy at work. I believe Aune wants, out of +revenge for the use of the new machines, to send that +ship to the bottom of the sea.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Bernick:</span> This is horrible. True, Aune is an agitator +who is spreading discontent, but this is inconceivable.</p> + +<p class="ij4">[<span class="smcap">Krap</span> <i>goes out, and presently</i> <span class="smcap">Lona Hessel</span> <i>enters</i>.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Bernick:</span> Well, Lona, what do you think of me now?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Lona:</span> Just what I thought before. A lie more or +less——</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Bernick:</span> I can talk to you more confidentially than +to others. I shall hide nothing from you. I had a part +in spreading that rumour about Johan and the cash-box. +But make allowance for me. Our house when I came +home from my foreign tour was threatened with ruin, +and one misfortune followed another. I was almost in +despair, and in my distraction got into that difficulty +which ended with the disappearance of Johan. Then +after you and he left various reports were spread. Some +folks declared that he had taken the money to America. +I was in such difficulty that I did not say a word to contradict +the rumours.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Lona:</span> So a lie has made you one of the pillars of +society.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Johan</span> (<i>entering</i>): I have come to tell you that I intend + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span> +not only to marry Dina Dorf, but to remain here and +to defy all these liars. Yesterday I promised to keep +silence, but now I need the truth. You must set me free +by telling the truth, that I may win Dina.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Bernick</span> (<i>in great agitation</i>): But just reflect on my +position. If you aim such a blow as this at me I am +ruined irretrievably. The welfare of this community is +also at stake. If my credit is not impaired, I shall soon +be a millionaire, when certain company projects mature. +Johan, go away, and I will share with you. I have +staked all I possess on schemes now about to mature, but +if my character is impaired, my utter ruin is inevitable.</p> +</div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="font09 pmb1">To the surprise of Bernick, Johan announces that he will go +to America, but will shortly return for Dina, and that accordingly +he will sail next day in the <i>Indian Girl</i>, the captain having +promised to take him. He will sell his farm and be back in +two months, and then the guilty one must take the guilt on himself.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block2a"> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Johan:</span> The wind is good, and in three weeks I shall +be across the Atlantic unless the <i>Indian Girl</i> should go to +the bottom.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Bernick</span> (<i>involuntarily starting</i>): Go to the bottom?<br /> +Why should she?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Johan:</span> Yes, indeed, why?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Bernick</span> (<i>very softly</i>): Go to the bottom?</p> +</div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="font09 pmb3">They separate, and Aune enters, and anxiously asks if Bernick +is positively determined that the American ship shall sail the +next day, on pain of his dismissal. He replies that he supposes +the repairs are properly finished, and therefore the <i>Indian Girl</i> +must sail. A merchant steps in to say that the storm-signals +have been hoisted, for a tempest is threatening. This gentleman +says to Bernick that the <i>Palm Tree</i> ought to start all the +same, for she is a splendidly-built craft, and she is only to cross +the North Sea; but as for the <i>Indian Girl</i>, such an old hulk +would be in great peril. But Bernick evades the remonstrance, +and no alteration is made in the plans of procedure. The ship +is to sail.</p> +</blockquote> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span></p> + + +<h3><span class="smcap">Act IV</span></h3> + +<blockquote> +<p class="ij6 pmb1"><span class="smcap">Scene.</span>—<i>The same garden-room. It is a stormy afternoon +and growing dark</i>.</p> +</blockquote> + +<blockquote> +<p class="font09 pmb1">Bernick is apprised that he is to be most honourably fêted by +his fellow citizens who are about to form a procession, and to +parade before his house with music. The proudest moment of +his life is at hand. But the fact that the sea is running high +outside the harbour is causing great agitation to the mind of +Bernick. Lona looks in to say that she has been saying farewell +to Johan. He has not changed his determination to sail. A +strange incident happens. Little Olaf Bernick runs away from +home to slip on board the ship and accompany his uncle to +America.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block2a"> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Lona:</span> So the great hour has arrived. The whole +town is to be illuminated.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Bernick</span> (<i>pacing to and fro in agitation</i>): Yes. +Lona, you despise me.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Lona:</span> Not yet.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Bernick:</span> You have no right to despise me. For you +little realise how lonely I stand in this narrow society. +What have I accomplished, with all my efforts? We +who are considered the pillars of society are but its tools +after all. Since you came home from America I have +been keenly feeling all this. All this show and deception +gives me no satisfaction. But I work for my son, who +will be able to found a truer state of things and to be +happier than his father.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Lona:</span> With a lie for its basis? Think what an +heritage you are preparing for Olaf.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Bernick:</span> Why did you and Johan come home to +crush me?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Lona:</span> Let me just tell you that after all Johan will +not come back to crush you. For he has gone for ever +and Dina has gone also to become his wife.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Bernick</span> (<i>amazed</i>): Gone—in the <i>Indian Girl</i>?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Lona:</span> They did not dare to risk their lives in that +crazy tub. They are in the <i>Palm Tree</i>.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span></p> +</div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="font09 pmb1">Bernick rushes to his office to order the <i>Indian Girl</i> to be +stopped in the harbour, but he learns that she already is out +at sea. But presently Hilmar comes to tell him that Olaf has +run away in the <i>Indian Girl</i>. He cries out that the ship must +be stopped at any cost. Krap says it is impossible. Music is +heard, for the procession is approaching. Bernick, in an agony +of soul, declares that he cannot receive anyone. The whole +street blazes with the illuminations, and on a great transparency +on the opposite house gleams the inscription, "Long live Karsten +Bernick, the Pillar of our Society!"</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block2a"> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Bernick</span> (<i>at the window, shrinking back</i>): I cannot +look at all this. Away with all these mocking words! I +shall never see Olaf again.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Mrs. Bernick:</span> You will see him again, Karsten, all +right. I have got him. Do you think a mother does not +watch? I overheard a few words from our boy which +set me on my guard. I and Aune went in the sailing +boat from the yard and reached the <i>Indian Girl</i> when she +was on the point of sailing, and he was soon discovered +hiding away.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Bernick:</span> And is the ship under sail again?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Mrs. Bernick:</span> No. The darkness came on more +densely, the pilot was alarmed, and so Aune, in your +name, took it on himself to order the ship to stay till +to-morrow.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Bernick:</span> What an unspeakable blessing.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Krap:</span> The procession is coming through the garden +gate, consul.</p> +</div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="font09 pmb3">Rector Rörlund, at the head of the procession, makes a presentation +to Bernick in the name of the committee, and expresses +the public esteem and admiration for the consul's services to +society. Bernick, to the astonishment of the audience, proceeds +to make a full confession of the duplicity and deceit of which +he has been guilty. He unreservedly places himself in the hands +of the people, who quietly disperse. Bernick at once finds that, +whatever the people may think, he has won the sympathy of all +his own circle. Lona lays her hands on his shoulder with the +words, "Brother-in-law, you have at last discovered that the +spirit of Truth and the spirit of Freedom are the real Pillars +of Society."</p> +</blockquote> +</div> + + +<div class="footnotes"><span class="font11"><b>FOOTNOTES:</b></span> + +<div class="footnote"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_O_15" id="Footnote_O_15"></a><a href="#FNanchor_O_15"><span class="label">[O]</span></a> "The Pillars of Society," published in 1877, is perhaps the +most conspicuous of the series of psychological dramatic studies +through which Ibsen has exercised untold influence on European +drama. In it he deals with the problem of hypocrisy in a small +commercial centre of industry, and pours scorn on contemporary +humanity, while cherishing the highest hopes of human possibilities +for the future.</p> +</div></div> +<p class="pmb3" /> + + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span></p> +<p class="pmb3" /> + + +<h2><a name="BEN_JONSONP" id="BEN_JONSONP">BEN JONSON</a><span class="font08"><a name="FNanchor_P_16" id="FNanchor_P_16"></a><a href="#Footnote_P_16" class="fnanchor">[P]</a></span></h2> +<p class="pmb3" /> + + + + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<h2><a name="Every_Man_in_His_Humour" id="Every_Man_in_His_Humour">Every Man in His Humour</a></h2> + + +<h3><i>Persons in the Comedy</i></h3> + +<div class="block2"> + +<div class="block3"> +<table border="0" cellspacing="1" cellpadding="1" class="tdl" summary="Persons - Every Man in his Humor"> + <tr> <td colspan="3"><p class="ij3"><span class="smcap">Old Knowell</span></p></td> </tr> + <tr> <td colspan="3"><p class="ij3"><span class="smcap">Young Knowell</span>, <i>in love with Bridget</i></p></td> </tr> + <tr> <td colspan="3"><p class="ij3"><span class="smcap">Brain-Worm</span></p></td> </tr> + <tr> <td colspan="3"><p class="ij3"><span class="smcap">Master Stephen</span>, <i>a country gull</i></p></td> </tr> + <tr> <td colspan="3"><p class="ij3"><span class="smcap">Master Matthew</span>, <i>a town gull</i></p></td> </tr> + <tr> <td colspan="3"><p class="ij3 smcap">Captain Bobadill</p></td> </tr> + <tr> <td colspan="3"><p class="ij3 smcap">Down-Right</p></td> </tr> + <tr> <td colspan="3"><p class="ij3"><span class="smcap">Well-Bred</span>, <i>his half-brother</i></p></td> </tr> + <tr> <td colspan="3"><p class="ij3"><span class="smcap">Kitely</span>, <i>husband to Down-right's sister</i></p></td> </tr> + <tr> + <td><p class="ij3 smcap">Cob,</p></td> + <td><p class="ij3 smcap">Cash,</p></td> + <td><p class="ij3 smcap">Formal</p></td> + </tr> + <tr> <td colspan="3"><p class="ij3 smcap">Justice Clement</p></td> </tr> + <tr> <td colspan="3"><p class="ij3 smcap">Dame Kitely</p></td> </tr> + <tr> <td colspan="3"><p class="ij3"><span class="smcap">Bridget</span>, <i>Kitely's sister</i></p></td> </tr> + <tr> <td colspan="3"><p class="ij3"><span class="smcap">Tib</span>, <i>Cob's wife</i></p></td> </tr> +</table> +</div> +<p class="pmb3" /> + + +<h3><span class="smcap">Act I</span></h3> + +<blockquote> +<p class="ij6 pmb1"><span class="smcap">Scene I.</span>—<i>In</i> <span class="smcap">Knowell's</span> <i>house. Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Knowell</span>, <i>with +a letter from</i> <span class="smcap">Well-Bred</span> <i>to</i><span class="smcap"> Young Knowell</span>.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block2a"> +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Knowell:</span> This letter is directed to my son.<br /> +Yet I will break it open.<br /> +What's here? What's this?</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span></p> + +<p>(<i>Reads</i>) "Why, Ned, I beseech thee, hast thou forsworn<br /> +all thy friends i' the Old Jewry? Dost thou<br /> +think us all Jews that inhabit there yet? If thou dost,<br /> +come over and but see our frippery. Leave thy vigilant<br /> +father alone, to number over his green apricots evening<br /> +and morning, o' the north-west wall. Prythee, come over<br /> +to me quickly this morning; I have such a present for<br /> +thee! One is a rhymer, sir, o' your own batch, but doth<br /> +think himself a poet-major of the town; the other, I<br /> +will not venture his description till you come."<br /> +Why, what unhallowed ruffian would have writ<br /> +In such a scurrilous manner to a friend!<br /> +Why should he think I tell my apricots?</p> + +<p class="ij4">[<i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Brain-Worm</span>.</p> + +<p>Take you this letter, and deliver it my son,<br /> +But with no notice I have opened it, on your life.</p> + +<p class="ij4">[<i>Exeunt. Then, enter</i> <span class="smcap">Young Knowell</span>, <i>with the letter, +and</i> <span class="smcap">Brain-Worm</span>.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Young Knowell:</span> Did he open it, say'st thou?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Brain-Worm:</span> Yes, o' my word, sir, and read the contents. +For he charged me on my life to tell nobody +that he opened it, which unless he had done he would +never fear to have it revealed.</p> + +<p class="ij4">[<span class="smcap">Young Knowell</span> <i>moves apart to read the letter. Enter</i> +<span class="smcap">Stephen</span>. <span class="smcap">Knowell</span> <i>laughs</i>.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Stephen:</span> 'Slid, I hope he laughs not at me; an he +do——</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Knowell:</span> Here was a letter, indeed, to be intercepted +by a man's father! Well, if he read this with +patience—— (<i>Seeing</i> <span class="smcap">Stephen</span>) What, my wise cousin! +Nay, then, I'll furnish our feast with one gull more. +How now, Cousin Stephen—melancholy?</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">STEPHEN:</span> Yes, a little. I thought you had laughed +at me, cousin.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Knowell:</span> Be satisfied, gentle coz, and, I pray you, +let me entreat a courtesy of you. I am sent for this +morning by a friend in the Old Jewry: will you bear me +company?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Stephen:</span> Sir, you shall command me twice as far.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Knowell:</span> Now, if I can but hold him up to his +height!</p> +</div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="p2 ij6 pmb1"><span class="smcap">Scene II.</span>—<span class="smcap">Bobadill's</span> <i>room, a mean chamber, in</i> <span class="smcap">Cob's</span> +<i>house</i>. <span class="smcap">Bobadill</span> <i>lying on a bench. Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Matthew</span>, +<i>ushered in by</i> <span class="smcap">Tib</span>.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block2a"> +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Matthew:</span> 'Save you, sir; 'save you, captain.</p> + +<p class="it1"><br /> +<span class="smcap">Bobadill:</span> Gentle Master Matthew! Sit down, I pray +you. Master Matthew in any case, possess no gentlemen +of our acquaintance with notice of my lodging. Not +that I need to care who know it! But in regard I would +not be too popular and generally visited, as some are.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Matthew:</span> True, captain, I conceive you.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Bobadill:</span> For do you see, sir, by the heart of valour +in me except it be to some peculiar and choice spirit like +yourself—but what new book have you there?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Matthew:</span> Indeed, here are a number of fine +speeches in this book.</p> + +<blockquote> +<p>"O eyes, no eyes, but fountains fraught with tears"—</p> +</blockquote> + +<p>There's a conceit! Another:</p> + +<blockquote> +<p>"O life, no life but lively form of death!<br /> +O world, no world but mass of public wrongs"—</p> +</blockquote> + +<p>O the Muses! Is't not excellent? But when will you +come to see my study? Good faith I can show you some +very good things I have done of late. But, captain, Master +Well-bred's elder brother and I are fallen out exceedingly.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Bobadill:</span> Squire Down-right, the half-brother was't +not? Hang him rook! Come hither; you shall chartel + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span> +him. I'll show you a trick or two you shall kill him with, +at pleasure, the first staccato, if you will, by this air. +Come, put on your cloak, and we'll go to some private +place where you are acquainted, some tavern or so. +What money ha' you about you?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Matthew:</span> Faith, not past a two shillings or so.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Bobadill:</span> 'Tis somewhat with the least; but come, +we will have a bunch of radish and salt to taste our +wine, and after we'll call upon Young Well-bred.</p> + +<p class="ij4 pmb3">[<i>Exeunt</i>.</p> +</div> + + +<h3><span class="smcap">Act II</span></h3> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="ij6 pmb2"><span class="smcap">Scene I.</span>—<span class="smcap">Kitely's</span> <i>house</i>. <span class="smcap">Kitely</span> <i>explains to</i> <span class="smcap">Down-Right</span> +<i>that</i> <span class="smcap">Well-Bred</span>, <i>who lodges with him brings +riotous companions to the house, which makes him +much troubled for his pretty wife and sister</i>. <span class="smcap">Bobadill</span> +<i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Matthew</span> <i>calling in search of</i> <span class="smcap">Well-Bred</span>, +<i>the former insults</i> <span class="smcap">Down-Right</span>, <i>and leaves him +storming</i>.</p> +</blockquote> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="ij6 pmb1"><span class="smcap">Scene II.</span>—<i>Moorfields</i>. <i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Brain-Worm</span>, <i>disguised +as a maimed soldier</i>.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block2a"> +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Brain-Worm:</span> The truth is, my old master intends to +follow my young master, dry-foot, over Moorfields to +London this morning. Now I, knowing of this hunting +match, or rather conspiracy, and to insinuate with my +young master, have got me before in this disguise, determining +here to lie in ambuscade. If I can but get +his cloak, his purse, his hat, anything to stay his journey, +I am made for ever, in faith. But here comes my young +master and his cousin, as I am a true counterfeit man of +war, and no soldier.</p> + +<p class="ij4">[<i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Young Knowell</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Stephen</span>. <span class="smcap">Brain-Worm</span>, +<i>with a cock-and-bull tale of his services in the wars, +persuades</i> <span class="smcap">Stephen</span> <i>to buy his sword as a pure Toledo. +Exeunt. Presently, enter</i> <span class="smcap">Old Knowell</span>, <i>and</i> +<span class="smcap">Brain-Worm</span> <i>meets him</i>.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Brain-Worm</span> (<i>aside</i>): My master! Nay, faith, have at +you; I am fleshed now, I have sped so well. Worshipful +sir, I beseech you, respect the estate of a poor soldier; +I am ashamed of this base course of life, but extremity +provokes me to it; what remedy?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Knowell:</span> I have not for you now.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Brain-Worm:</span> Good sir, by that hand, you may do the<br /> +part of a kind gentleman, in lending a poor soldier the<br /> +price of a can of beer; Heaven shall pay you, sweet worship!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Knowell:</span> Art thou a man, and shamest not thou to beg? +To practise such a servile kind of life? +Either the wars might still supply thy wants, +Or service of some virtuous gentleman.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Brain-Worm:</span> Faith, sir, I would gladly find some +other course—I know what I would say; but as for +service—my name, sir? Please you, Fitzsword, sir.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Knowell:</span> Say that a man should entertain thee now, +Would'st thou be modest, humble, just, and true?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Brain-Worm:</span> Sir, by the place and honour of a +soldier.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Knowell:</span> Nay, nay, I like not these affected oaths. +But follow me; I'll prove thee.</p> + +<p class="ij4">[<i>Exit.</i></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Brain-Worm:</span> Yes, sir, straight. 'Slid, was there ever +a fox in years to betray himself thus! Now shall I be +possessed of all his counsels, and by that conduit, my +young master.</p> + +<p class="ij4 pmb3">[<i>Follows</i> <span class="smcap">Knowell</span>.</p> +</div> + + +<h3><span class="smcap">Act III</span></h3> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="ij6 pmb1"><span class="smcap">Scene I.</span>—<i>A room in the Windmill Tavern.</i> <span class="smcap">Well-Bred</span>, +<span class="smcap">Bobadill</span>, <span class="smcap">Matthew</span>. <i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Young Knowell</span> +<i>with</i> <span class="smcap">Stephen</span>.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block2a"> +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Well-Bred:</span> Ned Knowell! By my soul, welcome!<br /> +(<i>Lower</i>) Sirrah, there be the two I writ of. But what +strange piece of silence is this? The sign of the Dumb + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span> +Man?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Knowell:</span> Oh, sir, a kinsman of mine; he has his +humour, sir.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Stephen:</span> My name is Master Stephen, sir; I am +this gentleman's own cousin, sir; I am somewhat melancholy, +but you shall command me.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Matthew:</span> Oh, it's your only fine humour, sir. Your +true melancholy breeds your perfect fine wit. I am melancholy +myself, divers times, and then I do no more but +take pen and paper presently, and overflow you half a +score or a dozen of fine sonnets at a sitting.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Well-Bred:</span> Captain Bobadill, why muse you so?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Knowell:</span> He is melancholy, too.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Bobadill:</span> Why, sir, I was thinking of a most honourable +piece of service was performed at the beleaguering +of Strigonium; the first but the best leaguer that ever +I beheld with these eyes. Look you, sir, by St. George, +I was the first man that entered the breach; and had I +not effected it with resolution, I had been slain if I had +had a million of lives. Observe me judicially, sweet sir. +They had planted me three demiculvirins just in the +mouth of the breach, but I, with these single arms, my +poor rapier, ran violently upon the Moors, and put 'em +pell-mell to the sword.</p> + +<p class="ij4 pmb3">[<i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Brain-Worm</span>, <i>who discloses himself apart, to</i> +<span class="smcap">Knowell</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Well-Bred</span>, <i>and reports that</i> <span class="smcap">Old +Knowell</span> <i>is awaiting his return at</i> <span class="smcap">Justice Clement's</span> +<i>house. Exeunt</i>.</p> +</div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="ij6 pmb1"><span class="smcap">Scene II.</span>—<i>At</i> <span class="smcap">Kitely's</span>. <span class="smcap">Kitely</span> <i>has gone to</i> <span class="smcap">Justice +Clement's</span>; <i>very anxious about his wife and sister, +he has ordered</i> <span class="smcap">Cash</span> <i>to send him a messenger if</i> +<span class="smcap">Well-Bred</span> <i>comes home with any of his boon-companions. +Enter to</i> <span class="smcap">Cash</span>, <span class="smcap">Well-Bred</span>, <i>with the party +as in the last scene</i>.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block2a"> +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Well-Bred:</span> Whither went your master, Thomas, +canst thou tell?</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Cash:</span> I know not; to Justice Clement's, I think, sir.</p> + +<p class="ij4">[<i>Exit.</i></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Knowell:</span> Justice Clement! What's he?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Well-Bred:</span> Why, dost thou not know him? He is a +city magistrate, a justice here, an excellent good lawyer +and a great scholar; but the only mad merry old fellow +in Europe.</p> + +<p class="ij4">[<i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Cash</span>.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Bobadill:</span> Master Kitely's man, pray thee vouchsafe +us the lighting of this match. (<span class="smcap">Cash</span> <i>takes match, and +exits</i>) 'Tis your right, Trinidado. Did you never take +any, Master Stephen?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Stephen:</span> No, truly, sir, but I'll learn to take it now, +since you commend it so.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Bobadill:</span> Sir, I have been in the Indies where this +herb grows; where neither myself nor a dozen gentlemen +more of my knowledge have received the taste of any +other nutriment in the world for the space of one and +twenty weeks, but the fume of this simple only. By Hercules, +I do hold it, and will affirm it, before any prince in +Europe, to be the most sovereign and precious weed that +ever the earth tendered to the use of man.</p> + +<p class="ij4">[<span class="smcap">Cob</span> <i>has entered meanwhile</i>.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Cob:</span> Mack, I marvel what pleasure they have in taking +this roguish tobacco. It's good for nothing but to +choke a man, and fill him full of smoke and embers. +And there were no wiser men than I, I'd have it present +whipping, man or woman, that should but deal with a +tobacco pipe.</p> + +<p class="ij4">[<span class="smcap">Bobadill</span> <i>cudgels him. Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Cash</span>, <i>who drags off the +lamenting</i> <span class="smcap">Cob</span>. <i>While the rest are conversing</i>, +<span class="smcap">Matthew</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Bobadill</span> <i>slip out</i>.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Well-Bred:</span> Soft, where's Master Matthew? Gone?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Brain-Worm:</span> No, sir, they went in here.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Well-Bred:</span> Oh, let's follow them. Master Matthew + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span> +is gone to salute his mistress in verse. We shall have the +happiness to hear some of his poetry now. He never +comes impoverished.</p> + +<p class="ij4 pmb3">[<i>Exeunt.</i></p> +</div> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="ij6 pmb1"><span class="smcap">Scene III.</span>—<span class="smcap">Justice Clement's</span>. <span class="smcap">Cob</span> <i>finds</i> <span class="smcap">Kitely</span> <i>and +reports the arrival of</i> <span class="smcap">Well-Bred's</span> <i>party</i>. <span class="smcap">Kitely</span> +<i>hurries home in a panic. Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Clement</span> <i>with</i> <span class="smcap">Old +Knowell</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Formal</span>.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block2a"> +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Clement</span> (<i>to</i> <span class="smcap">Cob</span>): How now, sirrah? What make +you here?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Cob:</span> A poor neighbour of your worship, come to +crave the peace of your worship; a warrant for one that +has wronged me, sir; an I die within a twelvemonth and +a day, I may swear by the law of the land that he killed +me.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Clement:</span> How, knave? What colour hast thou for +that?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Cob:</span> Both black and blue, an't please your worship; +colour enough, I warrant you. [<i>Baring his arm</i>.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Clement:</span> How began the quarrel between you?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Cob:</span> Marry indeed, an't please your worship, only +because I spake against their vagrant tobacco; for nothing +else.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Clement:</span> Ha! You speak against tobacco. Your +name?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Cob:</span> Cob, sir, Oliver Cob.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Clement:</span> Then, Oliver Cob, you shall go to jail.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Cob:</span> Oh, I beseech your worship, for heaven's sake, +dear master justice!</p> + +<p class="it1 pmb3"><span class="smcap">Clement:</span> He shall not go; I did but fear the knave. +Formal, give him his warrant. (<i>Exeunt</i> <span class="smcap">Formal</span> <i>and</i> +<span class="smcap">Cob</span>) How now, Master Knowell, in dumps? Your +cares are nothing. What! Your son is old enough to +govern himself; let him run his course.</p> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span></p> + + +<p><span class="smcap">Act IV</span></p> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="ij6 pmb1"><span class="smcap">Scene I.</span>—<i>At</i> <span class="smcap">Kitely's</span>. <span class="smcap">Dame Kitely</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Down-Right</span>, +<i>who, to his sister's great indignation, is reproving +her for admitting</i> <span class="smcap">Well-Bred's</span> <i>companions. +Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Bridget</span>, <span class="smcap">Matthew</span>, <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Bobadill</span>; <span class="smcap">Well-Bred</span>, +<span class="smcap">Stephen</span>, <span class="smcap">Young Knowell</span>, <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Brain-Worm</span> +<i>at the back</i>.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block2a"> +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Bridget:</span> Servant, in truth, you are too prodigal<br /> +Of your wit's treasure thus to pour it forth<br /> +Upon so mean a subject as my worth.<br /> +What is this same, I pray you?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Matthew:</span> Marry, an elegy, an elegy, an odd toy.<br /> +I'll read it if you please.</p> + +<p class="ij4">[<i>Exit</i> <span class="smcap">Down-Right</span>, <i>disgusted. The rest listen to</i> <span class="smcap">Matthew's</span> +<i>"elegy," consisting of scraps from Marlowe. +As</i> <span class="smcap">Down-Right</span> <i>re-enters, fuming</i>, <span class="smcap">Well-Bred</span> +<i>is beginning to chaff</i> <span class="smcap">Matthew</span>. <span class="smcap">Down-Right</span> +<i>interrupts with an attack on the whole company, and +threatens to slit</i> <span class="smcap">Bobadill's</span> <i>ears. Swords are drawn +all round, and</i> <span class="smcap">Knowell</span> <i>is endeavouring to calm the +disturbance, when</i> <span class="smcap">Kitely</span> <i>enters</i>.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Well-Bred:</span> Come, let's go. This is one of my +brother's ancient humours, this.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Stephen:</span> I am glad nobody was hurt by his "ancient +humour."</p> + +<p class="ij4">[<i>Exeunt all but they of the house</i>. <span class="smcap">Bridget</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Dame +Kitely</span> <i>praise the conduct of</i> <span class="smcap">Knowell</span>, <i>whereupon</i> +<span class="smcap">Kitely</span> <i>conceives that he must be</i> <span class="smcap">Dame Kitely's</span> +<i>lover</i>.</p> +</div> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="ij6 pmb1"><span class="smcap">Scene II.</span>—<i>The Old Jewry</i>. <span class="smcap">Well-Bred</span> <i>has agreed with</i> +<span class="smcap">Knowell</span> <i>to persuade</i> <span class="smcap">Bridget</span> <i>to meet him at the +Tower so that they may be married</i>. <span class="smcap">Brain-Worm</span> +<i>has been despatched to carry out other details of the +plot. Meeting</i> <span class="smcap">Old Knowell</span> <i>with</i> <span class="smcap">Formal</span> <i>he reports +that (as</i> <span class="smcap">Fitzsword</span>) <i>his connection with</i> <span class="smcap">OLD +Knowell</span> <i>has been discovered; that he has escaped + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span> +with difficulty from</i> <span class="smcap">Young Knowell</span>, <i>and that +the father had better hasten to</i> Cob's <i>house to catch +his son in</i> flagrante delicto. <i>He then goes off with</i> +<span class="smcap">Formal</span>. <i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Bobadill</span>, <span class="smcap">Young Knowell</span>, <span class="smcap">Matthew</span>, +<i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Stephen</span>.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block2a"> +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Bobadill:</span> I will tell you, sir, by way of private; were +I known to her majesty, I would undertake to save three +parts of her yearly charge in holding war. Thus, sir, I +would select nineteen more gentlemen of good spirit; +and I would teach the special rules, your punto, your reverso, +your staccato, till they could all play very near +as well as myself. We twenty would come into the field, +and we would challenge twenty of the enemy; kill them, +challenge twenty more; kill them, and thus kill every +man his twenty a day, that's twenty score; twenty score, +that's two hundred; five days a thousand, two hundred +days kills forty thousand.</p> + +<p class="ij4">[<i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Down-Right</span>, <i>who challenges</i> <span class="smcap">Bobadill</span> <i>to draw +on the spot, and cudgels him while</i> <span class="smcap">Matthew</span> <i>runs +away, to</i> <span class="smcap">Knowell's</span> <i>enjoyment. Exeunt all</i>. +<span class="smcap">Well-Bred</span> <i>makes the proposed arrangement with</i> +<span class="smcap">Bridget</span>. <span class="smcap">Brain-Worm</span>, <i>who has stolen</i> <span class="smcap">Formal's</span> +<i>clothes, tricks</i> <span class="smcap">Kitely</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Dame Kitely</span> <i>severally +into hurrying off to</i> <span class="smcap">Cob's</span> <i>house to catch each other +in misdoing. Then, meeting</i> <span class="smcap">Bobadill</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Matthew</span> +<i>he engages to procure them a warrant against</i> +<span class="smcap">Down-Right</span>, <i>and a sergeant to serve it</i>. <span class="smcap">Old +Knowell</span>, <span class="smcap">Kitely</span>, <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Dame Kitely</span> <i>attended by</i> +<span class="smcap">Cash</span>, <i>meet outside</i> <span class="smcap">Cob's</span> <i>house, each with their own +suspicions; there is a general altercation, while</i> <span class="smcap">TIB</span> +<i>refuses to admit any of them</i>.</p> +</div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="ij6 pmb1"><span class="smcap">Scene III.</span>—<i>A street</i>. <span class="smcap">Brain-Worm</span>, <i>who has exchanged</i> +<span class="smcap">Formal's</span> <i>clothes for a sergeant's attire. Enter</i> +<span class="smcap">Matthew</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Bobadill</span>.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block2a"> +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Matthew:</span> 'Save you, friend. Are you not here by +appointment of Justice Clement's man?</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Brain-Worm:</span> Yes, an't please you, sir; with a warrant +to be served on one Down-right.</p> + +<p class="ij4 pmb3">[<i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Stephen</span>, <i>wearing</i> <span class="smcap">Down-Right's</span> <i>cloak, which +he had picked up in the scrimmage. As they are +arresting him</i>, <span class="smcap">Down-Right</span> <i>enters. He submits to +arrest, but has</i> <span class="smcap">Stephen</span> <i>arrested for wearing his +cloak. The whole party marches off to</i> <span class="smcap">Justice +Clement's</span>.</p> +</div> + +<h3><span class="smcap">Act V</span></h3> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="ij6 pmb1"><span class="smcap">Scene.</span>—<i>Hall in</i> <span class="smcap">Justice Clement's</span>. <span class="smcap">Clement</span>, <span class="smcap">Kitely</span>, +<span class="smcap">Old Knowell</span>.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block2a"> +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Clement:</span> Stay, stay, give me leave; my chair, sirrah. +Master Knowell, you went to meet your son. Mistress +Kitely, you went to find your husband; you, Master +Kitely, to find your wife. And Well-bred told her first, +and you after. You are gulled in this most grossly all.</p> + +<p class="ij4">[<span class="smcap">Bobadill</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Matthew</span> <i>are ushered in; then</i> <span class="smcap">Brain-Worm</span>, +<i>with</i> <span class="smcap">Down-Right</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Stephen</span>; <i>all make +their charges</i>.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Clement:</span> You there (<i>to</i> <span class="smcap">Bobadill</span>), had you my +warrant for this gentleman's apprehension?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Bobadill:</span> Ay, an't please your worship; I had it of +your clerk.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Clement:</span> Officer (<i>to</i> <span class="smcap">Brain-Worm</span>), have you the +warrant?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Brain-Worm:</span> No, sir; your worship's man, Master +Formal, bid me do it.</p> +</div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="font09 pmb1"><span class="smcap">Brain-Worm</span>, <i>in fear of some worse penalty, discloses +himself. As he reveals one after another of his devices, +the delighted</i> <span class="smcap">Justice</span> <i>begs for him a readily +granted pardon from</i> <span class="smcap">Old Knowell</span>. <i>Finally, he +announces that by this time</i> <span class="smcap">Young Knowell</span> <i>and</i> +<span class="smcap">Bridget</span> <i>are married</i>. <span class="smcap">Clement</span> <i>despatches a servant +to bring home the young couple to dinner "upon<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span> +my warrant." Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Bridget</span>, <span class="smcap">Young Knowell</span>, +<i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Well-Bred</span>.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block2a"> +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Clement:</span> Oh, the young company—welcome, welcome, +give you joy. Nay, Mistress Bridget, blush not; +Master Bridegroom, I have made your peace; give me +your hand. So will I for all the rest, ere you forsake +my roof. Come, put off all discontent; you, Master +Down-right, your anger; you, Master Knowell, your +cares; Master Kitely and his wife, their jealousy.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Kitely:</span> Sir, thus they go from me. Kiss me, sweetheart.</p> + +<p class="it1 pmb3"><span class="smcap">Clement:</span> 'Tis well, 'tis well. This night we'll dedicate +to friendship, love, and laughter.</p> +</div> +</div> + +<div class="footnotes"><span class="font11"><b>FOOTNOTES:</b></span> + +<div class="footnote"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_P_16" id="Footnote_P_16"></a><a href="#FNanchor_P_16"><span class="label">[P]</span></a> Ben Jonson was born at Westminster in 1573. He was +brought up by his stepfather, a master bricklayer, and educated +at Westminster School, where he got his learning under Camden. +While still a youngster, he went a-fighting in the Low +Countries, returning to London about 1592. In 1598 he emerged +as a dramatic author with the play "Every Man in His Humour." +This was the first of a series of comedies, tragedies, +and masques, which rank highly. In human interest, however, +none surpassed his first success. Unlike Shakespeare, with +whom he consorted among the famous gatherings of wits at the +Mermaid Tavern, Jonson regarded himself as the exponent of +a theory of dramatic art. He was steeped in classical learning, +which he is wont to display somewhat excessively. Besides his +dramas, Jonson wrote many lyrical pieces, including some admirable +songs, and produced sundry examples of other forms +of versification. He died on August 6, 1637.</p> +</div></div> +<p class="pmb3" /> + + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span></p> +<p class="pmb3" /> + + +<h2><a name="JUVENALQ" id="JUVENALQ">JUVENAL</a><span class="font08"><a name="FNanchor_Q_17" id="FNanchor_Q_17"></a><a href="#Footnote_Q_17" class="fnanchor">[Q]</a></span></h2> +<p class="pmb3" /> + + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<h2>Satires</h2> +<p class="pmb2" /> + + +<h3><i>I.—Of Satire and its Subjects</i></h3> + +<div class="block3"> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Still shall I hear and never pay the score,</span> +<span class="i2">Stunned with hoarse Codrus' "Theseid" o'er and o'er?</span> +<span class="i2">Shall this man's elegies and the other's play</span> +<span class="i2">Unpunished murder a long summer day?</span> +</div></div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="p1 font09 pmb1">The poet exclaims against the dreary commonplaces in contemporary +poetry, and against recitations fit to crack the very +statues and colonnades of the neighbourhood! But <i>he</i> also underwent +his training in rhetoric.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">So, since the world with writing is possessed,</span> +<span class="i2"><i>I'll versify in spite</i>, and do my best</span> +<span class="i2">To make as much wastepaper as the rest!</span> +</div></div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="p1 font09 pmb1">It may be asked, why write satire? The reason is to be found +in the ubiquitous presence of offensive men and women. It +would goad anyone into fury to note the social abuses, the mannish +women, and the wealthy upstarts of the imperial city.</p> +</blockquote> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">When the soft eunuch weds, and the bold fair</span> +<span class="i2">Tilts at the Tuscan boar with bosom bare,</span> +<span class="i2">When all our lords are by his wealth outvied</span> +<span class="i2">Whose razor on my callow beard was tried,</span> +<span class="i2">When I behold the spawn of conquered Nile,</span> +<span class="i2">Crispinus, both in birth and manners vile,</span> +<span class="i2">Pacing in pomp with cloak of purple dye—</span> +<span class="i2">I cannot keep from satire, though I try!</span> +</div></div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="p1 font09 pmb1">There is an endless succession of figures to annoy: the too +successful lawyer, the treacherous spy, the legacy-hunter. How +one's anger blazes when a ward is driven to evil courses by the +unscrupulous knavery of a guardian, or when a guilty governor +gets a merely nominal sentence!</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Marius, who pilled his province, 'scapes the laws,</span> +<span class="i2">And keeps his money, though he lost his cause:</span> +<span class="i2">His fine begged off, contemns his infamy,</span> +<span class="i2">Can rise at twelve, and get him drunk ere three—</span> +<span class="i2">Enjoys his exile, and, condemned in vain,</span> +<span class="i2">Leaves thee, victorious province, to complain!</span> +<span class="i2">Such villainies roused Horace into wrath,</span> +<span class="i2">And 'tis more noble to pursue his path</span> +<span class="i2">Than an old tale of Trojan brave to treat,</span> +<span class="i2">Or Hercules, or Labyrinth of Crete.</span> +</div></div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="p1 font09 pmb1">It is no time to write fabulous epics when cuckolds connive +at a wife's dishonour, and when horse-racing ne'er-do-wells expect +commissions in the army. One is tempted to fill volumes +in the open street about such figures as the forger carried by +his slaves in a handsome litter, or about the wealthy widow +acquainted with the mode of getting rid of a husband by poison.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Wouldst thou to honours and preferment climb?</span> +<span class="i2">Be bold in mischief—dare some mighty crime,</span> +<span class="i2">Which dungeons, death, or banishment deserves,</span> +<span class="i2">For virtue is but drily praised—and starves.</span> +<span class="i2">To crime men owe a mansion, park, and state,</span> +<span class="i2">Their goblets richly chased and antique plate.</span> +<span class="i2">Say, who can find a night's repose at need,</span> +<span class="i2">When a son's wife is bribed to sin for greed,</span> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span> +<span class="i2">When brides are frail, and youths turn paramours?</span> +<span class="i2">If nature can't, then wrath our verse ensures!</span> +<span class="i2">Count from the time since old Deucalion's boat,</span> +<span class="i2">Raised by the flood, did on Parnassus float:</span> +<span class="i2">Whatever since that golden age was done,</span> +<span class="i2">What human kind desires, and what they shun,</span> +<span class="i2">Joy, sorrow, fear, love, hatred, transport, rage,</span> +<span class="i2">Shall form the motley subject of my page.</span> +<span class="i4">And when could Satire boast so fair a field?</span> +<span class="i2">Say, when did vice a richer harvest yield?</span> +<span class="i2">When did fell avarice so engross the mind?</span> +<span class="i2">Or when the lust of play so curse mankind?</span> +<span class="i2">O Gold, though Rome beholds no altar's flame,</span> +<span class="i2">No temples rise to thy pernicious name,</span> +<span class="i2">Such as to Victory, Virtue, Faith are reared,</span> +<span class="i2">Or Concord, where the clamorous stork is heard,</span> +<span class="i2">Yet is thy full divinity confessed,</span> +<span class="i2">Thy shrine established here, in every breast.</span> +</div></div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="p1 font09 pmb1">After a vigorous outburst against the degrading scramble +among impoverished clients for doles from their patrons, and +a mordant onslaught upon the gluttony of the niggardly rich, +Juvenal sees in his age the high-water mark of iniquity.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Nothing is left, nothing for future times,</span> +<span class="i2">To add to the full catalogue of crimes:</span> +<span class="i2">Vice has attained its zenith; then set sail,</span> +<span class="i2">Spread all thy canvas, Satire, to the gale.</span> +</div></div> +</div> +<p class="pmb3" /> + + +<h3><i>II.—A Satire on Rome</i></h3> + +<div class="block3"> + +<blockquote> +<p class="p1 font09 pmb1">This sharp indictment is put in the mouth of one Umbricius, +who is represented as leaving his native city in disgust. Rome is +no place for an honourable character, he exclaims.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Here, then, I bid my much-loved home farewell.</span> +<span class="i2">Ah, mine no more! There let Arturius dwell,</span> +<span class="i2">And Catulus; knaves, who, in truth's despite,</span> +<span class="i2">Can white to black transform, and black to white.</span> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Build temples, furnish funerals, auctions hold,</span> +<span class="i2">Farm rivers, ports, and scour the drains for gold!</span> +<span class="i2">But why, my friend, should <i>I</i> at Rome remain?</span> +<span class="i2"><i>I</i> cannot teach my stubborn lips to feign;</span> +<span class="i2">Nor when I hear a great man's verses, smile,</span> +<span class="i2">And beg a copy, if I think them vile.</span> +</div></div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="p1 font09 pmb1">The worst feature is the predominance of crafty and cozening +Greeks, who, by their versatility and diplomacy, can oust the +Roman.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">I cannot rule my spleen and calmly see</span> +<span class="i2">A Grecian capital—in Italy!</span> +<span class="i2">A flattering, cringing, treacherous artful race,</span> +<span class="i2">Of torrent tongue, and never-blushing face;</span> +<span class="i2">A Protean tribe, one knows not what to call,</span> +<span class="i2">Which shifts to every form, and shines in all:</span> +<span class="i2">Grammarian, painter, augur, rhetorician,</span> +<span class="i2">Rope-dancer, conjurer, fiddler, and physician,</span> +<span class="i2">All trades his own your hungry Greekling counts;</span> +<span class="i2">And bid him mount the sky—the sky he mounts!</span> +</div></div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="p1 font09 pmb1">The insinuating flatteries of these aliens are so masterfully +contrived that the blunt Roman has no chance against such a +nation of actors.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Greece is a theatre where all are players.</span> +<span class="i2">For, lo! their patron smiles—they burst with mirth;</span> +<span class="i2">He weeps—they droop, the saddest souls on earth;</span> +<span class="i2">He calls for fire—they court the mantle's heat;</span> +<span class="i2">"'Tis warm," he cries—the Greeks dissolve in sweat!</span> +</div></div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="p1 font09 pmb1">Besides, they are dangerously immoral. Their philosophers are +perfidious. These sycophant foreigners can poison a patron +against a poor Roman client. This leads to an outburst against +poverty and its disadvantages.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">The question is not put, how far extends</span> +<span class="i2">One's piety, but what he yearly spends.</span> +<span class="i2">The account is soon cast up: the judges rate</span> +<span class="i2">Our credit in the court by our estate.</span> +<span class="i2">Add that the rich have still a gibe in store,</span> +<span class="i2">And will be monstrous witty on the poor.</span> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span> +<span class="i2">This mournful truth is everywhere confessed—</span> +<span class="i2">Slow rises worth by property depressed.</span> +<span class="i2">At Rome 'tis worse; where house-rent by the year,</span> +<span class="i2">And servants' bellies costs so devilish dear.</span> +</div></div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="p1 font09">It is a city where appearance beyond one's means must he +kept up; whereas, in the country one need never spend money +even on a toga. Everything has its price in Rome. To interview +a great man, his pampered lackeys must have a fee.</p> + +<p class="font09 pmb1">Then there are risks in a great capital unknown in country +towns. There are tumble-down tenements with the buttresses +ready to give; there are top garrets where you may lose your +life in a fire. You could buy a nice rustic home for the price +at which a dingy hovel is let in Rome. Besides, the din of the +streets is killing. Rome is bad for the nerves. Folk die of +insomnia. By day you get crushed, bumped, and caked with +mud. A soldier drives his hobnails into your toe. You may be +the victim of a street accident.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Heavens! should the axle crack, which bears a weight</span> +<span class="i2">Of huge Ligurian stone, and pour the freight</span> +<span class="i2">On the pale crowd beneath, what would remain,</span> +<span class="i2">What joint, what bone, what atom of the slain?</span> +<span class="i2">The body, with the soul, would vanish quite,</span> +<span class="i2">Invisible, as air, to mortal sight!</span> +<span class="i2">Meanwhile, unconscious of their master's fate,</span> +<span class="i2">At home they heat the water, scour the plate,</span> +<span class="i2">Arrange the strigils, fill the cruse with oil,</span> +<span class="i2">And ply their several tasks with fruitless toil.</span> +<span class="i2">But he, the mangled victim, now a ghost,</span> +<span class="i2">Sits pale and trembling on the Stygian coast,</span> +<span class="i2">A stranger shivering at the novel scene,</span> +<span class="i2">At Charon's threatening voice and scowling mien,</span> +<span class="i2">Nor hopes a passage thus abruptly hurled,</span> +<span class="i2">Without his farthing to the nether world.</span> +</div></div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="p1 font09 pmb1">In the dark there are equal perils.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Prepare for death if here at night you roam,</span> +<span class="i2">And sign your will before you sup from home.</span> +</div></div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="p1 font09 pmb1">Lucky if people throw only dirty water from their windows! +Be thankful to escape without a broken skull. A drunken bully +may meet you.</p> +</blockquote> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">There are who murder as an opiate take,</span> +<span class="i2">And only when no brawls await them, wake.</span> +</div></div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="p1 font09 pmb1">And what chance have you, without attendants, against a street +rough? Then there is the burglar; and the criminal classes are +regularly increased in town whenever the authorities grow active +enough to clear the main Italian roads of bandits.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">The forge in fetters only is employed;</span> +<span class="i2">Our iron-mines exhausted and destroyed</span> +<span class="i2">In shackles; for these villains scarce allow</span> +<span class="i2">Goads for our teams or ploughshares for the plough.</span> +<span class="i2">Oh, happy ages of our ancestors,</span> +<span class="i2">Beneath the kings and tribunician powers!</span> +<span class="i2">One jail did all the criminals restrain,</span> +<span class="i2">Whom now the walls of Rome can scarce contain.</span> +</div></div> +</div> +<p class="pmb3" /> + + +<h3><i>III.—A Satire on the Vanity of Human Wishes</i></h3> + +<div class="block3"> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Look round the habitable world; how few</span> +<span class="i2">Know their own good; or, knowing it, pursue.</span> +<span class="i2">To headlong ruin see whole houses driven,</span> +<span class="i2">Cursed with their prayers, by too indulgent heaven.</span> +</div></div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="p1 font09 pmb1">The several passions and aspirations of mankind, successively +examined in the light of legend and history, prove how hollow, +if not pernicious, are the principal objects of pursuit. Wealth is +one of the commonest aims.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">But avarice spreads her deadly snare,</span> +<span class="i2">And hoards amassed with too successful care.</span> +<span class="i2">For wealth, in the black days, at Nero's word,</span> +<span class="i2">The ruffian bands unsheathed the murderous sword.</span> +<span class="i2">Cut-throats commissioned by the government</span> +<span class="i2">Are seldom to an empty garret sent.</span> +<span class="i2">The traveller freighted with a little wealth,</span> +<span class="i2">Sets forth at night, and wins his way by stealth:</span> +<span class="i2">Even then he fears the bludgeon and the blade—</span> +<span class="i2">Starts in the moonlight at a rush's shade,</span> +<span class="i2">While, void of care, the beggar trips along,</span> +<span class="i2">And to the robber's face will troll his song.</span> +</div></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span></p> + +<blockquote> +<p class="p1 font09 pmb1">What would the "weeping" and the "laughing" sages of ancient +Greece have thought of the pageants of modern Rome? +Consider the vanity of ambition. It is illustrated by the downfall +of the powerful minister Sejanus. On his overthrow, the +fickle mob turned savagely upon his statues.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">What think the people? They!</span> +<span class="i2">They follow fortune, as of old, and hate</span> +<span class="i2">With all their soul the victim of the state.</span> +<span class="i2">Yet in this very hour that self-same crowd</span> +<span class="i2">Had hailed Sejanus with a shout as loud,</span> +<span class="i2">If his designs (by fortune's favour blessed)</span> +<span class="i2">Had prospered, and the aged prince oppressed;</span> +<span class="i2">For since our votes have been no longer bought,</span> +<span class="i2">All public care has vanished from our thought.</span> +<span class="i2">Romans, who once with unresisted sway,</span> +<span class="i2">Gave armies, empire, everything, away,</span> +<span class="i2">For two poor claims have long renounced the whole</span> +<span class="i2">And only ask—the circus and a dole.</span> +</div></div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="p1 font09">Would you rather be an instance of fallen greatness, or enjoy +some safe post in an obscure Italian town? What ruined a +Crassus? Or a Pompey? Or a victorious Cæsar? Why, the +realisation of their own soaring desires.</p> + +<p class="font09 pmb1">Another vain aspiration covets fame in eloquence. But the +gift of oratory overthrew the two greatest orators of Greece +and Rome—Demosthenes and Cicero. If Cicero had only stuck +to his bad verses, he would never have earned Antony's deadly +hatred by his "Second Philippic" (see Vol. IX, p. 155).</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">"I do congratulate the Roman state</span> +<span class="i2">Which my great consulate did recreate!"</span> +<span class="i2">If he had always used such jingling words</span> +<span class="i2">He might have scorned Mark Antony's swords.</span> +</div></div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="p1 font09 pmb1">A different passion is for renown in war. What is the end of +it all? Only an epitaph on a tombstone, and tombstones themselves +perish; for even a tree may split them!</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Produce the urn that Hannibal contains,</span> +<span class="i2">And weigh the paltry dust which yet remains.</span> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">And is this all?</span> Yet <span class="smcap">this</span> was once the bold,</span> +<span class="i2">The aspiring chief, whom Afric could not hold.</span> +<span class="i2">Spain conquered, o'er the Pyrenees he bounds;</span> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Nature opposed her everlasting mounds,</span> +<span class="i2">Her Alps and snows. O'er these with torrent force</span> +<span class="i2">He pours, and rends through rocks his dreadful course.</span> +<span class="i2">Already at his feet Italia lies.</span> +<span class="i2">Yet, thundering on, "Think nothing done," he cries,</span> +<span class="i2">"Till Rome, proud Rome, beneath my fury falls,</span> +<span class="i2">And Afric's standards float without her walls!"</span> +<span class="i2">But what ensued? Illusive glory, say.</span> +<span class="i2">Subdued on Zama's memorable day,</span> +<span class="i2">He flies in exile to a petty state,</span> +<span class="i2">With headlong haste; and, at a despot's gate,</span> +<span class="i2">Sits, mighty suppliant, of his life in doubt,</span> +<span class="i2">Till the Bithynian monarch's nap be out!</span> +<span class="i2">Nor swords, nor spears, nor stones from engines hurled,</span> +<span class="i2">Shall quell the man whose frown alarmed the world:</span> +<span class="i2">The vengeance due to Cannæ's fatal field,</span> +<span class="i2">And floods of gore, a poisoned ring shall yield!</span> +<span class="i2">Fly, madman, fly! At toil and danger mock,</span> +<span class="i2">Pierce the deep snow, and scale the eternal rock,</span> +<span class="i2">To please the rhetoricians, and become</span> +<span class="i2">A declamation—for the boys of Rome!</span> +</div></div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="p1 font09 pmb1">Consider next the yearning after long life.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Pernicious prayer! for mark what ills attend</span> +<span class="i2">Still on the old, as to the grave they bend:</span> +<span class="i2">A ghastly visage, to themselves unknown;</span> +<span class="i2">For a smooth skin, a hide with scurf o'ergrown;</span> +<span class="i2">And such a cheek, as many a grandam ape</span> +<span class="i2">In Tabraca's thick woods is seen to scrape.</span> +</div></div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="p1 font09 pmb1">The old man rouses feelings of impatient loathing in those +around him; his physical strength and faculties for enjoyment +are gone. Even if he remain hale, he may suffer harrowing +bereavements. Nestor, Peleus, and Priam had to lament the +death of heroic sons; and in Roman history Marius and Pompey +outlived their good fortune.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Campania, prescient of her Pompey's fate,</span> +<span class="i2">Sent a kind fever to arrest his date:</span> +<br /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span> +<span class="i2">When lo! a thousand suppliant altars rise,</span> +<span class="i2">And public prayers obtain him of the skies.</span> +<span class="i2">The city's fate and his conspired to save</span> +<span class="i2">His head, to perish near the Egyptian wave.</span> +</div></div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="p1 font09">Again, there is the frequent prayer for good looks. But beauty +is a danger. If linked with unchastity, it leads to evil courses. +Even if linked with chastity, it may draw on its possessor the +tragic fate of a Lucretia, a Virginia, a Hippolytus, or a Bellerophon. +What is a Roman knight to do if an empress sets her +heart on him?</p> + +<p class="font09 pmb1">Amid all such vanities, then, is there nothing left for which +men may reasonably pray?</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Say, then, shall man, deprived all power of choice,</span> +<span class="i2">Ne'er raise to Heaven the supplicating voice?</span> +<span class="i2">Not so; but to the gods his fortunes trust.</span> +<span class="i2"><i>Their</i> thoughts are wise, <i>their</i> dispensations just.</span> +<span class="i2">What best may profit or delight they know,</span> +<span class="i2">And real good for fancied bliss bestow;</span> +<span class="i2">With eyes of pity they our frailties scan;</span> +<span class="i2">More dear to them than to himself is man.</span> +<span class="i2">By blind desire, by headlong passion driven,</span> +<span class="i2">For wife and heirs we daily weary Heaven;</span> +<span class="i2">Yet still 'tis Heaven's prerogative to know,</span> +<span class="i2">If heirs, or wife, will bring us weal or woe.</span> +<span class="i4">But (for 'tis good our humble hope to prove),</span> +<span class="i2">That thou mayst still ask something from above,</span> +<span class="i2">Thy pious offerings to the temple bear,</span> +<span class="i2">And, while the altars blaze, be this thy prayer:</span> +<span class="i4">O <span class="smcap">Thou</span>, who know'st the wants of human kind,</span> +<span class="i2">Vouchsafe me health of body, health of mind;</span> +<span class="i2">A soul prepared to meet the frown of fate,</span> +<span class="i2">And look undaunted on a future state;</span> +<span class="i2">That reckons death a blessing, yet can bear</span> +<span class="i2">Existence nobly, with its weight of care;</span> +<span class="i2">That anger and desire alike restrains,</span> +<span class="i2">And counts Alcides' toils, and cruel pains,</span> +<span class="i2">Superior far to banquets, wanton nights,</span> +<span class="i2">And all the Assyrian monarch's soft delights!</span> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">Here bound, at length, thy wishes. I but teach</span> +<span class="i2">What blessings man, by his own powers, may reach.</span> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">The Path to Peace is Virtue.</span> We should see,</span> +<span class="i2">If wise, O Fortune, nought divine in thee:</span> +<span class="i2">But <i>we</i> have deified a name alone,</span> +<span class="i2">And fixed in heaven thy visionary throne!</span> +</div></div> +</div> +<p class="pmb3" /> + + +<div class="footnotes"><span class="font11"><b>FOOTNOTES:</b></span> + +<div class="footnote"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_Q_17" id="Footnote_Q_17"></a><a href="#FNanchor_Q_17"><span class="label">[Q]</span></a> Juvenal was born, it is usually believed, at Aquinum, about +55 <span class="smcap">a.d.</span> He lived to an advanced age, but the year of his death +is unknown. Rome he evidently knew well, and from long experience. +But there is great obscurity about his career. His +"Satires," in declamatory indignation, form a powerful contrast +to the genial mockery of Horace (p. 91): where Horace may be +said to have a Chaucerian smile for human weakness, Juvenal +displays the wrath of a Langland. Juvenal denounces abuses +at Rome in unmeasured terms. Frequently Zolaesque in his +methods of exposing vice, he contrives by his realism to produce +a loathing for the objects of his attack. Dryden rendered +into free and vigorous English several of the satires; and +Gifford wrote a complete translation, often of great merit. The +translation here has, with adaptations, been drawn from both, +and a few lines have been incorporated from Johnson, whose +two best-known poems, "London" and "The Vanity of Human +Wishes," were paraphrases from Juvenal.</p> +</div></div> +<p class="pmb3" /> + + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span></p> +<p class="pmb3" /> + + +<h2><a name="FRIEDRICH_KLOPSTOCKR" id="FRIEDRICH_KLOPSTOCKR">FRIEDRICH KLOPSTOCK</a><span class="font08"><a name="FNanchor_R_18" id="FNanchor_R_18"></a><a href="#Footnote_R_18" class="fnanchor">[R]</a></span></h2> +<p class="pmb3" /> + + + +<hr class="chap" /> + + +<h2><a name="The_Messiah" id="The_Messiah">The Messiah</a></h2> + + +<h3><i>I.—The Mount of Olives</i></h3> + +<div class="block3"> + +<blockquote> + +<p class="p1 font09 pmb1">Rejoice, ye sons of earth, in the honour bestowed on man. +He who was before all worlds, by Whom all things in this visible +creation were made, descended to our earth as your Redeemer. +Near Jerusalem, once the city where God displayed His grace, +the Divine Redeemer withdrew from the multitude and sought +retirement. On the side where the sun first gilds the city with +its beams rises a mountain, whose summit He had oft honoured +with His presence when during the solitary night He spent the +hours in fervent prayer.</p> + +<p class="font09 pmb1">Gabriel, descending, stands between two perfumed cedars and +addresses Jesus.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Wilt Thou, Lord, here devote the night to prayer,</span> +<span class="i2">Or weary, dost thou seek a short repose?</span> +<span class="i2">Permit that I for Thine immortal head</span> +<span class="i2">A yielding couch prepare. Behold the shrubs</span> +<span class="i2">And saplings of the cedar, far and near,</span> +<span class="i2">Their balmy foliage already show.</span> +<span class="i2">Among the tombs in which Thy prophets rest</span> +<span class="i2">The cooling earth yields unmolested moss.</span> +</div></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span></p> + +<blockquote> +<p class="p1 font09">Jesus answered not, but regarded Gabriel with a look of +divine complacency. He went up to the summit, where were +the confines of heaven, and there prayed. Earth rejoiced at +the renewal of her beauty as His voice resounded and penetrated +the gates of the deep, but only He and the Eternal Father knew +the whole meaning of the divine petition. As Jesus arose from +prayer, in His face shone sublimity, love, and resignation.</p> + +<p class="font09 pmb1">Now He and the Eternal Father entered on discourse mysterious +and profound, obscure even to immortals; discourse of +things which in future ages should display to man the love of +God. A seraph entered the borders of the celestial world, whose +whole extent is surrounded by suns. No dark planet approaches +the refulgent blaze.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">There, central of the circumvolving suns,</span> +<span class="i2">Heaven, archetype of every blissful sphere,</span> +<span class="i2">Orbicular in blazing glory, swims,</span> +<span class="i2">And circumfuges through infinitude</span> +<span class="i2">In copious streams, the splendour of the spheres.</span> +<span class="i2">Harmonious sounds of its revolving motion</span> +<span class="i2">Are wafted on the pinions of the winds</span> +<span class="i2">To circumambient suns. The potent songs</span> +<span class="i2">Of voice and harp celestial intermingle</span> +<span class="i2">And seem the animation of the whole.</span> +</div></div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="p1 font09 pmb1">Up to this sacred way Gabriel ascended, approaching heaven, +which, in the very centre of the assemblage of suns, rises into +a vast dome. When the Eternal walks forth, the harmonic +choirs, borne on the wings of the wind to the borders of the +sunny arch, chant His praise, joining the melody of their golden +harps. During the hymn the seraph, as messenger of the Mediator, +stood on one of the suns nearest heaven. The Eternal +Father rewarded the choirs with a look of benignity and then +beheld the Chief Seraph, whose name with God is <i>The Chosen</i>, +and by the heavenly host is called <i>Eloah</i>.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">The awful thunder seven times rolled forth,</span> +<span class="i2">The sacred gloom dispelling, and the Voice</span> +<span class="i2">Divine gently descended: "God is Love.</span> +<span class="i2">E'er beings gently emanated I was Love.</span> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Creating worlds, I ever was the same,</span> +<span class="i2">And such I am in the accomplishment</span> +<span class="i2">Of my profoundest, most mysterious deed.</span> +<span class="i2">But in the death of the Eternal Son</span> +<span class="i2">Ye learn to know Me wholly—God, the Judge</span> +<span class="i2">Of every world. New adoration then</span> +<span class="i2">Ye will to the Supreme of heaven address."</span> +</div></div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="p1 font09 pmb1">The seraph having descended to the altar of the earth, Adam, +filled with eager expectation, hastened to him. A lucid, ethereal +body was the radiant mansion of his blessed spirit, and his form +was as lovely as the bright image in the Creator's mind when +meditating on the form of man in the blooming fields of Paradise. +Adam approached with a radiant smile, which suffused over his +countenance an air of ineffable and sweetest dignity, and thus +with impassioned accents he spoke.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Hail, blessed seraph, messenger of peace!</span> +<span class="i2">Thy voice, resounding of thy message high,</span> +<span class="i2">Has filled our souls with rapture. Son of God,</span> +<span class="i2">Messiah, O that Thee I could behold,</span> +<span class="i2">Behold Thee in the beauty of Thy manhood,</span> +<span class="i2">E'en as this seraph sees Thee in the form</span> +<span class="i2">Which Thy compassion prompted Thee to take</span> +<span class="i2">My wretched progeny from death to save.</span> +<span class="i2">Point out to me, O seraph, show to me,</span> +<span class="i2">Where my Redeemer walked, my loving Lord;</span> +<span class="i2">Only from far I will His step attend.</span> +</div></div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="p1 font09 pmb3">Gabriel descends again to earth, the stars silently saluting him +with a universal morn. He finds Jesus placidly sleeping on a +bare rock, and after long contemplation, apostrophises all nature +to be silent, for her Creator sleeps.</p> +</blockquote> +</div> + + +<h3><i>II.—Of Satan Warring, and the Council of the Sanhedrim</i></h3> + +<div class="block3"> + +<blockquote> +<p class="p1 font09 pmb1">The morn descends over the forest of waving cedars, and +Jesus awakes. The spirits of the patriarchs see Him with joy +from their solar mansion. Raphael, John's guardian angel, tells +Jesus that this disciple is viewing a demoniac among the sepulchres +on the Mount of Olives. He goes thither, and puts +Satan to flight, who, returning to hell, gives an account of what +he knows of Jesus, and determines that He shall be put to death. +Satan is opposed by Abaddon. Another grim fiend speaks.</p> +</blockquote> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Then Moloch fierce approached, a martial spirit.</span> +<span class="i2">From mountains and entrenchments huge he came,</span> +<span class="i2">Which still he forms, thus the domains of hell</span> +<span class="i2">To fence, in case the Thundering Warrior e'er</span> +<span class="i2">(He thus the dread Eternal nominates)</span> +<span class="i2">From heaven descending, should th' abyss molest.</span> +<span class="i2">All before Moloch with respect retired.</span> +<span class="i2">In sable armour clad, which to his pace</span> +<span class="i2">Resounded, he advanced as does a storm</span> +<span class="i2">Amid dark lowering clouds. The mountains shook</span> +<span class="i2">Before him, and behind, a trembling rock</span> +<span class="i2">In shattered fragments sunk. Thus he advanced</span> +<span class="i2">And soon attained the first revolter's throne.</span> +</div></div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="p1 font09 pmb1">After the council of fiends, all hell approves Satan's determination. +Satan and Adramelech return to earth to execute their +design. Abaddon, following them at a distance, sees at the +gate of hell Abdiel, the seraph who was once his friend, whom +he addresses. But Abdiel ignoring him, he presses forward, +bewails the loss of his glory, despairs of finding grace, and after +vainly endeavouring to destroy himself, descends to earth. Satan +and Adramelech also advance to earth and alight on Mount +Olivet.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">They both advanced and stormed against the Mount</span> +<span class="i2">Of Olives, the Redeemer there to find</span> +<span class="i2">Assembled with His confidential friends.</span> +<span class="i2">Thus down into the vale destructive cars</span> +<span class="i2">Of battle roll, against th' intrepid chief</span> +<span class="i2">Of the advancing and undaunted host.</span> +<span class="i2">Now brazen warriors throng from every point.</span> +<span class="i2">The thundering crash of the encounter, clash</span> +<span class="i2">Of sword and shield, a sullen iron din</span> +<span class="i2">O'er distant rocks resounds tow'rd heaven aloft,</span> +<span class="i2">And in the valley scatters death around.</span> +</div></div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="p1 font09 pmb1">Caiaphas assembles the Sanhedrim, and relates a vision which +has terrified him. He declares that Jesus must die, but counsels +caution as to the manner of the execution. Philo, a dreaded +priest and Pharisee, steps forward, and with great vehemence +pronounces the dream of Caiaphas a mere empty fiction, yet +joins in counselling the death of Jesus. He declares Caiaphas + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span> +a disgrace to the priesthood of God, but that Jesus would +abolish the priesthood altogether.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">So saying, Philo, with uplifted arms,</span> +<span class="i2">Advanced in the assembly and exclaimed:</span> +<span class="i2">"Spirit of Moses, reigning now in bliss,</span> +<span class="i2">Whether in thy celestial robes thou art,</span> +<span class="i2">Or whether thy yet mortal children now</span> +<span class="i2">In council met beneath a humble roof,</span> +<span class="i2">Thou deign'st to visit. Solemnly</span> +<span class="i2">I swear to thee, by yon dread covenant,</span> +<span class="i2">Which thou to us hast brought out of the storm</span> +<span class="i2">From God, to thee on Sinai revealed:</span> +<span class="i2">I will not rest till this thine adversary,</span> +<span class="i2">Who hates thy laws and thee, be from this earth</span> +<span class="i2">Exterminated."</span> +</div></div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="p1 font09 pmb3">The evil counsel is warmly opposed by Gamaliel and Nicodemus. +Judas has a private conference with Caiaphas. The +Messiah sends Peter and John into Jerusalem to prepare the +Passover. Jesus, going to Jerusalem, is met by Judas. Jesus +institutes a memorial of His death. Judas goes out from the +supper. Then Jesus prays for His disciples, and returns to the +Mount of Olives.</p> +</blockquote> + + +<h3><i>III.—Eloah Sings the Redeemer's Glory</i></h3> + +<blockquote> +<p class="p1 font09 pmb1">God descends towards the earth to judge the Mediator, and +rests on Tabor. The Almighty sends the seraph Eloah to comfort +Jesus in Gethsemane by singing a triumphant song on His +future glory.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">He soared on golden clouds and sang aloud:</span> +<span class="i2">"Hail me, I was found worthy after Thee</span> +<span class="i2">To feel what Thou dost feel, and to behold</span> +<span class="i2">At humble distance the Messiah's thoughts,</span> +<span class="i2">Which in the fearful and most dreadful hour</span> +<span class="i2">Of His humiliation, fill His mind.</span> +<span class="i2">No finite being ever saw God's thoughts:</span> +<span class="i2">Yet I have been found worthy from afar,</span> +<span class="i2">From an obscure dimension of created</span> +<span class="i2">And but finite understanding, to extend</span> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span> +<span class="i2">My view into Divine Infinitude!</span> +<span class="i2">O with what feelings of creation new,</span> +<span class="i2">Divine Messiah, those redeemed by Thee—</span> +<span class="i2">With what surpassing transport they will see</span> +<span class="i2">Thee on Thy everlasting throne of glory!</span> +<span class="i2">How they will then behold those radiant wounds,</span> +<span class="i2">The splendid testimonies of Thy love</span> +<span class="i2">To Adam's race! How they will shout Thy praise</span> +<span class="i2">In never-ceasing songs and alleluias!</span> +<span class="i2">Ah, then the angel Death's tremendous trump</span> +<span class="i2">Will nevermore be heard, nor thunders, then,</span> +<span class="i2">O'er Thy redeemed from the Throne will roll,</span> +<span class="i2">The depths will bow before Thee, and the heights</span> +<span class="i2">To Thee, the Judge, will folded hands uplift.</span> +<span class="i2">The last of days will evanescent die</span> +<span class="i2">Before the throne, lost in eternity.</span> +<span class="i2">And Thou wilt gather all the righteous souls</span> +<span class="i2">Around Thee, that they, face to face, may see</span> +<span class="i2">Thy glory and behold Thee as Thou art."</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Now the Messiah from the crimsoned dust</span> +<span class="i2">Rose victor, and the heavens sang aloud—</span> +<span class="i2">The third heaven, of the great Messiah's most</span> +<span class="i2">Transcendent sufferings which brought endless life</span> +<span class="i2">To precious souls, as now gone over Him.</span> +<span class="i2">So sang the heavens.</span> +</div></div> +</div> +<p class="pmb3" /> + + +<h3><i>IV.—Pilate's Wife Bewails the Saviour's Sufferings</i></h3> + +<div class="block3"> + +<blockquote> +<p class="p1 font09 pmb1">The Messiah is seized and bound. The assembled priests are +seized with consternation, but their fears are removed by the +arrival of successive messengers. Jesus being taken before +Annas, Philo goes thither and brings Him to Caiaphas. Portia, +Pilate's wife, comes to see Jesus. She approaches from the +Procurator's palace near the hall of assembly, by an arcade lit +by lamps.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Impelled by curiosity at last</span> +<span class="i2">The great and wondrous Prophet to behold,</span> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span> +<span class="i2">She to the high-priest's palace came in haste,</span> +<span class="i2">Only few attendants being with her.</span> +<span class="i2">And Portia saw Him Who awoke the dead,</span> +<span class="i2">And Who serenely bore the hellish rage</span> +<span class="i2">And malice of indignant priests, and now,</span> +<span class="i2">With wondrous magnanimity stood forth</span> +<span class="i2">Resolved to act with greatness, unadmired,</span> +<span class="i2">To beings so degenerate still unknown.</span> +<span class="i2">With fervid expectation and with joy</span> +<span class="i2">She stood and gazed upon the Holy Man,</span> +<span class="i2">And saw how He, sublime with dignified</span> +<span class="i2">Serenity, His base accusers faced.</span> +</div></div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="p1 font09 pmb1">On false evidence of suborned witnesses Jesus is condemned. +Eloah and Gabriel discourse on the Saviour's sufferings.</p> +</blockquote> + +<blockquote> +<p class="it11"><span class="smcap">Gabriel:</span> Eloah! He at whose command the dead<br /> +Of the renewed creation shall arise,<br /> +The tempest of the resurrection shaking<br /> +The earth around, that she with bearing throes<br /> +Will yield the dust at His almighty call.<br /> +He then with thunders and attendant hosts<br /> +Of angels and in terrors clad, that stars<br /> +Before Him sink, will judge that sinful world.</p> + +<p class="it11"><span class="smcap">Eloah:</span> He said, Let there be light! And there was light.<br /> +Thou, Gabriel, sawest how at His command<br /> +Effulgent beams rushed forth! With thought profound<br /> +He still advanced: and lo, at His right hand<br /> +Ten thousand times ten thousand beings bright<br /> +Collected, and an animating storm<br /> +Advanced before Him. Then the suns<br /> +Rolled in their orbits! Then the harmony<br /> +Of morning spheres resounded round the poles.<br /> +And then the heavens appeared!</p> + +<p class="it11"><span class="smcap">Gabriel:</span> And at His word<br /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span> +Eternal night sank far below the heavens!<br /> +Thou sawest, Eloah, how He stood on high<br /> +O'er the Profound. He spake again, and, lo,<br /> +A hideous mass inanimate appeared<br /> +And lay before Him, seeming ruins vast<br /> +Of broken suns, or of a hundred worlds<br /> +To chaos crushed. He summoned then the flame,<br /> +And the nocturnal blaze rushed in the fields<br /> +Of everlasting death. Then misery<br /> +Existed, which from the depths ascended<br /> +In cries of anguish and despondency.<br /> +Then was created the infernal gulf!<br /> +<br /> +Thus they communed. Portia no longer could<br /> +The Blessed Saviour's sufferings behold,<br /> +And lone ascended to the palace roof.<br /> +She stood and wrung her hands, her weeping eyes<br /> +To heaven uplifted, while she thus express'd<br /> +The agitated feelings of her heart:<br /> +"O Thou, the First of Gods, who didst create<br /> +This world from night of darkness, and who gav'st<br /> +A heart to man! Whatever be Thy name—<br /> +God, Jupiter, Jehovah, Romulus?<br /> +Or Abraham's God? Not of chosen few,<br /> +Thou art the Judge and Father of us all!<br /> +May I before Thee, Lord, with tears display<br /> +The feelings of my heart, and rend my soul?<br /> +What is the crime of this most peaceful man?<br /> +Why should He thus be barbarously used<br /> +And persecuted even unto death<br /> +By these inhuman and relentless men?<br /> +Dost Thou delight from Thine Olympus, Lord,<br /> +To look on suffering virtue? Is to Thee<br /> +The object sacred? To the heart of men,<br /> +That is not of humanity devoid,<br /> +It is most awful, wondrous, and endearing;<br /> +But He who formed the stars, can He admire<br /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span> +And wonder? No, far too sublime is He<br /> +To admiration ever scope to give!<br /> +Yet th' object must e'en to the God of Gods<br /> +Be sacred, else He never could permit<br /> +That thus the good and guiltless be oppress'd.<br /> +My tears of pity and compassion flow,<br /> +But thou discernest suffering virtue's tears<br /> +That flow in secret and to Thee appeal.<br /> +Great God of Gods, reward and if Thou canst,<br /> +Admire the magnanimity He shows."</p> +</blockquote> + +<blockquote> +<p class="p1 font09 pmb3">Peter, in deep distress, tells John he has denied his Master, +then departs and deplores his guilt.</p> +</blockquote> + + +<h3><i>V.—The Day of Oblation</i></h3> + +<blockquote> +<p class="p1 font09">Eloah welcomes the returning morn with a hymn, and hails +the Day of the Atonement, precious, fair day of oblation, sent +by Love Divine.</p> + +<p class="p1 font09 pmb1">The Messiah is led to Pilate, and is accused by Caiaphas and +Philo. Judas, in despair, destroys himself. Jesus is sent to +Herod, who, expecting to see a miracle, is disappointed. After +being treated with derision, Jesus is sent back to Pilate, who +seeks to save Him, but is persuaded to release Barabbas. Jesus +is scourged, arrayed in a purple robe, crowned with thorns, and +delivered to the priests, who cause Him to be led to crucifixion. +Eloah descends from the throne and proclaims that the Redeemer +is led to death, on which the angels of the earth form +a circle round Mount Calvary. Jesus is nailed to the cross. +One of the two thieves crucified with Him is converted. Uriel +places a planet before the sun to obscure the dreadful scene on +Calvary, and then conducts to earth the souls of all future generations +of mankind.</p> + +<p class="font09 pmb3">The Angel of Death descends to address Jesus, Who dies. +The earth shakes, the veil of the Temple is rent, the Old Testament +saints are raised. The converted thief dies. Joseph of +Arimathea begs the body of Jesus, and he and Nicodemus wrap +it in spices and perform the interment. Mary and some devout +women meet in John's house, to which Nicodemus brings the +crown of thorns taken from the body at burial. The interment +is solemnised by choirs of risen saints and angels.</p> +</blockquote> +</div> + + +<div class="footnotes"><span class="font11">FOOTNOTES:</span> + +<div class="footnote"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_R_18" id="Footnote_R_18"></a><a href="#FNanchor_R_18"><span class="label">[R]</span></a> Friedrich Gottlieb Klopstock, who was born at Quedlinburg +on July 2, 1724, and died on March 14, 1803, was one of Germany's +most famous eighteenth century poets. While studying +theology at Jena University, he conceived the idea of a great +spiritual epic, and actually planned in prose the first three cantos +of "The Messiah," which he afterwards finished at Leipzig. +These were published anonymously in the <i>Bremische Beiträge</i> +in 1748, the remaining five appearing in 1773. Although the +poem perhaps lacks in unity of conception and precision of style, +it contains many noble passages that are admitted by critics to +mark a very high order of lyrical genius. One of the chief distinctions +of Klopstock was that he was the real inaugurator of +the emancipation of the German intellect from the superficialism +of French literary ascendancy. This distinction was generously +acknowledged by Goethe, who rejoiced at Klopstock's success +in first striking the keynote of intellectual freedom in the Fatherland. +Various odes, Biblical dramas, tragedies, and hymns constitute +his other works. The "Messiah" was translated into +both English prose and verse by G. Egerstorff, his work being +published at Hamburg in 1821.</p> +</div></div> +<p class="pmb3" /> + + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span></p> +<p class="pmb3" /> + + +<h2><a name="GOTTHOLD_EPHRAIM_LESSINGS" id="GOTTHOLD_EPHRAIM_LESSINGS">GOTTHOLD EPHRAIM LESSING</a><span class="font08"><a name="FNanchor_S_19" id="FNanchor_S_19"></a><a href="#Footnote_S_19" class="fnanchor">[S]</a></span></h2> +<p class="pmb3" /> + + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<h2><a name="Nathan_the_Wise" id="Nathan_the_Wise">Nathan the Wise</a></h2> + + +<div class="block2"> + +<h3><i>Persons in the Drama</i></h3> + +<div class="block3a"> +<p class="pmb3"> +<span class="smcap">Saladin</span>, <i>the Sultan</i><br /> +<span class="smcap">Sittah</span>, <i>his sister</i><br /> +<span class="smcap">Nathan</span>, <i>a rich Jew</i><br /> +<span class="smcap">Hafi</span>, <i>a Dervish</i><br /> +<span class="smcap">Recha</span>, Nathan's <i>adopted daughter</i><br /> +<span class="smcap">Daya</span>, <i>a Christian woman, companion to</i> Recha<br /> +<span class="smcap">Conrade</span>, <i>a young Templar</i><br /> +<span class="smcap">Athanasios</span>, <i>Patriarch of Palestine</i><br /> +<span class="smcap">Bonafides</span>, <i>a friar</i><br /> +</p> +</div> + + +<h3><span class="smcap">Act I</span></h3> + +<blockquote> +<p class="ij6 pmb1"><span class="smcap">Scene I.</span>—<i>Jerusalem. A hall in</i> <span class="smcap">Nathan's</span> <i>house</i>. <span class="smcap">Nathan</span>, +<i>in travelling dress</i>. <span class="smcap">Daya</span> <i>meeting him</i>.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block3a"> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Daya:</span> 'Tis he, 'tis Nathan, thanks to God, returned,<br /> +At last!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Nathan:</span> Yes, Daya, thanks; but why "at last"?<br /> +'Tis far to Babylon, and gathering in<br /> +One's debts makes tardy journeying.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Daya:</span> Oh, Nathan! How near you came to misery; when afar,<br /> +The house took fire, and Recha, 'mid the flames,<br /> +Had all but perished.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Nathan:</span> Recha, O my Recha!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Daya:</span> Your Recha, <i>yours</i>? My conscience bids me speak——</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Nathan:</span> See what a charming silk I bought for you<br /> +In Babylon, and these Damascus jewels.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Daya:</span> I shall be silent.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Nathan:</span> Say, does Recha know<br /> +I am arrived?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Daya:</span> This morn of you she dreamed;<br /> +Her thoughts have only been with you and him<br /> +Who saved her from the fire.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Nathan:</span> Ah, who is he?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Daya:</span> A young knight Templar lately captive ta'en,<br /> +But pardoned by the sultan. He it was<br /> +Who burst through flame and smoke; and she believes<br /> +Him but a transient inmate of the earth—<br /> +A guardian angel! Stay, your daughter comes!</p> + +<p class="ij4">[<i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Recha</span>.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Recha:</span> My very father's self! Oh, how I feared<br /> +Perils of flood for thee, until the fire<br /> +Came nigh me. Now, I think it must be balm<br /> +To die by water! But you are not drowned:<br /> +I am not burned! We'll praise the God Who bade<br /> +My angel <i>visibly</i> on his white wing<br /> +Athwart the roaring flame——</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Nathan</span> (<i>aside</i>): White wing? Oh, ay.<br /> +The broad white fluttering mantle of the Templar.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Recha:</span> Yes, visibly he bore me through the fire<br /> +O'ershadowed by his pinions—face to face<br /> +I've seen an angel, father, my own angel!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Nathan:</span> A man had seemed an angel in such case!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Recha:</span> He was no real knight; no captive Templar<br /> +Appears alive in wide Jerusalem.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Daya:</span> Yet Saladin granted this youth his life,<br /> +For his great likeness to a dear dead brother.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Nathan:</span> Why need you, then, call angels into play?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Daya:</span> But then he wanted nothing, nothing sought;<br /> +Was in himself sufficient, like an angel.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Recha:</span> And when at last he vanished——</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Nathan:</span> Vanished! Have you not sought him?<br /> +What if he—<br /> +That is, a Frank, unused to this fierce sun—<br /> +Now languish on a sick-bed, friendless, poor?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Recha:</span> Alas, my father!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Nathan:</span> What if he, unfriended,<br /> +Lies ill and unrelieved; the hapless prey<br /> +Of agony and death; consoled alone<br /> +In death by the remembrance of this deed.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Daya:</span> You kill her!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Nathan:</span> You kill him.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Recha:</span> Not dead, not dead!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Nathan:</span> Dead, surely not, for God rewards the good<br /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span> +E'en here below. But ah, remember well<br /> +That rapt devotion is an easier thing<br /> +Than one good action. Ha! What Mussulman<br /> +Numbers my camels yonder? Why, for sure,<br /> +It's my old chess companion, my old Dervish,<br /> +Al Hafi!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Daya:</span> Treasurer now to Saladin.</p> + +<p class="ij4">[<i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Hafi</span>.</p> + +<p>Ay, lift thine eyes and wonder!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Nathan:</span> Is it you?<br /> +A Dervish so magnificent?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Hafi:</span> Why not?<br /> +Is Dervish, then, so hopeless? Rather ask<br /> +What had been made of me. I'm treasurer<br /> +To Saladin, whose coffers ever ebb<br /> +Ere sunset; such his bounty to the poor!<br /> +It brings me little, truly; but to thee<br /> +'Twas great advantage, for when money's low<br /> +Thou couldst unlock thy sluices; ay, and charge<br /> +Interest o'er interest!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Nathan:</span> Till my capital<br /> +Becomes all interest?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Hafi:</span> Nay, but that's unworthy,<br /> +My friend; write <i>finis</i> to our book of friendship<br /> +If that's thy view. I count on thee for aid<br /> +To quit me of my office worthily.<br /> +Grant me but open chest with thee. What, no?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Nathan:</span> To Hafi, yes; but to the treasurer<br /> +Of Saladin, Al Hafi, nay!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Hafi:</span> These twain<br /> +Shall soon be parted: by the Ganges strand<br /> +I'll with my Dervish teachers wander barefoot,<br /> +Or play at chess with them once more!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Nathan:</span> Al Hafi,<br /> +Go to your desert quickly. Among men<br /> +I fear you'll soon unlearn to be a man. [<i>Goes out</i>.<br /> +What? Gone? I could have wished to question him<br /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span> +About our Templar. Doubtless he will know him.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Daya</span> (<i>bursting in</i>): Nathan, the Templar's yonder, 'neath the palms.<br /> +Recha hath spied him, and she conjures you<br /> +To follow him most punctually. Haste!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Nathan:</span> Take him my invitation.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Daya:</span> All in vain.<br /> +He will not visit Jews.</p> + +<p class="it1 pmb2"><span class="smcap">Nathan:</span> Then hold him there<br /> +Till I rejoin you. I shall not be long.</p> +</div> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="ij6 pmb1"><span class="smcap">Scene II.</span>—<i>A place of palms. Enter the</i> <span class="smcap">Templar</span>, <i>followed +by a</i> <span class="smcap">Friar</span>.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block2a"> +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Templar:</span> This fellow does not follow me for pastime.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Friar:</span> I'm from the Patriarch: he is fain to learn<br /> +Why you alone were spared by Saladin.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Templar:</span> My neck was ready for the blow, when he<br /> +Had me unbound. How all this hangs together<br /> +Thy Patriarch may unravel.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Friar:</span> He concludes<br /> +That you are spared to do some mighty deed.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Templar:</span> To save a Jewish maid?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Friar:</span> A weightier office!<br /> +He'd have you learn the strengths and weaknesses<br /> +Of Saladin's new bulwark!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Templar:</span> Play the spy!<br /> +Not for <i>me</i>, brother!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Friar:</span> Nay, but there is more.<br /> +It were not hard to seize the Sultan's person,<br /> +And make an end of all!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Templar:</span> And make of me<br /> +A graceless scoundrel! Brother, go away;<br /> +Stir not my anger!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Friar:</span> I obey, and go.</p> + +<p class="ij4">[<i>Exit. Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Daya</span>.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Daya:</span> Nathan the Wise would see you; he is fain<br /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span> +To load you with rewards. Do see him—try him!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Templar:</span> Good woman, you torment me. From this day<br /> +Pray know me not; and do not send the father!<br /> +A Jew's a Jew, and I am rude and bearish.<br /> +I have forgot the maiden; do not make<br /> +These palm-trees odious where I love to walk!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Daya:</span> Then farewell, bear. But I must track the savage.</p> + +<p class="ij4 pmb3">[<i>Exeunt.</i></p> +</div> + + +<h3><span class="smcap">Act II</span></h3> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="ij6 pmb1"><span class="smcap">Scene I.</span>—<i>The palace.</i> <span class="smcap">Saladin</span> <i>and his sister</i> <span class="smcap">Sittah</span>, +<i>playing chess.</i></p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block2a"> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Sittah:</span> Check!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Saladin:</span> And checkmate!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Sittah:</span> Nay, nay; advance your knight.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Saladin:</span> The game is yours. Al Hafi pays the stake.</p> + +<p class="ij4">[<i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Hafi</span>, <i>who examines the board.</i></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Hafi:</span> The game's not over yet; why, Saladin,<br /> +Your queen can move——</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Sittah:</span> Hush, hush! There, go, Al Hafi!<br /> +I'll send to fetch my money.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Hafi:</span> She hath never<br /> +Claimed aught of what you lose; it lies with me.<br /> +While we wait the treasure out of Egypt,<br /> +Your sister hath maintained the state alone.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Saladin:</span> Was there none else could lend me, save my sister?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Hafi:</span> I know none such.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Sittah:</span> What of thy friend, the Jew?<br /> +The town is ringing with the news of gems<br /> +And costly stuffs he hath brought home with him.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Hafi:</span> He would not lend to Saladin. Ah, Prince,<br /> +He's envious of your generosity.<br /> +That is the Jew! I'll knock at other doors.</p> + +<p class="ij4 pmb2">[<i>Exit.</i></p> +</div> + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span></p> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="ij6 pmb1"><span class="smcap">Scene II.</span>—<i>The place of palms.</i> <span class="smcap">Daya</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Recha</span> <i>with</i> +<span class="smcap">Nathan</span>.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block2a"> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Daya:</span> He's still beneath the palms.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Recha:</span> Just one peep more.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Nathan:</span> Don't let him see you with me. Best go in.</p> + +<p class="ij4">[<i>Exeunt</i> <span class="smcap">Daya</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Recha</span>. <i>Enter the</i> <span class="smcap">Templar</span>.</p> + +<p>Forgive me, noble Frank.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Templar:</span> Well, Jew; your will?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Nathan:</span> I'm Nathan, father to the maid you saved.<br /> +In what can I be useful? I am rich. Command me.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Templar:</span> Nay, your wealth is naught to me.<br /> +Yet, this, a coin or cloth for a new mantle,<br /> +When this is done. Don't quake; it's strong and good<br /> +To last awhile; but here it's singed with flame.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Nathan:</span> This brand. Oh, I could kiss it! Would you send<br /> +This mantle to my daughter that her lips<br /> +May cling to this dear speck?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Templar:</span> Remember, Jew,<br /> +My vows, my Order, and my Christian faith!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Nathan:</span> All lands produce good men. Are we our nation's?<br /> +Were Jews and Christians such ere they were men?<br /> +And I have found in thee one more who stands<br /> +A man confest.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Templar:</span> Nathan, thy hand; I blush<br /> +To have mistaken thee. We will be friends.<br /> +Hark you, the maid, your daughter, whom I saved,<br /> +Makes me forget that I am partly monk.<br /> +How say you; may I hope?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Nathan:</span> Your suit, young man,<br /> +Must be considered calmly. Give me time<br /> +To know your lineage and your character.<br /> +A parent must be careful of his child.</p> + +<p class="ij4">[<i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Daya</span>.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Daya:</span> The sultan sends for thee in haste.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Nathan:</span> I'll go.<br /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span> +Knight, take it not amiss.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Templar:</span> I'll quit you first.<br /> +Farewell! [<i>Exit.</i></p> + +<p class="it1 pmb2"><span class="smcap">Nathan:</span> 'Tis not alone my Leonard's walk,<br /> +But even his stature and his very voice.<br /> +Filnek and Stauffen—I will soon know more.</p> +</div> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="ij6 pmb1"><span class="smcap">Scene III.</span>—<i>A room in</i> <span class="smcap">Nathan's</span> <i>house</i>. <span class="smcap">Recha</span> <i>and</i> +<span class="smcap">Daya</span>. <i>A slave shows in the</i> <span class="smcap">Templar</span>.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block2a"> +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Recha:</span> 'Tis he, my saviour! Ah!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Templar:</span> Thou best of beings,<br /> +How is my soul 'twixt eye and ear divided.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Recha:</span> Well, knight, why thus refuse to look at me?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Templar:</span> Because I wish to hear you.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Recha:</span> Nay, because<br /> +You would not have me notice that you smile<br /> +At my simplicity.</p> + +<p class="it1 pmb2"><span class="smcap">Templar:</span> Ah, no; ah, no.<br /> +How truly said thy father, "Do but know her."<br /> +Yet now I must attend him. There is danger.</p> +</div> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="ij6 pmb1"><span class="smcap">Scene IV.</span>—<span class="smcap">Saladin's</span> <i>audience chamber</i>. <span class="smcap">Saladin</span> +<i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Nathan</span>.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block2a"> +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Saladin:</span> Draw nearer, Jew. Your name is Nathan?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Nathan:</span> Yea.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Saladin:</span> Nathan the Wise?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Nathan:</span> Ah, no.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Saladin:</span> Of modesty<br /> +Enough, your words and bearing prove you wise.<br /> +Now, since you are so wise, tell me which law<br /> +Appears to you the better.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Nathan:</span> Once on a time, eastward, there dwelt a man<br /> +Who prized a ring, set with a wondrous opal<br /> +That made the owner loved of God and man.<br /> +This ring he willed should ever more remain<br /> +The heirloom of his house; and to the son<br /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span> +He loved the best bequeathed it, binding him<br /> +To leave it also to his best beloved,<br /> +And forward so. At length the ring descended<br /> +To one who had three sons he loved alike.<br /> +To each in turn the doting father promisèd<br /> +The ring, and on his death-bed, sorely grieving<br /> +To disappoint two heirs, he had two rings<br /> +Made like the first, so close that none could tell<br /> +The model from the copies. These he gave<br /> +To his three sons in secret, and so passed.<br /> +The sequel may be guessed, the strifes, complaints—<br /> +For the true ring no more could be distinguished<br /> +Than now can—the true faith. Each to the judge<br /> +Swore that he had the bauble from his father,<br /> +And called his brother forger. Quoth the judge:<br /> +"Which of you do his brothers love the best?<br /> +You're silent all. You're all deceived deceivers!<br /> +None of your rings is true, the true is gone.<br /> +Your father sought to end its tyranny.<br /> +Let each believe his own the real ring<br /> +And vie with others to display its virtue.<br /> +And if its power a thousand thousand years<br /> +Endure in your descendants, let them then<br /> +Before a wiser judge than I appear,<br /> +And he'll decide the cause."</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Saladin:</span> Even God Himself!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Nathan:</span> Art thou, O Saladin, this wiser judge?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Saladin:</span> Not yet have sped the thousand thousand years.<br /> +His judgment seat's not mine. Go, go, but love me.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Nathan:</span> Hath Saladin no further need of me?<br /> +Perchance my stores might furnish forth thy wars.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Saladin:</span> Is this Al Hafi's hint? I'll not disown<br /> +My object was to ask——</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Nathan:</span> Thou shouldst have all<br /> +But that I owe a weighty debt to one—<br /> +The Templar thou didst spare.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Saladin:</span> I had forgot him.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Nathan:</span> He saved my daughter from the flames.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Saladin:</span> Ah, so? He looked a hero. Bring him hither;<br /> +Sittah must see our brother's counterfeit.</p> + +<p class="it1 pmb2"><span class="smcap">Nathan:</span> I'll fetch him. For the rest, we are agreed.</p> +</div> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="ij6 pmb1"><span class="smcap">Scene V.</span>—<i>The Place of Palms</i>. <span class="smcap">Daya</span> <i>and the</i> <span class="smcap">Templar</span>.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block2a"> +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Daya:</span> Knight, swear to me that you will make her yours;<br /> +Make both her present and eternal welfare.<br /> +Listen. She is a Christian, and no child<br /> +Of Nathan's.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Templar:</span> Are you sure of what you say?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Daya:</span> It cost me tears of blood. She does not know<br /> +She is a Christian born.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Templar:</span> And Nathan reared<br /> +Her in this error, and persists in it?<br /> +Oh, it confounds me—go; and let me think.</p> + +<p class="it1 pmb3">[<i>Exeunt</i>.</p> +</div> + + +<h3><span class="smcap">Act III</span></h3> + +<blockquote> +<p class="ij6 pmb1"><span class="smcap">Scene I.</span>—<i>The cloisters of a convent</i>. <span class="smcap">Athanasios</span> <i>the +Patriarch</i>, <i>and the</i> <span class="smcap">Templar</span>.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block2a"> +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Athanasios:</span> Heaven keep you in your valour, good Sir Knight!<br /> +You seek my counsel? It is yours; say on.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Templar:</span> Suppose, my reverend father, that a Jew<br /> +Brought up a Christian child, in ignorance<br /> +Of her own faith and lineage, as his daughter,<br /> +What then?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Athanasios:</span> Is this mere supposition, sir?<br /> +If in our diocese such impious act<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span> +Were done in truth, the Jew should die by fire.<br /> +You will not name the man? I'll to the sultan,<br /> +Who will support us.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Templar:</span> I'll to Saladin,<br /> +And will announce your visit.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Athanasios:</span> Was it then<br /> +A problem merely? Nay, this is a job<br /> +For Brother Bonafides. Here, my son!</p> + +<p class="ij4 pmb2">[<i>Exit</i> <span class="smcap">Athanasios</span>, <i>talking with the friar</i>.</p> +</div> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="ij6 pmb1"><span class="smcap">Scene II.</span>—<i>A room at the palace of</i> <span class="smcap">Saladin</span>. <i>Slaves +bring in money-bags to</i> <span class="smcap">Saladin</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Sittah</span>.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block2a"> +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Saladin</span> (<i>to</i> Sittah): Here, pay yourself with that.<br /> +And look, I found<br /> +This portrait 'midst the heap of plate and jewels.<br /> +It is our brother Assad. I'll compare<br /> +The likeness with our Templar. Ah, who's there?<br /> +The Templar? Bid him enter.</p> + +<p class="ij4">[<i>Enter the</i> <span class="smcap">Templar</span>.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Templar:</span> Saladin,<br /> +Thy captive, sire, who's life is at thy service!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Saladin:</span> Ah, brave young man, I'm not deceived in thee.<br /> +Thou art indeed, in soul and body, Assad!<br /> +Came Nathan with thee?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Templar:</span> Who?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Saladin:</span> Who? Nathan</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Templar</span> (<i>coldly</i>): No.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Saladin:</span> Why so cold?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Templar:</span> I've nothing against Nathan,<br /> +But I am angry with myself alone<br /> +For dreaming that a Jew could be no Jew.<br /> +He was so cautious of my suit that I,<br /> +In swift resentment, though unwitting, gave<br /> +Him over to the Patriarch's bloody rage.<br /> +Sultan, the maiden is no child of his;<br /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span> +She is a Christian whom the Jew hath reared<br /> +In ignorance of her faith. The Patriarch<br /> +Foredooms him to the stake.</p> + +<p class="it1 pmb2"><span class="smcap">Saladin:</span> Go to, go to.<br /> +The case is scarcely hopeless. Summon Nathan,<br /> +And I shall reconcile you. If indeed<br /> +You're earnest for the maid, she shall be thine.</p> +</div> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="ij6 pmb1"><span class="smcap">Scene III.</span>—<i>The hall in</i> <span class="smcap">Nathan's</span> <i>house</i>. <span class="smcap">Nathan</span> +<i>and the friar,</i> <span class="smcap">Bonafides</span>.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block2a"> +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Bonafides:</span> The Patriarch hath ever work for me,<br /> +And some I like not. Listen. He hath heard<br /> +That hereabouts there dwells a certain Jew<br /> +Who hath brought up a Christian as his child.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Nathan:</span> How?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Bonafides:</span> Hear me out. I fear me that I gave<br /> +Occasion for this sin, when I, a squire,<br /> +Brought you, full eighteen years ago, the babe,<br /> +The orphan babe of Leonard, Lord of Filnek.<br /> +He fell at Askalon.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Nathan:</span> Ay so; and I,<br /> +Bereft by Christians of my wife and sons,<br /> +Received the infant as a gift from Heaven,<br /> +And made it mine. And now, belike, I suffer<br /> +For this my charity. But tell me now,<br /> +Was not the mother sister to a Templar,<br /> +Conrade of Stauffen?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Bonafides:</span> Let me fetch a book,<br /> +In Arabic, I had from my dead lord.<br /> +'Tis said to tell the lineage of the babe.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Nathan:</span> Go, fetch it quickly.</p> + +<p class="ij4 pmb2">[<i>Exeunt.</i></p> +</div> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="ij6 pmb1"><span class="smcap">Scene IV.</span>—<i>A place of palms.</i> <span class="smcap">Nathan</span> <i>and the</i> +<span class="smcap">Templar</span>.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block2a"> +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Nathan:</span> Who hath betrayed me to the Patriarch?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Templar:</span> Alas! 'twas I. You took my suit so coldly<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span> +That when from Daya I had learned your secret,<br /> +I fancied you had little mind to give<br /> +A Christian what from Christians you had taken.<br /> +I thought to use my knowledge as a lever,<br /> +And so, not having you, I put the matter<br /> +In problem-wise before the Patriarch.<br /> +Suppose he find you out. What then? He cannot<br /> +Seize Recha, if she be no longer yours.<br /> +Ah! give her then, to me, and let him come.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Nathan:</span> Too late! You are too late, for I have found<br /> +Her kinsfolk. Hark you, Recha has a brother.</p> + +<p class="it1 pmb2"><span class="smcap">Templar:</span> Well, he's the man to fit her with a husband.<br /> +Of thee and me she'll have no longer need.</p> +</div> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="ij6 pmb1"><span class="smcap">Scene V.</span>—<span class="smcap">Saladin's</span> <i>palace</i>. <span class="smcap">Saladin</span> <i>and his sister</i>, +<span class="smcap">Sittah</span>, <i>are talking with</i> <span class="smcap">Recha</span>.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block2a"> +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Sittah:</span> Ah! I guessed it.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Recha:</span> Guessed it? What? that I<br /> +Am Christian and not Nathan's daughter?</p> + +<p class="ij4">[<i>She swoons</i>.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Saladin:</span> What!<br /> +Whose cruelty hath sown this sharp suspicion<br /> +In thy fond heart? Ah! if there be two fathers<br /> +At strife for thee, quit both, and take a third.<br /> +Take Saladin for father! I'll be kind.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Sittah:</span> Brother, you make her blush.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Saladin:</span> In a good hour. Blushing becomes the fair.<br /> +But see, our Nathan's coming, with another.<br /> +Canst guess, sweet girl? Ay, when he comes, blush crimson.</p> + +<p class="ij4">[<i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Nathan</span> <i>and the</i> <span class="smcap">Templar</span>.</p> + +<p>Come, stickle not for niceties with him.<br /> +Make him thy offer, doing for him more,<br /> +Far more, than he for thee, for what was that<br /> +But make himself a little sooty. Come!</p> + +<p class="ij4">[<i>Seeks to lead her to the</i> <span class="smcap">Templar</span>.</p> + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Nathan</span> <i>(solemnly)</i>: Hold, Saladin; hold, Sittah! There's another<br /> +Whom I must speak with first—the maiden's brother.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Templar</span> <i>(bitterly)</i>: He has imposed a father on her, now<br /> +He'll shark her up a brother! Where's the man?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Nathan:</span> Patience sir.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Saladin:</span> Christian, such words as yours had never passed<br /> +My Assad's lips.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Nathan:</span> Forgive him, Saladin.<br /> +Oh! Christian, you have hid from me your name.<br /> +Conrade of Stauffen is no name of yours,<br /> +But Guy of Filnek—mark. I tax you not<br /> +With falsehood; for your mother was a Stauffen.<br /> +Her brother's name was Conrade. He perchance<br /> +Adopted you?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Templar:</span> Even so the matter stands.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Nathan:</span> Your father was my friend. He called himself<br /> +Leonard of Filnek, but no German he.<br /> +He had espoused a German.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Templar:</span> Ah! no more,<br /> +I beg, but tell me who is Recha's brother.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Nathan:</span> Thou art the man!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Templar:</span> What, I? I Recha's brother?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Recha:</span> My brother—he?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Sittah:</span> So near akin—</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Recha</span> (<i>offering to embrace him</i>): My brother!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Templar:</span> (<i>withdrawing</i>): Brother to her!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Recha</span> (<i>to</i> <span class="smcap">Nathan</span>): It cannot be. His heart<br /> +Knows nothing of it.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Saladin:</span> What! not acknowledge<br /> +A sister such as she? Go!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Templar:</span> Saladin!<br /> +Mistake not my amazement. Thy Assad<br /> +At such a moment, had done likewise.<br /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span> +Oh, Nathan, you have taken, you have given—<br /> +Yes, infinitely more—my sister—sister!</p> + +<p class="ij4">[<i>Embraces</i> <span class="smcap">Recha</span>.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Nathan:</span> Blanda of Filnek! Guy! My children both!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Sittah:</span> Oh! I am deeply moved.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Saladin:</span> And I half tremble<br /> +At thought of the emotion still to be.<br /> +Nathan, you say her father was no German.<br /> +What was he, then?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Nathan:</span> He never told me that.<br /> +But ah! he loved the Persian speech and owned<br /> +He was no Frank.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Saladin:</span> The Persian! Need I more? Twas my Assad!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Nathan:</span> Look in this book!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Saladin:</span> Ay! 'tis his hand, even his.<br /> +Oh, Sittah, Sittah, they're my brother's children.</p> + +<p>[<i>He rushes to embrace them</i>. <span class="smcap">Sittah</span> <i>also embraces +the pair</i>.</p> + +<p>Now, now, proud boy, thou canst not choose but love me.<br /> +(<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Recha</span>) And I to thee am all I sought to be,<br /> +With or without thy leave.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Templar:</span> I of thy blood? Then all the tales I heard<br /> +In infancy were more than idle dreams.</p> + +<p class="ij4">[<i>Falls at</i> <span class="smcap">Saladin's</span> <i>feet</i>.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Saladin</span> (<i>raising him</i>): There's malice for you!<br /> + Knew it all the time,<br /> +And yet he would have let me murder him.<br /> +Boy, boy! [<i>They embrace in silence</i>.</p> +</div> +</div> + +<p class="pmb3" /> + + +<div class="footnotes"><span class="font11"><b>FOOTNOTES:</b></span> + +<div class="footnote"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_S_19" id="Footnote_S_19"></a><a href="#FNanchor_S_19"><span class="label">[S]</span></a> Gotthold Ephraim Lessing, one of the greatest names in German +literature, was born January 22, 1729, at Kamenz, in Saxon +Upper Lusatia, where his father was a clergyman of the +most orthodox Lutheran school. After working very hard for +five years at a school in Meissen, he proceeded to the University +of Leipzig, in 1746, with the intention of studying theology, but +he soon began to occupy himself with other matters, made the +acquaintance of actors, and acquired a great fondness for dramatic +entertainment. This sort of life, however, pained his strict +relatives, who pronounced it "sinful," and for a short time +Lessing went home. Later he proceeded to Berlin, and while +there, formed many valuable literary friendships, and established +the best literary journal of his time. "Nathan the Wise" +("Nathan der Weise") arose out of a bitter theological controversy +in which Lessing had been engaged. It was written +during the winter of 1778-79, and expresses ideas and theories +its author had already largely developed in prose. Primarily +the play is a strong plea for tolerance, the governing conception +being that noble character belongs to no particular creed, but to +all creeds, as set forth herein in the parable of the wonderful +ring. And thus it follows that there is no sufficient reason why +people holding one set of religious opinions should not tolerate +others who maintain totally different doctrines. Purely as a +drama the play may be disappointing, but regarded as a poem it +ranks with the noblest dramatic literature of the eighteenth +century. The characters abound in vitality, and some of the +passages rise to heights of great splendour. Lessing died on +February 15, 1781 (see also Vol. XX, p. 239).</p> +</div></div> +<p class="pmb3" /> + + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span></p> +<p class="pmb3" /> + + +<h2><a name="HENRY_WADSWORTH_LONGFELLOWT" id="HENRY_WADSWORTH_LONGFELLOWT">HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW</a><span class="font08"><a name="FNanchor_T_20" id="FNanchor_T_20"></a><a href="#Footnote_T_20" class="fnanchor">[T]</a></span></h2> +<p class="pmb3" /> + + +<h2><a name="Evangeline_A_Tale_of_Acadie" id="Evangeline_A_Tale_of_Acadie">Evangeline, A Tale of Acadie</a></h2> + + +<div class="block2"> + +<h3><i>I.—The Betrothal and the Exile</i></h3> + +<blockquote> +<p class="font09 pmb1">On the night when Evangeline, the beautiful daughter of +Benedict Bellefontaine, the richest farmer of Grand-Pré, was +to be betrothed to Gabriel, the son of Basil Lajeunesse the +blacksmith, the two fathers were engaged in discussing the reason +of the presence of several English war vessels which were +riding at anchor at the mouth of the Gaspereau. Basil was inclined +to take a gloomy view, and Benedict a hopeful one, when +the arrival of the notary put an end to his discussion.</p> +</blockquote> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</a></span></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then Evangeline lighted the brazen lamp on the table,</span> +<span class="i0">Filled, till it overflowed, the pewter tankard with brown ale,</span> +<span class="i0">While from his pocket the notary drew his papers and ink-horn,</span> +<span class="i0">Wrote with a steady hand the date and the age of the parties,</span> +<span class="i0">And the great seal of the law was set like a sun on the margin.</span> +<span class="i0">Then the notary, rising and blessing the bride and bridegroom,</span> +<span class="i0">Lifted aloft the tankard of ale, and drank to their welfare.</span> +<span class="i0">Wiping the foam from his lips, he solemnly bowed and departed,</span> +<span class="i0">While in silence the others sat and mused by the fireside,</span> +<span class="i0">Till Evangeline brought the draught board out of its corner.</span> +<span class="i0">Soon was the game begun. In friendly contention the old men</span> +<span class="i0">Laughed at each lucky hit, or unsuccessful manoeuvre.</span> +<span class="i0">Meanwhile, apart, in the twilight gloom of a window's embrasure,</span> +<span class="i0">Sat the lovers, and whispered together, beholding the moon rise</span> +<span class="i0">Over the pallid sea, and the silvery mists of the meadows.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Pleasantly rose next morn. And lo! with a summons sonorous,</span> +<span class="i0">Sounded the bell from its tower, and over the meadows a drum beat.</span> +<span class="i0">Thronged ere long was the church with men. Without, in the churchyard,</span> +<span class="i0">Waited the women. They stood by the graves, and hung on the headstones</span> +<span class="i0">Garlands of autumn leaves and evergreens fresh from the forest.</span> +<span class="i0">Then came the guards from the ships, and entered the sacred portal.</span> +<span class="i0">Straight uprose their commander, and spake from the steps of the altar.</span> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"You are convened this day," he said, "by his majesty's orders.</span> +<span class="i0">Painful the task is I do, which to you I know must be grievous.</span> +<span class="i0">Yet must I bow and obey, and deliver the will of our monarch;</span> +<span class="i0">Namely, that all your lands, and dwellings, and cattle of all kinds,</span> +<span class="i0">Forfeited be to the crown; and that you yourselves from the province</span> +<span class="i0">Be transported to other lands. God grant you may dwell there</span> +<span class="i0">Ever as faithful subjects, a happy and peaceable people!"</span> +<span class="i0">In the midst of the tumult and angry contention that broke out,</span> +<span class="i0">Lo! the door of the chancel opened, and Father Felician</span> +<span class="i0">Entered with solemn mien, and ascended the steps of the altar.</span> +<span class="i0">Raising his hand, with a gesture he awed the throng into silence.</span> +<span class="i0">"What is this that ye do?" he said. "What madness has seized you?</span> +<span class="i0">Forty years of my life have I laboured among you and taught you,</span> +<span class="i0">Not in word alone, but in deed, to love one another!</span> +<span class="i0">Is this the fruit of my toils, of my vigils and prayers and privations?</span> +<span class="i0">Have you so soon forgotten all lessons of love and forgiveness?"</span> +<span class="i0">Few were his words of rebuke, but deep in the hearts of his people</span> +<span class="i0">Sank they, and sobs of contrition succeeded the passionate outbreak,</span> +<span class="i0">While they repeated his prayer, and said, "O Father, forgive them!"</span> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Four times the sun had risen and set; and now on the fifth day</span> +<span class="i0">Cheerily called the cock to the sleeping maids of the farmhouse.</span> +<span class="i0">Soon o'er the yellow fields, in silent and mournful procession,</span> +<span class="i0">Came from the neighbouring hamlets and farms the Acadian women,</span> +<span class="i0">Driving in ponderous wains their household goods to the seashore,</span> +<span class="i0">Pausing and looking back to gaze once more on their dwellings,</span> +<span class="i0">Ere they were shut from sight by the winding road and the woodland.</span> +<span class="i0">Close at their sides their children ran, and urged on the oxen,</span> +<span class="i0">While in their little hands they clasped some fragments of playthings.</span> +<span class="i0">Thus to the Gaspereau's mouth they hurried; and there on the sea-beach,</span> +<span class="i0">Piled in confusion, lay the household goods of the peasants.</span> +<span class="i0">Great disorder prevailed, and the tumult and stir of embarking</span> +<span class="i0">Busily plied the freighted boats; and in the confusion</span> +<span class="i0">Wives were torn from their husbands, and mothers, too late, saw their children</span> +<span class="i0">Left on the land, extending their arms, with wildest entreaties.</span> +<span class="i0">So unto separate ships were Basil and Gabriel carried,</span> +<span class="i0">While in despair on the shore Evangeline stood with her father.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Suddenly rose from the south a light, as in autumn the blood-red</span> +<span class="i0">Moon climbs the crystal wall of heaven, and o'er the horizon,</span> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Titan-like, stretches its hundred hands upon the mountain and meadow,</span> +<span class="i0">Seizing the rocks and the rivers, and piling huge shadows together.</span> +<span class="i0">Broader and ever broader it gleamed on the roofs of the village,</span> +<span class="i0">Gleamed on the sky and sea, and the ships that lay in the roadstead.</span> +<span class="i0">Columns of shining smoke uprose, and flashes of flame were</span> +<span class="i0">Thrust through their folds and withdrawn, like the quivering hands of a martyr.</span> +<span class="i0">Then as the wind seized the gleeds and the burning thatch, and, uplifting,</span> +<span class="i0">Whirled them aloft through the air, at once from a hundred housetops</span> +<span class="i0">Started the sheeted smoke with flashes of flame intermingled.</span> +<span class="i0">Overwhelmed with the sight, yet speechless, the priest and the maidens</span> +<span class="i0">Gazed on the scene of terror that reddened and widened before them;</span> +<span class="i0">And as they turned at length to speak to their silent companion,</span> +<span class="i0">Lo! from his seat he had fallen, and stretched abroad on the seashore,</span> +<span class="i0">Motionless lay his form, from which the soul had departed.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">With the first dawn of the day, the tide came hurrying landward.</span> +<span class="i0">Then recommenced once more the stir and noise of embarking;</span> +<span class="i0">And with the ebb of the tide the ships sailed out of the harbour,</span> +<span class="i0">Leaving behind them the dead on the shore, and the village in ruins.</span> +</div></div> +<p class="pmb3" /> + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</a></span></p> + + +<h3><i>II.—The Quest and the Finding</i></h3> + +<blockquote> +<p class="font09 pmb1">The exiles from Acadie landed some on one coast, some on +another; and the lovers were separated from one another. Evangeline +sought everywhere for Gabriel, in towns and in the country, +in churchyards and on the prairies, in the camps and battlefields +of the army, and among missions of Jesuits and Moravians. +But all in vain. She heard far and distant news of him, but +never came upon him. And so the years went by, and she grew +old in her search.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In that delightful land which is washed by the Delaware waters,</span> +<span class="i0">Guarding in sylvan shades the name of Penn, the apostle,</span> +<span class="i0">Stands on the banks of its beautiful stream the city he founded.</span> +<span class="i0">There all the air is balm, and the peach is the emblem of beauty,</span> +<span class="i0">And the streets still re-echo the names of the trees of the forest,</span> +<span class="i0">As if they fain would appease the Dryads whose haunts they molested.</span> +<span class="i0">There from the troubled sea had Evangeline landed, an exile,</span> +<span class="i0">Finding among the children of Penn a home and a country.</span> +<span class="i0">Gabriel was not forgotten. Within her heart was his image,</span> +<span class="i0">Clothed in the beauty of love and youth, as last she beheld him.</span> +<span class="i0">Over him years had no power; he was not changed, but transfigured;</span> +<span class="i0">He had become to her heart as one who is dead, and not absent.</span> +<span class="i0">Patience and abnegation of self, and devotion to others—</span> +<span class="i0">This was the lesson a life of trial and sorrow had taught her.</span> +<span class="i0">Other hope had she none, nor wish in life, but to follow</span> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Meekly, with reverent steps, the sacred feet of her Saviour.</span> +<span class="i0">Thus many years she lived as a Sister of Mercy; frequenting</span> +<span class="i0">Lonely and wretched roofs in the crowded lanes of the city,</span> +<span class="i0">Where disease and sorrow in garrets languished neglected.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then it came to pass that a pestilence fell on the city.</span> +<span class="i0">Wealth had no power to bribe, nor beauty to charm the oppressor;</span> +<span class="i0">But all perished alike beneath the scourge of his anger—</span> +<span class="i0">Only, alas! the poor, who had neither friends nor attendants,</span> +<span class="i0">Crept away to die in the almshouse, home of the homeless.</span> +<span class="i0">Thither, by night and day, came the Sister of Mercy. The dying</span> +<span class="i0">Looked up into her face, and thought, indeed, to behold there</span> +<span class="i0">Gleams of celestial light encircle her forehead with splendour,</span> +<span class="i0">Such as the artist paints o'er the brows of saints and apostles,</span> +<span class="i0">Or such as hangs by night o'er a city seen at a distance.</span> +<span class="i0">Unto their eyes it seemed the lamps of the city celestial,</span> +<span class="i0">Into whose shining gates ere long their spirits would enter.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thus on a Sabbath morn, through the streets, deserted and silent,</span> +<span class="i0">Wending her quiet way, she entered the door of the almshouse.</span> +<span class="i0">Sweet on the summer air was the odour of flowers in the garden;</span> +<span class="i0">And she paused on her way to gather the fairest among them,</span> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</a></span> +<span class="i0">That the dying once more might rejoice in their fragrance and beauty.</span> +<span class="i0">And with light in her looks, she entered the chamber of sickness.</span> +<span class="i0">Many a languid head, upraised as Evangeline entered,</span> +<span class="i0">Turned on its pillow of pain to gaze while she passed, for her presence</span> +<span class="i0">Fell on their hearts like a ray of the sun on the walls of a prison.</span> +<span class="i0">And, as she looked around, she saw how Death, the consoler,</span> +<span class="i0">Laying his hand on many a heart, had healed it forever.</span> +<span class="i0">Suddenly, as if arrested by fear or a feeling of wonder,</span> +<span class="i0">Still she stood, with her colourless lips apart, while a shudder</span> +<span class="i0">Ran through her frame, and, forgotten, the flowerets dropped from her fingers,</span> +<span class="i0">And from her eyes and cheeks the light and bloom of the morning.</span> +<span class="i0">Then there escaped from her lips a cry of such terrible anguish</span> +<span class="i0">That the dying heard it, and started up from their pillows.</span> +<span class="i0">On the pallet before her was stretched the form of an old man.</span> +<span class="i0">Long and thin and grey were the locks that shaded his temples;</span> +<span class="i0">But, as he lay in the morning light, his face for a moment</span> +<span class="i0">Seemed to assume once more the forms of its earlier manhood.</span> +<span class="i0">Motionless, senseless, dying, he lay, and his spirit, exhausted,</span> +<span class="i0">Seemed to be sinking down through infinite depths in the darkness—</span> +<span class="i0">Darkness of slumber and death, forever sinking and sinking.</span> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then through those realms of shade, in multiplied reverberations,</span> +<span class="i0">Heard he that cry of pain, and through the hush that succeeded</span> +<span class="i0">Whispered a gentle voice, in accents tender and saint-like,</span> +<span class="i0">"Gabriel! O my beloved!" and died away into silence.</span> +<span class="i0">Then he beheld, in a dream, once more the home of his childhood;</span> +<span class="i0">Green Acadian meadows, with sylvan rivers among them,</span> +<span class="i0">Village, and mountain, and woodlands; and walking under their shadow,</span> +<span class="i0">As in the days of her youth, Evangeline rose in his vision.</span> +<span class="i0">Tears came into his eyes; and as slowly he lifted his eyelids</span> +<span class="i0">Vanished the vision away, but Evangeline knelt by his bed-side.</span> +<span class="i0">Vainly he strove to whisper her name, for the accents unuttered,</span> +<span class="i0">Died on his lips, and their motion revealed what his tongue would have spoken.</span> +<span class="i0">Vainly he strove to rise; and Evangeline, kneeling beside him,</span> +<span class="i0">Kissed his dying lips, and laid his head on her bosom.</span> +<span class="i0">Sweet was the light of his eyes; but it suddenly sank into darkness,</span> +<span class="i0">As when a lamp is blown out by a gust of wind at a casement.</span> +<span class="i0">All was ended now—the hope, and the fear, and the sorrow,</span> +<span class="i0">All the aching of heart, the restless, unsatisfied longing,</span> +<span class="i0">All the dull, deep pain, and constant anguish of patience;</span> +<span class="i0">And, as she pressed once more the lifeless head to her bosom,</span> +<span class="i0">Meekly she bowed her own, and murmured, "Father, I thank Thee!"</span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<p class="pmb3" /> + + +<div class="footnotes"><span class="font11"><b>FOOTNOTES:</b></span> + +<div class="footnote"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_T_20" id="Footnote_T_20"></a><a href="#FNanchor_T_20"><span class="label">[T]</span></a> Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, the best-known and best-beloved +of American poets, was born at Portland, Maine, on +February 27, 1807. The son of a lawyer, he graduated at Bowdoin +College at the age of eighteen, and then entered his father's +office, not, however, with any intention of adopting the law as +a profession. Shortly afterwards, the college trustees sent him +on a European tour to qualify himself for the chair of foreign +languages, one result of which was a number of translations and +his book "Outre Mer." "Voices of the Night," his first volume +of original verse, appeared in 1839, and created a favourable impression, +which was deepened on the publication in 1841 of +Ballads, and Other Poems," containing such moving pieces +as "The Wreck of the Hesperus," "The Village Blacksmith," +and "Excelsior." From that moment Longfellow's reputation +as poet was established—he became a singer whose charm and +simplicity not only appealed to his own countrymen, but to English-speaking +people the world over. In 1847 he produced what +many regard as the greatest of his works, namely, "Evangeline, +a Tale of Acadie." The story is founded on the compulsory +expatriation by the British of the people of Acadia (Nova +Scotia), in 1713, on the charge of having assisted the French +(from whom they were descended) at a siege of the war then +in progress. The poem is told with infinite pathos and rare +narrative power. Longfellow died on March 24, 1882.</p> +</div></div> +<p class="pmb3" /> + + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</a></span></p> +<p class="pmb3" /> + + +<h2><a name="The_Song_of_HiawathaU" id="The_Song_of_HiawathaU">The Song of Hiawatha</a><span class="font08"><a name="FNanchor_U_21" id="FNanchor_U_21"></a><a href="#Footnote_U_21" class="fnanchor">[U]</a></span></h2> +<p class="pmb3" /> + + +<div class="block2"> + +<h3><i>I.—Of Hiawatha and His Battle with Mudjekeewis</i></h3> + +<blockquote> +<p class="font09 pmb1">Hiawatha was sent by Gitche Manito, the Master of Life, as +a prophet to guide and to teach the tribes of men, and to toil +and suffer with them. If they listened to his counsels they would +multiply and prosper, but if they paid no heed they would fade +away and perish. His father was Mudjekeewis, the West Wind; +his mother was Wenonah, the first-born daughter of Nokomis, +who was the daughter of the Moon. Wenonah died in her +anguish deserted by the West Wind, and Hiawatha was brought +up and taught by the old Nokomis. He soon learned the language +of every bird and every beast; and Iagoo, the great +boaster and story-teller, made him a bow with which he shot +the red deer. When he grew into manhood he put many questions +concerning his mother to the old Nokomis, and having +learned her story, resolved, despite all warnings, to take vengeance +on Mudjekeewis.</p> +</blockquote> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span></p> + +<div class="block3a"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Forth he strode into the forest,</span> +<span class="i2">Crossed the rushing Esconaba,</span> +<span class="i2">Crossed the mighty Mississippi,</span> +<span class="i2">Passed the Mountains of the Prairie,</span> +<span class="i2">Passed the dwellings of the Blackfeet,</span> +<span class="i2">Came unto the Rocky Mountains,</span> +<span class="i2">To the kingdom of the West Wind,</span> +<span class="i2">Where upon the gusty summits</span> +<span class="i2">Sat the ancient Mudjekeewis,</span> +<span class="i2">Ruler of the winds of Heaven.</span> +<span class="i2">Filled with awe was Hiawatha</span> +<span class="i2">At the aspect of his father.</span> +<span class="i2">Filled with joy was Mudjekeewis</span> +<span class="i2">When he looked on Hiawatha.</span> +<span class="i2">"Welcome," said he, "Hiawatha,</span> +<span class="i2">To the kingdom of the West Wind!</span> +<span class="i2">Long have I been waiting for you.</span> +<span class="i2">Youth is lovely, age is lonely;</span> +<span class="i2">You bring back the days departed,</span> +<span class="i2">You bring back my youth of passion,</span> +<span class="i2">And the beautiful Wenonah!"</span> + <span class="i4">Many days they talked together,</span> +<span class="i2">Questioned, listened, waited, answered;</span> +<span class="i2">Much the mighty Mudjekeewis</span> +<span class="i2">Boasted of his ancient prowess.</span> +<span class="i2">Patiently sat Hiawatha</span> +<span class="i2">Listening to his father's boasting.</span> +<span class="i2">Then he said: "O Mudjekeewis,</span> +<span class="i2">Is there nothing that can harm you?"</span> +<span class="i2">And the mighty Mudjekeewis</span> +<span class="i2">Answered, saying, "There is nothing,</span> +<span class="i2">Nothing but the black rock yonder,</span> +<span class="i2">Nothing but the fatal Wawbeek!"</span> +<span class="i2">And he looked at Hiawatha</span> +<span class="i2">With a wise look and benignant,</span> +<span class="i2">Saying, "O my Hiawatha!</span> +<span class="i2">Is there anything can harm you?"</span> +<span class="i2">But the wary Hiawatha</span> +<span class="i2">Paused awhile as if uncertain,</span> +<span class="i2">And then answered, "There is nothing,</span> +<span class="i2">Nothing but the great Apukwa!"</span> +<span class="i2">Then they talked of other matters;</span> +<span class="i2">First of Hiawatha's brothers,</span> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</a></span> +<span class="i2">First of Wabun, of the East Wind.</span> +<span class="i2">Of the South Wind, Shawondasee,</span> +<span class="i2">Of the north, Kabibonokka;</span> +<span class="i2">Then of Hiawatha's mother,</span> +<span class="i2">Of the beautiful Wenonah,</span> +<span class="i2">Of her birth upon the meadow,</span> +<span class="i2">Of her death, as old Nokomis</span> +<span class="i2">Had remembered and related.</span> + <span class="i4">Then up started Hiawatha,</span> +<span class="i2">Laid his hand upon the black rock.</span> +<span class="i2">With his mittens, Minjekahwun,</span> +<span class="i2">Rent the jutting crag asunder,</span> +<span class="i2">Smote and crushed it into fragments</span> +<span class="i2">Which he hurled against his father,</span> +<span class="i2">The remorseful Mudjekeewis,</span> +<span class="i2">For his heart was hot within him,</span> +<span class="i2">Like a living coal his heart was.</span> + <span class="i4">But the ruler of the West Wind</span> +<span class="i2">Blew the fragments backward from him,</span> +<span class="i2">Blew them back at his assailant;</span> +<span class="i2">Seized the bulrush, the Apukwa,</span> +<span class="i2">Dragged it with its roots and fibres</span> +<span class="i2">From the margin of the meadow.</span> +<span class="i2">Long and loud laughed Hiawatha.</span> +<span class="i2">Like a tall tree in the tempest</span> +<span class="i2">Bent and lashed the giant bulrush;</span> +<span class="i2">And in masses huge and heavy</span> +<span class="i2">Crashing fell the fatal Wawbeek;</span> +<span class="i2">Till the earth shook with the tumult</span> +<span class="i2">And confusion of the battle.</span> +<span class="i2">Back retreated Mudjekeewis,</span> +<span class="i2">Rushing westward o'er the mountains,</span> +<span class="i2">Stumbling westward down the mountains,</span> +<span class="i2">Three whole days retreated fighting,</span> +<span class="i2">Still pursued by Hiawatha</span> +<span class="i2">To the doorways of the West Wind,</span> +<span class="i2">To the earth's remotest border.</span> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</a></span> + <span class="i4">"Hold!" at length called Mudjekeewis,</span> +<span class="i2">"'Tis impossible to kill me.</span> +<span class="i2">For you cannot kill the immortal.</span> +<span class="i2">I have put you to this trial</span> +<span class="i2">But to know and prove your courage.</span> +<span class="i2">Now receive the prize of valour!</span> +<span class="i2">Go back to your home and people,</span> +<span class="i2">Live among them, toil among them,</span> +<span class="i2">Cleanse the earth from all that harms it.</span> +<span class="i2">And at last when Death draws near you,</span> +<span class="i2">When the awful eyes of Pauguk</span> +<span class="i2">Glare upon you in the darkness,</span> +<span class="i2">I will share my kingdom with you;</span> +<span class="i2">Ruler shall you be thenceforward</span> +<span class="i2">Of the North-west Wind, Keewaydin,</span> +<span class="i2">Of the home wind, the Keewaydin."</span> +</div></div> +</div> +<p class="pmb3" /> + + +<h3><i>II.—Of Hiawatha's Friends and of His Fight with +Pearl-Feather</i></h3> + +<blockquote> +<p class="font09 pmb1">The first exertion which Hiawatha made for the profit of his +people was to fast for seven days in order to procure for them +the blessing of Mondamin, the friend of man. At sunset of the +fourth, fifth, and sixth days Hiawatha wrestled with the youth +Mondamin, and on the evening of the seventh day Mondamin, +having fallen lifeless in the combat, was stripped of his green +and yellow garments and laid in the earth. From his grave +shot up the maize in all its beauty, the new gift of the Great +Spirit; and for a time Hiawatha rested from his labours, taking +counsel for furthering the prosperity of his people with his two +good friends—Chibiabos, the great singer and musician; and +Kwasind, the very strong man. But he was not long inactive. +He built the first birch canoe, and, with the help of Kwasind, +cleared the river of its sunken logs and sand-bars; and when +he and his canoe were swallowed by the monstrous sturgeon +Mishe-Nahma, he killed it by smiting fiercely on its heart. Not +long afterwards his grandmother, Nokomis, incited him to kill +the great Pearl-Feather, Megissogwon, the magician who had +slain her father. Pearl-Feather was the sender of white fog, of +pestilential vapours, of fever and of poisonous exhalations, and, +although he was guarded by the Kenabeek, the great fiery surpents, +Hiawatha sailed readily in his birch canoe to encounter +him.</p> +</blockquote> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</a></span></p> + +<div class="block3a"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">Soon he reached the fiery serpents,</span> +<span class="i2">The Kenabeek, the great serpents,</span> +<span class="i2">Lying huge upon the water,</span> +<span class="i2">Sparkling, rippling in the water,</span> +<span class="i2">Lying coiled across the passage,</span> +<span class="i2">With their blazing crests uplifted,</span> +<span class="i2">Breathing fiery fogs and vapours,</span> +<span class="i2">So that none could pass beyond them.</span> +<span class="i2">Then he raised his bow of ash-tree,</span> +<span class="i2">Seized his arrows, jasper-headed,</span> +<span class="i2">Shot them fast among the serpents;</span> +<span class="i2">Every twanging of the bow-string</span> +<span class="i2">Was a war-cry and a death-cry,</span> +<span class="i2">Every whizzing of an arrow</span> +<span class="i2">Was a death-song of Kenabeek.</span> + <span class="i4">Then he took the oil of Nahma,</span> +<span class="i2">Mishe-Nahma, the great sturgeon,</span> +<span class="i2">And the bows and sides anointed,</span> +<span class="i2">Smeared them well with oil, that swiftly</span> +<span class="i2">He might pass the black pitch-water.</span> + <span class="i4">All night long he sailed upon it,</span> +<span class="i2">Sailed upon that sluggish water,</span> +<span class="i2">Covered with its mold of ages,</span> +<span class="i2">Black with rotting water-rushes,</span> +<span class="i2">Rank with flags and leaves of lilies,</span> +<span class="i2">Stagnant, lifeless, dreary, dismal,</span> +<span class="i2">Lighted by the shimmering moonlight,</span> +<span class="i2">And by will-o'-wisps illumined,</span> +<span class="i2">Fires by ghosts of dead men kindled,</span> +<span class="i2">In their weary night encampments.</span> + <span class="i4">Westward thus fared Hiawatha,</span> +<span class="i2">Toward the realm of Megissogwon,</span> +<span class="i2">Toward the land of the Pearl-Feather,</span> +<span class="i2">Till the level moon stared at him,</span> +<span class="i2">In his face stared pale and haggard,</span> +<span class="i2">Till the sun was hot behind him,</span> +<span class="i2">Till it burned upon his shoulders,</span> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</a></span> +<span class="i2">And before him on the upland</span> +<span class="i2">He could see the shining wigwam</span> +<span class="i2">Of the Manito of Wampum,</span> +<span class="i2">Of the mightiest of magicians.</span> + <span class="i4">Straightway from the shining wigwam</span> +<span class="i2">Came the mighty Megissogwon,</span> +<span class="i2">Tall of stature, broad of shoulder,</span> +<span class="i2">Dark and terrible in aspect,</span> +<span class="i2">Clad from head to foot in wampum,</span> +<span class="i2">Armed with all his warlike weapons,</span> +<span class="i2">Painted like the sky of morning,</span> +<span class="i2">Crested with great eagle feathers,</span> +<span class="i2">Streaming upward, streaming outward.</span> +<span class="i2">Then began the greatest battle</span> +<span class="i2">That the sun had ever looked on.</span> +<span class="i2">All a summer's day it lasted;</span> +<span class="i2">For the shafts of Hiawatha</span> +<span class="i2">Harmless hit the shirt of wampum;</span> +<span class="i2">Harmless were his magic mittens,</span> +<span class="i2">Harmless fell the heavy war-club;</span> +<span class="i2">It could dash the rocks asunder,</span> +<span class="i2">But it could not break the meshes</span> +<span class="i2">Of that magic shirt of wampum.</span> +<span class="i2">Till at sunset, Hiawatha,</span> +<span class="i2">Leaning on his bow of ash-tree,</span> +<span class="i2">Wounded, weary, and desponding,</span> +<span class="i2">With his mighty war-club broken,</span> +<span class="i2">With his mittens torn and tattered,</span> +<span class="i2">And three useless arrows only,</span> +<span class="i2">Paused to rest beneath a pine-tree.</span> + <span class="i4">Suddenly, from the boughs above him</span> +<span class="i2">Sang the Mama, the woodpecker:</span> +<span class="i2">"Aim your arrow, Hiawatha,</span> +<span class="i2">At the head of Megissogwon,</span> +<span class="i2">Strike the tuft of hair upon it,</span> +<span class="i2">At their roots the long black tresses;</span> +<span class="i2">There alone can he be wounded!"</span> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[Pg 256]</a></span> + <span class="i4">Winged with feathers, tipped with jasper,</span> +<span class="i2">Swift flew Hiawatha's arrow,</span> +<span class="i2">Just as Megissogwon, stooping</span> +<span class="i2">Raised a heavy stone to throw it.</span> +<span class="i2">Full upon the crown it struck him,</span> +<span class="i2">And he reeled and staggered forward.</span> +<span class="i2">Swifter flew the second arrow,</span> +<span class="i2">Wounding sorer than the other;</span> +<span class="i2">And the knees of Megissogwon</span> +<span class="i2">Bent and trembled like the rushes.</span> +<span class="i2">But the third and latest arrow</span> +<span class="i2">Swiftest flew, and wounded sorest,</span> +<span class="i2">And the mighty Megissogwon</span> +<span class="i2">Saw the fiery eyes of Pauguk,</span> +<span class="i2">Saw the eyes of Death glare at him;</span> +<span class="i2">At the feet of Hiawatha</span> +<span class="i2">Lifeless lay the great Pearl-Feather.</span> + <span class="i4">Then the grateful Hiawatha</span> +<span class="i2">Called the Mama, the woodpecker,</span> +<span class="i2">From his perch among the branches,</span> +<span class="i2">And in honour of his service,</span> +<span class="i2">Stained with blood the tuft of feathers</span> +<span class="i2">On the little head of Mama;</span> +<span class="i2">Even to this day he wears it,</span> +<span class="i2">Wears the tuft of crimson feathers,</span> +<span class="i2">As a symbol of his service.</span> +</div></div> +</div> +<p class="pmb3" /> + + +<h3><i>III.—Hiawatha's Life with His People and His +Departing Westward</i></h3> + +<blockquote> +<p class="font09 pmb1">When Hiawatha was returning from his battle with Mudjekeewis +he had stopped at the wigwam of the ancient Arrow-maker +to purchase heads of arrows, and there and then he had +noticed the beauty of the Arrow-maker's daughter, Minnehaha, +Laughing Water. Her he now took to wife, and celebrated his +nuptials by a wedding-feast at which Chibiabos sang, and the +handsome mischief-maker, Pau-Puk-Keewis, danced. Minnehaha +proved another blessing to the people. In the darkness of +the night, covered by her long hair only, she walked all round + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[Pg 257]</a></span> +the fields of maize, making them fruitful, and drawing a magic +circle round them which neither blight nor mildew, neither worm +nor insect, could invade. About this same time, too, to prevent the +memory of men and things fading, Hiawatha invented picture-writing, +and taught it to his people. But soon misfortunes came +upon him. The evil spirits, the Manitos of mischief, broke the ice +beneath his friend Chibiabos, and drowned him; Pau-Puk-Keewis +put insult upon him, and had to be hunted down; and the +envious Little People, the mischievous Puk-Wudjies, conspired +against Kwasind, and murdered him. After this ghosts paid a +visit to Hiawatha's wigwam, and famine came upon the land.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block3a"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Oh, the long and dreary winter!</span> +<span class="i2">Oh, the cold and cruel winter!</span> +<span class="i2">Ever thicker, thicker, thicker</span> +<span class="i2">Froze the ice on lake and river;</span> +<span class="i2">Ever deeper, deeper, deeper</span> +<span class="i2">Fell the snow o'er all the landscape,</span> +<span class="i2">Fell the covering snow, and drifted</span> +<span class="i2">Through the forest, round the village.</span> + <span class="i4">All the earth was sick and famished;</span> +<span class="i2">Hungry was the air around them,</span> +<span class="i2">Hungry was the sky above them,</span> +<span class="i2">And the hungry stars in heaven</span> +<span class="i2">Like the eyes of wolves glared at them!</span> + <span class="i4">Into Hiawatha's wigwam</span> +<span class="i2">Came two other guests, as silent</span> +<span class="i2">As the ghosts were, and as gloomy.</span> +<span class="i2">Looked with haggard eyes and hollow</span> +<span class="i2">At the face of Laughing Water.</span> +<span class="i2">And the foremost said, "Behold me!</span> +<span class="i2">I am Famine, Buckadawin!"</span> +<span class="i2">And the other said, "Behold me!</span> +<span class="i2">I am Fever, Ahkosewin!"</span> + <span class="i4">And the lovely Minnehaha</span> +<span class="i2">Shuddered as they looked upon her,</span> +<span class="i2">Shuddered at the words they uttered;</span> +<span class="i2">Lay down on her bed in silence.</span> + <span class="i4">Forth into the empty forest</span> +<span class="i2">Rushed the maddened Hiawatha;</span> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[Pg 258]</a></span> +<span class="i2">In his heart was deadly sorrow,</span> +<span class="i2">In his face a stony firmness;</span> +<span class="i2">On his brow the sweat of anguish</span> +<span class="i2">Started, but it froze and fell not.</span> +<span class="i2">"Gitche Manito, the Mighty!"</span> +<span class="i2">Cried he with his face uplifted</span> +<span class="i2">In that bitter hour of anguish,</span> +<span class="i2">"Give your children food, O father!</span> +<span class="i2">Give me food for Minnehaha—</span> +<span class="i2">For my dying Minnehaha!"</span> + <span class="i4">All day long roved Hiawatha</span> +<span class="i2">In that melancholy forest,</span> +<span class="i2">Through the shadow of whose thickets,</span> +<span class="i2">In the pleasant days of summer,</span> +<span class="i2">Of that ne'er-forgotten summer,</span> +<span class="i2">He had brought his young wife homeward</span> +<span class="i2">From the land of the Dacotahs.</span> + <span class="i4">In the wigwam with Nokomis,</span> +<span class="i2">With those gloomy guests that watched her,</span> +<span class="i2">She was lying, the beloved,</span> +<span class="i2">She, the dying Minnehaha.</span> +<span class="i2">"Hark!" she said; "I hear a rushing,</span> +<span class="i2">Hear the falls of Minnehaha</span> +<span class="i2">Coming to me from a distance!"</span> +<span class="i2">"No, my child!" said old Nokomis,</span> +<span class="i2">"'Tis the night-wind in the pine-trees!"</span> +<span class="i2">"Look!" she said; "I see my father</span> +<span class="i2">Beckoning, lonely, from his wigwam</span> +<span class="i2">In the land of the Dacotahs!"</span> +<span class="i2">"No, my child!" said old Nokomis.</span> +<span class="i2">"'Tis the smoke that waves and beckons!"</span> + <span class="i4">"Ah!" said she, "the eyes of Pauguk</span> +<span class="i2">Glare upon me in the darkness;</span> +<span class="i2">I can feel his icy fingers</span> +<span class="i2">Clasping mine amid the darkness!</span> +<span class="i2">Hiawatha! Hiawatha!"</span> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[Pg 259]</a></span> + <span class="i4">And the desolate Hiawatha,</span> +<span class="i2">Miles away among the mountains,</span> +<span class="i2">Heard that sudden cry of anguish,</span> +<span class="i2">Heard the voice of Minnehaha</span> +<span class="i2">Calling to him in the darkness.</span> +<span class="i2">Over snowfields waste and pathless,</span> +<span class="i2">Under snow-encumbered branches,</span> +<span class="i2">Homeward hurried Hiawatha,</span> +<span class="i2">Empty-handed, heavy-hearted;</span> +<span class="i2">Heard Nokomis moaning, wailing,</span> +<span class="i2">"Would that I had perished for you,</span> +<span class="i2">Would that I were dead as you are!"</span> +<span class="i2">And he rushed into the wigwam,</span> +<span class="i2">Saw the old Nokomis slowly</span> +<span class="i2">Rocking to and fro and moaning,</span> +<span class="i2">Saw his lovely Minnehaha</span> +<span class="i2">Lying dead and cold before him;</span> +<span class="i2">And his bursting heart within him</span> +<span class="i2">Uttered such a cry of anguish</span> +<span class="i2">That the very stars in heaven</span> +<span class="i2">Shook and trembled with his anguish.</span> + <span class="i4">Then he sat down, still and speechless,</span> +<span class="i2">On the bed of Minnehaha.</span> +<span class="i2">Seven long days and nights he sat there,</span> +<span class="i2">As if in a swoon he sat there.</span> +<span class="i2">Then they buried Minnehaha;</span> +<span class="i2">In the snow a grave they made her,</span> +<span class="i2">In the forest deep and darksome.</span> + <span class="i4">"Farewell!" said he. "Minnehaha!</span> +<span class="i2">Farewell, O my Laughing Water!</span> +<span class="i2">All my heart is buried with you,</span> +<span class="i2">All my thoughts go onward with you!</span> +<span class="i2">Come not back again to labour,</span> +<span class="i2">Come not back again to suffer.</span> +<span class="i2">Soon my task will be completed,</span> +<span class="i2">Soon your footsteps I shall follow</span> +<span class="i2">To the Islands of the Blessed,</span> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[Pg 260]</a></span> +<span class="i2">To the Kingdom of Ponemah,</span> +<span class="i2">To the Land of the Hereafter!"</span> +</div></div> +</div> +<p class="pmb2" /> + +<blockquote> +<p class="font09 pmb1">Hiawatha indeed remained not much longer with his people, +for after welcoming the Black-Robe chief, who told the elders +of the nations of the Virgin Mary and her blessed Son and +Saviour, he launched his birch canoe from the shores of Big-Sea-Water, +and, departing westward,</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block3a"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Sailed into the fiery sunset,</span> +<span class="i2">Sailed into the purple vapours,</span> +<span class="i2">Sailed into the dusk of evening.</span> +</div></div> +</div> +</div> +<p class="pmb3" /> + + +<div class="footnotes"><span class="font11"><b>FOOTNOTES:</b></span> + +<div class="footnote"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_U_21" id="Footnote_U_21"></a><a href="#FNanchor_U_21"><span class="label">[U]</span></a> In 1854 Longfellow resigned his professorship at Harvard. +"Evangeline" had been followed by "Kavanagh," a novel of +no particular merit, a cluster of minor poems, and in 1851 by +the "Golden Legend," a singularly beautiful lyric drama, based +on Hartmann van Aue's story "Der arme Heinrichs." Leaving +the dim twilight of mediæval Germany, the poet brought his +imagination to bear upon the Red Indian and his store of +legend. The result was the "Song of Hiawatha," in 1855. Both +in subject and in metre the poem is a conscious imitation of +the Finnish "Kalevala." It was immensely popular on its +appearance, Emerson declaring it "sweet and wholesome as +maize." If the poem lacks veracity as an account of savage life, +it nevertheless overflows with the beauty of the author's own +nature, and is typical of those elements in his poetry which +have endeared his name to the English-speaking world. With +the exception of "Evangeline," it is the most popular of Longfellow's +works.</p> +</div></div> +<p class="pmb3" /> + + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[Pg 261]</a></span></p> +<p class="pmb3" /> + + +<h2><a name="LUCRETIUSV" id="LUCRETIUSV">LUCRETIUS</a><span class="font08"><a name="FNanchor_V_22" id="FNanchor_V_22"></a><a href="#Footnote_V_22" class="fnanchor">[V]</a></span></h2> +<p class="pmb3" /> + + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<h2><a name="On_the_Nature_of_Things" id="On_the_Nature_of_Things">On the Nature of Things</a></h2> + + +<div class="block2"> + +<h3><i>I.—The Invocation and the Theme</i></h3> + +<div class="block2a"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Mother of Romans, joy of men and gods,</span> +<span class="i0">Kind Venus, who 'neath gliding signs of heaven</span> +<span class="i0">Dost haunt the main where sail our argosies,</span> +<span class="i0">Dost haunt the land that yieldeth crops of grain,</span> +<span class="i0">Since 'tis of thee that every kind of breath</span> +<span class="i0">Is born and riseth to behold the light;</span> +<span class="i0">Before Thee, Lady, flit the winds; and clouds</span> +<span class="i0">Part at thine advent, and deft-fingered earth</span> +<span class="i0">Yields Thee sweet blooms; for Thee the sea hath smiles,</span> +<span class="i0">And heaven at peace doth gleam with floods of light.</span> +<span class="i0">Soon as the fair spring face of day is shown</span> +<span class="i0">And zephyr kind to birth is loosed in strength;</span> +<span class="i0">First do the fowls of air give sign of Thee,</span> +<span class="i0">Lady, and of Thy entrance, smit at heart</span> +<span class="i0">By power of Thine. Then o'er the pastures glad</span> +<span class="i0">The wild herds bound, and swim the rapid streams.</span> +<span class="i0">Thy glamour captures them, and yearningly</span> +<span class="i0">They follow where Thou willest to lead on.</span> +<span class="i0">Yea, over seas and hills and sweeping floods,</span> +<span class="i0">And leafy homes of birds and grassy leas,</span> +<span class="i0">Striking fond love into the heart of all,</span> +<span class="i0">Thou mak'st each race desire to breed its kind.</span> +<span class="i0">Since Thou dost rule alone o'er nature's realm,</span> +<span class="i0">Since without Thee naught wins the hallowed shores</span> +<span class="i0">Of light, and naught is glad, and naught is fair,</span> +<span class="i0">Fain would I crave Thine aid for poesy</span> +<span class="i0">Which seeks to grasp the essence of the world.</span> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[Pg 262]</a></span> +<span class="i0">On the high system of the heavens and gods</span> +<span class="i0">I will essay to speak, and primal germs</span> +<span class="i0">Reveal, whence nature giveth birth to all,</span> +<span class="i0">And growth and nourishment, and unto which</span> +<span class="i0">Nature resolves them back when quite outworn.</span> +<span class="i0">These, when we treat their system, we are wont</span> +<span class="i0">To view as "matter," "bodies which produce,"</span> +<span class="i0">And name them "seeds of things," "first bodies" too,</span> +<span class="i0">Since from them at the first all things do come.</span> +</div></div> +</div><p class="pmb2" /> + + +<h4>THE TYRANNY OF RELIGION AND THE REVOLT +OF EPICURUS</h4> + +<div class="block2a"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When human life lay foully on the earth</span> +<span class="i0">Before all eyes, 'neath Superstition crushed,</span> +<span class="i0">Who from the heavenly quarters showed her head</span> +<span class="i0">And with appalling aspect lowered on men,</span> +<span class="i0">Then did a Greek dare first lift eyes to hers—</span> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[Pg 263]</a></span> +<span class="i0">First brave her face to face. Him neither myth</span> +<span class="i0">Of gods, nor thunderbolt; nor sky with roar</span> +<span class="i0">And threat could quell; nay, chafed with more resolve</span> +<span class="i0">His valiant soul that he should yearn to be</span> +<span class="i0">First man to burst the bars of nature's gates.</span> +<span class="i0">So vivid verve of mind prevailed. He fared</span> +<span class="i0">Far o'er the flaming ramparts of the world,</span> +<span class="i0">And traversed the immeasurable All</span> +<span class="i0">In mind and soul: and thence a conqueror</span> +<span class="i0">Returns to tell what can, what cannot rise,</span> +<span class="i0">And on what principle each thing, in brief,</span> +<span class="i0">Hath powers defined and deep-set boundary.</span> +<span class="i0">Religion, then, is cast to earth in turn</span> +<span class="i0">And trampled. Triumph matches man with heaven.</span> +</div></div> +<p class="pmb2" /> + +<blockquote> +<p class="font09">The profoundest speculations on the nature of things are not +impious. Let not the reader feel that in such an inquiry he is +on guilty ground. It is, rather, true that religion has caused +foul crimes. An instance is the agonising sacrifice of sweet +Iphigenia, slain at the altar to appease divine wrath.</p> + +<p class="font09 pmb3">"Religion could such wickedness suggest." Tales of eternal +punishment frighten only those ignorant of the real nature of +the soul. This ignorance can be dispelled by inquiring into the +phenomena of heaven and earth, and stating the laws of nature.</p> +</blockquote> +</div> + + +<h3><i>II.—First Principles and a Theory of the Universe</i></h3> + +<div class="block2a"> +<blockquote> +<p class="font09 pmb1">Of these the first is that nothing is made of nothing; the +second, that nothing is reduced to nothing. This indestructibility +of matter may be illustrated by the joyous and constantly +renewed growth that is in nature. There are two fundamental +postulates required to explain nature—atoms and void. These +constitute the universe. There is no <i>tertium quid</i>. All other +things are but properties and accidents of these two. Atoms +are solid, "without void"; they are indestructible, "eternal"; +they are indivisible. To appreciate the physical theory of Epicurus, +it is necessary to note the erroneous speculations of other +Greek thinkers, whether, like Heraclitus, they deduced all things +from one such fundamental element as fire, or whether they +postulated four elements. From a criticism of the theories of +Empedocles and Anaxagoras, the poet, return to the main subject.</p> +</blockquote> +</div><p class="pmb2" /> + + +<h4>A HARD TASK AND THREEFOLD TITLE TO FAME</h4> + +<div class="block2a"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">How dark my theme, I know within my mind;</span> +<span class="i0">Yet hath high hope of praise with thyrsus keen</span> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[Pg 264]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Smitten my heart and struck into my breast</span> +<span class="i0">Sweet passion for the Muses, stung wherewith</span> +<span class="i0">In lively thought I traverse pathless haunts</span> +<span class="i0">Pierian, untrodden yet by man.</span> +<span class="i0">I love to visit those untasted springs</span> +<span class="i0">And quaff; I love to cull fresh blooms, and whence</span> +<span class="i0">The Muses never veiled the brows of man</span> +<span class="i0">To seek a wreath of honour for my head:</span> +<span class="i0">First, for that lofty is the lore I teach;</span> +<span class="i0">Then, cramping knots of priestcraft I would loose;</span> +<span class="i0">And next because of mysteries I sing clear,</span> +<span class="i0">Decking my poems with the Muses' charm.</span> +</div></div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="font09">This sweetening of verse with: "the honey of the Muses" is +like disguising unpalatable medicine for children. The mind +must be engaged by attractive means till it perceives the nature +of the world.</p> + +<p class="font09 pmb3">As to the existing universe, it is bounded in none of its +dimensions; matter and space are infinite. All things are in +continual motion in every direction, and there is an endless +supply of material bodies from infinite space. These ultimate +atoms buffet each other ceaselessly; they unite or disunite. But +there is no such thing as design in their unions. All is fortuitous +concourse; so there are innumerable blind experiments and +failures in nature, due to resultless encounters of the atoms.</p> +</blockquote> +</div> + + +<h4>CALM OF MIND IN RELATION TO A TRUE THEORY OF THE +UNIVERSE</h4> + +<div class="block2a"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When tempests rack the mighty ocean's face,</span> +<span class="i0">How sweet on land to watch the seaman's toil—</span> +<span class="i0">Not that we joy in neighbour's jeopardy,</span> +<span class="i0">But sweet it is to know what ills we 'scape.</span> +<span class="i0">How sweet to see war's mighty rivalries</span> +<span class="i0">Ranged on the plains—without thy share of risk.</span> +<span class="i0">Naught sweeter than to hold the tranquil realms</span> +<span class="i0">On high, well fortified by sages' lore,</span> +<span class="i0">Whence to look down on others wide astray—</span> +<span class="i0">Lost wanderers questing for the way of life—</span> +<span class="i0">See strife of genius, rivalry of rank,</span> +<span class="i0">See night and day men strain with wondrous toil</span> +<span class="i0">To rise to utmost power and grasp the world.</span> +</div></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[Pg 265]</a></span></p> + +<blockquote> +<p class="font09 pmb1">Man feels an imperious craving to shun bodily pain and secure +mental pleasure. But the glitter of luxury at the banquets of +the rich cannot satisfy this craving: there are the simpler joys +of the open country in spring. But the fact is, no magnificence +can save the body from pain or the mind from apprehensions. +The genuine remedy lies in knowledge alone.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Not by the sunbeams nor clear shafts of day,</span> +<span class="i0">Needs then dispel this dread, this gloom of soul,</span> +<span class="i0">But by the face of nature and its plan.</span> +</div></div> +</div><p class="pmb2" /> + + +<h4>PROPERTIES OF ATOMS</h4> + +<div class="block2a"> +<blockquote> +<p class="font09 pmb1">Particles are constantly being transferred from one thing to +another, though the sum total remains constant. In the light +hereof may be understood the uninterrupted waxing and waning +of things, and the perpetual succession of existence.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Full soon the broods of living creatures change,</span> +<span class="i0">Like runners handing on the lamp of life.</span> +</div></div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="p2 font09 pmb1">Greater or less solidity depends on the resilience of atoms. +Their ceaseless motion is illustrated by the turmoil of motes +in a stream of sunlight let into a dark room. As to their +velocity, it greatly exceeds that of the sun's rays. This welter +of atoms is the product of chance; the very blemishes of the +world forbid one to regard it as divine. But the atoms do not +rain through space in rigidly parallel lines. A minute swerve +in their motion is essential to account for clashings and production; +and in the ethical sphere it is this swerve which saves the +mind from "Necessity" and makes free will possible. Though +the universe appears to be at rest, this is a fallacy of the senses, +due to the fact that the motions of "first bodies" are not cognisable +by our eyes; indeed, a similar phenomenon is the apparent +vanishing of motion due to distance; for a white spot +on a far-off hill may really be a frolicsome lamb.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oft on a hillside, cropping herbage rich,</span> +<span class="i0">The woolly flocks creep on whithersoe'er</span> +<span class="i0">The grass bejewelled with fresh dew invites,</span> +<span class="i0">And full-fed lambs disport and butt in play—</span> +<span class="i0">All this to eyes at distance looks a blur;</span> +<span class="i0">On the green hill the white spot seems at rest.</span> +</div></div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="p2 font09 pmb1">The shapes of atoms vary; and so differences of species, and +differences within the same species, arise. This variety in shape +accounts, too, for the varying action and effects of atoms. Atoms +in hard bodies, for example, are mainly hooked; but in liquids +mainly smooth. In each thing, however, there are several kinds, + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[Pg 266]</a></span> +which furnish that particular thing with a variety of properties. +Furthermore, atoms are colourless, for in themselves they are +invisible; they never come into the light, whereas colour needs +light—witness the changing hues of the down on a pigeon's +neck, or of a peacock's tail. Atoms are themselves without +senses, though they produce things possessed of senses. To +grasp the origin of species and development of animate nature, +one must realise the momentous importance of the arrangement +and interconnection of atoms. Wood and other rotting bodies +will bring forth worms, because material particles undergo, under +altered conditions, fresh permutations and combinations. +One may ask, what of man? He can laugh and weep, he can +discuss the composition of all things, and even inquire into the +nature of those very atoms! It is true that he springs from +them. Yet a man may laugh without being made of laughing +atoms, and a man may reason without being made of reasonable +atoms!</p> +</blockquote> +</div><p class="pmb2" /> + + +<h4>EPICURUS AND THE GODS</h4> + +<div class="block2a"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O thou that from gross darkness first didst lift</span> +<span class="i0">A torch to light the path to happiness,</span> +<span class="i0">I follow thee, thou glory of the Greeks!</span> +<span class="i0">And in thy footsteps firmly plant my steps,</span> +<span class="i0">Not bent so much to rival as for love</span> +<span class="i0">To copy. Why should swallow vie with swan?</span> +<span class="i0">Thou, father, art discoverer of things,</span> +<span class="i0">Enriching us with all a father's lore;</span> +<span class="i0">And, famous master, from thy written page,</span> +<span class="i0">As bees in flowery dells sip every bloom,</span> +<span class="i0">So hold we feast on all thy golden words—</span> +<span class="i0">Golden, most worthy, aye, of lasting life.</span> +<span class="i0">Soon as thy reasoning, sprung from mind inspired,</span> +<span class="i0">Hath loud proclaimed the mystery of things,</span> +<span class="i0">The mind's fears flee, the bulwarks of the world</span> +<span class="i0">Part, and I see things work throughout the void.</span> +<span class="i0">Then Godhead is revealed in homes of calm,</span> +<span class="i0">Which neither tempests shake nor clouds with rain</span> +<span class="i0">Obscure, nor snow by piercing frost congealed</span> +<span class="i0">Mars with white fall, but ever cloudless air</span> +<span class="i0">Wraps in a smile of generous radiancy.</span> +<span class="i0">There nature, too, supplieth every want,</span> +<span class="i0">And nothing ever lessens peace of mind.</span> +</div></div> +</div> +<p class="pmb3" /> + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[Pg 267]</a></span></p> + + +<h3><i>III.—Of Mind and Soul and Death</i></h3> + +<div class="block2a"> +<blockquote> +<p class="font09 pmb1">Mind and soul are portions of the body. While mind is the +ruling element, they are both of the nature of the body—only +they are composed of exceedingly minute and subtle atoms capable +of marvellous speed. Therefore, when death deprives the +body of mind, it does not make the body appreciably +lighter.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">It is as if a wine had lost its scent,</span> +<span class="i0">Or breath of some sweet perfume had escaped.</span> +</div></div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="p2 font09 pmb1">Mind and soul consist of spirit, air, heat, and an elusive fourth +constituent, the nimblest and subtlest of essences, the very "soul +of the soul." It follows that mind and soul are mortal. Among +many proofs may be adduced their close interconnection with +the body, as seen in cases of drunkenness and epilepsy; their +curability by medicine; their inability to recall a state prior to +their incarnation; their liability to be influenced by heredity +like corporeal seeds. Besides, why should an immortal soul +need to quit the body at death? Decay surely could not hurt +immortality! Then, again, imagine souls contending for homes +in a body about to be born! Consequently, the soul being +mortal, death has no sting.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">To us, then, death is nothing—matters naught,</span> +<span class="i0">Since mortal is the nature of the mind,</span> +<span class="i0">E'en as in bygone time we felt no grief</span> +<span class="i0">When Punic conflict hemmed all Rome around.</span> +<span class="i0">When, rent by war's dread turbulence, the world</span> +<span class="i0">Shuddered and quaked beneath the heaven's high realm,</span> +<span class="i0">So when we are no more, when soul and frame</span> +<span class="i0">Of which we are compact, have been divorced,</span> +<span class="i0">Be sure, to us, who then shall be no more,</span> +<span class="i0">Naught can occur or ever make us feel,</span> +<span class="i0">Not e'en though earth were blent with sea and sky.</span> +</div></div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="p2 font09 pmb1">Men in general forget that death, in ending life's pleasures, +also ends the need and the desire for them.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Soon shall thy home greet thee in joy no more,</span> +<span class="i0">Nor faithful wife nor darling children run</span> +<span class="i0">To snatch first kiss, and stir within thy heart</span> +<span class="i0">Sweet thoughts too deep for words. Thou canst no more</span> +<span class="i0">Win wealth by working or defend thine own.</span> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[Pg 268]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The pity of it! One fell hour," they say,</span> +<span class="i2">"Hath robbed thee of thine every prize in life."</span> +<span class="i2">Hereat they add not this: "And now thou art</span> +<span class="i0">Beset with yearning for such things no more."</span> +</div></div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="p2 font09 pmb1">The dead are to be envied, not lamented. The wise will exclaim: +"Thou, O dead, art free from pain: we who survive +are full of tears."</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"What is so passing bitter," we should ask,</span> +<span class="i0">"If life be rounded by a rest and sleep,</span> +<span class="i0">That one should pine in never-ending grief?"</span> +</div></div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="p2 font09 pmb3">Universal nature has a rebuke for the coward that is afraid to +die. There are no punishments beyond. Hell and hell's tortures +are in this life. It is the victim of passion or of gnawing cares +that is the real victim of torment.</p> +</blockquote> +</div> + + +<h3><i>IV—The World's Origin and Its Growth</i></h3> + +<div class="block2a"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Not by design did primal elements</span> +<span class="i0">Find each their place as 'twere with forethought keen,</span> +<span class="i0">Nor bargained what their movements were to be;</span> +<span class="i0">But since the atom host in many ways</span> +<span class="i0">Smitten by blows for infinite ages back,</span> +<span class="i0">And by their weight impelled, have coursed along,</span> +<span class="i0">Have joined all ways, and made full test of all</span> +<span class="i0">The types which mutual unions could create,</span> +<span class="i0">Therefore it is that through great time dispersed,</span> +<span class="i0">With every kind of blend and motion tried,</span> +<span class="i0">They meet at length in momentary groups</span> +<span class="i0">Which oft prove rudiments of mighty things—</span> +<span class="i0">Of earth, and sea, and sky, and living breeds.</span> +</div></div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="p2 font09 pmb1">Amidst this primeval medley of warring atoms there was no +sun-disk to be discerned climbing the vault, no stars, or sea, +or sky, or earth, or air—nothing, in fact, like what now exists. +The next stage came when the several parts began to fly asunder, +and like to join with like, so that the parts of the world were +gradually differentiated. Heavier bodies combined in central +chaos and forced out lighter elements to make ether. Thus +earth was formed by a long process of condensation.</p> +</blockquote> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[Pg 269]</a></span></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Daily, as ever more the ether-fires</span> +<span class="i0">And sun-rays all around close pressed the earth</span> +<span class="i0">With frequent blows upon its outer crust,</span> +<span class="i0">Each impact concentrating it perforce,</span> +<span class="i0">So was a briny sweat squeezed out the more</span> +<span class="i0">With ooze to swell the sea and floating plains.</span> +</div></div> +</div><p class="pmb2" /> + + +<h4>PRIMEVAL FERTILITY OF THE EARTH</h4> + +<div class="block2a"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">At first the earth produced all kinds of herbs</span> +<span class="i0">And verdant sheen o'er every hill and plain;</span> +<span class="i0">The flowery meadows gleamed in hues of green,</span> +<span class="i0">And soon the trees were gifted with desire</span> +<span class="i0">To race unbridled in the lists of growth;</span> +<span class="i0">As plumage, hair, and bristles are produced</span> +<span class="i0">On limbs of quadrupeds or frame of birds,</span> +<span class="i0">So the fresh earth then first put forth the grass</span> +<span class="i0">And shrubs, and next gave birth to mortal breeds,</span> +<span class="i0">Thick springing multiform in divers ways.</span> +<span class="i0">The name of "Mother," then, earth justly won,</span> +<span class="i0">Since from the earth all living creatures came.</span> +<span class="i0">Full many monsters earth essayed to raise,</span> +<span class="i0">Uprising strange of look and strange of limb,</span> +<span class="i0">Hermaphrodites distinct from either sex,</span> +<span class="i0">Some robbed of feet, and others void of hands,</span> +<span class="i0">Or mouthless mutes, or destitute of eyes,</span> +<span class="i0">Or bound by close adhesion of their limbs</span> +<span class="i0">So that they could do naught nor move at all,</span> +<span class="i0">Nor shun an ill, nor take what need required.</span> +<span class="i0">All other kinds of portents earth did yield—</span> +<span class="i0">In vain, since nature drove increase away,</span> +<span class="i0">They could not reach the longed-for bloom of life,</span> +<span class="i0">Nor find support, nor link themselves in love.</span> +</div></div> +</div> +<p class="pmb3" /> + + +<h4>SURVIVAL OF THE FITTEST IN THE STRUGGLE FOR +EXISTENCE</h4> + +<div class="block2a"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">All things you see that draw the breath of life,</span> +<span class="i0">Have been protected and preserved by craft,</span> +</div></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[Pg 270]</a></span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Or speed, or courage, from their early years;</span> +<span class="i0">And many beasts, which usefulness commends,</span> +<span class="i0">Abide domesticated in our care.</span> +</div></div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="p1 font09 pmb3">The protective quality in such animals as lions is ferocity; in +foxes, cunning; in stags, swiftness. Creatures without such natural +endowments of defence or utility tend to be the prey of +others, and so become extinct.</p> +</blockquote> +</div> + + +<h4>PRIMITIVE MAN</h4> + +<div class="block2a"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Primeval man was hardier in the fields,</span> +<span class="i0">As fitted those that hardy earth produced,</span> +<span class="i0">Built on a frame of larger, tougher bones</span> +<span class="i0">And knit with powerful sinews in his flesh;</span> +<span class="i0">Not likely to be hurt by heat or cold,</span> +<span class="i0">Or change of food, or wasting pestilence.</span> +<span class="i0">While many lustres of the sun revolved</span> +<span class="i0">Men led a life of roving like the beasts.</span> +<span class="i0">What sun or rain might give, or soil might yield</span> +<span class="i0">Unforced, was boon enough to sate the heart.</span> +<span class="i0">Oft 'neath the acorn-bearing oaks they found</span> +<span class="i0">Their food; and arbute-berries, which you now</span> +<span class="i0">In winter see turn ripe with scarlet hue,</span> +<span class="i0">Of old grew greater in luxuriance.</span> +<span class="i0">Through well known woodland haunts of nymphs they roamed,</span> +<span class="i0">Wherefrom they saw the gliding water brook</span> +<span class="i0">Bathe with a generous plash the dripping rocks—</span> +<span class="i0">Those dripping rocks that trickled o'er green moss.</span> +</div></div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="p1 font09">As yet mankind did not know how to handle fire, or to clothe +themselves with the spoils of the chase; but dwelt in woods, or +caves, or other random shelter found in stress of weather. +Each man lived for himself, and might was right. The stone +or club was used in hunting; but the cave-dwellers were in +frequent danger of being devoured by beasts of prey. Still, savage +mortality was no greater than that of modern times.</p> +</blockquote> +</div><p class="pmb2" /> + + +<h4>THE EVOLVING OF CIVILISATION</h4> + +<div class="block2a"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When men had got them huts and skins and fire,</span> +<span class="i0">And woman joined with man to make a home,</span> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[Pg 271]</a></span> +<span class="i0">And when they saw an offspring born from them,</span> +<span class="i0">Then first began the softening of the race.</span> +<span class="i0">Fire left them less inured with shivering frames</span> +<span class="i0">To bear the cold 'neath heaven's canopy.</span> +<span class="i0">Then neighbours turned to compacts mutual,</span> +<span class="i0">Desirous nor to do nor suffer harm.</span> +<span class="i0">They claimed for child and woman tenderness,</span> +<span class="i0">Declaring by their signs and stammering cries</span> +<span class="i0">That pity for the weak becometh all.</span> +</div></div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="p1 font09 pmb1">The rudiments of humane sentiments sprang, therefore, in +prehistoric family life. Language was the gradual outcome of +natural cries, not an arbitrary invention. The uses of fire were +learned from the lightning-flash and from conflagrations due to +spontaneous combustion or chance friction. In time this opened +out the possibility of many arts, such as metal-working; for +forest fires caused streams of silver, gold, copper, or lead to run +into hollows, and early man observed that when cooled, the +glittering lumps retained the mould of the cavities. Nature +also was the model for sowing and grafting. Those who excelled +in mental endowment invented new modes of life. Towns +and strongholds were founded as places of defence; and possessions +were secured by personal beauty, strength, or cleverness. +But the access of riches often ousted the claims of both +beauty and strength.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For men, though strong and fair to look upon,</span> +<span class="i0">Oft follow in the retinue of wealth.</span> +</div></div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="p1 font09 pmb1">Religious feelings were fostered by visions and dreams; marvellous +shapes to which savage man ascribed supernatural powers. +Recurrent appearances of such shapes induced a belief in +their continuous existence: so arose the notion of gods that +live for ever.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Our navigation, tillage, walls, and laws,</span> +<span class="i0">Our armour, roads, and dress, and such-like boons,</span> +<span class="i0">And every elegance of modern life,</span> +<span class="i0">Poems and pictures, statues deftly wrought,</span> +<span class="i0">All these men learned with slow advancing steps</span> +<span class="i0">From practice and the knowledge won by wit.</span> +<span class="i0">So by degrees time brings each thing to sight,</span> +<span class="i0">And reason raiseth it to realms of day.</span> +<span class="i0">In arts must one thing, then another, shine,</span> +<span class="i0">Until they win their full development.</span> +</div></div> +</div> +</div> + +<p class="pmb3" /> + + +<div class="footnotes"><span class="font11"><b>FOOTNOTES:</b></span> + +<div class="footnote"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_V_22" id="Footnote_V_22"></a><a href="#FNanchor_V_22"><span class="label">[V]</span></a> To the Roman poet Titus Corus Lucretius (99-55 B.C.) belongs +the distinction of having made Epicureanism epic. Possessed +by a desire to free his fellow men from the trammels of +superstition and the dread of death, he composed his poem, +"On the Nature of Things." His reasonings were based on the +atomic theory, which the Greek Epicurus had taken as the +physical side of his system. In natural law Lucretius found +the true antidote to superstition, and from a materialistic hypothesis +of atoms and void he deduced everything. Against the +futilities of myth-religion he protested with the fervour of an +evangelist. On the ethical side, he accepted from Epicurus the +conception that the ideal lies in pleasure—not wild, sensual +pleasure, but that calm of mind which comes from temperate +and refined enjoyment, subdual of extravagant passion, and +avoidance of political entanglements. It is appropriate that the +life of this apostle of scientific quietism should be involved in +obscurity. The story of his insanity, so beautifully treated by +Tennyson, may or may not be true. It is hardly credible that +a work so closely reasoned was, as a whole, composed in lucid +intervals between fits of madness; but, on the other hand, there +are signs of flagging in the later portions, and the work comes +to a sudden conclusion. The translations are specially made by +Prof. J. Wight Duff, and include a few extracts from his "Literary +History of Rome."</p> +</div></div> +<p class="pmb3" /> + + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[Pg 272]</a></span></p> +<p class="pmb3" /> + + +<h2><a name="JAMES_MACPHERSON" id="JAMES_MACPHERSON">JAMES MACPHERSON</a></h2> +<p class="pmb3" /> + + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<h2><a name="OssianW" id="OssianW">Ossian</a><span class="font08"><a name="FNanchor_W_23" id="FNanchor_W_23"></a><a href="#Footnote_W_23" class="fnanchor">[W]</a></span></h2> + + +<h3><i>I.—Carthon</i></h3> + +<p>A tale of the times of old—the deeds of days of other +years.</p> + +<p>Who comes from the land of strangers, with his thousands +around him? The sunbeam pours its bright +stream before him; his hair meets the wind of his hills. +His face is settled from war. He is calm as the evening +beam that looks, from the cloud of the west, on Cona's +silent vale. Who is it but Fingal, the king of mighty +deeds! The feast is spread around; the night passed +away in joy.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[Pg 273]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Tell," said the mighty Fingal to Clessammor, "the +tale of thy youthful days. Let us hear the sorrow of +thy youth, and the darkness of thy days."</p> + +<p>"It was in the days of peace," replied the great Clessammor. +"I came in my bounding ship to Balclutha's +walls of towers. Three days I remained in Reuthamir's +halls, and saw his daughter—that beam of light. Her +eyes were like the stars of night. My love for Moina +was great; my heart poured forth in joy.</p> + +<p>"The son of a stranger came—a chief who loved the +white-bosomed Moina. The strength of his pride arose. +We fought; he fell beneath my sword. The banks of +Clutha heard his fall, a thousand spears glittered around. +I fought; the strangers prevailed. I plunged into the +stream of Clutha. My white sails rose over the waves, +and I bounded on the dark-blue sea. Moina came to +the shore, her loose hair flew on the wind, and I heard +her mournful, distant cries. Often did I turn my ship, +but the winds of the east prevailed. Nor Clutha ever +since have I seen, nor Moina of the dark-brown hair. +She fell in Balclutha, for I have seen her ghost. I knew +her as she came through the dusky night, along the +murmur of Lora. She was like the new moon seen +through the gathered mist, when the sky pours down its +flaky snow and the world is silent and dark."</p> + +<p>"Raise, ye bards," said the mighty Fingal, "the +praise of unhappy Moina."</p> + +<p>The night passed away in song; morning returned in +joy. The mountains showed their grey heads; the blue +face of ocean smiled. But as the sun rose on the sea +Fingal and his heroes beheld a distant fleet. Like a +mist on the ocean came the strange ships, and discharged +their youth upon the coast. Carthon, their +chief, was among them, like the stag in the midst of the +herd. He was a king of spears, and as he moved towards +Selma his thousands moved behind him.</p> + +<p>"Go, with a song of peace," said Fingal. "Go, Ullin, + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[Pg 274]</a></span> +to the king of spears. Tell him that the ghosts of our +foes are many; but renowned are they who have feasted +in my halls!"</p> + +<p>When Ullin came to the mighty Carthon, he raised +the song of peace.</p> + +<p>"Come to the feast of Fingal, Carthon, from the rolling +sea! Partake of the feast of the king, or lift the +spear of war. Behold that field, O Carthon. Many a +green hill rises there, with mossy stones and rustling +grass. These are the tombs of Fingal's foes, the sons +of the rolling sea!"</p> + +<p>"Dost thou speak to the weak in arms," said Carthon, +"bard of the woody Morven? Have not I seen +the fallen Balclutha? And shall I feast with Fingal, the +son of Comhal, who threw his fire in the midst of my +father's hall? I was young, and knew not the cause +why the virgins wept. But when the years of my youth +came on, I beheld the moss of my fallen walls; my sigh +arose with the morning, and my tears descended with +night. Shall I not fight, I said to my soul, against the +children of my foes? And I will fight, O bard! I feel +the strength of my soul."</p> + +<p>His people gathered round the hero, and drew their +shining swords. The spear trembled in his hand. +Bending forward, he seemed to threaten the king.</p> + +<p>"Who of my chiefs," said Fingal, "will meet the son +of the rolling sea? Many are his warriors on the +coast, and strong is his ashen spear."</p> + +<p>Cathul rose, in his strength, the son of the mighty +Lormar. Three hundred youths attend the chief, the +race of his native streams. Feeble was his arm against +Carthon; he fell, and his heroes fled. Connal resumed +the battle, but he broke his heavy spear; he lay bound +on the field; Carthon pursued his people.</p> + +<p>"Clessammor," said the king of Morven, "where is +the spear of my strength? Wilt thou behold Connal +bound?"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[Pg 275]</a></span></p> + +<p>Clessammor rose in the strength of his steel, shaking +his grizzly locks. He fitted the shield to his side; he +rushed, in the pride of valour.</p> + +<p>Carthon saw the hero rushing on, and loved the +dreadful joy of his face; his strength, in the locks of age!</p> + +<p>"Stately are his steps of age," he said. "Lovely the +remnant of his years! Perhaps it is the husband of +Moina, the father of car-borne Carthon. Often have I +heard that he dwelt at the echoing stream of Lora."</p> + +<p>Such were his words, when Clessammor came, and +lifted high his spear. The youth received it on his +shield, and spoke the words of peace.</p> + +<p>"Warrior of the aged locks! Hast thou no son to +raise the shield before his father to meet the arm of +youth? What will be the fame of my sword shouldst +thou fall?"</p> + +<p>"It will be great, thou son of pride!" began the tall +Clessammor. "I have been renowned in battle, but I +never told my name to a foe. Yield to me, son of the +wave; then shalt thou know that the mark of my sword +is in many a field."</p> + +<p>"I never yield, king of spears!" replied the noble +pride of Carthon. "Retire among thy friends! Let +younger heroes fight."</p> + +<p>"Why dost thou wound my soul?" replied Clessammor, +with a tear. "Age does not tremble on my hand; +I still can lift the sword. Shall I fly in Fingal's sight, +in the sight of him I love? Son of the sea, I never fled! +Exalt thy pointed spear!"</p> + +<p>They fought, like two contending winds that strive +to roll the wave. Carthon bade his spear to err; he +still thought that the foe was the spouse of Moina. He +broke Clessammor's beamy spear in twain; he seized +his shining sword. But as Carthon was binding the +chief, the chief drew the dagger of his fathers. He saw +the foe's uncovered side, and opened there a wound.</p> + +<p>Fingal saw Clessammor low; he moved in the sound of + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[Pg 276]</a></span> +his steel. The host stood silent in his presence; they +turned their eyes to the king. He came, like the sullen +noise of a storm before the winds arise. Carthon stood +in his place; the blood is rushing down his side; he saw +the coming down of the king. Pale was his cheek; his +hair flew loose, his helmet shook on high. The force of +Carthon failed, but his soul was strong.</p> + +<p>"King of Morven," Carthon said, "I fall in the midst +of my course. But raise my remembrance on the banks +of Lora, where my father dwelt. Perhaps the husband +of Moina will mourn over his fallen Carthon."</p> + +<p>His words reached Clessammor. He fell, in silence, +on his son. The host stood darkened around; no voice +is on the plain. Night came; the moon from the east +looked on the mournful field; but still they stood, like +a silent grove that lifts its head on Gormal, when the +loud winds are laid, and dark autumn is on the plain; +and then they died.</p> + +<p>Fingal was sad for Carthon; he commanded his bards +to sing the hero's praise. Ossian joined them, and this +was his song: "My soul has been mournful for Carthon; +he fell in the days of his youth. And thou, O +Clessammor, where is thy dwelling in the wind? Has +the youth forgot his wound? Flies he, on clouds, with +thee? Perhaps they may come to my dreams. I think I +hear a feeble voice! The beam of heaven delights to +shine on the grave of Carthon. I feel it warm around.</p> + +<p>"O thou that rollest above, round as the shield of my +fathers! Whence are thy beams, O sun, thy everlasting +light? Thou comest forth in thy awful beauty; the stars +hide themselves in the sky; the moon, cold and pale, +sinks in the western wave. But thou thyself movest +alone. Who can be a companion of thy course? The +oaks of the mountains fall; the mountains themselves +decay with years; the ocean shrinks and grows again; +the moon herself is lost in heaven; but thou art for ever +the same, rejoicing in the brightness of thy course.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[Pg 277]</a></span></p> + +<p class="pmb3">"When the world is dark with tempests; when thunder +rolls, and lightning flies, thou lookest in thy beauty from +the clouds, and laughest at the storm. But to Ossian +thou lookest in vain, for he beholds thy beams no +more; whether thy yellow hair flows on the eastern +clouds, or thou tremblest at the gates of the west. But +thou art perhaps, like me, for a season; thy years will +have an end. Thou shalt sleep in thy clouds; careless +of the voice of the morning. Exult thee, O sun, in the +strength of thy youth! Age is dark and unlovely. It +is like the glimmering light of the moon when it shines +through broken clouds and the mist is on the hills; the +blast of north is on the plain; the traveller shrinks in the +midst of his journey."</p> + + +<h3><i>II.—Darthula</i></h3> + +<p>Daughter of heaven, fair art thou! The silence of thy +face is pleasant! Thou comest forth in loveliness. The +stars attend thy blue course in the east. The clouds +rejoice in thy presence, O moon! Look from thy gates +in the sky. Burst the cloud, O wind, that the daughter +of night may look forth, that the shaggy mountains +may brighten, and the ocean roll its white waves in +light!</p> + +<p>Nathos is on the deep, and Althos, that beam of +youth. Ardan is near his brothers. They move in the +gloom of their course. The sons of Usnoth move in +darkness, from the wrath of Cairbar of Erin. Who is +that, dim, by their side? The night has covered her +beauty! Who is it but Darthula, the first of Erin's +maids? She has fled from the love of Caribar, with +blue-shielded Nathos. But the winds deceive thee, O +Darthula! They deny the woody Etha to thy sails. +These are not the mountains of Nathos; nor is that the +roar of his climbing waves. The halls of Cairbar are +near; the towers of the foe lift their heads! Erin + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[Pg 278]</a></span> +stretches its green head into the sea. Tura's bay receives +the ship. Where have ye been, ye southern winds, +when the sons of my love were deceived? But ye have +been sporting on plains, pursuing the thistle's beard. +Oh that ye had been rustling in the sails of Nathos till +the hills of Etha arose; till they arose in their clouds, +and saw their returning chief!</p> + +<p>Long hast thou been absent, Nathos—the day of thy +return is past! Lovely thou wast in the eyes of Darthula. +Thy soul was generous and mild, like the hour +of the setting sun. But when the rage of battle rose, +thou wast a sea in a storm. The clang of thy arms was +terrible; the host vanished at the sound of thy coarse. +It was then Darthula beheld thee from the top of her +mossy tower; from the tower of Selama, where her +fathers dwelt.</p> + +<p>"Lovely art thou, O stranger!" she said, for her +trembling soul arose. "Fair art thou in thy battles, +friend of the fallen Cormac! Why dost thou rush on in +thy valour, youth of the ruddy look? Few are thy +hands in fight against the dark-browed Cairbar! Oh that +I might be freed from his love—that I might rejoice in +the presence of Nathos!"</p> + +<p>Such were thy words, Darthula, in Selama's mossy +towers. But now the night is around thee. The winds +have deceived thy sails, Darthula! Cease a little while, +O north wind! Let me hear the voice of the lovely. +Thy voice is lovely, Darthula, between the rustling +blasts!</p> + +<p>"Are these the rocks of Nathos?" she said. "This +the roar of his mountain streams? Comes that beam of +light from Usnoth's mighty hall? The mist spreads +around; the beam is feeble and distant far. But the +light of Darthula's soul dwells in the chief of Etha! +Son of the generous Usnoth, why that broken sigh? +Are we in the land of strangers, chief of echoing +Etha?"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[Pg 279]</a></span></p> + +<p>"These are not the rocks of Nathos," he replied, +"nor this the roar of his streams. We are in the land +of strangers, in the land of cruel Cairbar. The winds +have deceived us, Darthula. Erin lifts here her hills. +Go towards the north, Althos; be thy steps, Ardan, +along the coast; that the foe may not come in darkness, +and our hopes of Etha fail. I will go towards that +mossy tower to see who dwells about the beam."</p> + +<p>He went. She sat alone; she heard the rolling of the +wave. The big tear is in her eye. She looks for returning +Nathos.</p> + +<p>He returned, but his face was dark.</p> + +<p>"Why art thou sad, O Nathos?" said the lovely +daughter of Colla.</p> + +<p>"We are in the land of foes," replied the hero. +"The winds have deceived us, Darthula. The strength +of our friends is not near, nor the mountains of Etha. +Where shall I find thy peace, daughter of mighty Colla? +The brothers of Nathos are brave, and his own sword +has shone in fight! But what are the sons of Usnoth +to the host of dark-browed Cairbar? Oh that the winds +had brought thy sails, Oscar, king of men! Thou didst +promise to come to the battles of fallen Cormac! Cairbar +would tremble in his halls, and peace dwell round +the lovely Darthula. But why dost thou fall, my soul? +The sons of Usnoth may prevail!"</p> + +<p>"And they will prevail, O Nathos!" said the rising +soul of the maid. "Never shall Darthula behold the +halls of gloomy Cairbar. Give me those arms of brass, +that glitter to the passing meteor. I see them dimly in +the dark-bosomed ship. Darthula will enter the battle +of steel."</p> + +<p>Joy rose in the face of Nathos when he heard the +white-bosomed maid. He looks towards the coming of +Cairbar. The wind is rustling in his hair. Darthula is +silent at his side. Her look is fixed on the chief. She +strives to hide the rising sigh.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[Pg 280]</a></span></p> + +<p>Morning rose with its beams. The sons of Erin appear, +like grey rocks, with all their trees; they spread +along the coast. Cairbar stood in the midst. He +grimly smiled when he saw the foe. Nathos rushed +forward, in his strength; nor could Darthula stay behind. +She came with the hero, lifting her shining spear.</p> + +<p>"Come," said Nathos to Cairbar—"come, chief of +high Temora! Let our battle be on the coast, for the +white-bosomed maid. His people are not with Nathos; +they are behind these rolling seas. Why dost thou +bring thy thousands against the chief of Etha?"</p> + +<p>"Youth of the heart of pride," replied Cairbar, "shall +Erin's king fight with thee? Thy fathers were not +among the renowned, and Cairbar does not fight with +feeble men!"</p> + +<p>The tear started from car-borne Nathos. He turned +his eyes to his brothers. Their spears flew at once. +Three heroes lay on earth. Then the light of their +swords gleamed on high. The ranks of Erin yield, as +a ridge of dark clouds before a blast of wind! Then +Cairbar ordered his people, and they drew a thousand +bows. A thousand arrows flew. The sons of Usnoth +fell in blood. They fell like three young oaks, which +stood alone on the hill. The traveller saw the lovely +trees, and wondered how they grew so lonely; the blast +of the desert came by night, and laid their green heads +low; next day he returned, but they were withered, and +the heath was bare!</p> + +<p>Darthula stood in silent grief, and beheld their fall! +Pale was her cheek. Her trembling lips broke short a +half-formed word. Her breast of snow appeared. It +appeared; but it was stained with blood. An arrow was +fixed in her side. She fell on the fallen Nathos, like a +wreath of snow! Her hair spreads wide on his face. +Their blood is mixing round!</p> + +<p>"Daughter of Colla—thou art low!" said Cairbar's +hundred bards. "When wilt thou rise in thy beauty, + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[Pg 281]</a></span> +first of Erin's maids? Thy sleep is long in the tomb. +The sun shall not come to thy bed and say, 'Awake, +Darthula! Awake thou first of women! The wind of +spring is abroad. The flowers shake their heads on the +green hills. The winds wave their growing leaves.' Retire, +O sun, the daughter of Colla is asleep! She will not +come forth in her beauty. She will not move in the steps +of her loveliness!"</p> + +<p class="pmb3">Such was the song of the bards when they raised the +tomb. I, too, sang over the grave when the king of +Morven came to green Erin to fight with the car-borne +Cairbar!</p> + + +<div class="footnotes"><span class="font11"><b>FOOTNOTES:</b></span> + +<div class="footnote"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_W_23" id="Footnote_W_23"></a><a href="#FNanchor_W_23"><span class="label">[W]</span></a> No ancient or modern work in the history of literature has +excited such wild admiration and such profound contempt as +the "Ossian" of James Macpherson. It was Napoleon's favourite +work; he carried it with him to Egypt and took it to St. +Helena. Byron and Goethe and Chateaubriand were also +touched to enthusiasm by it. Its author—or, as some still think, +its editor—was a Scottish schoolmaster, James Macpherson, +born at Ruthven, in Inverness-shire on October 27, 1736. The +first part of the work, entitled "Fragments of Ancient Poetry, +Collected in the Highlands of Scotland, and Translated from +the Gaelic, or Erse, Language," was published in 1760; "Fingal" +appeared in 1762, and "Temora" in the following year. +Doctor Johnson said of Macpherson: "He has found names, +and stories, and phrases, nay, passages in old songs, and with +them has blended his own compositions, and so made what he +gives to the world as the translation of an ancient poem"; and +this verdict is now confirmed by the best authorities. Nevertheless, +"Ossian" is a work of considerable merit and great +historic interest. It contains some fine passages of real poetry, +such as the invocation to the sun with which "Carthon" concludes, +and it has served to attract universal attention to the +magnificent Celtic traditions of Scotland and Ireland. Macpherson +died in Inverness-shire on February 17, 1796.</p> +</div></div> +<p class="pmb3" /> + + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[Pg 282]</a></span></p> +<p class="pmb3" /> + + +<h2><a name="CHRISTOPHER_MARLOWEX" id="CHRISTOPHER_MARLOWEX">CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE</a><span class="font08"><a name="FNanchor_X_24" id="FNanchor_X_24"></a><a href="#Footnote_X_24" class="fnanchor">[X]</a></span></h2> +<p class="pmb3" /> + + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<h2><a name="The_Tragical_History_of_Dr_Faustus" id="The_Tragical_History_of_Dr_Faustus">The Tragical History of Dr. Faustus</a></h2> + + +<div class="block2"> + +<h3><i>Persons in the Play</i></h3> + +<div class="block2a"> +<p> +<span class="smcap">Doctor Faustus</span><br /> +<span class="smcap">Wagner</span>, <i>his servant</i><br /> +<span class="smcap">Mephistophilis</span><br /> +<span class="smcap">Lucifer</span><br /> +<span class="smcap">The Emperor</span><br /> +<span class="smcap">Benvolio</span>, <span class="smcap">Martino</span>, <span class="smcap">Frederick</span>, <i>gentlemen of the emperor's court</i><br /> +<span class="smcap">Bruno</span><br /> +<span class="smcap">The Pope</span><br /> +</p> +<p class="center pmb3"><span class="smcap">Three Scholars</span>, <span class="smcap">Cardinals</span>, <span class="smcap">Lords</span>, <span class="smcap">Devils</span>, +<span class="smcap">Phantoms</span>, <span class="smcap">Good</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Evil Angels</span>, <i>etc</i>., +<span class="smcap">Chorus</span>.</p> +</div> + + +<h3><span class="smcap">Act I</span></h3> + + +<p class="p1 ij6 pmb1"><span class="smcap">Scene I.</span>—<span class="smcap">Faustus</span> <i>in his study, reading a volume on +necromancy</i>.</p> + +<div class="block2a"> +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Faustus:</span> All things that move between the quiet poles<br /> +Shall be at my command: emperors and kings<br /> +Are but obeyed in their several provinces;<br /> +But his dominion that excels in this<br /> +Stretches as far as does the mind of man.<br /> +A sound magician is a demi-god.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[Pg 283]</a></span></p> + +<p class="ij4">[<i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Good</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Evil AngelS</span>.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Good Angel:</span> O Faustus, lay that damned book aside<br /> +And gaze not on it, lest it tempt thy soul,<br /> +And heap God's heavy wrath upon thy head!<br /> +Read, read the Scriptures—that is blasphemy.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Evil Angel:</span> Go forward, Faustus, in that famous art<br /> +Wherein all nature's treasure is contained;<br /> +Be thou on earth as Jove is in the sky,<br /> +Lord and commander of these elements.</p> + +<p class="ij4">[<i>Exeunt</i> <span class="smcap">Angels</span>.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Faustus:</span> How am I glutted with conceit of this!<br /> +Faustus, begin thine incantations,<br /> +And try if devils will obey thy hest.</p> + +<p class="ij4">[<i>Thunder</i>. <span class="smcap">Faustus</span> <i>pronounces the incantation. Enter</i> +<span class="smcap">Mephistophilis</span>.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Mephistophilis:</span> Now, Faustus, what wouldst thou have me do?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Faustus:</span> I charge thee, wait upon me while I live,<br /> +To do whatever Faustus shall command.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Mephistophilis:</span> I am a servant to great Lucifer,<br /> +And may not follow thee without his leave.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Faustus:</span> Tell me, what is that Lucifer, thy lord?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Mephistophilis:</span> Arch-regent and commander of all +spirits.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Faustus:</span> Was not that Lucifer an angel once?</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[Pg 284]</a></span></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Mephistophilis:</span> Yes, Faustus, and most dearly +loved of God.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Faustus:</span> How comes it, then, that he is prince of +devils?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Mephistophilis:</span> Oh, by aspiring pride and insolence,<br /> +For which God threw him out from the face of heaven.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Faustus:</span> And what are you that live with Lucifer?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Mephistophilis:</span> Unhappy spirits that fell with Lucifer,<br /> +Conspired against our God with Lucifer,<br /> +And are forever damned with Lucifer.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Faustus:</span> Where are you damned?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Mephistophilis:</span> In hell.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Faustus:</span> How comes it, then, that you are out of +hell?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Mephistophilis:</span> Why, this is hell, nor am I out +of it.<br /> +Think'st thou that I, that saw the face of God,<br /> +And tasted the eternal joys of heaven,<br /> +Am not tormented with ten thousand hells<br /> +In being deprived of everlasting bliss?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Faustus:</span> Go, bear these tidings to great Lucifer:<br /> +Seeing Faustus hath incurred eternal death<br /> +By desperate thoughts against God's deity,<br /> +Say he surrenders up to him his soul,<br /> +So he will spare him four-and-twenty years,<br /> +Having thee ever to attend on me.<br /> +Then meet me in my study at midnight,<br /> +And then resolve me of thy master's mind. [<i>Exeunt</i>.</p> +</div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="p2 ij6 pmb1"><span class="smcap">Scene II.</span>—<i>The same. Midnight</i>. <span class="smcap">Faustus</span>. <i>Enter</i> +<span class="smcap">Mephistophilis</span>.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block2a"> +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Faustus:</span> Now tell me what saith Lucifer, thy lord?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Mephistophilis:</span> That I shall wait on Faustus while he lives,<br /> +So he will buy my service with his soul,<br /> +And write a deed of gift with his own blood.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[Pg 285]</a></span></p> + +<p class="ij4">[<span class="smcap">Faustus</span> <i>stabs his own arm, and writes. At the summons +of</i> <span class="smcap">Mephistophilis</span> <i>enter</i> <span class="smcap">Devils</span>, <i>who present</i> +<span class="smcap">Faustus</span> <i>with crowns and rich apparel. Exeunt</i> +<span class="smcap">Devils</span>. <span class="smcap">Faustus</span> <i>reads the deed, by which</i> <span class="smcap">Mephistophilis</span> +<i>is to be at his service for twenty-four +years, at the end of which</i> <span class="smcap">Lucifer</span> <i>may claim his +soul</i>.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Mephistophilis:</span> Now, Faustus, ask me what thou +wilt.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Faustus:</span> Tell me where is the place that men call +hell?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Mephistophilis:</span> Hell hath no limits, nor is circumscribed<br /> +In one self place; but where we are is hell,<br /> +And where hell is, there must we ever be;<br /> +And, to be short, when all the world dissolves,<br /> +And every creature shall be purified,<br /> +All places shall be hell that are not heaven.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Faustus:</span> I think hell's a fable.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Mephistophilis:</span> Aye, think so still, till experience +change thy mind.</p> + +<p class="ij4">[<i>Exit</i>.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Faustus:</span> If heaven was made for man, 'twas made for me.<br /> +I will renounce this magic and repent.</p> + +<p class="ij4">[<i>Enter the</i> <span class="smcap">Good</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Evil Angels</span>.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Good Angel:</span> Faustus, repent! Yet God will pity +thee.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Evil Angel:</span> Thou art a spirit; God cannot pity thee.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Faustus:</span> My heart is hardened; I cannot repent.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Evil Angel:</span> Too late.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Good Angel:</span> Never too late, if Faustus will repent.</p> + +<p class="ij4">[<i>Exeunt</i> <span class="smcap">Angels</span>.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Faustus:</span> O Christ, my Saviour, my Saviour,<br /> +Help to save distresséd Faustus' soul.</p> + +<p class="ij4">[<i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Lucifer</span>.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Lucifer:</span> Christ cannot save thy soul, for He is just;</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[Pg 286]</a></span></p> + +<p>Thou call'st on Christ, contrary to thy promise;<br /> +Thou shouldst not think on God; think on the Devil.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Faustus:</span> Nor will Faustus henceforth; pardon him for this,<br /> +And Faustus vows never to look to Heaven.</p> +</div> + + +<h3><span class="smcap">Act II</span></h3> + +<blockquote> +<p class="p1 ij6 pmb1"><span class="smcap">Scene I.</span>—<i>Rome. Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Chorus</span>.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block2a"> +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Chorus:</span> Learned Faustus,<br /> +To find the secrets of astronomy<br /> +Graven in the book of Jove's high firmament,<br /> +Did mount him up to scale Olympus' top;<br /> +Where, sitting in a chariot burning bright,<br /> +Drawn by the strength of yokéd dragons' necks,<br /> +He views the clouds, the planets, and the stars.<br /> +From east to west his dragons swiftly glide,<br /> +And in eight days did bring him home again.<br /> +Now, mounted new upon a dragon's back,<br /> +He, as I guess, will first arrive at Rome<br /> +To see the Pope and manner of his court,<br /> +And take some part of holy Peter's feast,<br /> +The which this day is highly solemnised.</p> + +<p class="ij4">[<i>Exit. Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Faustus</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Mephistophilis</span>.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Faustus:</span> Hast thou, as erst I did command,<br /> +Conducted me within the walls of Rome?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Mephistophilis:</span> This is the goodly palace of the +Pope.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Faustus:</span> Sweet Mephistophilis, thou pleasest me.<br /> +Whilst I am here on earth, let me be cloy'd<br /> +With all things that delight the heart of man.<br /> +My four-and-twenty years of liberty<br /> +I'll spend in pleasure and in dalliance.<br /> +Now in this show let me an actor be,<br /> +That this proud Pope may Faustus' cunning see.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[Pg 287]</a></span></p> + +<p class="ij4">[<i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Pope</span> <i>and others in procession</i>; <span class="smcap">Bruno</span>, <i>nominated +pope in opposition by the</i> <span class="smcap">Emperor</span>, <i>in chains</i>. +<span class="smcap">Faustus</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Mephistophilis</span>, <i>impersonating two +cardinals, are given charge of the condemned</i> +<span class="smcap">Bruno</span>, <i>whom they liberate and dispatch magically +to the</i> <span class="smcap">Emperor</span>. <i>Subsequently, both being rendered +invisible, they amuse themselves at the expense of +the</i> <span class="smcap">Pope</span> <i>and his guests at a banquet; and then depart +to the</i> <span class="smcap">Emperor's</span> <i>court</i>.</p> +</div> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="p2 ij6 pmb1"><span class="smcap">Scene II.</span>—<i>Before the</i> <span class="smcap">Emperor's</span> <i>palace</i>. <span class="smcap">Benvolio</span> <i>at +a window. Enter the</i> <span class="smcap">Emperor</span> <i>with his train, +including</i> <span class="smcap">Faustus</span>, <span class="smcap">Mephistophilis</span>, <span class="smcap">Bruno</span>.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block2a"> +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Emperor:</span> Wonder of men, renowned magician,<br /> +Thrice-learned Faustus, welcome to our court.<br /> +Now, Faustus, as thou late didst promise us,<br /> +We would behold that famous conqueror,<br /> +Great Alexander, and his paramour,<br /> +In their true shapes and state majestical.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Faustus:</span> Your majesty shall see them presently.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Benvolio:</span> Aye, aye, and thou bring Alexander and<br /> +his paramour before the emperor, I'll be Actæon<br /> +and turn myself to a stag.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Faustus:</span> And I'll be Diana and send you the horns +presently.</p> + +<p class="ij4">[<i>Enter a pageant of</i> <span class="smcap">Darius</span>, <span class="smcap">Alexander</span>, <i>etc., being phantoms. +Exeunt</i>.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Faustus:</span> See, see, my gracious lord!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Emperor:</span> Oh, wondrous sight!<br /> +Two spreading horns, most strangely fastened<br /> +Upon the head of young Benvolio!</p> + +<span class="smcap">Benvolio:</span> Zounds, doctor, this is your villainy.<br /> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Faustus:</span> Oh, say not so, sir; the doctor has no skill<br /> +To bring before the royal emperor<br /> +The mighty monarch, warlike Alexander.<br /> +If Faustus do it, you are straight resolved<br /> +In bold Actæon's shape to turn a stag.<br /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[Pg 288]</a></span> +And therefore, my lord, so please your majesty,<br /> +I'll raise a kennel of hounds shall hunt him so—<br /> +Ho, Belimoth, Argison, Asteroth!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Benvolio:</span> Hold, hold! Good my lord, entreat for<br /> +me! 'Sblood, I am never able to endure these torments.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Emperor:</span> Let me entreat you to remove his horns;<br /> +He hath done penance now sufficiently.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Faustus:</span> Being that to delight your majesty with<br /> +mirth is all that I desire, I am content to remove<br /> +his horns (Mephistophilis <i>removes them</i>), and<br /> +hereafter, sir, look you speak well of scholars.</p> +</div> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="p2 ij6 pmb1"><span class="smcap">Scene III.</span>—<i>A wood</i>. <span class="smcap">Benvolio</span>, <span class="smcap">Martino</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Frederick</span>.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block2a"> +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Martino:</span> Nay, sweet Benvolio, let us sway thy thoughts<br /> +From this attempt against the conjurer.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Benvolio:</span> Away! You love me not, to urge me thus.<br /> +Shall I let slip so great an injury,<br /> +When every servile groom jests at my wrongs,<br /> +And in their rustic gambols proudly say,<br /> +"Benvolio's head was graced with horns to-day?"<br /> +If you will aid me in this enterprise,<br /> +Then draw your weapons and be resolute.<br /> +If not, depart; here will Benvolio die,<br /> +But Faustus' death shall quit my infamy.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Frederick:</span> Nay, we will stay with thee, betide what may,<br /> +And kill that doctor, if he comes this way.<br /> +Close, close! The conjurer is at hand,<br /> +And all alone comes walking in his gown.<br /> +Be ready, then, and strike the peasant down.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Benvolio:</span> Mine be that honour, then. Now, sword, strike home!<br /> +For horns he gave, I'll have his head anon!</p> + +<p class="ij4">[<i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Faustus</span>.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[Pg 289]</a></span></p> + +<p>No words; this blow ends all.<br /> +Hell take his soul! His body thus must fall.</p> + +<p class="ij4">[<span class="smcap">Benvolio</span> <i>stabs</i> <span class="smcap">Faustus</span>, <i>who falls</i>; <span class="smcap">Benvolio</span> <i>cuts +off his head</i>.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Frederick:</span> Was this that stern aspect, that awful frown<br /> +Made the grim monarchs of infernal spirits<br /> +Tremble and quake at his commanding charms?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Martino:</span> Was this that damnéd head, whose art conspired<br /> +Benvolio's shame before the emperor?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Benvolio:</span> Aye, that's the head, and there the body lies.<br /> +Justly rewarded for his villainies. [Faustus <i>rises</i>.<br /> +Zounds, the devil's alive again!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Frederick:</span> Give him his head, for God's sake!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Faustus:</span> Nay, keep it; Faustus will have heads and hands,<br /> +Aye, all your hearts, to recompense this deed.<br /> +Then, wherefore do I dally my revenge?<br /> +Asteroth! Belimoth! Mephistophilis!</p> + +<p class="ij4">[<i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Mephistophilis</span>, <i>and other</i> <span class="smcap">Devils</span>.</p> + +<p>Go, horse these traitors on your fiery backs,<br /> +And mount aloft with them as high as Heaven;<br /> +Thence pitch them headlong to the lowest hell.<br /> +Yet stay, the world shall see their misery,<br /> +And hell shall after plague their treachery.<br /> +Go, Belimoth, and take this caitiff hence,<br /> +And hurl him in some lake of mud and dirt;<br /> +Take thou this other, drag him through the woods,<br /> +Amongst the pricking thorns and sharpest briars;<br /> +Whilst with my gentle Mephistophilis<br /> +This traitor flies unto some steepy rock<br /> +That rolling down may break the villain's bones.<br /> +Fly hence! Dispatch my charge immediately!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Frederick:</span> He must needs go, that the devil drives.</p> + +<p class="ij4">[<i>Exeunt</i> <span class="smcap">Devils</span> <i>with their victims</i>.</p> +</div> +<p class="pmb3" /> + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[Pg 290]</a></span></p> + + +<h3><span class="smcap">Act III</span></h3> + +<blockquote> +<p class="p1 ij6 pmb1"><span class="smcap">Scene I.</span>—<span class="smcap">Faustus'</span> <i>study. Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Wagner</span>.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block2a"> +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Wagner:</span> I think my master means to die shortly.<br /> +He has made his will, and given me his wealth, his<br /> +house, his goods, and store of golden plate, besides two<br /> +thousand ducats ready coined. I wonder what he means?<br /> +If death were nigh, he would not frolic thus. He's now<br /> +at supper with the scholars, where there's such cheer as<br /> +Wagner in his life ne'er saw the like. Here he comes;<br /> +belike the feast is ended.</p> + +<p class="ij4">[<i>Exit. Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Faustus</span>; <span class="smcap">Mephistophilis</span> <i>follows</i>.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Faustus:</span> Accursed Faustus! Wretch, what hast thou done?<br /> +I do repent, and yet I do despair.<br /> +Hell strives with grace for conquest in my breast;<br /> +What shall I do to shun the snares of death?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Mephistophilis:</span> Thou traitor, Faustus, I arrest thy soul<br /> +For disobedience to my sovereign lord!<br /> +Revolt, or I'll in piecemeal tear thy flesh!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Faustus:</span> I do repent I e'er offended him!<br /> +Sweet Mephistophilis, entreat thy lord<br /> +To pardon my unjust presumption;<br /> +And with my blood again I will confirm<br /> +The former vow I made to Lucifer.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Mephistophilis:</span> Do it, then, Faustus, with unfeignéd heart,<br /> +Lest greater dangers do attend thy drift.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Faustus:</span> One thing, good servant, let me crave of thee:<br /> +Bring that fair Helen, whose admiréd worth<br /> +Made Greece with ten years' war afflict poor Troy;<br /> +Whose sweet embraces may extinguish clean<br /> +Those thoughts that do dissuade me from my vow,<br /> +And keep my oath I made to Lucifer.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[Pg 291]</a></span></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Mephistophilis:</span> This, or what else my Faustus may desire,<br /> +Shall be performed in twinkling of an eye.</p> + +<p class="ij4">[<i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Helen</span>, <i>passing over the stage between two cupids</i>.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Faustus:</span> Was this the face that launched a thousand ships<br /> +And burnt the topless towers of Ilium?<br /> +Sweet Helen, make me immortal with a kiss!</p> + +<p class="ij4">[<i>Kisses her</i>.</p> + +<p class="pmb2">Her lips suck forth my soul; see where it flies!<br /> +Come, Helen, come, give me my soul again!<br /> +Oh, thou art fairer than the evening air<br /> +Clad in the beauty of a thousand stars:<br /> +Brighter art thou than naming Jupiter,<br /> +When he appeared to hapless Semele:<br /> +More lovely than the monarch of the sky,<br /> +In wanton Arethusa's azured arms!<br /> +Here will I dwell, for heaven is in these lips,<br /> +And all is dross that is not Helena.</p> +</div> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="p2 ij6 pmb1"><span class="smcap">Scene II.</span>—<i>The same</i>. <span class="smcap">Faustus</span>. <i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Scholars</span>.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block2a"> +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">First Scholar:</span> Worthy Faustus, methinks your +looks are changed!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Faustus:</span> Oh, gentlemen!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Second Scholar:</span> What ails Faustus?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Faustus:</span> Ah, my sweet chamber-fellow, had I lived +with thee, then I had lived still; but now must die +eternally! Look, sirs; comes he not? Comes he not?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">First Scholar:</span> O my dear Faustus, what imports +this fear?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Third Scholar:</span> 'Tis but a surfeit, sir; fear nothing.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Faustus:</span> A surfeit of deadly sin, that hath damned +both body and soul.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Second Scholar:</span> Yet, Faustus, look up to Heaven, +and remember mercy is infinite.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Faustus:</span> But Faustus' offence can ne'er be pardoned; +the serpent that tempted Eve may be saved, but + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[Pg 292]</a></span> +not Faustus. He must remain in hell for ever; hell, Oh, +hell for ever. Sweet friends, what shall become of Faustus, +being in hell for ever?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Second Scholar:</span> Yet, Faustus, call on God.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Faustus:</span> On God, whom Faustus hath abjured! On +God, whom Faustus hath blasphemed! O my God, I +would weep! But the Devil draws in my tears. Gush +forth blood, instead of tears! Yea, life, and soul! Oh, +he stays my tongue! I would lift up my hands; but see, +they hold 'em, they hold 'em!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Scholars:</span> Who, Faustus?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Faustus:</span> Why, Lucifer and Mephistophilis. O gentlemen, +I gave them my soul for my cunning!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Second Scholar:</span> Oh, what may we do to save +Faustus?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Faustus:</span> Talk not of me, but save yourselves and +depart.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Third Scholar:</span> God will strengthen me; I will stay +with Faustus.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">First Scholar:</span> Tempt not God, sweet friend; but let +us into the next room and pray for him.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Faustus:</span> Aye, pray for me, pray for me; and what +noise soever you hear, come not unto me, for nothing +can rescue me.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Second Scholar:</span> Pray thou, and we will pray that +God may have mercy on thee.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Faustus:</span> Gentlemen, farewell. If I live till morning, +I'll visit you; if not, Faustus is gone to hell.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Scholars:</span> Faustus, farewell!</p> + +<p class="ij4">[<i>Exeunt</i> <span class="smcap">Scholars</span>. <i>The clock strikes eleven</i>.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Faustus:</span> Oh, Faustus,<br /> +Now hast thou but one bare hour to live,<br /> +And then thou must be damned perpetually.<br /> +Stand still, you ever moving spheres of heaven,<br /> +That time may cease, and midnight never come;<br /> +Fair nature's eyes, rise, rise again, and make<br /> +Perpetual day; or let this hour be but<br /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[Pg 293]</a></span> +A year, a month, a week, a natural day,<br /> +That Faustus may repent and save his soul!<br /> +<i>O lente, lente, currite, noctis equi</i>!<br /> +The stars move still, time runs, the clock will strike,<br /> +The Devil will come, and Faustus must be damn'd.<br /> +Oh, I'll leap up to heaven: who pulls me down?<br /> +See, where Christ's blood streams in the firmament!<br /> +One drop of blood will save me: O my Christ!<br /> +Rend not my heart for naming of my Christ;<br /> +Yet will I call on Him. Oh, spare me, Lucifer!<br /> +Where is it now? 'Tis gone.<br /> +And see, a threatening arm, an angry brow!<br /> +Mountains and hills, come, come and fall on me,<br /> +And hide me from the heavy wrath of Heaven!<br /> +No?<br /> +Then will I headlong run into the earth;<br /> +Gape, earth! Oh, no, it will not harbour me.<br /> +Yon stars that reigned at my nativity,<br /> +Whose influence hath allotted death and hell.<br /> +Now draw up Faustus like a foggy mist,<br /> +Into the entrails of yon labouring cloud,<br /> +That when you vomit forth into the air,<br /> +My limbs may issue from your smoky mouths,<br /> +But let my soul mount and ascend to heaven.</p> + +<p class="ij4">[<i>The clock strikes the half hour</i>.</p> + +<p>Oh, half the hour is past; 'twill all be past anon.<br /> +Oh, if my soul must suffer for my sin,<br /> +Impose some end to my incessant pains;<br /> +Let Faustus live in hell a thousand years,<br /> +A hundred thousand, and at last be saved!<br /> +No end is limited to damnéd souls.<br /> +Why wert thou not a creature wanting soul,<br /> +Or why is this immortal that thou hast?<br /> +Oh, Pythagoras' metempsychosis, were that true,<br /> +This soul should fly from me, and I be changed<br /> +Into some brutish beast! All beasts are happy,<br /> +For when they die<br /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[Pg 294]</a></span> +Their souls are soon dissolved in elements;<br /> +But mine must live still, and be plagued in hell.<br /> +Curs'd be the parents that engender'd me!<br /> +No, Faustus, curse thyself, curse Lucifer<br /> +That hath deprived thee of the joys of heaven.</p> + +<p class="ij4">[<i>The clock strikes twelve</i>.</p> + +<p>It strikes! It strikes! Now, body, turn to air,<br /> +Or Lucifer will bear thee quick to hell!<br /> +O soul, be changed into small water-drops,<br /> +And fall into the ocean, ne'er be found!</p> + +<p class="ij4">[<i>Thunder. Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Devils</span>.</p> + +<p>Oh, mercy, Heaven! Look not so fierce on me!<br /> +Adders and serpents, let me breathe awhile!<br /> +Ugly hell, gape not! Come not, Lucifer!<br /> +I'll burn my books. O Mephistophilis!</p> + +<p class="ij4">[<i>Exeunt</i> <span class="smcap">Devils</span> <i>with</i> <span class="smcap">Faustus</span>. <i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Chorus</span>.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Chorus:</span> Cut is the branch that might have grown full straight,<br /> +And burned Apollo's laurel-bough,<br /> +That sometime grew within this learnéd man.<br /> +Faustus is gone. Regard his hellish fall,<br /> +Whose fiendful fortune may exhort the wise,<br /> +Only to wonder at unlawful things,<br /> +Whose deepness doth entice such forward wits<br /> +To practice more than heavenly power permits.</p> +</div> +</div> + +<p class="pmb3" /> + + +<div class="footnotes"><span class="font11"><b>FOOTNOTES:</b></span> + +<div class="footnote"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_X_24" id="Footnote_X_24"></a><a href="#FNanchor_X_24"><span class="label">[X]</span></a> Christopher Marlowe was born at Canterbury in February, +1564, the year of Shakespeare's birth. From the King's School +he went to Cambridge, at Corpus, and took his degree in 1583. +For the next ten years, he lived in London; a tavern brawl ended +his career on June 1, 1593. During those ten years, when Greene +and Nashe and Peele were beginning to shape the nascent drama, +and Shakespeare was serving his apprenticeship, most of the +young authors were living wild enough lives, and none, according +to tradition, wilder than Kit Marlowe; who, nevertheless, was +doing mightier work, work more pregnant with promise than any +of them, and infinitely greater in achievement; for Shakespeare's +tragedies were still to come. That "Tamburlaine the Great," the +first play of a lad of twenty-three, should have been crude and +bombastic is not surprising; that "The Tragical History of Dr. +Faustus" should have been produced by an author aged probably +less than twenty-five is amazing. The story is traditional; +two hundred years after Marlowe, Goethe gave it its most +familiar setting (see Vol. XVI, p. 362). But although some part +of Marlowe's play is grotesque, there is no epithet which can +fitly characterise its greatest scenes except "tremendous." What +may not that tavern brawl have cost the world!</p> +</div></div> +<p class="pmb3" /> + + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[Pg 295]</a></span></p> +<p class="pmb3" /> + + +<h2><a name="MARTIALY" id="MARTIALY">MARTIAL</a><span class="font08"><a name="FNanchor_Y_25" id="FNanchor_Y_25"></a><a href="#Footnote_Y_25" class="fnanchor">[Y]</a></span></h2> +<p class="pmb3" /> + + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<h2><a name="Epigrams_Epitaphs_and_Poems" id="Epigrams_Epitaphs_and_Poems">Epigrams, Epitaphs and Poems</a></h2> + + +<div class="block2"> + +<p class="pmb2" /> +<h3><a name="I_Satiric_Pieces_and_Epigrams" id="I_Satiric_Pieces_and_Epigrams"><i>I.—Satiric Pieces and Epigrams</i></a></h3> + + +<div class="block2a"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He unto whom thou art so partial,</span> +<span class="i0">O reader! is the well-known Martial,</span> +<span class="i0">The Epigrammatist: while living</span> +<span class="i0">Give him the fame thou wouldst be giving;</span> +<span class="i0">So shall he hear, and feel, and know it—</span> +<span class="i0">Post-obits rarely reach a poet.—<i>Byron</i>.</span> +</div></div> +</div><p class="pmb2" /> + + +<h4>MARTIAL ON HIS WORK</h4> + +<div class="block2a"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Some things are good, some fair, but more you'll say</span> +<span class="i0">Are bad herein—all books are made that way!</span> +</div></div> +</div><p class="pmb2" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[Pg 296]</a></span></p> + +<h4>ON FREEDOM OF LANGUAGE</h4> + +<div class="block2a"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Strict censure may this harmless sport endure:</span> +<span class="i0">My page is wanton, but my life is pure.</span> +</div></div> +</div><p class="pmb2" /> + + +<h4>THE AIM OF THE EPIGRAMS</h4> + +<div class="block2a"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My satire knoweth how to keep due bounds:</span> +<span class="i0">Sparing the sinner, 'tis the sin it rounds.</span> +</div></div> +</div><p class="pmb2" /> + + +<h4>ON A SPENDTHRIFT</h4> + +<div class="block2a"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Castor on buying doth a fortune spend:</span> +<span class="i0">Castor will take to selling in the end!</span> +</div></div> +</div><p class="pmb2" /> + + +<h4>TO A RECITER WHO BAWLED</h4> + +<div class="block2a"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Why wrap your throat with wool before you read?</span> +<span class="i0"><i>Our</i> ears stand rather of the wool in need!</span> +</div></div> +</div><p class="pmb2" /> + + +<h4>TO AN APOLOGETIC RECITER</h4> + +<div class="block2a"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Before you start your recitation,</span> +<span class="i2">You say your throat is sore:</span> +<span class="i0">Dear sir, we hear your explanation,</span> +<span class="i2">We don't want any more!</span> +</div></div> +</div><p class="pmb2" /> + + +<h4>ANSWER TO A POETASTER</h4> + +<div class="block2a"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Pompilianus asks why I omit</span> +<span class="i2">To send him all the poetry that is mine;</span> +<span class="i0">The reason is that in return for it,</span> +<span class="i2">Pompilianus, thou might'st send me <i>thine</i>.</span> +</div></div> +</div><p class="pmb2" /> + + +<h4>ON A PLAGIARIST</h4> + +<div class="block2a"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Paul buys up poems, and to your surprise,</span> +<span class="i2">Paul then recites them as his own:</span> +<span class="i0">And Paul is right; for what a person buys</span> +<span class="i2">Is his, as can by law be shown!</span> +</div></div> +</div><p class="pmb2" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[Pg 297]</a></span></p> + + +<h4>A LOVER OF OLD-FASHIONED POETRY</h4> + +<div class="block2a"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Vacerra likes no bards but those of old—</span> +<span class="i2">Only the poets dead are poets true!</span> +<span class="i0">Really, Vacerra—may I make so bold?—</span> +<span class="i2">It's not worth dying to be liked by <i>you</i>.</span> +</div></div> +</div><p class="pmb2" /> + + +<h4>A GOOD RIDDANCE</h4> + +<div class="block2a"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Linus, you mock my distant farm,</span> +<span class="i2">And ask what good it is to me?</span> +<span class="i0">Well, it has got at least one charm—</span> +<span class="i2">When there, from Linus I am free!</span> +</div></div> +</div><p class="pmb2" /> + + +<h4>HOW A WET SEASON HELPS THE ADULTERATION OF WINE</h4> + +<div class="block2a"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Not everywhere the vintage yield has failed,</span> +<span class="i0">Dear Ovid; copious rain has much availed.</span> +<span class="i0">Coranus has a hundred gallons good</span> +<span class="i0">For sale—<i>well watered</i>, be it understood.</span> +</div></div> +</div><p class="pmb2" /> + + +<h4>THE SYSTEMATIC DINER-OUT</h4> + +<div class="block2a"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Philo declares he never dines at home,</span> +<span class="i2">And that is no exaggeration:</span> +<span class="i0">He has no place to dine in Rome,</span> +<span class="i2">If he can't hook an invitation.</span> +</div></div> +</div><p class="pmb2" /> + + +<h4>THE LEGACY-HUNTER CONSIDERS A MARRIAGE <i>de +Convenance</i></h4> + +<div class="block2a"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Paula would like to marry me;</span> +<span class="i2">But I have no desire to get her.</span> +<span class="i0">Paula is old; if only she</span> +<span class="i2">Were nearer dead, I'd like it better!</span> +</div></div> +</div><p class="pmb2" /> + + +<h4>WIDOWER AND WIDOW</h4> + +<div class="block2a"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Fabius buries all his wives:</span> +<span class="i0">Chrestilla ends her husbands' lives.</span> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[Pg 298]</a></span> +<span class="i0">The torch which from the marriage-bed</span> +<span class="i0">They brandish soon attends the dead.</span> +<span class="i0">O Venus, link this conquering pair!</span> +<span class="i0">Their match will meet with issue fair,</span> +<span class="i0">Whereby for such a dangerous <i>two</i></span> +<span class="i0">A single funeral will do!</span> +</div></div> +</div><p class="pmb2" /> + + +<h4>THE IMPORTUNATE BEGGAR</h4> + +<div class="block2a"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Tis best to grant me, Cinna, what I crave;</span> +<span class="i2">And next best, Cinna, is refusal straight.</span> +<span class="i0">Givers I like: refusal I can brave;</span> +<span class="i2">But you don't give—you only hesitate!</span> +</div></div> +</div><p class="pmb2" /> + + +<h4>TO A FRIEND OVER-CAUTIOUS IN LENDING</h4> + +<div class="block2a"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A loan without security</span> +<span class="i0">You say you have not got for me;</span> +<span class="i0">But if I pledge my bit of land,</span> +<span class="i0">You have the money close at hand.</span> +<span class="i0">Thus, though you cannot trust your friend,</span> +<span class="i0">To cabbages and trees you lend.</span> +<span class="i0">Now <i>you</i> have to be tried in court—</span> +<span class="i0">Get from my bit of land support!</span> +<span class="i0">Exiled, you'd like a comrade true—</span> +<span class="i0">Well, take my land abroad with you!</span> +</div></div> +</div><p class="pmb2" /> + + +<h4>AN OLD DANDY</h4> + +<div class="block2a"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">You wish, Lætinus, to be thought a youth,</span> +<span class="i2">And so you dye your hair.</span> +<span class="i0">You're suddenly a crow, forsooth:</span> +<span class="i2">Of late a swan you were!</span> +<span class="i0">You can't cheat all: there is a Lady dread</span> +<span class="i2">Who knows your hair is grey:</span> +<span class="i0">Proserpina will pounce upon your head,</span> +<span class="i2">And tear the mask away.</span> +</div></div> +</div><p class="pmb2" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[Pg 299]</a></span></p> + + +<h4>PATIENT AND DOCTOR</h4> + +<div class="block2a"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When I was ill you came to me,</span> +<span class="i0">Doctor, and with great urgency</span> +<span class="i0">A hundred students brought with you</span> +<span class="i0">A most instructive case to view.</span> +<span class="i0">The hundred fingered me with hands</span> +<span class="i0">Chilled by the blasts from northern lands;</span> +<span class="i0">Fever at outset had I none;</span> +<span class="i0">I have it, sir, now you have done!</span> +</div></div> +</div><p class="pmb2" /> + + +<h4>APING ONE'S BETTERS</h4> + +<div class="block2a"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Torquatus owns a mansion sumptuous</span> +<span class="i2">Exactly four miles out of Rome:</span> +<span class="i0">Four miles out also Otacilius</span> +<span class="i2">Purchased a little country home.</span> +<span class="i0">Torquatus built with marble finely veined</span> +<span class="i2">His Turkish baths—a princely suite:</span> +<span class="i0">Then Otacilius at once obtained</span> +<span class="i2">Some kind of kettle to give heat!</span> +<span class="i0">Torquatus next laid out upon his ground</span> +<span class="i2">A noble laurel-tree plantation:</span> +<span class="i0">The other sowed a hundred chestnuts round—</span> +<span class="i2">To please a future generation.</span> +<span class="i0">And when Torquatus held the Consulate,</span> +<span class="i2">The other was a village mayor,</span> +<span class="i0">By local honours made as much elate</span> +<span class="i2">As if all Rome were in his care!</span> +<span class="i0">The fable saith that once upon a day</span> +<span class="i2">The frog that aped the ox did burst:</span> +<span class="i0">I fancy ere this rival gets his way,</span> +<span class="i2">He will explode with envy first!</span> +</div></div> +</div><p class="pmb3" /> + + +<hr class="tb" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[Pg 300]</a></span></p> + + +<h3><a name="II_Epitaphs" id="II_Epitaphs"><i>II.—Epitaphs</i></a></h3> + + +<h4>ON A DEAD SLAVE-BOY</h4> + +<div class="block2a"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Dear Alcimus, Death robbed thy lord of thee</span> +<span class="i2">When young, and lightly now Labian soil</span> +<span class="i0">Veils thee in turf: take for thy tomb to be</span> +<span class="i2">No tottering mass of Parian stone which toil</span> +<span class="i0">Vainly erects to moulder o'er the dead.</span> +<span class="i2">Rather let pliant box thy grave entwine;</span> +<span class="i0">Let the vine-tendril grateful shadow shed</span> +<span class="i2">O'er the green grass bedewed with tears of mine.</span> +<span class="i0">Sweet youth, accept the tokens of my grief:</span> +<span class="i2">Here doth my tribute last as long as time.</span> +<span class="i0">When Lachesis my final thread shall weave,</span> +<span class="i2">I crave such plants above my bones may climb.</span> +</div></div> +</div><p class="pmb2" /> + + +<h4>ON A LITTLE GIRL, EROTION</h4> + +<div class="block2a"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Mother Flaccilla, Fronto sire that's gone,</span> +<span class="i0">This darling pet of mine, Erotion,</span> +<span class="i0">I pray ye greet, that nor the Land of Shade</span> +<span class="i0">Nor Hell-hound's maw shall fright my little maid.</span> +<span class="i0">Full six chill winters would the child have seen</span> +<span class="i0">Had her life only six days longer been.</span> +<span class="i0">Sweet child, with our lost friends to guard thee, play,</span> +<span class="i0">And lisp my name in thine own prattling way.</span> +<span class="i0">Soft be the turf that shrouds her! Tenderly</span> +<span class="i0">Rest on her, earth, for she trod light on thee.</span> +</div></div> +</div><p class="pmb3" /> + + +<hr class="tb" /> + +<h3><a name="III_Poems_on_Friendship_and_Life" id="III_Poems_on_Friendship_and_Life"><i>III.—Poems on Friendship and Life</i></a></h3> + + +<h4>A WORTHY FRIEND</h4> + +<div class="block2a"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">If there be one to rank with those few friends</span> +<span class="i0">Whom antique faith and age-long fame attends;</span> +<span class="i0">If, steeped in Latin or Athenian lore,</span> +<span class="i0">There be a good man truthful at the core;</span> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[Pg 301]</a></span> +<span class="i0">If one who guards the right and loves the fair,</span> +<span class="i0">Who could not utter an unworthy prayer;</span> +<span class="i0">If one whose prop is magnanimity,</span> +<span class="i0">I swear, my Decianus, thou art he.</span> +</div></div> +</div><p class="pmb2" /> + + +<h4>A RETROSPECT</h4> + +<div class="block2a"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Good comrades, Julius, have we been,</span> +<span class="i0">And four-and-thirty harvests seen:</span> +<span class="i0">We have had sweetness mixed with sour;</span> +<span class="i0">Yet oftener came the happy hour.</span> +<span class="i0">If for each day a pebble stood,</span> +<span class="i0">And either black or white were hued,</span> +<span class="i0">Then, ranged in masses separate,</span> +<span class="i0">The brighter ones would dominate.</span> +<span class="i0">If thou wouldst shun some heartaches sore,</span> +<span class="i0">And ward off gloom that gnaws thy core,</span> +<span class="i0">Grapple none closely to thy heart:</span> +<span class="i0">If less thy joy, then less thy smart.</span> +</div></div> +</div><p class="pmb2" /> + + +<h4>GIFTS TO FRIENDS ARE NOT LOST</h4> + +<div class="block2a"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A cunning thief may rob your money-chest,</span> +<span class="i2">And cruel fire lay low an ancient home;</span> +<span class="i0">Debtors may keep both loan and interest;</span> +<span class="i2">Good seed may fruitless rot in barren loam.</span> +<span class="i0">A guileful mistress may your agent cheat,</span> +<span class="i2">And waves engulf your laden argosies;</span> +<span class="i0">But boons to friends can fortune's slings defeat:</span> +<span class="i2">The wealth you give away will never cease.</span> +</div></div> +</div><p class="pmb2" /> + + +<h4>ON MAKING THE BEST OF LIFE</h4> + +<div class="block2a"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Julius, in friendship's scroll surpassed by none,</span> +<span class="i2">If life-long faith and ancient ties may count,</span> +<span class="i0">Nigh sixty consulates by thee have gone:</span> +<span class="i2">The days thou hast to live make small amount.</span> +</div></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[Pg 302]</a></span></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Defer not joys them mayst not win from fate</span> +<span class="i2">Judge only what is past to be thine own.</span> +<span class="i0">Cares with a linkéd chain of sorrows wait.</span> +<span class="i2">Mirth tarries not; but soon on wing is flown.</span> +<span class="i0">With both hands hold it—clasped in full embrace,</span> +<span class="i2">Still from thy breast it oft will glide away!</span> +<span class="i0">To say, "I mean to live," is folly's place:</span> +<span class="i2">To-morrow's life comes late; live, then, to-day.</span> +</div></div> +</div><p class="pmb2" /> + + +<h4>A DAY IN ROME<br /> + +<span class="font08">(First Century <span class="smcap">a.d.</span>)</span></h4> + +<div class="block2a"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The first two hours Rome spends on morning calls,</span> +<span class="i0">And with the third the busy lawyer bawls.</span> +<span class="i0">Into the fifth the town plies varied tasks;</span> +<span class="i0">The sixth, siesta; next hour closing asks.</span> +<span class="i0">The eighth sees bath and oil and exercise;</span> +<span class="i0">The ninth brings guest on dining-couch who lies.</span> +<span class="i0">The tenth is claimed for Martial's poetry,</span> +<span class="i0">When you, my friend, contrive high luxury</span> +<span class="i0">To please great Cæsar, and fine nectar warms</span> +<span class="i0">The mighty hand that knows a wine-cup's charms.</span> +<span class="i0">Eve is the time for jest: with step so bold</span> +<span class="i0">My muse dare not at morn great Jove behold.</span> +</div></div> +</div><p class="pmb2" /> + + +<h4>BOREDOM, VERSUS ENJOYMENT</h4> + +<div class="block2a"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">If you and I, dear Martial, might</span> +<span class="i0">Enjoy our days in Care's despite,</span> +<span class="i0">And could control each leisure hour,</span> +<span class="i0">Both free to cull life's real flower,</span> +<span class="i0">Then should we never know the halls</span> +<span class="i0">Of patrons or law's wearying calls,</span> +<span class="i0">Or troublous court or family pride;</span> +<span class="i0">But we should chat or read or ride,</span> +<span class="i0">Play games or stroll in porch or shade,</span> +<span class="i0">Visit the hot baths or "The Maid."</span> +</div></div> +</div><p class="pmb2" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[Pg 303]</a></span></p> + +<div class="block2a"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Such haunts should know us constantly,</span> +<span class="i0">Such should engage our energy.</span> +<span class="i0">Now neither lives his life, but he</span> +<span class="i0">Marks precious days that pass and flee.</span> +<span class="i0">These days are lost, but their amount</span> +<span class="i0">Is surely set to our account.</span> +<span class="i0">Knowledge the clue to life can give;</span> +<span class="i0">Then wherefore hesitate to live?</span> +</div></div> +</div><p class="pmb2" /> + + +<h4>THE HAPPY LIFE</h4> + +<div class="block2a"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The things that make a life of ease,</span> +<span class="i0">Dear Martial, are such things as these:</span> +<span class="i0">Wealth furnished not by work but birth,</span> +<span class="i0">A grateful farm, a blazing hearth,</span> +<span class="i0">No lawsuit, seldom formal dress;</span> +<span class="i0">But leisure, stalwart healthiness,</span> +<span class="i0">A tactful candour, equal friends,</span> +<span class="i0">Glad guests at board which naught pretends,</span> +<span class="i0">No drunken nights, but sorrow free,</span> +<span class="i0">A bed of joy yet chastity;</span> +<span class="i0">Sleep that makes darkness fly apace,</span> +<span class="i0">So well content with destined place,</span> +<span class="i0">Unenvious so as not to fear</span> +<span class="i0">Your final day, nor wish it near.</span> +</div></div> +</div><p class="pmb2" /> + + +<h4>AT THE SEASIDE</h4> + +<div class="block2a"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sweet strand of genial Formiæ,</span> +<span class="i0">Apollinaris loves to flee</span> +<span class="i0">From troublous thought in serious Rome,</span> +<span class="i0">And finds thee better than a home.</span> +<span class="i0">Here Thetis' face is ruffled by</span> +<span class="i0">A gentle wind; the waters lie</span> +<span class="i0">Not in dead calm, but o'er the main</span> +<span class="i0">A peaceful liveliness doth reign,</span> +<span class="i0">Bearing gay yachts before a breeze</span> +<span class="i0">Cool as the air that floats with ease</span> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">[Pg 304]</a></span> +<span class="i0">From purple fan of damozel</span> +<span class="i0">Who would the summer heat dispel.</span> +<span class="i0">The angler need not far away</span> +<span class="i0">Seek in deep water for his prey—</span> +<span class="i0">Your line from bed or sofa throw,</span> +<span class="i0">And watch the captured fish below!</span> +<span class="i0">How seldom, Rome, dost thou permit</span> +<span class="i0">Us by such joys to benefit?</span> +<span class="i0">How many days can one long year</span> +<span class="i0">Credit with wealth of Formian cheer?</span> +<span class="i0">We, round whom city worries swarm,</span> +<span class="i0">Envy our lacqueys on a farm.</span> +<span class="i0">Luck to you, happy slaves, affords</span> +<span class="i0">The joys designed to please your lords!</span> +</div></div> +</div><p class="pmb2" /> + + +<h4>THE POET'S FINAL RETREAT IN SPAIN</h4> + +<div class="block2a"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Mayhap, my Juvenal, your feet</span> +<span class="i0">Stray down some noisy Roman street,</span> +<span class="i0">While after many years of Rome</span> +<span class="i0">I have regained my Spanish home.</span> +<span class="i0">Bilbilis, rich in steel and gold,</span> +<span class="i0">Makes me a rustic as of old.</span> +<span class="i0">With easy-going toil at will</span> +<span class="i0">Estates of uncouth name I till.</span> +<span class="i0">Outrageous lengths of sleep I take,</span> +<span class="i0">And oft refuse at nine to wake.</span> +<span class="i0">I pay myself nor more nor less</span> +<span class="i0">For thirty years of wakefulness!</span> +<span class="i0">No fine clothes here—but battered dress,</span> +<span class="i0">The first that comes, snatched from a press!</span> +<span class="i0">I rise to find a hearth ablaze</span> +<span class="i0">With oak the nearest wood purveys.</span> +<span class="i0">This is a life of jollity:</span> +<span class="i0">So shall I die contentedly.</span> +</div></div> +</div> +</div> + +<p class="pmb3" /> + + +<div class="footnotes"><span class="font11"><b>FOOTNOTES:</b></span> + +<div class="footnote"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_Y_25" id="Footnote_Y_25"></a><a href="#FNanchor_Y_25"><span class="label">[Y]</span></a> Martial (Marcus Valerius Martialis) was born at Bilbilis, in +Spain, about 40 <span class="smcap">a.d.</span> He went to Rome when twenty-four, and +by attaching himself to the influential family of his fellow +Spaniards, Seneca and Lucan, won his first introduction to +Roman society. The earliest of his books which we possess +celebrates the games associated with the dedication of the +Flavian amphitheatre, the Colosseum, by Titus, in 80 <span class="smcap">a.d.</span> Most +of his other books belong to the reign of Domitian, to whom +he cringed with fulsome adulation. After a residence in Rome +during thirty-four years, he returned to Spain. He died probably +soon after 102 <span class="smcap">a.d</span>. Martial's importance to literature rests +chiefly on two facts. He made a permanent impress upon the +epigram by his gift of concise and vigorous utterance, culminating +in a characteristically sharp sting; and he left in his +verses, even where they are coarsest, an extraordinarily graphic +index to the pleasure-loving and often corrupt society of his +day. Martial had no deep seriousness of outlook upon life; yet +he had better things in him than flippancy. He wearied of his +long career of attendance upon patrons who requited him but +shabbily; and with considerable taste for rural scenery, he +longed for a more open-air existence than was attainable in +Rome. Where he best exhibited genuine feeling was in his +laments for the dead and his affection for friends. With the +exception of the introductory piece from Byron, the verse translations +here are by Professor Wight Duff.</p> +</div></div> +<p class="pmb3" /> + + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">[Pg 305]</a></span></p> +<p class="pmb3" /> + + +<h2><a name="PHILIP_MASSINGERZ" id="PHILIP_MASSINGERZ">PHILIP MASSINGER</a><span class="font08"><a name="FNanchor_Z_26" id="FNanchor_Z_26"></a><a href="#Footnote_Z_26" class="fnanchor">[Z]</a></span></h2> +<p class="pmb3" /> + + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<h2><a name="A_New_Way_to_Pay_Old_Debts" id="A_New_Way_to_Pay_Old_Debts">A New Way to Pay Old Debts</a></h2> + + +<div class="block2"> + +<h3><i>Persons in the Play</i></h3> + +<div class="block3a"> +<p> +<span class="smcap">Lovell</span>, <i>an English lord</i><br /> +<span class="smcap">Sir Giles Overreach</span>, <i>a cruel extortioner</i><br /> +<span class="smcap">Wellborn</span>, <i>a prodigal, nephew to Sir Giles</i><br /> +<span class="smcap">Allworth</span>, <i>a young gentleman, page to</i> Lord Lovell,<br /> +<i>stepson to</i> Lady Allworth<br /> +<span class="smcap">Marrall</span>, <i>a creature of</i> Sir Giles Overreach<br /> +<span class="smcap">Willdo</span>, <i>a parson</i><br /> +<span class="smcap">Lady Allworth</span>, <i>a rich widow</i><br /> +<span class="smcap">Margaret</span>, <i>Sir Giles's daughter</i></p> + +<p class="center pmb3"><i>The scene is laid in an English county</i></p> +</div> + + +<h3><span class="smcap">Act I</span></h3> + +<blockquote> +<p class="ij6 pmb1"><span class="smcap">Scene I.</span>—<i>A room in</i> <span class="smcap">Overreach's</span> <i>house. Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Overreach</span> +<i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Marrall</span>.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block2a"> +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Overreach:</span> This varlet, Wellborn, lives too long to +upbraid me<br /> +With my close cheat put on him. Will not cold<br /> +Nor hunger kill him?</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">[Pg 306]</a></span></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Marrall:</span> I've used all means; and the last night I +caused<br /> +His host, the tapster, to turn him out of doors;<br /> +And since I've charged all of your friends and tenants<br /> +To refuse him even a crust of mouldy bread.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Overreach:</span> Persuade him that 'tis better steal than beg:<br /> +Then, if I prove he have but robbed a hen roost,<br /> +Not all the world shall save him from the gallows.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Marrall:</span> I'll do my best, sir.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Overreach:</span> I'm now on my main work, with the +Lord Lovell;<br /> +The gallant-minded, popular Lord Lovell.<br /> +He's come into the country; and my aims<br /> +Are to invite him to my house.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Marrall:</span> I see.<br /> +This points at my young mistress.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Overreach:</span> She must part with<br /> +That humble title, and write honourable—<br /> +Yes, Marrall, my right honourable daughter,<br /> +If all I have, or e'er shall get, will do it.</p> + +<p class="ij4">[<i>Exit</i> <span class="smcap">Overreach</span>. <i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Wellborn</span>.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Marrall:</span> Before, like you, I had outlived my fortunes,<br /> +A withe had served my turn to hang myself.<br /> +Is there no purse to be cut? House to be broken?<br /> +Or market-woman with eggs that you may murder,<br /> +And so dispatch the business?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Wellborn:</span> Here's variety,<br /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">[Pg 307]</a></span> +I must confess; but I'll accept of none<br /> +Of all your gentle offers, I assure you.<br /> +Despite the rhetoric that the fiend has taught you,<br /> +I am as far as thou art from despair.<br /> +Nay, I have confidence, which is more than hope,<br /> +To live, and suddenly, better than ever.<br /> +Come, dine with me, and with a gallant lady.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Marrall:</span> With the lady of the lake or queen of<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">fairies?</span><br /> +For I know it must be an enchanted dinner.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Wellborn:</span> With the Lady Allworth, knave.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Marrall:</span> Nay, now there's hope<br /> +Thy brain is cracked.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Wellborn:</span> Mark thee with what respect<br /> +I am entertained.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Marrall:</span> With choice, no doubt, of dog-whips!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Wellborn:</span> 'Tis not far off; go with me; trust thine +eyes.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Marrall:</span> I will endure thy company.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Wellborn:</span> Come along, then.</p> + +<p class="ij4">[<i>Exeunt.</i></p> +</div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="p2 ij6 pmb3"><span class="smcap">Scene II.</span>—<i>The country</i>. <span class="smcap">Marrall</span> <i>assures</i> <span class="smcap">Overreach</span> +<i>that the plot on</i> <span class="smcap">Wellborn</span> <i>succeeds. The rich</i> +<span class="smcap">Lady Allworth</span> <i>has feasted him and is fallen in +love with him; he lives to be a greater prey than +ever to</i> <span class="smcap">Overreach</span>. <i>Angered at the information</i>, +<span class="smcap">Overreach</span>, <i>who has himself attempted in vain to +see her, knocks his creature down, mollifying him +afterwards with gold</i>.</p> +</blockquote> + + +<h3><span class="smcap">Act II</span></h3> + +<blockquote> +<p class="p1 ij6 pmb1"><span class="smcap">Scene I.</span>—<i>A chamber in</i> <span class="smcap">Lady Allworth's</span> <i>house</i>. +<span class="smcap">Lovell</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Allworth</span> <i>discovered. Having heard +of the mutual attachment of</i> <span class="smcap">Margaret</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Allworth</span>, +<span class="smcap">Lord Lovell</span> <i>has assured the latter that he +will help bring it to a successful issue, and that +neither the beauty nor the wealth of</i> <span class="smcap">Sir Giles's</span> +<i>daughter shall tempt him to betray</i> <span class="smcap">Allworth's</span> <i>confidence. +Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Marrall</span>, <i>and with him</i> <span class="smcap">Sir Giles</span>, +<i>who from what he has seen of their behaviour at a +dinner given by him in</i> <span class="smcap">LORD Lovell's</span> <i>honour believes +that</i> <span class="smcap">Lovell</span> <i>wishes to marry</i> <span class="smcap">Margaret</span> <i>and +that</i> <span class="smcap">Lady Allworth</span> <i>is enamoured of</i> <span class="smcap">Wellborn</span>. +<i>To further this latter match and to prosecute new +designs against</i> <span class="smcap">Wellborn</span> <i>he has lent him a thousand +pounds</i>.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block2a"> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">[Pg 308]</a></span></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Overreach:</span> A good day to my lord.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Lovell:</span> You are an early riser, Sir Giles.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Overreach:</span> And reason, to attend your lordship.<br /> +Go to my nephew, Marrall.<br /> +See all his debts discharged, and help his worship<br /> +To fit on his rich suit.</p> + +<p class="ij4">[<i>Exit</i> <span class="smcap">Marrall</span></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Lovell:</span> I have writ this morning<br /> +A few lines to my mistress, your fair daughter.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Overreach:</span> 'Twill fire her, for she's wholly yours already.<br /> +Sweet Master Allworth, take my ring; 'twill carry<br /> +To her presence, I dare warrant you; and there plead<br /> +For my good lord, if you shall find occasion.<br /> +That done, pray ride to Nottingham; get a licence<br /> +Still by this token. I'll have it dispatched,<br /> +And suddenly, my lord, that I may say<br /> +My honourable, nay, right honourable daughter.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Lovell:</span> Haste your return.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Allworth:</span> I will not fail, my lord.</p> + +<p class="ij4">[<i>Exit.</i></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Overreach:</span> I came not to make offer with my daughter<br /> +A certain portion; that were poor and trivial:<br /> +In one word, I pronounce all that is mine,<br /> +In lands, or leases, ready coin, or goods,<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">[Pg 309]</a></span> +With her, my lord, comes to you; nor shall you have<br /> +One motive to induce you to believe<br /> +I live too long, since every year I'll add<br /> +Something unto the heap, which shall be yours too.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Lovell:</span> You are a right kind father.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Overreach:</span> You'll have reason<br /> +To think me such. How do you like this seat?<br /> +Would it not serve to entertain your friends?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Lovell:</span> A well-built pile; and she that's mistress of it,<br /> +Worthy the large revenue.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Overreach:</span> She, the mistress?<br /> +It may be so for a time; but let my lord<br /> +Say only he but like it, and would have it,<br /> +I say ere long 'tis his.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Lovell:</span> Impossible.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Overreach:</span> You do conclude too fast. 'Tis not alone<br /> +The Lady Allworth's lands; for these, once Wellborn's<br /> +(As, by her dotage on him, I know they will be),<br /> +Shall soon be mine. But point out any man's<br /> +In all the shire, and say they lie convenient<br /> +And useful for your lordship, and once more<br /> +I say aloud, they are yours.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Lovell:</span> I dare not own<br /> +What's by unjust and cruel means extorted:<br /> +My fame and credit are too dear to me.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Overreach:</span> Your reputation shall stand as fair<br /> +In all good men's opinions as now.<br /> +All my ambition is to have my daughter<br /> +Right honourable; which my lord can make her:<br /> +And might I live to dance upon my knee<br /> +A young Lord Lovell, borne by her unto you,<br /> +I write <i>nil ultra</i> to my proudest hopes.<br /> +I'll ruin the country to supply your waste:<br /> +The scourge of prodigals, want, shall never find you.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Lovell:</span> Are you not moved with the imprecations<br /> +And curses of whole families, made wretched<br /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">[Pg 310]</a></span> +By these practices?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Overreach:</span> Yes, as rocks are,<br /> +When foamy billows split themselves against<br /> +Their flinty ribs; or as the moon is moved<br /> +When wolves, with hunger pined, howl at her brightness.<br /> +I only think what 'tis to have my daughter<br /> +Right honourable; and 'tis a powerful charm,<br /> +Makes me insensible of remorse, or pity,<br /> +Or the least sting of conscience.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Lovell:</span> I admire<br /> +The toughness of your nature.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Overreach:</span> 'Tis for you,<br /> +My lord, and for my daughter I am marble.<br /> +My haste commands me hence: in one word, therefore,<br /> +Is it a match, my lord?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Lovell:</span> I hope that is past doubt now.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Overreach:</span> Then rest secure; not the hate of all mankind,<br /> +Not fear of what can fall on me hereafter,<br /> +Shall make me study aught but your advancement<br /> +One storey higher: an earl! if gold can do it.</p> + +<p class="ij4">[<i>Exit.</i></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Lovell:</span> He's gone; I wonder how the earth can bear<br /> +Such a portent! I, that have lived a soldier,<br /> +And stood the enemy's violent charge undaunted,<br /> +Am bathed in a cold sweat.</p> +</div> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="p2 ij6 pmb1"><span class="smcap">Scene II.</span>—<i>A chamber in</i> <span class="smcap">Sir Giles's</span> <i>house. Enter</i> +<span class="smcap">Wellborn</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Marrall</span>.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block2a"> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Wellborn:</span> Now, Master Marrall, what's the weighty secret<br /> +You promised to impart?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Marrall:</span> This only, in a word: I know Sir Giles<br /> +Will come upon you for security<br /> +For his thousand pounds; which you must not consent to.<br /> +As he grows in heat (as I'm sure he will),<br /> +Be you but rough, and say, he's in your debt<br /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">[Pg 311]</a></span> +Ten times the sum upon sale of your land.<br /> +The deed in which you passed it over to him<br /> +Bid him produce: he'll have it to deliver<br /> +To the Lord Lovell, with many other writings,<br /> +And present moneys. I'll instruct you farther<br /> +As I wait on your worship.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Wellborn:</span> I trust thee.</p> + +<p class="ij4">[<i>Exeunt. Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Margaret</span> <i>as if in anger, followed +by</i> <span class="smcap">Allworth</span>.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Margaret:</span> I'll pay my lord all debts due to his title;<br /> +And when with terms not taking from his honour<br /> +He does solicit me, I shall gladly hear him:<br /> +But in this peremptory, nay, commanding way,<br /> +To appoint a meeting, and without my knowledge,<br /> +Shows a confidence that deceives his lordship.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Allworth:</span> I hope better, good lady.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Margaret:</span> Hope, sir, what you please; I have<br /> +A father, and, without his full consent,<br /> +I can grant nothing.</p> + +<p class="ij4">[<i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Overreach</span>, <i>having overheard</i>.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Overreach</span> <i>(aside)</i>: I like this obedience.<br /> +But whatever my lord writes must and shall be<br /> +Accepted and embraced. (<i>Addressing</i> Allworth.) Sweet<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Master Allworth,</span><br /> +You show yourself a true and faithful servant.<br /> +How! frowning, Meg? Are these looks to receive<br /> +A messenger from my lord? In name of madness,<br /> +What could his honour write more to content you?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Margaret:</span> Why, sir, I would be married like your +daughter,<br /> +Not hurried away in the night, I know not whither,<br /> +Without all ceremony; no friends invited,<br /> +To honour the solemmnity.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Allworth:</span> My lord desires this privacy, in respect<br /> +His honourable kinsmen are far off;<br /> +And he desires there should be no delay.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">[Pg 312]</a></span></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Margaret:</span> Give me but in the church, and I'm content.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Overreach:</span> So my lord have you, what care I who gives you?<br /> +Lord Lovell would be private, I'll not cross him.<br /> +Use my ring to my chaplain; he is beneficed<br /> +At my manor of Gotham, and called Parson Willdo.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Margaret:</span> What warrant is your ring? He may suppose<br /> +I got that twenty ways without your knowledge.<br /> +Your presence would do better.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Overreach:</span> Still perverse!<br /> +Paper and ink there.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Allworth:</span> I can furnish you.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Overreach:</span> I thank you; I can write then.</p> + +<p class="ij4">[<i>Writes on his book</i>.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Allworth:</span> You may, if you please, leave out the name of my lord,<br /> +In respect he comes disguised, and only write,<br /> +"Marry her to this gentleman."</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Overreach:</span> Well advised.</p> + +<p class="ij4">[<span class="smcap">Margaret</span> <i>kneels</i>.</p> + +<p>'Tis done; away—my blessing, girl? Thou hast it.</p> + +<p class="ij4">[<i>Exeunt</i> <span class="smcap">Allworth</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Margaret</span>.</p> + +<p class="it1 pmb3"><span class="smcap">Overreach:</span> Farewell! Now all's cock sure.<br /> +Methink I hear already knights and ladies<br /> +Say, "Sir Giles Overreach, how is it with<br /> +Your honourable daughter? Has her honour<br /> +Slept well to-night?" Now for Wellborn<br /> +And the lands; were he once married to the widow—I<br /> +have him here. [<i>Exit.</i></p> +</div> + + +<h3><span class="smcap">Act III</span></h3> + +<blockquote> +<p class="p2 ij6 pmb1"><span class="smcap">Scene I.</span>—<i>A chamber in</i> <span class="smcap">Lady Allworth's</span> <i>house. Enter</i> +<span class="smcap">Lovell</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Lady Allworth</span> <i>contracted to one +another. He has told her that only a desire to promote +the union of her promising young stepson</i>, <span class="smcap">Allworth</span>, +<i>with</i> <span class="smcap">Margaret Overreach</span> <i>tempted him + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313">[Pg 313]</a></span> +into a seeming courtship of</i> <span class="smcap">Sir Giles's</span> <i>daughter. +She has told him that her somewhat exaggerated +courtesies and attentions to</i> <span class="smcap">Wellborn</span> <i>were an obligation +paid to one who in his prosperous days had +ventured all for her dead husband. To them enter</i> +<span class="smcap">Wellborn</span> <i>in a rich habit</i>.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block2a"> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Lady Allworth:</span> You're welcome, sir. Now you look like yourself.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Wellborn:</span> Your creature, madam. I will never hold<br /> +My life my own, when you please to command it.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Lady Allworth:</span> I'm glad my endeavours prospered. Saw you lately<br /> +Sir Giles, your uncle?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Wellborn:</span> I heard of him, madam,<br /> +By his minister, Marrall. He's grown into strange passions<br /> +About his daughter. This last night he looked for<br /> +Your lordship at his house; but missing you,<br /> +And she not yet appearing, his wise head<br /> +Is much perplexed and troubled.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Overreach</span> (<i>outside</i>): Ha! find her, booby; thou huge lump of nothing.<br /> +I'll bore thine eyes out else.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Wellborn:</span> May't please your lordship,<br /> +For some ends of my own, but to withdraw<br /> +A little out of sight, though not of hearing.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Lovell:</span> You shall direct me.</p> + +<p class="ij4">[<i>Steps aside. Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Overreach</span>, <i>with distracted looks, +driving in</i> <span class="smcap">Marrall</span> <i>before him</i>.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Overreach:</span> Lady, by your leave, did you see my daughter, lady,<br /> +And the lord, her husband? Are they in your house?<br /> +If they are, discover, that I may bid them joy;<br /> +And, as an entrance to her place of honour,<br /> +See your ladyship on her left hand, and make curt'sies<br /> +When she nods on you; which you must receive<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_314" id="Page_314">[Pg 314]</a></span> +As a special favour.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Lady Allworth:</span> When I know, Sir Giles,<br /> +Her state require such ceremony I shall pay it;<br /> +Meantime, I neither know nor care where she is.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Overreach:</span> Nephew!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Wellborn:</span> Well.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Overreach:</span> No more!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Wellborn:</span> 'Tis all I owe you.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Overreach:</span> I am familiar with the cause that makes you<br /> +Bear up thus bravely; there's a certain buz<br /> +Of a stolen marriage—do you hear? Of a stolen marriage;<br /> +In which, 'tis said, there's somebody hath been cozened.<br /> +I name no parties.</p> + +<p class="ij4">[<span class="smcap">Lady Allworth</span> <i>turns away</i>.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Wellborn:</span> Well, sir, and what follows?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Overreach:</span> Marry, this, since you are peremptory. Remember<br /> +Upon mere hope of your great match I lent you<br /> +A thousand pounds. Put me in good security,<br /> +And suddenly, by mortgage or by statute,<br /> +Of some of your new possessions, or I'll have you<br /> +Dragged in your lavender robes to the jail.<br /> +Shall I have security?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Wellborn:</span> No, indeed, you shall not:<br /> +Nor bond, nor bill, nor bare acknowledgment;<br /> +Your great looks fright not me. And whereas, sir,<br /> +You charge me with a debt of a thousand pounds,<br /> +Either restore my land, or I'll recover<br /> +A debt, that is truly due to me from you,<br /> +In value ten times more than what you challenge.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Overreach:</span> Oh, monstrous impudence! Did I not purchase<br /> +The land left by thy father? [<i>Enter servant with a box</i>.<br /> +Is not here<br /> +The deed that does confirm it mine?</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_315" id="Page_315">[Pg 315]</a></span></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Marrall:</span> Now, now.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Wellborn:</span> I do acknowledge none; I ne'er passed o'er<br /> +Any such land; I grant, for a year or two,<br /> +You had it in trust; which if you do discharge,<br /> +Surrendering the possession, you shall ease<br /> +Yourself and me of chargeable suits in law.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Lady Allworth:</span> In my opinion, he advises well.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Overreach:</span> Good, good; conspire with your new husband, lady.<br /> +(<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Wellborn</span>) Yet, to shut up thy mouth, and make thee give<br /> +Thyself the lie, the loud lie! I draw out<br /> +The precious evidence. (<i>Opens the box</i>.) Ha!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Lady Allworth:</span> A fair skin of parchment.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Wellborn:</span> Indented, I confess, and labels too;<br /> +But neither wax nor words. How? Thunderstruck!<br /> +Is this your precious evidence, my wise uncle?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Overreach:</span> What prodigy is this? What subtle devil<br /> +Hath razed out the inscription—the wax<br /> +Turned into dust? Do you deal with witches, rascal?<br /> +This juggling shall not save you.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Wellborn:</span> TO save thee would beggar the stock of mercy.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Overreach:</span> Marrall!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Marrall:</span> Sir.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Overreach</span> (<i>flattering him</i>): Though the witnesses are dead,<br /> +Help with an oath or two; and for thy master<br /> +I know thou wilt swear anything to dash<br /> +This cunning sleight; the deed being drawn, too,<br /> +By thee, my careful Marrall, and delivered<br /> +When thou wert present, will make good my title.<br /> +Wilt thou not swear this?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Marrall:</span> I have a conscience not seared up like yours;<br /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_316" id="Page_316">[Pg 316]</a></span> +I know no deeds.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Overreach:</span> Wilt thou betray me?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Marrall:</span> Yes, and uncase you, too. The lump of flesh,<br /> +The idiot, the patch, the slave, the booby,<br /> +The property fit only to be beaten,<br /> +Can now anatomise you, and lay open<br /> +All your black plots.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Overreach:</span> But that I will live, rogue, to torture thee,<br /> +And make thee wish and kneel in vain to die,<br /> +These swords, that keep thee from me, should fix here.<br /> +I play the fool and make my anger but ridiculous.<br /> +There will be a time, and place, there will be, cowards!<br /> +When you shall feel what I dare do.<br /> +After these storms, at length a calm appears.</p> + +<p class="ij4">[<i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Parson Willdo</span>.</p> + +<p>Welcome, most welcome; is the deed done?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Willdo:</span> Yes, I assure you.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Overreach:</span> Vanish all sad thoughts!<br /> +My doubts and fears are in the titles drowned<br /> +Of my right honourable, right honourable daughter.<br /> +A lane there for my lord!</p> + +<p class="ij4">[<i>Loud music. Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Allworth</span>, <span class="smcap">Margaret</span>, <i>and</i> +<span class="smcap">Lovell</span>.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Margaret:</span> Sir, first your pardon, then your blessing, with<br /> +Your full allowance of the choice I have made.<br /> +(<i>Kneeling</i>) This is my husband.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Overreach:</span> How?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Allworth:</span> So I assure you.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Overreach:</span> Devil! Are they married?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Willdo:</span> They are married, sir; but why this rage to me?<br /> +Is not this your letter, sir? And these the words,<br /> +"Marry her to this gentleman"?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Overreach:</span> I never will believe it, 'death! I will not;<br /> +That I should be gulled, baffled, fooled, defeated<br /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_317" id="Page_317">[Pg 317]</a></span> +By children, all my hopes and labours crossed.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Wellborn:</span> You are so, my grave uncle, it appears.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Overreach:</span> Village nurses revenge their wrongs with curses,<br /> +I'll waste no words, but thus I take the life<br /> +Which, wretch, I gave to thee.</p> + +<p class="ij4">[<i>Offers to kill</i> <span class="smcap">Margaret</span>.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Lovell:</span> Hold, for your own sake!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Overreach:</span> Lord! thus I spit at thee,<br /> +And at thy counsel; and again desire thee<br /> +As thou'rt a soldier, let us quit the house<br /> +And change six words in private.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Lovell:</span> I am ready.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Lady Allworth:</span> Stay, sir; would you contest with +one distraited?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Overreach:</span> Are you pale?<br /> +Borrow his help; though Hercules call it odds,<br /> +I'll stand against both, as I am, hemmed in thus.<br /> +Alone, I can do nothing, but I have servants<br /> +And friends to succour me; and if I make not<br /> +This house a heap of ashes, or leave one throat uncut,<br /> +Hell add to my afflictions!</p> + +<p class="ij4">[<i>Exit.</i></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Marrall:</span> Is't not brave sport?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Allworth</span> (<i>to</i> <span class="smcap">Margaret</span>): Nay, weep not, dearest,<br /> +though't express your pity.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Marrall:</span> Was it not a rare trick,<br /> +An't please your worship, to make the deed nothing?<br /> +I can do twenty neater, if you please<br /> +To purchase and grow rich. They are mysteries<br /> +Not to be spoke in public; certain minerals<br /> +Incorporated in the ink and wax.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Wellborn:</span> You are a rascal. He that dares be false<br /> +To a master, though unjust, will ne'er be true<br /> +To any other. Look not for reward<br /> +Or favour from me. Instantly begone.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Marrall:</span> At this haven false servants still arrive.</p> + +<p class="ij4">[<i>Exit. Re-enter</i> <span class="smcap">Overreach</span>.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_318" id="Page_318">[Pg 318]</a></span> +[<i>Exit. Re-enter</i> <span class="smcap">Overreach</span>.<br /> +<span class="smcap">Willdo:</span> Some little time I have spent, under your favours,<br /> +In physical studies, and, if my judgment err not,<br /> +He's mad beyond recovery.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Overreach:</span> Were they a squadron of pikes, when I am mounted<br /> +Upon my injuries, shall I fear to charge them?</p> + +<p class="ij4">[<i>Flourishing his sword sheathed</i>.</p> + +<p>I'll fall to execution—ha! I am feeble:<br /> +Some undone widow sits upon mine arm,<br /> +And takes away the use of 't! And my sword,<br /> +Glued to my scabbard with wronged orphans' tears,<br /> +Will not be drawn. Are these the hangmen?<br /> +But I'll be forced to hell like to myself;<br /> +Though you were legions of accursed spirits,<br /> +Thus would I fly among you.</p> + +<p class="ij4">[<i>Rushes forward</i>.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Wellborn:</span> There's no help;<br /> +Disarm him first, then bind him.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Margaret:</span> Oh, my dear father!</p> + +<p class="ij4">[<i>They force</i> <span class="smcap">Overreach</span> <i>off</i>.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Allworth:</span> You must be patient, mistress.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Lovell:</span> Pray take comfort.<br /> +I will endeavour you shall be his guardians<br /> +In his distraction: and for your land, Master Wellborn,<br /> +Be it good or ill in law, I'll be an umpire<br /> +Between you and this the undoubted heir<br /> +Of Sir Giles Overreach; for me, here's the anchor<br /> +That I must fix on.</p> + +<p class="ij4">[<i>Takes</i> <span class="smcap">Lady Allworth's</span> <i>hand</i>.</p> +</div> +</div> +<p class="pmb3" /> + + +<div class="footnotes"><span class="font11">OOTNOTES:</span> + +<div class="footnote"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_Z_26" id="Footnote_Z_26"></a><a href="#FNanchor_Z_26"><span class="label">[Z]</span></a> Of all Shakespeare's immediate successors one of the most +powerful, as well as the most prolific, was Philip Massinger. The +son of a retainer in the household of the Earl of Pembroke, he +was born during the second half of 1583, and entered St. Alban's +Hall, Oxford, in 1602, but left without a degree four years later. +Coming to London, he appears to have mixed freely with writers +for the stage, and soon made a reputation as playwright. The +full extent of his literary activities is not known, inasmuch as +a great deal of his work has been lost. He also collaborated +with other authors, particularly with Fletcher (see Vol. XVI, p. +133) in whose grave he was buried on March 18, 1639. It is certain, +however, that he wrote single-handed fifteen plays, of which +the best known is the masterly and satirical comedy, "A New +Way to Pay Old Debts." Printed in 1633, but probably written +between 1625 and 1626, the piece retained its popularity longer +than any other of Massinger's plays. The construction is ingenious, +the dialogue witty, but the <i>dramatis personæ</i>, with the exception +of Sir Giles Overreach, are feeble and without vitality.</p> +</div></div> +<p class="pmb3" /> + + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_319" id="Page_319">[Pg 319]</a></span></p> +<p class="pmb3" /> + + +<h2><a name="JOHN_MILTONAA" id="JOHN_MILTONAA">JOHN MILTON</a><span class="font08"><a name="FNanchor_AA_27" id="FNanchor_AA_27"></a><a href="#Footnote_AA_27" class="fnanchor">[AA]</a></span></h2> +<p class="pmb3" /> + + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<h2><a name="Paradise_Lost" id="Paradise_Lost">Paradise Lost</a></h2> + + +<div class="block2"> + +<h3><i>I.—The Army of the Rebel Angels</i></h3> + +<blockquote> +<p class="font09 pmb1">The poem opens with an invocation to the Heavenly Muse for +enlightenment and inspiration.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block2a"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Of Man's first disobedience, and the fruit</span> +<span class="i0">Of that forbidden tree whose mortal taste</span> +<span class="i0">Brought death into the World, and all our woe,</span> +<span class="i0">With loss of Eden, till one greater Man</span> +<span class="i0">Restore us, and regain the blissful seat,</span> +<span class="i0">Sing, Heavenly Muse, that, on the secret top</span> +<span class="i0">Of Horeb, or of Sinai, didst inspire</span> +<span class="i0">That Shepherd who first taught the chosen seed</span> +<span class="i0">In the beginning how the heavens and earth</span> +<span class="i0">Rose out of Chaos; or, if Sion's hill</span> +<span class="i0">Delight thee more, and Siloa's brook that flowed</span> +<span class="i0">Fast by the oracle of God, I thence</span> +<span class="i0">Invoke thy aid to my adventurous song,</span> +<span class="i0">That with no middle flight intends to soar</span> +<span class="i0">Above the Aonian mount, while it pursues</span> +<span class="i0">Things unattempted yet in prose or rhyme.</span> +</div></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_320" id="Page_320">[Pg 320]</a></span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And chiefly Thou, O Spirit, that dost prefer</span> +<span class="i0">Before all temples the upright heart and pure,</span> +<span class="i0">Instruct me, for Thou know'st; Thou from the first</span> +<span class="i0">Wast present, and, with mighty wings outspread,</span> +<span class="i0">Dove-like sat'st brooding on the vast Abyss,</span> +<span class="i0">And mad'st it pregnant: what in me is dark</span> +<span class="i0">Illumine, what is low raise and support;</span> +<span class="i0">That, to the highth of this great argument,</span> +<span class="i0">I may assert Eternal Providence,</span> +<span class="i0">And justify the ways of God to men.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Say first—for Heaven hides nothing from thy view,</span> +<span class="i0">Nor the deep tract of Hell—say first what cause</span> +<span class="i0">Moved our grand Parents, in that happy state,</span> +<span class="i0">Favoured of Heaven so highly, to fall off</span> +<span class="i0">From their Creator, and trangress his will.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The infernal serpent; he it was whose guile,</span> +<span class="i0">Stirred up with envy and revenge, deceived</span> +<span class="i0">The mother of mankind, what time his pride</span> +<span class="i0">Had cast him out from Heaven, with all his host</span> +<span class="i0">Of rebel angels. Him the Almighty Power</span> +<span class="i0">Hurled headlong flaming from the ethereal sky,</span> +<span class="i0">With hideous ruin and combustion, down</span> +<span class="i0">To bottomless perdition, there to dwell</span> +<span class="i0">In adamantine chains and penal fire,</span> +<span class="i0">Who durst defy the Omnipotent to arms.</span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="font09 pmb1">For nine days and nights the apostate Angel lay silent, "rolling +in the fiery gulf," and then, looking round, he discerned by his + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_321" id="Page_321">[Pg 321]</a></span> +side Beelzebub, "one next himself in power and next in crime." +With him he took counsel, and rearing themselves from off the +pool of fire they found footing on a dreary plain. Walking with +uneasy steps the burning marle, the lost Archangel made his way +to the shore of "that inflamed sea," and called aloud to his +associates, to "Awake, arise, or be for ever fallen!" They +heard, and gathered about him, all who were "known to men +by various names and various idols through the heathen world," +but with looks "downcast and damp." He—</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block2a"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then straight commands that, at the warlike sound</span> +<span class="i0">Of trumpets loud and clarions, be upreared</span> +<span class="i0">His mighty standard. That proud honour claimed</span> +<span class="i0">Azazel as his right, a cherub tall,</span> +<span class="i0">Who forthwith from the glittering staff unfurled</span> +<span class="i0">The imperial ensign....</span> +<span class="i0">At which the universal host up-sent</span> +<span class="i0">A shout that tore Hell's conclave, and beyond</span> +<span class="i0">Frighted the reign of Chaos and old Night.</span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="font09 pmb1">The mighty host now circled in orderly array about "their +dread Commander."</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block2a"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i14">He, above the rest</span> +<span class="i0">In shape and gesture proudly eminent,</span> +<span class="i0">Stood like a tower. His form had not yet lost</span> +<span class="i0">All its original brightness, nor appeared</span> +<span class="i0">Less than an Archangel ruined, and the excess</span> +<span class="i0">Of glory obscured: as when the sun new-risen</span> +<span class="i0">Looks through the horizontal misty air</span> +<span class="i0">Shorn of his beams, or, from behind the moon,</span> +<span class="i0">In dim eclipse, disastrous twilight sheds</span> +<span class="i0">On half the nations, and with fear of change</span> +<span class="i0">Perplexes monarchs. Darkened so, yet shone</span> +<span class="i0">Above them all the Archangel. But his face</span> +<span class="i0">Deep scars of thunder had intrenched, and care</span> +<span class="i0">Sat on his faded cheek, but under brows</span> +<span class="i0">Of dauntless courage, and considerate pride,</span> +<span class="i0">Waiting revenge....</span> +<span class="i21">He now prepared</span> +<span class="i0">To speak; whereat their doubled ranks they bend</span> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_322" id="Page_322">[Pg 322]</a></span> +<span class="i0">From wing to wing, and half enclose him round</span> +<span class="i0">With all his peers. Attention held them mute.</span> +<span class="i0">Thrice he assayed and thrice, in spite of scorn,</span> +<span class="i0">Tears, such as Angels weep, burst forth; at last</span> +<span class="i0">Words interwove with sighs found out their way:</span> +<span class="i0">"O myriads of immortal Spirits! O Powers,</span> +<span class="i0">Matchless, but with the Almighty!—and that strife</span> +<span class="i0">Was not inglorious, though the event was dire,</span> +<span class="i0">As this place testifies, and this dire change,</span> +<span class="i0">Hateful to utter. But what power of mind,</span> +<span class="i0">Foreseeing or presaging, from the depth</span> +<span class="i0">Of knowledge past or present, could have feared</span> +<span class="i0">How such united force of gods, how such</span> +<span class="i0">As stood like these, could ever know repulse?</span> +<span class="i24">He who reigns</span> +<span class="i0">Monarch in Heaven till then as one secure</span> +<span class="i0">Sat on his throne, upheld by old repute,</span> +<span class="i0">Consent, or custom, and his regal state</span> +<span class="i0">Put forth at full, but still his strength concealed—</span> +<span class="i0">Which tempted our attempt, and wrought our fall.</span> +<span class="i0">Henceforth his might we know, and know our own,</span> +<span class="i0">So as not either to provoke, or dread</span> +<span class="i0">New war provoked. Our better part remains</span> +<span class="i0">To work in close design, by fraud or guile,</span> +<span class="i0">What force effected not; that he no less</span> +<span class="i0">At length from us may find, Who overcomes</span> +<span class="i0">By force hath overcome but half his foe.</span> +<span class="i0">Space may produce more Worlds, whereof so rife</span> +<span class="i0">There went a fame in Heaven that He ere long</span> +<span class="i0">Intended to create, and therein plant</span> +<span class="i0">A generation whom his choice regard</span> +<span class="i0">Should favour equal to the Sons of Heaven.</span> +<span class="i0">Thither, if but to pry, shall be perhaps</span> +<span class="i0">Our first eruption—thither, or elsewhere;</span> +<span class="i0">For this infernal pit shall never hold</span> +<span class="i0">Celestial Spirits in bondage, nor the Abyss</span> +<span class="i0">Long under darkness cover. But these thoughts</span> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_323" id="Page_323">[Pg 323]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Full counsel must mature. Peace is despaired;</span> +<span class="i0">For who can think submission? War, then, war</span> +<span class="i0">Open or understood, must be resolved."</span> +<span class="i0">He spake; and to confirm his words, out-flew</span> +<span class="i0">Millions of flaming swords, drawn from the thighs</span> +<span class="i0">Of mighty Cherubim. The sudden blaze</span> +<span class="i0">Far round illumined Hell. Highly they raged.</span> +<span class="i0">Against the Highest, and fierce with grasped arms</span> +<span class="i0">Clashed on their sounding shields the din of war,</span> +<span class="i0">Hurling defiance toward the vault of Heaven.</span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="font09 pmb1">The exiled host now led by Mammon, "the least erected +Spirit that fell from Heaven," proceeded to build Pandemonium, +their architect being him whom "men called Mulciber," and +here</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block2a"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The great Seraphic Lords and Cherubim</span> +<span class="i0">In close recess and secret conclave sat</span> +<span class="i0">A thousand demi-gods on golden seats.</span> +</div></div> +</div><p class="pmb3" /> + + +<h3><i>II.—The Fiends' Conclave</i></h3> + +<div class="block2a"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">High on a throne of royal state, which far</span> +<span class="i0">Outshone the wealth of Ormus or of Ind,</span> +<span class="i0">Or where the gorgeous East with richest hand</span> +<span class="i0">Showers on her kings barbaric pearl and gold,</span> +<span class="i0">Satan exalted sat, by merit raised</span> +<span class="i0">To that bad eminence.</span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="font09 pmb1">Here his compeers gathered round to advise. First Moloch, +the "strongest and the fiercest Spirit that fought in Heaven," +counselled war. Then uprose Belial—"a fairer person lost not +Heaven"—and reasoned that force was futile.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block2a"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i11">"The towers of Heaven are filled</span> +<span class="i0">With armed watch, that render all access</span> +<span class="i0">Impregnable."</span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="font09 pmb1">Besides, failure might lead to their annihilation, and who +wished for that?</p> +</blockquote> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_324" id="Page_324">[Pg 324]</a></span></p> + +<div class="block2a"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i28">"Who would lose,</span> +<span class="i0">Though full of pain, this intellectual being,</span> +<span class="i0">These thoughts that wander through eternity?</span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="font09 pmb1">They were better now than when they were hurled from +Heaven, or when they lay chained on the burning lake. Their +Supreme Foe might in time remit his anger, and slacken those +raging fires. Mammon also advised them to keep the peace, +and make the best they could of Hell, a policy received with +applause; but then Beelzebub, "than whom, Satan except, none +higher sat," rose, and with a look which "drew audience and +attention still as night," developed the suggestion previously made +by Satan, that they should attack Heaven's High Arbitrator +through His new-created Man, waste his creation, and "drive +as we are driven."</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block2a"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i17">"This would surpass</span> +<span class="i0">Common revenge, and interrupt His joy</span> +<span class="i0">In our confusion, and our joy upraise</span> +<span class="i0">In His disturbance."</span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="font09 pmb1">This proposal was gleefully received. But then the difficulty +arose who should be sent in search of this new world? All sat +mute, till Satan declared that he would "abroad through all +the coasts of dark destruction," a decision hailed with reverent +applause. The Council dissolved, the Infernal Peers disperse to +their several employments: some to sports, some to warlike +feats, some to argument, "in wandering mazes lost," some to +adventurous discovery; while Satan wings his way to the nine-fold +gate of Hell, guarded by Sin, and her abortive offspring, +Death; and Sin, opening the gate for him to go out, cannot shut +it again. The Fiend stands on the brink, "pondering his voyage," +while before him appear</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block2a"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The secrets of the hoary Deep—on dark</span> +<span class="i0">Illimitable ocean, without bound,</span> +<span class="i0">Without dimension; where length, breadth, and highth,</span> +<span class="i0">And time, and place, are lost; where eldest Night</span> +<span class="i0">And Chaos, ancestors of Nature, hold</span> +<span class="i0">Eternal anarchy.</span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="font09 pmb1">At last he spreads his "sail-broad vans for flight," and, directed +by Chaos and sable-vested Night, comes to where he can see +far off</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block2a"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i9">The empyreal Heaven, once his native seat,</span> +<span class="i0">And, fast by, hanging in a golden chain,</span> +<span class="i0">This pendent World.</span> +</div></div> +</div><p class="pmb3" /> + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_325" id="Page_325">[Pg 325]</a></span></p> + +<h3><i>III.—Satan Speeds to Earth</i></h3> + +<blockquote> +<p class="font09 pmb1">An invocation to Light, and a lament for the poet's blindness +now preludes a picture of Heaven, and the Almighty Father conferring +with the only Son.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block2a"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Hail, holy Light, offspring of Heaven first-born!</span> +<span class="i0">Bright effluence of bright essence uncreate!</span> +<span class="i0">Whose fountain who shall tell? Before the Sun,</span> +<span class="i0">Before the Heavens, thou wert, and at the voice</span> +<span class="i0">Of God, as with a mantle, didst invest</span> +<span class="i0">The rising World of waters dark and deep,</span> +<span class="i0">Won from the void and formless Infinite!</span> +<span class="i0">............................ But thou</span> +<span class="i0">Revisit'st not these eyes, that roll in vain</span> +<span class="i0">To find thy piercing ray, and find no dawn.</span> +<span class="i0">............................ With the year</span> +<span class="i0">Seasons return; but not to me returns</span> +<span class="i0">Day, or the sweet approach of even or morn,</span> +<span class="i0">Or sight of vernal bloom, or summer's rose,</span> +<span class="i0">Or flocks, or herds, or human face divine;</span> +<span class="i0">But clouds instead, and ever-during dark</span> +<span class="i0">Surrounds me, from the cheerful ways of men</span> +<span class="i0">Cut off.</span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="font09 pmb1">God, observing the approach of Satan to the world, foretells +the fall of Man to the Son, who listens while</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block2a"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i34">In his face</span> +<span class="i0">Divine compassion visibly appeared,</span> +<span class="i0">Love without end, and without measure grace.</span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="font09 pmb1">The Father asks where such love can be found as will redeem +man by satisfying eternal Justice.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block2a"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He asked, but all the Heavenly Quire stood mute,</span> +<span class="i0">And silence was in Heaven.</span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="font09 pmb1">Admiration seized all Heaven, and "to the ground they cast +their crowns in solemn adoration," when the Son replied</p> +</blockquote> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_326" id="Page_326">[Pg 326]</a></span></p> + +<div class="block2a"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Account me Man. I for his sake will leave</span> +<span class="i0">Thy bosom, and this glory next to Thee</span> +<span class="i0">Freely put off, and for him lastly die</span> +<span class="i0">Well pleased; on me let Death wreak all his rage.</span> +<span class="i0">Under his gloomy power I shall not long</span> +<span class="i0">Lie vanquished."</span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="font09 pmb1">While the immortal quires chanted their praise, Satan drew +near, and sighted the World—the sun, earth, moon, and companion +planets—</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block2a"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i26">As when a scout,</span> +<span class="i0">Through dark and desert ways with peril gone</span> +<span class="i0">All night, at last by break of cheerful dawn</span> +<span class="i0">Obtains the brow of some high-climbing hill,</span> +<span class="i0">Which to his eye discovers unaware</span> +<span class="i0">The goodly prospect of some foreign land</span> +<span class="i0">First seen, or some renowned metropolis</span> +<span class="i0">With glistening spires and pinnacles adorned,</span> +<span class="i0">Which now the rising Sun gilds with his beams,</span> +<span class="i0">Such wonder seized, though after Heaven seen,</span> +<span class="i0">The Spirit malign, but much more envy seized,</span> +<span class="i0">At sight of all this world beheld so fair.</span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="font09 pmb1">Flying to the Sun, and taking the form of "a stripling +Cherub," Satan recognises there the Archangel Uriel and accosts +him.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block2a"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i17">"Brightest Seraph, tell</span> +<span class="i0">In which of all these shining orbs hath Man</span> +<span class="i0">His fixed seat."</span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="font09 pmb1">And Uriel, although held to be "the sharpest-sighted Spirit +of all in Heaven," was deceived, for angels cannot discern +hypocrisy. So Uriel, pointing, answers:</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block2a"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"That place is Earth, the seat of Man....</span> +<span class="i0">That spot to which I point is Paradise,</span> +<span class="i0">Adam's abode; those lofty shades his bower.</span> +<span class="i0">Thy way thou canst not miss; me mine requires."</span> +<span class="i0">Thus said, he turned; and Satan, bowing low,</span> +<span class="i0">As to superior Spirits is wont in Heaven,</span> +<span class="i0">Where honour due and reverence none neglects,</span> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_327" id="Page_327">[Pg 327]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Took leave, and toward the coast of Earth beneath,</span> +<span class="i0">Down from the ecliptic, sped with hoped success,</span> +<span class="i0">Throws his steep flight in many an aery wheel,</span> +<span class="i0">Nor stayed till on Niphantes' top he lights.</span> +</div></div> +</div><p class="pmb3" /> + + +<h3><i>IV.—Of Adam and Eve in Paradise</i></h3> + +<blockquote> +<p class="font09 pmb1">Coming within sight of Paradise Satan's conscience is aroused, +and he grieves over the suffering his dire work will entail, exclaiming</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block2a"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Me miserable; which way shall I fly</span> +<span class="i0">Infinite wrath and infinite despair?</span> +<span class="i0">Which way I fly is Hell; myself am Hell."</span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="font09 pmb1">But he cannot brook submission, and hardens his heart afresh.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block2a"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"So farewell hope, and, with hope, farewell fear,</span> +<span class="i0">Farewell remorse! All good to me is lost;</span> +<span class="i0">Evil, be thou my Good."</span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="font09 pmb1">As he approaches Paradise more closely, the deliciousness of +the place affects even his senses.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block2a"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i11">As when to them who sail</span> +<span class="i0">Beyond the Cape of Hope, and now are past</span> +<span class="i0">Mozambic, off at sea north-east winds blow</span> +<span class="i0">Sabean odours from the spicy shore</span> +<span class="i0">Of Araby the Blest, with such delay</span> +<span class="i0">Well pleased they slack their course, and many a league</span> +<span class="i0">Cheered with the grateful smell old Ocean smiles,</span> +<span class="i0">So entertained those odorous sweets the Fiend.</span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="font09 pmb1">At last, after sighting "all kind of living creatures new to +sight and strange," he descries Man.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block2a"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Two of far nobler shape, erect and tall,</span> +<span class="i0">God-like erect, with native honour clad</span> +<span class="i0">In naked majesty, seemed lords of all,</span> +<span class="i0">And worthy seemed; for in their looks divine</span> +<span class="i0">The image of their glorious Maker shone.</span> +<span class="i0">For contemplation he and valour formed,</span> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_328" id="Page_328">[Pg 328]</a></span> +<span class="i0">For softness she and sweet attractive grace;</span> +<span class="i0">He for God only, she for God in Him.</span> +<span class="i0">So hand in hand they passed, the loveliest pair</span> +<span class="i0">That ever since in love's embraces met—</span> +<span class="i0">Adam the goodliest man of men since born</span> +<span class="i0">His sons; the fairest of her daughters Eve.</span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="font09 pmb1">At the sight of the gentle pair, Satan again almost relents. +Taking the shape of various animals, he approaches to hear +them talk and finds from Adam that the only prohibition laid +on them is partaking of the Tree of Knowledge. Eve, replying, +tells how she found herself alive, saw her form reflected in the +water, and thought herself fairer even than Adam until</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block2a"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i31">"Thy gentle hand</span> +<span class="i0">Seized mine; I yielded, and from that time see</span> +<span class="i0">How beauty is excelled by manly grace</span> +<span class="i0">And wisdom, which alone is truly fair."</span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="font09 pmb1">While Satan roams through Paradise, with "sly circumspection," +Uriel descends on an evening sunbeam to warn Gabriel, +chief of the angelic guards, that a suspected Spirit, with looks +"alien from Heaven," had passed to earth, and Gabriel promises +to find him before dawn.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block2a"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now came still Evening on, and Twilight gray</span> +<span class="i0">Had in her sober livery all things clad;</span> +<span class="i0">Silence accompanied; for beast and bird,</span> +<span class="i0">They to their grassy couch, these to their nests</span> +<span class="i0">Were slunk, all but the wakeful nightingale.</span> +<span class="i0">She all night long her amorous descant sung.</span> +<span class="i0">Silence was pleased. Now glowed the firmament</span> +<span class="i0">With living sapphires; Hesperus, that led</span> +<span class="i0">The starry host, rode brightest, till the Moon,</span> +<span class="i0">Rising in clouded majesty, at length</span> +<span class="i0">Apparent queen, unveiled her peerless light,</span> +<span class="i0">And o'er the dark her silver mantle threw.</span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="font09 pmb1">Adam and Eve talk ere they retire to rest—she questioning +him</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block2a"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Sweet is the breath of Morn, her rising sweet,</span> +<span class="i0">With charm of earliest birds; pleasant the Sun,</span> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_329" id="Page_329">[Pg 329]</a></span> +<span class="i0">When first on this delightful land he spreads</span> +<span class="i0">His orient beams, on herb, tree, fruit, and flower,</span> +<span class="i0">Glistening with dew; fragrant the fertile Earth</span> +<span class="i0">After soft showers; and sweet the coming on</span> +<span class="i0">Of grateful Evening mild; then silent Night</span> +<span class="i0">With this her solemn bird, and this fair Moon,</span> +<span class="i0">And these the gems of Heaven, her starry train;</span> +<span class="i0">But neither breath of Morn, when she ascends</span> +<span class="i0">With charm of earliest birds; nor rising Sun</span> +<span class="i0">On this delightful land; nor herb, fruit, flower,</span> +<span class="i0">Glistening with dew; nor fragrance after showers,</span> +<span class="i0">Nor grateful Evening mild; nor silent Night,</span> +<span class="i0">With this her solemn bird; nor walk by moon,</span> +<span class="i0">Or glittering star-light, without thee is sweet.</span> +<span class="i0">But wherefore all night long shine these? For whom</span> +<span class="i0">This glorious sight, when sleep hath shut all eyes?"</span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="font09 pmb1">Adam replies:</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block2a"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"These have their course to finish round the Earth,</span> +<span class="i0">And they, though unbeheld in deep of night,</span> +<span class="i0">Shine not in vain. Nor think, though men were none,</span> +<span class="i0">That Heaven would want spectators, God want praise.</span> +<span class="i0">Millions of spiritual creatures walk the earth</span> +<span class="i0">Unseen, both when we wake, and when we sleep;</span> +<span class="i0">All these with ceaseless praise His works behold</span> +<span class="i0">Both day and night."....</span> +<span class="i0">Thus talking, hand in hand, alone they passed</span> +<span class="i0">On to their blissful bower.</span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="font09 pmb1">Gabriel then sends the Cherubim, "armed to their night +watches," and commands Ithuriel and Zephon to search the +Garden, where they find Satan, "squat like a toad close to the +ear of Eve," seeking to taint her dreams.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block2a"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Him thus intent Ithuriel with his spear</span> +<span class="i0">Touched lightly; for no falsehood can endure</span> +<span class="i0">Touch of celestial temper, but returns</span> +<span class="i0">Of force to its own likeness.</span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_330" id="Page_330">[Pg 330]</a></span></p> + +<blockquote> +<p class="font09 pmb3">Satan therefore starts up in his own person, and is conducted +to Gabriel, who sees him coming with them, "a third, of regal +port, but faded splendour wan." Gabriel and he engage in a +heated altercation, and a fight seems imminent between the +Fiend and the angelic squadrons that "begin to hem him round," +when, by a sign in the sky, Satan is reminded of his powerlessness +in open fight, and flees, murmuring; "and with him fled +the shades of Night."</p> +</blockquote> + + +<h3><i>V.—The Morning Hymn of Praise</i></h3> + +<blockquote> +<p class="font09 pmb1">Adam, waking in the morning, finds Eve flushed and distraught, +and she tells him of her troublous dreams. He cheers +her, and they pass out to the open field, and, adoring, raise their +morning hymn of praise.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block2a"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"These are Thy glorious works, Parent of good,</span> +<span class="i0">Almighty! Thine this universal frame,</span> +<span class="i0">Thus wondrous fair—Thyself how wondrous then!</span> +<span class="i0">Unspeakable! Who sittest above these heavens</span> +<span class="i0">To us invisible, or dimly seen</span> +<span class="i0">In these Thy lowest works; yet these declare</span> +<span class="i0">Thy goodness beyond thought, and power divine.</span> +<span class="i0">Speak, ye who best can tell, ye Sons of Light,</span> +<span class="i0">Angels—for ye behold Him, and with songs</span> +<span class="i0">And chloral symphonies, day without night,</span> +<span class="i0">Circle His throne rejoicing—ye in Heaven;</span> +<span class="i0">On Earth join, all ye creatures, to extol</span> +<span class="i0">Him first, Him last, Him midst, and without end.</span> +<span class="i0">Fairest of Stars, last in the train of Night,</span> +<span class="i0">If better than belong not to the Dawn,</span> +<span class="i0">Sure pledge of Day, that crown'st the smiling morn</span> +<span class="i0">With thy bright circlet, praise Him in thy sphere</span> +<span class="i0">While day arises, that sweet hour of prime.</span> +<span class="i0">Thou Sun, of this great World both eye and soul,</span> +<span class="i0">Acknowledge Him thy greater; sound His praise</span> +<span class="i0">In thy eternal course, both when thou climb'st</span> +<span class="i0">And when high noon hast gained, and when thou fall'st.</span> +<span class="i0">Moon, that now meet'st the orient Sun, now fliest,</span> +<span class="i0">With the fixed Stars, fixed in their orb, that flies;</span> +<span class="i0">And ye five other wandering Fires, that move</span> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_331" id="Page_331">[Pg 331]</a></span> +<span class="i0">In mystic dance, not without song, resound</span> +<span class="i0">His praise Who out of Darkness called up Light.</span> +<span class="i0">Ye Mists and Exhalations, that now rise</span> +<span class="i0">From hill or steaming lake, dusky or gray,</span> +<span class="i0">Till the Sun paint your fleecy skirts with gold,</span> +<span class="i0">In honour to the World's great Author rise;</span> +<span class="i0">Whether to deck with clouds the uncoloured sky,</span> +<span class="i0">Or wet the thirsty earth with falling showers,</span> +<span class="i0">Rising or falling, still advance His praise.</span> +<span class="i0">His praise, ye Winds, that from four quarters blow,</span> +<span class="i0">Breathe soft or loud; and wave your tops, ye Pines,</span> +<span class="i0">With every plant in sign of worship wave.</span> +<span class="i0">Fountains, and ye that warble as ye flow,</span> +<span class="i0">Melodious murmurs, warbling, tune His praise.</span> +<span class="i0">Join voices, all ye living souls. Ye Birds,</span> +<span class="i0">That, singing, up to Heaven's gate ascend,</span> +<span class="i0">Bear on your wings and in your notes His praise.</span> +<span class="i0">Hail universal Lord! Be bounteous still</span> +<span class="i0">To give us only good; and, if the night</span> +<span class="i0">Have gathered aught of evil, or concealed,</span> +<span class="i0">Disperse it, as now light dispels the dark."</span> +<span class="i0">So prayed they innocent, and to their thoughts</span> +<span class="i0">Firm peace recovered soon, and wonted calm.</span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="font09 pmb1">The Almighty now sends Raphael, "the sociable Spirit," from +Heaven to warn Adam of his danger, and alighting on the +eastern cliff of Paradise, the Seraph shakes his plumes and diffuses +heavenly fragrance around; then moving through the +forest is seen by Adam, who, with Eve, entertains him, and +seizes the occasion to ask him of "their Being Who dwell in +Heaven," and further, what is meant by the angelic caution—"If +ye be found obedient." Raphael thereupon tells of the disobedience, +in Heaven, of Satan, and his fall, "from that high +state of bliss into what woe." He tells how the Divine decree +of obedience to the Only Son was received by Satan with envy, +because he felt "himself impaired"; and how, consulting with +Beelzebub, he drew away all the Spirits under their command +to the "spacious North," and, taunting them with being eclipsed, +proposed that they should rebel. Only Abdiel remained faithful, +and urged them to cease their "impious rage," and seek +pardon in time, or they might find that He Who had created them +could uncreate them.</p> +</blockquote> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_332" id="Page_332">[Pg 332]</a></span></p> + +<div class="block2a"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">So spake the Seraph Abdiel, faithful found;</span> +<span class="i0">Among the faithless faithful only he;</span> +<span class="i0">Among innumerable false unmoved,</span> +<span class="i0">Unshaken, unseduced, unterrified,</span> +<span class="i0">His loyalty he kept, his love, his zeal;</span> +<span class="i0">Nor number nor example with him wrought</span> +<span class="i0">To swerve from truth, or change his constant mind</span> +<span class="i0">Though single.</span> +</div></div> +</div><p class="pmb3" /> + + +<h3><i>VI.—The Story of Satan's Revolt</i></h3> + +<blockquote> +<p class="font09 pmb1">Raphael, continuing, tells Adam how Abdiel flew back to +Heaven with the story of the revolt, but found it was known. +The Sovran Voice having welcomed the faithful messenger with +"Servant of God, well done!" orders the Archangels Michael +and Gabriel to lead forth the celestial armies, while the banded +powers of Satan are hastening on to set the Proud Aspirer on +the very Mount of God. "Long time in even scale the battle +hung," but with the dawning of the third day, the Father directed +the Messiah to ascend his chariot, and end the strife. "Far +off his coming shone," and at His presence "Heaven his wonted +face renewed, and with fresh flowerets hill and valley smiled." +But, nearing the foe, His countenance changed into a terror +"too severe to be beheld."</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block2a"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Full soon among them He arrived, in His right hand</span> +<span class="i0">Grasping ten thousand thunders....</span> +<span class="i2">They, astonished, all resistance lost,</span> +<span class="i0">All courage; down their idle weapons dropt....</span> +<span class="i0">.... Headlong themselves they threw</span> +<span class="i0">Down from the verge of Heaven; eternal wrath</span> +<span class="i0">Burnt after them to the bottomless pit.</span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="font09 pmb3">A like fate, Raphael warns Adam, may befall mankind if they +are guilty of disobedience.</p> +</blockquote> + + +<h3><i>VII.—The New Creation</i></h3> + +<blockquote> +<p class="font09 pmb1">The "affable Archangel," at Adam's request, continues his talk +by telling how the world began. Lest Lucifer should take a pride +in having "dispeopled Heaven," God announces to the Son that +he will create another world, and a race to dwell in it who may</p> +</blockquote> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_333" id="Page_333">[Pg 333]</a></span></p> + +<div class="block2a"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Open to themselves at length the way</span> +<span class="i0">Up hither, under long obedience tried,</span> +<span class="i0">And Earth be changed to Heaven, and Heaven to Earth,</span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="font09 pmb1">This creation is to be the work of the Son, who, girt with +omnipotence, prepares to go forth.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block2a"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Heaven opened wide</span> +<span class="i0">Her ever-daring gates, harmonious sound</span> +<span class="i0">On golden hinges moving, to let forth</span> +<span class="i0">The King of Glory, in his powerful Word</span> +<span class="i0">And Spirit coming to create new worlds.</span> +<span class="i0">On Heavenly ground they stood, and from the shore</span> +<span class="i0">They viewed the vast immeasurable Abyss</span> +<span class="i0">Outrageous as a sea, dark, wasteful, wild,</span> +<span class="i0">Up from the bottom turned by furious winds</span> +<span class="i0">And surging waves, as mountains to assault</span> +<span class="i0">Heaven's highth, and with the centre mix the pole.</span> +<span class="i0">"Silence, ye troubled waves, and thou Deep, peace!"</span> +<span class="i0">Said then the omnific Word. "Your discord end!"</span> +<span class="i0">Nor stayed; but on the wings of cherubim,</span> +<span class="i0">Uplifted in paternal glory rode</span> +<span class="i0">Far into Chaos and the World unborn;</span> +<span class="i0">For Chaos heard his voice....</span> +<span class="i0">And Earth, self-balanced on her centre hung.</span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="font09 pmb3">The six days' creative work is then described in the order of +Genesis.</p> +</blockquote> + + +<h3><i>VIII.—The Creation of Adam</i></h3> + +<blockquote> +<p class="font09 pmb3">Asked by Adam to tell him about the motions of the heavenly +bodies, Raphael adjures him to refrain from thought on "matters +hid; to serve God and fear; and to be lowly wise." He +then asks Adam to tell him of his creation, he having at the +time been absent on "excursion toward the gates of Hell." +Adam complies, and relates how he appealed to God for a companion, +and was answered in the fairest of God's gifts. Raphael +warns Adam to beware lest passion for Eve sway his judgment, +for on him depends the weal or woe, not only of himself, but +of all his sons.</p> +</blockquote> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_334" id="Page_334">[Pg 334]</a></span></p> + + +<h3><i>IX.—The Temptation and the Fall</i></h3> + +<blockquote> +<p class="font09 pmb1">While Raphael was in Paradise, for seven nights, Satan hid +himself by circling round in the shadow of the Earth, then, +rising as a mist, he crept into Eden undetected, and entered +the serpent as the "fittest imp of fraud," but not until once +more lamenting that the enjoyment of the earth was not for +him. In the morning, when the human pair came forth to their +pleasant labours, Eve suggested that they should work apart, +for when near each other "looks intervene and smiles," and +casual discourse. Adam replied, defending "this sweet intercourse +of looks and smiles," and saying they had been made +not for irksome toil, but for delight.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block2a"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"But if much converse perhaps</span> +<span class="i0">Thee satiate, to short absence I could yield;</span> +<span class="i0">For solitude sometimes is best society,</span> +<span class="i0">And short retirement urges sweet return.</span> +<span class="i0">But other doubt possessed me, lest harm</span> +<span class="i0">Befall thee....</span> +<span class="i0">The wife, where danger or dishonour lurks,</span> +<span class="i0">Safest and seemliest by her husband stays</span> +<span class="i0">Who guards her, or the worst with her endures."</span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="font09 pmb1">Eve replies:</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block2a"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"That such an enemy we have, who seeks</span> +<span class="i0">Our ruin, both by thee informed I learn,</span> +<span class="i0">And from the parting Angel overheard,</span> +<span class="i0">As in a shady nook I stood behind,</span> +<span class="i0">Just then returned at shut of evening flowers."</span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="font09 pmb1">She, however, repels the suggestion that she can be deceived. +Adam replies that he does not wish her to be tempted, and that +united they would be stronger and more watchful. Eve responds +that if Eden is so exposed that they are not secure apart, how +can they be happy? Adams gives way, with the explanation that +it is not mistrust but tender love that enjoins him to watch over +her, and, as she leaves him,</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block2a"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Her long with ardent look his eye pursued</span> +<span class="i0">Delighted, but desiring more her stay.</span> +<span class="i0">Oft he to her his charge of quick return</span> +<span class="i0">Repeated; she to him as oft engaged</span> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_335" id="Page_335">[Pg 335]</a></span> +<span class="i0">To be returned by noon amid the bower,</span> +<span class="i0">And all things in best order to invite</span> +<span class="i0">Noontide repast, or afternoon's repose.</span> +<span class="i0">O much deceived, much failing, hapless Eve,</span> +<span class="i0">Of thy presumed return! Event perverse!</span> +<span class="i0">Thou never from that hour in Paradise</span> +<span class="i0">Found'st either sweet repast or sound repose.</span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="font09 pmb1">The Fiend, questing through the garden, finds her</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block2a"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Veiled in a cloud of fragrance where she stood</span> +<span class="i0">Half-spied, so thick the roses bushing round</span> +<span class="i0">About her glowed.... Them she upstays</span> +<span class="i0">Gently with myrtle band, mindless the while</span> +<span class="i0">Herself, though fairest unsupported flower,</span> +<span class="i0">From her best prop so far, and storm so nigh.</span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="font09 pmb1">Seeing her, Satan "much the place admired, the person more."</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block2a"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">As one who, long in populous city pent,</span> +<span class="i0">Forth issuing on a summer's morn to breathe</span> +<span class="i0">Among the pleasant villages and farms</span> +<span class="i0">Adjoined, from each thing met conceives delight—</span> +<span class="i0">The smell of grain, of tedded grass, of kine,</span> +<span class="i0">Of dairy, each rural sight, each rural sound—</span> +<span class="i0">If chance with nymph-like step fair virgin pass,</span> +<span class="i0">What pleasing seemed, for her now pleases more,</span> +<span class="i0">She most, and in her look seems all delight.</span> +<span class="i0">Such pleasure took the Serpent to behold</span> +<span class="i0">This flowery plat, the sweet recess of Eve</span> +<span class="i0">Thus early, thus alone.</span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="font09 pmb1">The original serpent did not creep on the ground, but was a +handsome creature.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block2a"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">With burnished neck of verdant gold, erect</span> +<span class="i0">Amidst his circling spires, that on the grass</span> +<span class="i0">Floated redundant. Pleasing was his shape</span> +<span class="i0">And lovely.</span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_336" id="Page_336">[Pg 336]</a></span></p> + +<blockquote> +<p class="font09 pmb1">Appearing before Eve with an air of worshipful admiration, +and speaking in human language, the arch-deceiver gains her +ear with flattery. "Empress of this fair world, resplendent +Eve." She asks how it is that man's language is pronounced +by "tongue of brute." The reply is that the power came through +eating the fruit of a certain tree, which gave him reason, and +also constrained him to worship her as "sovran of creatures." +Asked to show her the tree, he leads her swiftly to the Tree of +Prohibition, and replying to her scruples and fears, declares—</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block2a"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Queen of the Universe! Do not believe</span> +<span class="i0">Those rigid threats of death. Ye shall not die.</span> +<span class="i0">How should ye? By the fruit? It gives you life</span> +<span class="i0">To knowledge. By the Threatener? Look on me—</span> +<span class="i0">Me who have touched and tasted, yet both live</span> +<span class="i0">And life more perfect have attained than Fate</span> +<span class="i0">Meant me, by venturing higher than my lot.</span> +<span class="i0">Shall that be shut to Man which to the Beast</span> +<span class="i0">Is open? Or will God incense his ire</span> +<span class="i0">For such a petty trespass?...</span> +<span class="i0">God therefore cannot hurt ye and be just.</span> +<span class="i0">Goddess humane, reach, then, and freely taste!"</span> +<span class="i0">He ended; and his words replete with guile</span> +<span class="i0">Into her heart too easy entrance won.</span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="font09 pmb1">Eve herself then took up the argument and repeated admiringly +the Serpent's persuasions.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block2a"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"In the day we eat</span> +<span class="i0">Of this fair fruit our doom is we shall die!</span> +<span class="i0">How dies the Serpent? He hath eaten and lives,</span> +<span class="i0">And knows, and speaks, and reasons, and discerns,</span> +<span class="i0">Irrational till then. For us alone</span> +<span class="i0">Was death invented? Or to us denied</span> +<span class="i0">This intellectual food, for beasts reserved?</span> +<span class="i0">Here grows the care of all, this fruit divine,</span> +<span class="i0">Fair to the eye, inviting to the taste,</span> +<span class="i0">Of virtue to make wise. What hinders then</span> +<span class="i0">To reach and feed at once both body and mind?"</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">So saying, her rash hand in evil hour</span> +<span class="i0">Forth-reaching to the fruit, she plucked, she ate.</span> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_337" id="Page_337">[Pg 337]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Earth felt the wound, and Nature from her seat,</span> +<span class="i0">Sighing through all her works, gave signs of woe</span> +<span class="i0">That all was lost. Back to the thicket slunk</span> +<span class="i0">The guilty serpent.</span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="font09 pmb1">At first elated by the fruit, Eve presently began to reflect, +excuse herself, and wonder what the effect would be on Adam.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block2a"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"And I perhaps am secret. Heaven is high—</span> +<span class="i0">High, and remote to see from thence distinct</span> +<span class="i0">Each thing on Earth; and other care perhaps</span> +<span class="i0">May have diverted from continual watch</span> +<span class="i0">Our great Forbidder, safe with all his spies</span> +<span class="i0">About him. But to Adam in what sort</span> +<span class="i0">Shall I appear? Shall I to him make known</span> +<span class="i0">As yet my change?</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But what if God have seen</span> +<span class="i0">And death ensue? Then I shall be no more;</span> +<span class="i0">And Adam, wedded to another Eve,</span> +<span class="i0">Shall live with her enjoying, I extinct!</span> +<span class="i0">A death to think! Confirmed then, I resolve</span> +<span class="i0">Adam shall share with me in bliss or woe,</span> +<span class="i0">So dear I love him that with him all deaths</span> +<span class="i0">I could endure, without him live no life."</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Adam the while</span> +<span class="i0">Waiting desirous her return, had wove</span> +<span class="i0">Of choicest flowers a garland, to adorn</span> +<span class="i0">Her tresses.... Soon as he heard</span> +<span class="i0">The fatal trespass done by Eve amazed,</span> +<span class="i0">From his slack hand the garland wreathed for her</span> +<span class="i0">Down dropt, and all the faded roses shed.</span> +<span class="i0">Speechless he stood and pale, till thus at length,</span> +<span class="i0">First to himself he inward silence broke:</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"O fairest of creation, last and best</span> +<span class="i0">Of all God's works, creature in whom excelled</span> +<span class="i0">Whatever came to sight or thought be formed,</span> +<span class="i0">Holy, divine, good, amiable, or sweet,</span> +<span class="i0">How art thou lost! how on a sudden lost!</span> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_338" id="Page_338">[Pg 338]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Some cursed fraud</span> +<span class="i0">Of enemy hath beguiled thee, yet unknown,</span> +<span class="i0">And me with thee hath ruined; for with thee</span> +<span class="i0">Certain my resolution is to die.</span> +<span class="i0">How can I live without thee? How forego</span> +<span class="i0">Thy sweet converse, and love so dearly joined,</span> +<span class="i0">To live again in these wild words forlorn?."</span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="font09 pmb1">Then, turning to Eve, he tries to comfort her.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block2a"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Perhaps thou shalt not die ...</span> +<span class="i0">Nor can I think that God, Creator wise,</span> +<span class="i0">Though threatening, will in earnest so destroy</span> +<span class="i0">Us, His prime creatures, dignified so high,</span> +<span class="i0">Set over all his works....</span> +<span class="i0">However, I with thee have fixed my lot,</span> +<span class="i0">Certain to undergo like doom. If death</span> +<span class="i0">Consort with thee, death is to me as life.</span> +<span class="i0">Our state cannot be severed; we are one."</span> +<span class="i0">So Adam; and thus Eve to him replied:</span> +<span class="i0">"O glorious trial of exceeding love,</span> +<span class="i0">Illustrious evidence, example high!"</span> +<span class="i0">So saying she embraced him, and for joy</span> +<span class="i0">Tenderly wept, much won that he his love</span> +<span class="i0">Had so ennobled as of choice to incur</span> +<span class="i0">Divine displeasure for her sake, or death.</span> +<span class="i0">In recompense ...</span> +<span class="i0">She gave him of that fair enticing fruit</span> +<span class="i0">With liberal hand. He scrupled not to eat</span> +<span class="i0">Against his better knowledge, not deceived,</span> +<span class="i0">But fondly overcome with female charm.</span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="font09 pmb1">The effect of the fruit on them is first to excite lust with +guilty shame following, and realising this after "the exhilarating +vapour bland" had spent its force, Adam found utterance for +his remorse.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block2a"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"O Eve, in evil hour thou didst give ear</span> +<span class="i0">To that false Worm....</span> +<span class="i3">... How shall I behold the face</span> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_339" id="Page_339">[Pg 339]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Henceforth of God or Angel, erst with joy</span> +<span class="i0">And rapture so oft beheld? Those Heavenly shapes</span> +<span class="i0">Will dazzle now this earthly with their blaze</span> +<span class="i0">Insufferably bright. Oh, might I here</span> +<span class="i0">In solitude live savage, in some glade</span> +<span class="i0">Obscured, where highest winds, impenetrable</span> +<span class="i0">To star or sunlight, spread their umbrage broad,</span> +<span class="i0">And brown as evening! Cover me, ye pines!</span> +<span class="i0">Ye cedars, with innumerable boughs</span> +<span class="i0">Hide me, where I may never see them more!"</span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="font09 pmb1">Then they cower in the woods, and clothe themselves with +leaves.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block2a"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Covered, but not at rest or ease of mind</span> +<span class="i0">They sat them down to weep.</span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="font09 pmb1">But passion also took possession of them, and they began to +taunt each other with recriminations. Adam, with estranged +look, exclaimed:</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block2a"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Would thou hadst hearkened to my words, and stayed</span> +<span class="i0">With me, as I besought thee, when that strange</span> +<span class="i0">Desire of wandering, this unhappy morn,</span> +<span class="i0">I know not whence possessed thee! We had then</span> +<span class="i0">Remained still happy!"</span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="font09 pmb1">Eve retorts:</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block2a"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Hadst thou been firm and fixed in thy dissent,</span> +<span class="i0">Neither had I transgressed, nor thou with me."</span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="font09 pmb1">Then Adam:</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block2a"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"What could I more?</span> +<span class="i0">I warned thee, I admonished thee, foretold</span> +<span class="i0">The danger, and the lurking enemy</span> +<span class="i0">That lay in wait; beyond this had been force."</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thus they in mutual accusation spent</span> +<span class="i0">The fruitless hours, but neither self-condemning;</span> +<span class="i0">And of their vain contest appeared no end.</span> +</div></div> +</div><p class="pmb3" /> + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_340" id="Page_340">[Pg 340]</a></span></p> + +<h3><i>X.—Sin and Death Triumph</i></h3> + +<blockquote> +<p class="font09 pmb3">The Angels left on guard now slowly return from Paradise +to Heaven to report their failure, but are reminded by God that +it was ordained; and the Son is sent down to judge the guilty +pair, after hearing their excuses, and to punish them with the +curses of toil and death. Meantime Sin and Death "snuff the +smell of mortal change" on Earth, and leaving Hell-gate "belching +outrageous flame," erect a broad road from Hell to Earth +through Chaos, and as they come in sight of the World meet +Satan steering his way back as an angel, "between the Centaur +and the Scorpion." He makes Sin and Death his plenipotentiaries +on Earth, adjuring them first to make man their thrall, and +lastly kill; and as they pass to the evil work "the blasted stars +look wan." The return to Hell is received with loud acclaim, +which comes in the form of a hiss, and Satan and all his hosts +are turned into grovelling snakes. Adam, now in his repentance, +is sternly resentful against Eve, who becomes submissive, and +both pass from remorse to "sorrow unfeigned and humiliation +meek.'</p> +</blockquote> + + +<h3><i>XI.—Repentance and the Doom</i></h3> + +<blockquote> +<p class="font09 pmb1">The repentance of the pair is accepted by God, who sends +down the Archangel Michael, with a cohort of cherubim, to +announce that death will not come until time has been given +for repentance, but Paradise can no longer be their home. +Whereupon Eve laments.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block2a"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"O unexpected stroke, worse than of Death!</span> +<span class="i0">Must I thus leave thee, Paradise? Thus leave</span> +<span class="i0">Thee, native soil? These happy walks and shades,</span> +<span class="i0">Fit haunt of gods, where I had hoped to spend</span> +<span class="i0">Quiet, though sad, the respite of that day</span> +<span class="i0">That must be mortal to us both? O flowers,</span> +<span class="i0">That never will in any other climate grow,</span> +<span class="i0">My early visitation and my last</span> +<span class="i0">At even, which I tied up with tender hand</span> +<span class="i0">From the first opening bud and gave ye names,</span> +<span class="i0">Who now shall rear ye to the Sun, or rank</span> +<span class="i0">Your tribes, and water from the ambrosial fount?</span> +<span class="i0">... How shall we breathe in other air</span> +<span class="i0">Less pure, accustomed to immortal fruits?"</span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_341" id="Page_341">[Pg 341]</a></span></p> + +<blockquote> +<p class="font09 pmb1">The Angel reminds her:</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block2a"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Thy going is not lonely; with thee goes</span> +<span class="i0">Thy husband; him to follow thou art bound.</span> +<span class="i0">Where he abides think there thy native soil."</span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="font09 pmb3">Michael then ascending a hill with Adam shows him a vision +of the world's history, while Eve sleeps.</p> +</blockquote> + + +<h3><i>XII.—Paradise Behind, the World Before</i></h3> + +<blockquote> +<p class="font09 pmb1">The history is continued, with its promise of redemption, until +Adam exclaims:</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block2a"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Full of doubt I stand,</span> +<span class="i0">Whether I should repent me now of sin</span> +<span class="i0">By me done and occasioned, or rejoice</span> +<span class="i0">Much more that much more good thereof shall spring—</span> +<span class="i0">To God more glory, more good-will to men."</span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="font09 pmb1">Eve awakens from propitious dreams, it having been shown +to her that—</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block2a"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Though all by me is lost,</span> +<span class="i0">Such favour I unworthy am vouchsafed.</span> +<span class="i0">By me the Promised Seed shall all restore."</span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="font09 pmb1">The time, however, has come when they must leave. A flaming +sword, "fierce as a comet," advances towards them before +the bright array of cherubim.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block2a"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Whereat</span> +<span class="i0">In either hand the hastening angel caught</span> +<span class="i0">Our lingering parents, and to the eastern gate</span> +<span class="i0">Led them direct, and down the cliff so fast</span> +<span class="i0">To the subjected plain—then disappeared.</span> +<span class="i0">They, looking back, all the eastern side beheld</span> +<span class="i0">Of Paradise, so late their happy seat,</span> +<span class="i0">Waved over by that flaming brand, the gate</span> +<span class="i0">With dreadful forces thronged and fiery arms.</span> +<span class="i0">Some natural tears they dropped, but wiped them soon;</span> +<span class="i0">The world was all before them, where to choose</span> +<span class="i0">Their place of rest, and Providence their guide.</span> +<span class="i0">They, hand in hand, with wandering steps and slow,</span> +<span class="i0">Through Eden took their solitary way.</span> +</div></div> +</div> +</div> +<p class="pmb3" /> + + +<div class="footnotes"><span class="font11"><b>FOOTNOTES:</b></span> + +<div class="footnote"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_AA_27" id="Footnote_AA_27"></a><a href="#FNanchor_AA_27"><span class="label">[AA]</span></a> John Milton, the peer of Dante as one of the world's master-poets, +was born in Bread Street, London, on December 9, +1608, the son of a well-to-do scrivener. Educated at St. Paul's +School and at Cambridge, he devoted himself from the first to +poetry. The "Ode on the Nativity" was written when the poet +was twenty-one. His productions till his thirtieth year were +nearly all of a classical caste—"L'Allegro," "Il Penseroso," +"Comus," "Lycidas." Returning from Continental travels in +1639, Milton became enmeshed in politics, and so continued for +twenty years, during which time he wrote much polemical prose, +including his "Areopagitica" (see Vol. XX, p. 257) and his +"Tractate on Education." After a spell of teaching and pamphleteering, +he served as Latin secretary to Oliver Cromwell, and +was stricken with blindness at the age of forty-four. Though +poor by loss of office after the Restoration, he was never in +poverty. He died on November 8, 1674. "Paradise Lost," +planned in his youth, was actually begun in 1658, finished in +1665, and published in 1667. The price arranged was £5 down +and £5 more on each of three editions, of which Milton received +£10, and his widow £8, the rest being unpaid. In English literature +"Paradise Lost" stands alone as an effort of sheer imagination, +and its literary genius is as haunting as its conception +is stupendous.</p> +</div></div> +<p class="pmb3" /> + + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_342" id="Page_342">[Pg 342]</a></span></p> + + +<h2><a name="Paradise_RegainedAB" id="Paradise_RegainedAB">Paradise Regained</a><span class="font08"><a name="FNanchor_AB_28" id="FNanchor_AB_28"></a><a href="#Footnote_AB_28" class="fnanchor">[AB]</a></span></h2> + + +<div class="block2"> + +<p class="pmb1" /> +<h3><i>I.—The Forty Days</i></h3> + +<div class="block2a"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I, who erewhile the happy Garden sung</span> +<span class="i0">By one man's disobedience lost, now sing</span> +<span class="i0">Recovered Paradise to all mankind,</span> +<span class="i0">By one man's firm obedience fully tried</span> +<span class="i0">Through all temptation, and the Tempter foiled</span> +<span class="i0">In all his wiles, defeated and repulsed,</span> +<span class="i0">And Eden raised in the waste Wilderness.</span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="p1 font09 pmb1">Having thus introduced his subject, the poet describes, on +Scriptural lines, the baptism of John, seen by Satan, "when +roving still about the world." The Fiend then "flies to his +place" and "summons all his mighty peers"—a gloomy consistory—warning +them that the time seems approaching when +they "must bide the stroke of that long-threatened wound," +when "the woman's Seed shall bruise the serpent's head." They +agree that Satan shall return to earth and act as Tempter. In +Heaven, meantime, God tells the assembly of angels, addressing +Gabriel, that He will expose His Son to Satan, in order that +the Son may "show him worthy of His birth divine and high +prediction." And the angelic choir sings "Victory and triumph +to the Son of God."</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block2a"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">So they in Heaven their odes and vigils tuned.</span> +<span class="i0">Meanwhile the Son of God ...</span> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_343" id="Page_343">[Pg 343]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Musing and much revolving in his breast</span> +<span class="i0">How best the mighty work he might begin</span> +<span class="i0">Of Saviour to mankind, and which way first</span> +<span class="i0">Publish his God-like office now mature,</span> +<span class="i0">One day forth walked alone, the Spirit leading,</span> +<span class="i0">And his deep thoughts, the better to converse</span> +<span class="i0">With solitude, till, far from track of men,</span> +<span class="i0">Thought following thought, and step by step led on,</span> +<span class="i0">He entered now the bordering desert wild.</span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="p1 font09 pmb1">Christ then, in meditation, tells reminiscently the story of His +life.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block2a"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Full forty days He passed ...</span> +<span class="i0">Nor tasted human food, nor hunger felt,</span> +<span class="i0">Till those days ended; hungered then at last</span> +<span class="i0">Among wild beasts. They at His sight grew mild,</span> +<span class="i0">Nor sleeping Him nor waking harmed; His walk</span> +<span class="i0">The fiery serpent fled and noxious worm;</span> +<span class="i0">The lion and fierce tiger glared aloof.</span> +<span class="i0">But now an aged man in rural weeds,</span> +<span class="i0">Following, as seemed, the quest of some stray ewe,</span> +<span class="i0">Or withered sticks to gather, which might serve</span> +<span class="i0">Against a winter's day, when winds blow keen,</span> +<span class="i0">To warm him wet returned from field at eve,</span> +<span class="i0">He saw approach.</span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="p1 font09 pmb1">This is Satan, and, entering into conversation adjures the +Son—</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block2a"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"If thou be the Son of God, command</span> +<span class="i0">That out of these hard stones be made Thee bread,</span> +<span class="i0">So shalt Thou save Thyself, and us relieve</span> +<span class="i0">With food, whereof we wretched seldom taste."</span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="p1 font09 pmb1">Christ at once discerns who His tempter is and rebuffs him; +and the Fiend, "now undisguised," goes on to narrate his own +history, arguing that he is not a foe to mankind.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block2a"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"They to me</span> +<span class="i0">Never did wrong or violence. By them</span> +<span class="i0">I lost not what I lost; rather by them</span> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_344" id="Page_344">[Pg 344]</a></span> +<span class="i0">I gained what I have gained, and with them dwell</span> +<span class="i0">Co-partner in these regions of the world."</span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="p1 font09 pmb3">Christ, replying, attributes to Satan the evils of Idolatry and +the crafty oracles of heathendom, which have taken the place +of the "inward oracle in pious hearts," whereupon Satan, "bowing +low his gray dissimulation, disappeared."</p> +</blockquote> + + +<h3><i>II.—The Temptation of the Body</i></h3> + +<blockquote> +<p class="p1 font09 pmb1">Meanwhile the disciples were gathered "close in a cottage +low," wondering where Christ could be, and Mary with troubled +thoughts, rehearsed the story of His early life. Satan, returning +to the council of his fellow fiends, in "the middle region of thick +air," reports his failure, and that he has found in the Tempted +"amplitude of mind to greatest deeds." Belial advises that the +temptation should be continued by women "expert in amorous +arts," but Satan rejects the plan, and reminds Belial—</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block2a"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Among the sons of men</span> +<span class="i0">How many have with a smile made small account</span> +<span class="i0">Of beauty and her lures. For beauty stands</span> +<span class="i0">In the admiration only of weak minds</span> +<span class="i0">Led captive: cease to admire and all her plumes</span> +<span class="i0">Fall flat.... We must try</span> +<span class="i0">His constancy with such as have more show</span> +<span class="i0">Of worth, of honour, glory, and popular praise."</span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="p1 font09 pmb1">With this aim Satan again betakes himself to the desert, where +Christ, now hungry, sleeps and dreams of food.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block2a"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And now the herald lark</span> +<span class="i0">Left his ground-nest, high towering to descry</span> +<span class="i0">The morn's approach, and greet her with his song,</span> +<span class="i0">As lightly from his grassy couch uprose</span> +<span class="i0">Our Saviour, and found all was but a dream;</span> +<span class="i0">Fasting he went to sleep and fasting waked.</span> +<span class="i0">Up to a hill anon his steps he reared,</span> +<span class="i0">And in a bottom saw a pleasant grove,</span> +<span class="i0">With chant of tuneful birds resounding loud.</span> +<span class="i0">Thither He bent His way ...</span> +<span class="i0">When suddenly a man before Him stood,</span> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_345" id="Page_345">[Pg 345]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Not rustic as before, but seemlier clad,</span> +<span class="i0">As one in city or court or palace bred.</span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="p1 font09 pmb1">Here Satan again tempts Him with a spread of savoury +food, which Jesus dismisses with the words:</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block2a"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Thy pompous delicacies I contemn,</span> +<span class="i0">And count thy specious gifts no gifts, but guiles!"</span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="p1 font09 pmb3">The book closes with the offer of riches, which are rejected +as "the toil of fools."</p> +</blockquote> + + +<h3><i>III.—The Temptation of Glory</i></h3> + +<blockquote> +<p class="p1 font09 pmb1">Finding his weak "arguing and fallacious drift" ineffectual, +Satan next appeals to ambition and suggests conquest; but is reminded +that conquerors</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block2a"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Rob and spoil, burn, slaughter, and enslave</span> +<span class="i0">Peaceable nations, neighbouring or remote,</span> +<span class="i0">Made captive, yet deserving freedom more</span> +<span class="i0">Than those their conquerors, who leave behind</span> +<span class="i0">Nothing but ruin wheresoe'r they rove,</span> +<span class="i0">And all the flourishing works of peace destroy;</span> +<span class="i0">Then swell with pride and must be titled gods.</span> +<span class="i0">But if there be in glory aught of good,</span> +<span class="i0">It may by means far different be attained;</span> +<span class="i0">Without ambition, war, or violence,</span> +<span class="i0">By deeds of peace, by wisdom eminent,</span> +<span class="i0">By patience, temperance."</span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="p1 font09 pmb1">But Satan, sardonically, argues that God expects glory, nay, +exacts it from all, good and bad alike. To which Christ replies:</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block2a"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Not glory as prime end,</span> +<span class="i0">But to show forth his goodness, and impart</span> +<span class="i0">His good communicable to every soul</span> +<span class="i0">Freely; of whom what could He less expect</span> +<span class="i0">Than glory and benediction—that is thanks—</span> +<span class="i0">The slightest, easiest, readiest recompense</span> +<span class="i0">From them who could return him nothing else."</span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_346" id="Page_346">[Pg 346]</a></span></p> + +<blockquote> +<p class="p1 font09 pmb1">But, argues Satan, it is the throne of David to which the +Messiah is ordained; why not begin that reign? Hitherto Christ +has scarcely seen the Galilean towns, but He shall "quit these +rudiments" and survey "the monarchies of the earth, their +pomp and state." And thereupon he carries Him to a mountain +whence He can see "Assyria and her empire's ancient bounds," +and there suggests the deliverance of the Ten Tribes.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block2a"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Thou on the Throne of David in full glory,</span> +<span class="i0">From Egypt to Euphrates and beyond</span> +<span class="i0">Shalt reign, and Rome or Cæsar not need fear."</span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="p1 font09 pmb3">The answer is that these things must be left to God's "due +time and providence."</p> +</blockquote> + + +<h3><i>IV.—The Last Temptation</i></h3> + +<blockquote> +<p class="p1 font09 pmb1">The Tempter now brings the Saviour round to the western side +of the mountain, and there Rome</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block2a"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">An imperial city stood;</span> +<span class="i0">With towers and temples proudly elevate</span> +<span class="i0">On seven hills, with palaces adorned,</span> +<span class="i0">Porches and theatres, baths, aqueducts,</span> +<span class="i0">Statues and trophies, and triumphal arcs,</span> +<span class="i0">Gardens and groves. Queen of the Earth,</span> +<span class="i0">So far renowned, and with the spoils enriched</span> +<span class="i0">Of nations.</span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="p1 font09 pmb1">But this "grandeur and majestic show of luxury" has no +effect on Christ, who says:</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block2a"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Know, when my season comes to sit</span> +<span class="i0">On David's throne, it shall be like a tree</span> +<span class="i0">Spreading and overshadowing all the earth;</span> +<span class="i0">Or as a stone that shall to pieces dash</span> +<span class="i0">All monarchies besides throughout the world,</span> +<span class="i0">And of my Kingdom there shall be no end."</span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="p1 font09 pmb1">The offer of the kingdoms of the world incurs the stern +rebuke:</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block2a"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Get thee behind me! Plain thou now appear'st</span> +<span class="i0">That Evil One, Satan, for ever damned."</span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_347" id="Page_347">[Pg 347]</a></span></p> + +<blockquote> +<p class="p1 font09 pmb1">Still the Fiend is not utterly abashed, but, arguing that "the +childhood shows the man as morning shows the day," and that +Christ's empire is one of mind, he, as a last temptation from the +"specular mount," shows Athens.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block2a"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"There thou shalt hear and learn the secret power</span> +<span class="i0">Of harmony, in tones and numbers hit</span> +<span class="i0">By voice or hand, and various-measured verse.</span> +<span class="i0">To sage philosophy next lend thine ear,</span> +<span class="i0">From Heaven descended to the low-roofed house</span> +<span class="i0">Of Socrates."</span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="p1 font09 pmb1">Christ replies that whoever seeks true wisdom in the philosophies, +moralities and conjectures of men finds her not, and +that the poetry of Greece will not compare with "Hebrew songs +and harps." It is the prophets who teach most plainly</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block2a"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"What makes a nation happy, and keeps it so;</span> +<span class="i0">What ruins kingdoms, and lays cities flat?"</span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="p1 font09 pmb1">Finding all these temptations futile, Satan explodes:</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block2a"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Since neither wealth nor honour, arms nor arts,</span> +<span class="i0">Kingdom nor empire pleases thee, nor aught</span> +<span class="i0">By me proposed in life contemplative</span> +<span class="i0">Or active, tended on by glory or fame;</span> +<span class="i0">What dost thou in this world? The wilderness</span> +<span class="i0">For thee is fittest place. I found thee there</span> +<span class="i0">And thither will return thee."</span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="p1 font09 pmb1">So he transports the passive Saviour back to his homeless +solitude.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block2a"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Our Saviour, meek, and with untroubled mind,</span> +<span class="i0">Hungry and cold betook himself to rest.</span> +<span class="i0">The Tempter watched, and soon with ugly dreams</span> +<span class="i0">Disturbed his sleep. And either tropic now</span> +<span class="i0">'Gan thunder, and both ends of Heaven; the clouds</span> +<span class="i0">From many a rift abortive poured</span> +<span class="i0">Fierce rain with lightning mixed; water with fire</span> +<span class="i0">In ruin reconciled. Ill wast Thou shrouded then,</span> +<span class="i0">O patient Son of God! Yet only stood'st</span> +<span class="i0">Unshaken! Nor yet staid the terror there.</span> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_348" id="Page_348">[Pg 348]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Infernal ghosts of hellish furies round</span> +<span class="i0">Environed thee; some howled, some yelled, some shrieked,</span> +<span class="i0">Some bent at thee their fiery darts, while thou</span> +<span class="i0">Sat'st unappalled in calm and sinless peace.</span> +<span class="i0">Thus passed the night so foul, till morning fair</span> +<span class="i0">Came forth with pilgrim steps, in amice grey,</span> +<span class="i0">Who with her radiant finger stilled the roar</span> +<span class="i0">Of thunder, chased the clouds, and laid the winds,</span> +<span class="i0">And grisly spectres, which the Fiend had raised</span> +<span class="i0">To tempt the Son of God with terrors dire.</span> +<span class="i0">And now the sun with more effectual beams</span> +<span class="i0">Had cheered the face of earth, and dried the wet</span> +<span class="i0">From drooping plant, or dropping tree; the birds,</span> +<span class="i0">Who all things now beheld more fresh and green,</span> +<span class="i0">After a night of storm so ruinous,</span> +<span class="i0">Cleared up their choicest notes in bush and spray,</span> +<span class="i0">To 'gratulate the sweet return of morn.</span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<blockquote> +<p class="p1 font09">Satan, in anger, begins the last temptation.</p> + +<p class="font09 pmb1">Feigning to doubt whether the Saviour is the Son of God, he +snatches him up and carries him to where, in</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block2a"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Fair Jerusalem, the Holy City lifted high her towers</span> +<span class="i0">And higher yet the glorious Temple reared</span> +<span class="i0">Her pile; far off appearing like a mount</span> +<span class="i0">Of alabaster, topp'd with golden spires:</span> +<span class="i0">There on the highest pinnacle he set</span> +<span class="i0">The Son of God, and added thus in scorn:</span> +<span class="i0">"There stand if thou wilt stand; to stand upright will task thy skill."</span> +<span class="i0">"Tempt not the Lord thy God," He said, and stood.</span> +<span class="i0">But Satan, smitten with amazement, fell,</span> +<span class="i0">And to his crew, that sat consulting, brought</span> +<span class="i0">Ruin, and desperation, and dismay.</span> +<span class="i0">So Satan fell; and straight a fiery globe,</span> +<span class="i0">Of angels, on full sail of wing flew nigh,</span> +<span class="i0">Who on their plumy vans received Him soft,</span> +<span class="i0">From His uneasy station, and upbore</span> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_349" id="Page_349">[Pg 349]</a></span> +<span class="i0">As on a floating couch through the blithe air;</span> +<span class="i0">Then in a flowery valley set Him down</span> +<span class="i0">On a green bank, and set before Him, spread,</span> +<span class="i0">A table of celestial food....</span> +<span class="i0">....And as He fed, angelic quires</span> +<span class="i0">Sang Heavenly anthems of His victory</span> +<span class="i0">Over temptation and the Tempter proud.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Now Thou hast avenged</span> +<span class="i0">Supplanted Adam, and, by vanquishing</span> +<span class="i0">Temptation, hast regained lost Paradise."</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thus they, the Son of God, our Saviour meek,</span> +<span class="i0">Sung victor, and from Heavenly feast refreshed,</span> +<span class="i0">Brought on His way with joy. He, unobserved,</span> +<span class="i0">Home to His mother's house private returned.</span> +</div></div> +</div> +</div> +<p class="pmb3" /> + + +<div class="footnotes"><span class="font11">FOOTNOTES:</span> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_AB_28" id="Footnote_AB_28"></a><a href="#FNanchor_AB_28"><span class="label">[AB]</span></a> The origin of "Paradise Regained" has been told authentically. +It was suggested in 1665 by Ellwood the Quaker, who +sometimes acted as Milton's amanuensis, and it was finished and +shown to Ellwood in 1666, though not published till 1671. +Neither in majesty of conception or in charm of style can it +compare with "Paradise Lost," to which it is, as has been said, +a codicil and not a sequel. The Temptation, the reader feels, +was but an incident in the life of Christ and in the drama of +the "ways of God to man," which "Paradise Lost" introduced +with such stupendous imaginative power. Much of the poem +is but a somewhat ambling paraphrase and expansion of Scriptural +narratives; but there are passages where Milton resumes +his perfect mastery of poetic form, under the inspiration that +places him among the selectest band of immortal singers.</p> +</div></div> +<p class="pmb3" /> + + +<hr class="chap" /> + + +<h2><a name="Samson_AgonistesAC" id="Samson_AgonistesAC">Samson Agonistes</a><span class="font08"><a name="FNanchor_AC_29" id="FNanchor_AC_29"></a><a href="#Footnote_AC_29" class="fnanchor">[AC]</a></span></h2> + + +<div class="block2"> +<p class="pmb1" /> +<h3><i>Persons in the Drama</i></h3> + +<div class="block3a"> +<p class="pmb3"> +<span class="smcap">Samson</span><br /> +<span class="smcap">Manoa</span>, <i>the father of Samson</i><br /> +<span class="smcap">Dalila</span>, <i>his wife</i><br /> +<span class="smcap">Hurapha</span>, <i>of Gath</i><br /> +<span class="smcap">Public Officer</span><br /> +<span class="smcap">Messenger</span><br /> +<i>Chorus of Danites</i><br /> +</p> +<p class="pmb2"><i>The scene is placed before the prison in Gaza</i>.</p> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_350" id="Page_350">[Pg 350]</a></span></p> + +<div class="block2a"> +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Samson:</span> A little onward send thy guiding hand<br /> +To these dark steps, a little further on;<br /> +For yonder bank hath choice of sun or shade.<br /> +There I am wont to sit, when any chance<br /> +Relieves me from my task of servile toil.<br /> +Daily in the common prison else enjoined me,<br /> +Where I, a prisoner chained, scarce freely draw<br /> +The air, imprisoned also, close and damp,<br /> +Unwholesome draught. But here I feel amends<br /> +The breath of Heaven fresh blowing, pure and sweet,<br /> +With day-spring born; here leave me to respire.<br /> +This day a solemn feast the people hold<br /> +To Dagon, their sea-idol, and forbid<br /> +Laborious works. Hence, with leave<br /> +Retiring from the popular noise, I seek<br /> +This unfrequented place to find some ease—<br /> +Oh, wherefore was my birth from Heaven foretold<br /> +Twice by an angel, if I must die<br /> +Betrayed, captive, and both my eyes put out,<br /> +Made of my enemies the scorn and gaze?<br /> +<br /> +O worse than chains,<br /> +Dungeon, or beggary, or decrepit age!<br /> +Light, the prime work of God, to me is extinct,<br /> +And all her various objects of delight<br /> +Annulled, which might in part my grief have eased.<br /> +O dark, dark, dark, amid the blaze of noon,<br /> +Irrevocably dark, total eclipse<br /> +Without all hope of day!<br /> +O first created beam, and thou great Word,<br /> +"Let there be light, and light was over all,"<br /> +Why am I thus bereaved thy prime decree?<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_351" id="Page_351">[Pg 351]</a></span> +The Sun to me is dark<br /> +And silent as the Moon,<br /> +When she deserts the night,<br /> +Hid in her vacant inter-lunar cave.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Chorus:</span> This, this is he; softly a while;<br /> +Let us not break in upon him.<br /> +O change beyond report, thought, or belief!<br /> +See how he lies at random, carelessly diffused,<br /> +With languished head unpropt,<br /> +As one past hope, abandoned.<br /> +Which shall I fast bewail—<br /> +Thy bondage or lost sight,<br /> +Prison within prison<br /> +Inseparably dark?<br /> +Thou art become (O worst imprisonment!)<br /> +The dungeon of thyself;<br /> +To lowest pitch of abject fortune thou are fallen.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Samson:</span> I hear the sound of words; their sense the air<br /> +Dissolves unjointed ere it reach my ear.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Chorus:</span> He speaks; let us draw nigh. Matchless in might,<br /> +The glory late of Israel, now the grief!<br /> +We come, thy friends and neighbours not unknown,<br /> +From Eshtaol and Zora's fruitful vale,<br /> +To visit or bewail thee.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Samson:</span> Your coming, friends, revives me.<br /> +<br /> +Tell me, friends,<br /> +Am I not sung and proverbed for a fool<br /> +In every street?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Chorus:</span> Wisest men<br /> +Have erred, and by bad women been deceived;<br /> +And shall again, pretend they ne'er so wise.<br /> +In seeking just occasion to provoke<br /> +The Philistine, thy country's enemy,<br /> +Thou never wast remiss, I bear thee witness.<br /> +But see! here comes thy reverend sire,<br /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_352" id="Page_352">[Pg 352]</a></span> +With careful step, locks white as down,<br /> +<span class="smcap">Old Manoa:</span> advise<br /> +Forthwith how thou ought'st to receive him.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Manoa:</span> Brethren and men of Dan, if old respect,<br /> +As I suppose, towards your once gloried friend,<br /> +My son, now captive, hither hath informed<br /> +Your younger feet, while mine, cast back with age,<br /> +Came lagging after, say if he be here.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Chorus:</span> As signal now in low dejected state<br /> +As erst in highest, behold him where he lies.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Manoa:</span> O miserable change! Is this the man,<br /> +That invincible Samson, far renowned,<br /> +The dread of Israel's foes?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Samson:</span> Nothing of all these evils hath befallen me<br /> +But justly.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Manoa:</span> True; but thou bear'st<br /> +Enough, and more, the burden of that fault;<br /> +Bitterly hast thou paid, and still art paying,<br /> +That rigid score. A worse thing yet remains;<br /> +This day the Philistines a popular feast<br /> +Here celebrate in Gaza, and proclaim<br /> +Great pomp, and sacrifice, and praises loud,<br /> +To Dagon, as their god who hath delivered<br /> +Thee, Samson, bound and blind, into their hands.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Samson:</span> Father, I do acknowledge and confess<br /> +That I this honour, I this pomp, have brought<br /> +To Dagon, and advanced his praises high<br /> +Among the heathen round. The contest is now<br /> +'Twixt God and Dagon. Dagon hath presumed,<br /> +Me overthrown, to enter lists with God.<br /> +Dagon must stoop, and shall ere long receive<br /> +Such a discomfit as shall quite despoil him<br /> +Of all these boasted trophies won on me,<br /> +And with confusion blank his worshippers.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Manoa:</span> But for thee what shall be done?<br /> +Thou must not in the meanwhile, here forgot,<br /> +Lie in this miserable, loathsome plight,<br /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_353" id="Page_353">[Pg 353]</a></span> +Neglected. I already have made way<br /> +To some Philistine lords, with whom to treat<br /> +About thy ransom.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Samson:</span> Spare that proposal, father; let me here<br /> +As I deserve, pay on my punishment,<br /> +And expiate, if possible, my crime.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Manoa:</span> Be penitent, and for thy fault contrite;<br /> +But act not in thy own affliction, son.<br /> +Repent the sin; but if the punishment<br /> +Thou canst avoid, self-preservation bids.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Samson:</span> Nature within me seems<br /> +In all her functions weary of herself;<br /> +My race of glory run, and race of shame,<br /> +And I shall shortly be with them that rest</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Manoa:</span> I, however,<br /> +Must not omit a father's timely care<br /> +To prosecute the means of thy deliverance<br /> +By ransom, or how else.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Chorus:</span> But who is this? what thing of sea or land—<br /> +Female of sex it seems—<br /> +That, so bedecked, ornate, and gay,<br /> +Comes this way sailing?<br /> +Some rich Philistian matron she may seem;<br /> +And now at nearer view no other certain<br /> +Than Dalila, thy wife.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Samson:</span> My wife! My traitress! Let her not come near me.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Dalila:</span> With doubtful feet and wavering resolution<br /> +I came, still dreading thy displeasure, Samson.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Samson:</span> Out, out, hyena! These are thy wonted arts,<br /> +And arts of every woman false like thee—<br /> +To break all faith, all vows, deceive, betray;<br /> +Then, as repentant, to submit, beseech<br /> +A reconcilement, move with feigned remorse.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Dalila:</span> Let me obtain forgiveness of thee, Samson,<br /> +I to the lords will intercede, not doubting<br /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_354" id="Page_354">[Pg 354]</a></span> +Their favourable ear, that I may fetch thee<br /> +From forth this loathsome prison-house, to abide<br /> +With me, where my redoubled love and care,<br /> +With nursing diligence, to me glad office,<br /> +May ever tend about thee to old age.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Samson:</span> No, no; of my condition take no care;<br /> +It fits not; thou and I long since are twain;<br /> +Nor think me so unwary or accursed<br /> +To bring my feet again into the snare<br /> +Where once I have been caught.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Dalila:</span> Let me approach at least, and touch thy hand.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Samson:</span> Not for thy life, lest fierce remembrance wake<br /> +My sudden rage to tear thee joint by joint.<br /> +At distance I forgive thee; go with that;<br /> +Bewail thy falsehood, and the pious works<br /> +It hath brought forth to make thee memorable<br /> +Among illustrious women, faithful wives.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Dalila:</span> I see thou art implacable, more deaf<br /> +To prayers than winds and seas. Yet winds to seas<br /> +Are reconciled at length, and sea to shore.<br /> +My name, perhaps, among the circumcised<br /> +In Dan, in Judah, and the bordering tribes<br /> +To all posterity may stand defamed.<br /> +But in my country, where I most desire,<br /> +I shall be named among the famousest<br /> +Of women, sung at solemn festivals,<br /> +Living and dead recorded, who to save<br /> +Her country from a fierce destroyer, chose<br /> +Above the faith of wedlock bands; my tomb<br /> +With odours visited and annual flowers.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Chorus:</span> She's gone—a manifest serpent by her sting—<br /> +Discovered in the end, till now concealed.<br /> +This idol's day hath been to thee no day of rest,<br /> +Labouring thy mind<br /> +More than the working day thy hands.<br /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_355" id="Page_355">[Pg 355]</a></span> +And yet, perhaps, more trouble is behind;<br /> +For I descry this way<br /> +Some other tending; in his hand<br /> +A sceptre or quaint staff he bears,<br /> +A public officer, and now at hand.<br /> +His message will be short and voluble.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Officer:</span> Hebrews, the prisoner Samson here I seek.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Chorus:</span> His manacles remark him; there he sits.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Officer:</span> Samson, to thee our lords thus bid me say.<br /> +This day to Dagon is a solemn feast,<br /> +With sacrifices, triumph, pomp, and games;<br /> +Thy strength they know surpassing human rate,<br /> +And now some public proof thereof require<br /> +To honour this great feast and great assembly.<br /> +Rise, therefore, with all speed, and come along,<br /> +Where I will see thee heartened and fresh clad,<br /> +To appear as fit before the illustrious lords.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Samson:</span> Thou know'st I am an Hebrew; therefore tell them<br /> +Our law forbids at their religious rites<br /> +My presence; for that cause I cannot come.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Officer:</span> This answer, be assured will not content them.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Samson:</span> Return the way thou camest;<br /> +I will not come.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Officer:</span> Regard thyself; this will offend them highly.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Samson:</span> Can they think me so broken, so debased<br /> +With corporal servitude, that my mind ever<br /> +Will condescend to such absurd commands?<br /> +Joined with extreme contempt! I will not come.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Officer:</span> I am sorry what this stoutness will produce.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Chorus:</span> He's gone, and who knows how he may report<br /> +Thy words by adding fuel to the flames.<br /> +Expect another message more imperious.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Samson:</span> Shall I abuse this consecrated gift<br /> +Of strength, again returning with my hair,<br /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_356" id="Page_356">[Pg 356]</a></span> +After my great transgression!—so requite<br /> +Favour renewed, and add a greater sin<br /> +By prostituting holy things to idols.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Chorus:</span> Where the heart joins not, outward acts defile not.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Samson:</span> Be of good courage; I begin to feel<br /> +Some rousing motions in me, which dispose<br /> +To something extraordinary my thoughts.<br /> +I with this messenger will go along—<br /> +If there be aught of presage in the mind,<br /> +This day will be remarkable in my life<br /> +By some great act, or of my days the last.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Chorus:</span> In time thou hast resolved: the man returns.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Officer:</span> Samson, this second message from our lords<br /> +To thee I am bid say: Art thou our slave,<br /> +And dar'st thou, at our sending and command,<br /> +Dispute thy coming? Come without delay;<br /> +Or we shall find such engines to assail<br /> +And hamper thee, as thou shalt come of force,<br /> +Though thou wert firmlier fastened than a rock.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Samson:</span> Because they shall not trail me through their streets<br /> +Like a wild beast, I am content to go.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Officer:</span> I praise thy resolution. Doff these links:<br /> +By this compliance thou wilt win the lords<br /> +To favour, and perhaps to set thee free.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Samson:</span> Brethren, farewell. Your company along<br /> +I will not wish, lest it perhaps offend them<br /> +To see me girt with friends.<br /> +Happen what may, of me expect to hear<br /> +Nothing dishonourable, impure, unworthy<br /> +Our God, our Law, my nation, or myself.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Chorus:</span> Go, and the Holy One<br /> +Of Israel be thy guide.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Manoa:</span> Peace with you, brethren! My inducement hither<br /> +Was not at present here to find my son.<br /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_357" id="Page_357">[Pg 357]</a></span> +By order of the lords new parted hence<br /> +To come and play before them at their feast.<br /> +I heard all as I came; I had no will,<br /> +Lest I should see him forced to things unseemly.<br /> +But that which moved my coming now was chiefly<br /> +To give ye part with me what hope I have<br /> +With good success to work his liberty.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Chorus:</span> That hope would much rejoice us to partake<br /> +With thee.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Manoa:</span> What noise or shout was that? It tore the sky.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Chorus:</span> Doubtless the people shouting to behold<br /> +Their once great dread, captive and blind before them,<br /> +Or at some proof of strength, before them shown.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Manoa:</span> His ransom, if my whole inheritance<br /> +May compass it, shall willingly be paid<br /> +And numbered down. Much rather I shall choose<br /> +To live the poorest in my tribe, than richest,<br /> +And he in that calamitous prison left.<br /> +No, I am fixed not to part hence without him.<br /> +For his redemption all my patrimony,<br /> +If need be, I am ready to forego<br /> +And quit. Not wanting him, I shall want nothing.<br /> +It shall be my delight to tend his eyes,<br /> +And view him sitting in his house, ennobled<br /> +With all those high exploits by him achieved.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Chorus:</span> Thy hopes are not ill founded, nor seem vain,<br /> +Of his delivery.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Manoa:</span> I know your friendly minds, and—O what noise!<br /> +Mercy of Heaven! What hideous noise was that<br /> +Horribly loud, unlike the former shout.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Chorus:</span> Noise call you it, or universal groan,<br /> +As if the whole inhabitation perished?<br /> +Blood, death, and deathful deeds, are in that noise,<br /> +Ruin, destruction at the utmost point.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Manoa:</span> Of ruin indeed methought I heard the noise.<br /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_358" id="Page_358">[Pg 358]</a></span> +Oh! it continues; the have slain my son.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Chorus:</span> Thy son is rather slaying them; that outcry<br /> +From slaughter of one foe could not ascend.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Manoa:</span> Some dismal accident it needs must be.<br /> +What shall we do—stay here, or run and see?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Chorus:</span> Best keep together here, lest, running thither,<br /> +We unawares run into danger's mouth.<br /> +This evil on the Philistines is fallen:<br /> +From whom could else a general cry be heard?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Manoa:</span> A little stay will bring some notice hither.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Chorus:</span> I see one hither speeding—<br /> +An Hebrew, as I guess, and of our tribe.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Messenger:</span> O, whither shall I run, or which way fly?<br /> +The sight of this so horrid spectacle,<br /> +Which erst my eyes beheld, and yet behold?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Manoa:</span> The accident was loud, and here before thee<br /> +With rueful cry; yet what it was we know not.<br /> +Tell us the sum, the circumstance defer.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Messenger:</span> Gaza yet stands; but all her sons are fallen,<br /> +All in a moment overwhelmed and fallen.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Manoa:</span> Sad! but thou know'st to Israelites not saddest<br /> +The desolation of a hostile city.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Messenger:</span> Feed on that first; there may in grief be surfeit.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Manoa:</span> Relate by whom.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Messenger:</span> By Samson.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Manoa:</span> That still lessens<br /> +The sorrow and converts it nigh to joy.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Messenger:</span> Ah! Manoa, I refrain too suddenly<br /> +To utter what will come at last too soon,<br /> +Lest evil tidings, with too rude eruption<br /> +Hitting thy aged ear, should pierce too deep.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Manoa:</span> Suspense in news is torture; speak them out.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_359" id="Page_359">[Pg 359]</a></span></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Messenger:</span> Then take the worst in brief—Samson is dead.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Manoa:</span> The worst indeed! O, all my hope's defeated<br /> +To free him hence! but Death, who sets all free,<br /> +Hath paid his ransom now and full discharge.<br /> +How died he?—death to life is crown or shame.<br /> +All by him fell, thou say'st; by whom fell he?<br /> +What glorious hand gave Samson his death's wound?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Messenger:</span> Unwounded of his enemies he fell.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Manoa:</span> Wearied with slaughter, then, or how? Explain.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Messenger:</span> By his own hands.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Manoa:</span> Self-violence! What cause<br /> +Brought him so soon at variance with himself<br /> +Among his foes?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Messenger:</span> Inevitable cause—<br /> +At once both to destroy and be destroyed.<br /> +The edifice, where all were met to see him,<br /> +Upon their heads and on his own he pulled.<br /> +The building was a spacious theatre,<br /> +Half round on two main pillars vaulted high,<br /> +With seats where all the lords, and each degree<br /> +Of sort, might sit in order to behold.<br /> +<br /> +Immediately<br /> +Was Samson as a public servant brought,<br /> +In their state livery clad.<br /> +At sight of him the people with a shout<br /> +Rifted the air, clamoring their god with praise,<br /> +Who had made their dreadful enemy their thrall.<br /> +He patient, but undaunted, where they led him,<br /> +Came to the place; and what was set before him,<br /> +Which without help of eye might be assayed,<br /> +To heave, pull, draw, or break, he still performed<br /> +All with incredible, stupendous force,<br /> +None daring to appear antagonist<br /> +At length, for intermission sake, they led him<br /> +Between the pillars; he his guide requested,<br /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_360" id="Page_360">[Pg 360]</a></span> +As over-tired, to let him lean awhile<br /> +With both his arms on those two massy pillars,<br /> +That to the arched roof gave main support.<br /> +He unsuspicious led him; which when Samson<br /> +Felt in his arms, with head awhile inclined,<br /> +And eyes fast fixed, he stood, as one who prayed,<br /> +Or some great matter in his mind revolved.<br /> +At last, with head erect, thus cried aloud,<br /> +"Hitherto, lords, what your commands imposed<br /> +I have performed, as reason was, obeying,<br /> +Not without wonder or delight beheld;<br /> +Now, of my own accord, such other trial<br /> +I mean to show you of my strength yet greater<br /> +As with amaze shall strike all who behold."<br /> +This uttered, straightening all his nerves, he bowed.<br /> +As with the force of winds and waters pent<br /> +When mountains tremble, those two massy pillars<br /> +With horrible convulsions to and fro<br /> +He tugged, he shook, till down they came, and drew<br /> +The whole roof after them with burst of thunder<br /> +Upon the heads of all who sat beneath,<br /> +Lords, ladies, captains, counsellors, or priests,<br /> +Their choice nobility and flower, not only<br /> +Of this, but each Philistian city round,<br /> +Met from all parts to solemnise this feast.<br /> +Samson, with these immixed, inevitably<br /> +Pulled down the same destruction on himself;<br /> +The vulgar only scaped, who stood without.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Manoa:</span> Samson hath quit himself<br /> +Like Samson, and heroically hath finished<br /> +A life heroic.<br /> +Nothing is here for tears, nothing to wail<br /> +Or knock the breast; no weakness, no contempt,<br /> +Dispraise or blame; nothing but well and fair,<br /> +And what may quiet us in a death so noble.<br /> +Let us go find the body where it lies.<br /> +<br /> +I, with what speed the while<br /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_361" id="Page_361">[Pg 361]</a></span> +Will send for all my kindred, all my friends,<br /> +To fetch him hence, and solemnly attend,<br /> +With silent obsequy and funeral train,<br /> +Home to his father's house. There will I build him<br /> +A monument, and plant it round with shade<br /> +Of laurel evergreen and branching palm,<br /> +With all his trophies hung, and acts enrolled<br /> +In copious legend, or sweet lyric song.<br /> +Thither shall all the valiant youth resort,<br /> +And from his memory inflame their breasts<br /> +To matchless valour and adventures high.</p> +</div> +</div> +<p class="pmb3" /> + + +<div class="footnotes"><span class="font11"><b>FOOTNOTES:</b></span> + +<div class="footnote"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_AC_29" id="Footnote_AC_29"></a><a href="#FNanchor_AC_29"><span class="label">[AC]</span></a> "Samson Agonistes" (that is, "Samson the Athlete, or +Wrestler"), Milton's tragedy, cast in a classical mould, was +composed after "Paradise Regained" was written, and after +"Paradise Lost" was published. It was issued in 1671. No +reader with knowledge can avoid associating the poem in a +personal way with Milton, who, like Samson, was blind, living +in the midst of enemies, and to some extent deserted; and, like +him too, did not lose heart on behalf of the life's cause which, +unlike Samson, he had never betrayed. As becomes a drama, +it has more vigorously sustained movement than any of Milton's +works. The familiar story is skilfully developed and relieved, +and the formality of the style does not detract from the pity +and beauty, while it adds to the dignity of the work.</p> +</div></div> +<p class="pmb3" /> + + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_362" id="Page_362">[Pg 362]</a></span></p> +<p class="pmb3" /> + + +<h2><a name="MOLIEREAD" id="MOLIEREAD">MOLIÈRE</a><span class="font08"><a name="FNanchor_AD_30" id="FNanchor_AD_30"></a><a href="#Footnote_AD_30" class="fnanchor">[AD]</a></span></h2> +<p class="pmb3" /> + + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<h2><a name="The_Doctor_in_Spite_of_Himself" id="The_Doctor_in_Spite_of_Himself">The Doctor in Spite of Himself</a></h2> + + +<div class="block2"> + +<h3><i>Persons in the Play</i></h3> + +<div class="block3a"> +<p> +<span class="smcap">Sganarelle</span><br /> +<span class="smcap">Martine</span>, <i>Sganarelle's wife</i><br /> +<span class="smcap">Lucas</span><br /> +<span class="smcap">Jacqueline</span>, <i>Lucas's wife, and nurse at M. Géronte's</i><br /> +<span class="smcap">Géronte</span><br /> +<span class="smcap">Lucinde</span>, <i>Géronte's daughter</i><br /> +<span class="smcap">Léandre</span>, <i>her lover</i><br /> +<span class="smcap">Valère</span>, <i>Géronte's attendant</i><br /> +</p> +</div> +<p class="pmb3" /> + + +<h3><span class="smcap">Act I</span></h3> + +<blockquote> +<p class="font09 pmb1">Just when the day has been fixed for the marriage of Lucinde, +daughter of M. Géronte, she suddenly becomes dumb, and no +doctors are found skillful enough to cure her. One day Valère, +M. Géronte's attendant, and Lucas, the nurse, are scouring the +country in search of someone able to restore their young mistress's +speech, when they fell in with Martine, the wife of +Sganarelle, a bibulous faggot-binder. Sganarelle, who has served +a famous doctor for ten years, has just been beating his wife, +and she, in revenge, hearing the kind of person they are looking +for, strongly recommends her husband to them as an eccentric +doctor who has performed wonderful and almost incredible +cures, but who always disclaims his profession, and will +never practice it until he has been well cudgelled. Lucas and +Valère accordingly go in quest of Sganarelle, and, having found +him, express their desire of availing themselves of his services +as doctor. At first the faggot-binder vehemently denies that he +is a doctor, but at last—thanks to the use of the persuasion +recommended by Martine—he confesses to a knowledge of the +physician's art, is induced to undertake the cure of Mlle. Lucinde, +and, on being introduced at M. Géronte's house, gives proof of +his eccentricity as a doctor by cudgelling the master and embracing +the nurse.</p> +</blockquote> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_363" id="Page_363">[Pg 363]</a></span></p> + +<div class="block2a"> + +<p class="ij4">[<i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Lucinde</span>, <span class="smcap">Valère</span>, <span class="smcap">Géronte</span>, <span class="smcap">Lucas</span>, <span class="smcap">Sganarelle</span>, +<i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Jacqueline</span>.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Sganarelle:</span> Is this the patient?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Géronte:</span> Yes. I have but one daughter; I should +feel inexpressible grief were she to die.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Sganarelle:</span> Don't let her do anything of the kind. +She must not die without a doctor's prescription.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Géronte:</span> You have made her laugh, monsieur.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Sganarelle:</span> It is the best symptom in the world +when the doctor makes his patient laugh. What sort +of pain do you feel?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Lucinde</span> (<i>replies by signs, putting her hand to her +mouth, to her head, and under her chin</i>): Ha, hi, ho, ha!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Sganarelle</span> (<i>imitating her</i>): Ha, hi, ho, ha! I don't +understand you.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Géronte:</span> That is what her complaint is, monsieur. +She became dumb, without our being able to find out the +cause. It is this accident which has made us put off the +marriage. The man she is going to marry wishes to wait +till she gets better.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_364" id="Page_364">[Pg 364]</a></span></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Sganarelle:</span> Who is the fool that does not want his +wife to be dumb? Would to heaven that mine had that +complaint! I would take good care she did not recover +her speech.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Géronte:</span> Well, monsieur, I beg of you to take all +possible pains to cure her of this illness.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Sganarelle</span> (<i>to the patient</i>): Let me feel your pulse. +This tells me your daughter is dumb.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Géronte:</span> Yes, monsieur, that is just what her illness +is; you have found it out the very first time.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Sganarelle:</span> We great doctors, we know things at +once. An ignorant person would have been puzzled, and +would have said to you: "It is this, it is that." But I +was right the very first time. I tell you your daughter is +dumb.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Géronte:</span> But I should be very pleased if you could +tell me how this happened.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Sganarelle:</span> It is because she has lost her speech.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Géronte:</span> But, please, what was the cause of the loss +of speech?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Sganarelle:</span> All our best authorities will tell you that +it is an impediment in the action of her tongue.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Géronte:</span> But, nevertheless, let us have your opinion +on this impediment in the action of her tongue.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Sganarelle:</span> I hold that this impediment in the +action of her tongue is caused by certain humours, +which among us learned men are called peccant humours. +For as the vapours formed by the exhalations +of the influences which arise in the region of +complaints, coming—so to speak—to—Do you know +Latin?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Géronte:</span> In no sort of way.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Sganarelle</span> (<i>rising in astonishment</i>): You don't +know Latin?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Géronte:</span> No.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Sganarelle</span> (<i>assuming various amusing attitudes</i>): + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_365" id="Page_365">[Pg 365]</a></span> +<i>Singulariter, nominativo hæc musa</i>, "the muse," <i>bonus</i>, +<i>bona, bonum, Deus sanctus, estne oratio latenas? +Quare</i>? "Why?" <i>Luia substantivo et adjectivum concordat +in generi, numerum, et casus</i>.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Géronte:</span> Oh! Why did I not study?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Jacqueline:</span> What a clever man he is!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Sganarelle:</span> Thus these vapours of which I speak +passing from the left side, where the liver is, to the right +side where the heart is, it happens that the lungs, which +we call in Latin <i>armyan</i>, having communication with the +brain, which in Greek we name <i>nasmus</i>, by means of the +<i>vena cava</i>, which we call in Hebrew <i>cubile</i>, in their way +meet the said vapours, which fill the ventricles of the +omoplata; and as the said vapours—be sure you understand +this argument, I beg you—and as these said vapours +have a certain malignancy—listen carefully to this, +I pray you.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Géronte:</span> Yes.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Sganarelle:</span> Are gifted with a certain malignancy +which is caused—please pay attention——</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Géronte:</span> I am doing so.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Sganarelle:</span> Which is caused by the acridity of the +humour engendered in the concavity of the diaphragm, it +happens that these vapours—<i>Ossabundus, nequezs, nequer, +potarinum, quipsa milus</i>. That is just what makes +your daughter dumb.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Géronte:</span> No one, doubtless, could argue better. +There is but one thing that puzzles me. It seems to me +that you place the heart and liver differently from where +they are; the heart is on the left side, and the liver on +the right.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Sganarelle:</span> Yes, that was so formerly; but we have +changed all that, and nowadays we practise medicine by +an entirely new method.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Géronte:</span> I did not know that. I must ask you to +pardon my ignorance.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Sganarelle:</span> There is no harm done. You are not +obliged to be as clever as we are.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_366" id="Page_366">[Pg 366]</a></span></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Géronte:</span> Certainly not. But what do you think, +monsieur, ought to be done for this complaint?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Sganarelle:</span> My advice is that she should be put to +bed, and, for a remedy, you must see that she takes plenty +of bread soaked in wine.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Géronte:</span> Why so, monsieur?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Sganarelle:</span> Because in bread and wine mixed together +there is a sympathetic virtue which causes speech. +Don't you know that they give nothing else to parrots, +and that they learn to speak by being fed on this diet?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Géronte:</span> That is true. What a great man you are! +Quick, bring plenty of bread and wine.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Sganarelle:</span> I shall come back at night to see how +she is getting on.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Géronte:</span> Just wait a moment, please.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Sganarelle:</span> What do you want?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Géronte:</span> To give you your fee, monsieur.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Sganarelle</span> (<i>holding out his hand from under his +gown, while Géronte opens his purse</i>): I shall not take it, +monsieur.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Géronte:</span> I beseech you.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Sganarelle:</span> You are jesting.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Géronte:</span> That is settled.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Sganarelle:</span> I will not.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Géronte:</span> What!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Sganarelle:</span> I don't practise for money.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Géronte:</span> I am sure you don't.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Sganarelle</span> (<i>after having taken the money</i>): Is it +good weight?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Géronte:</span> Yes, monsieur.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Sganarelle:</span> I am not a mercenary doctor.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Géronte:</span> I know that.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Sganarelle:</span> Self-interest is not my motive.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Géronte:</span> I never for a moment thought it was.</p> + +<p class="ij4 pmb3">[<i>Exit</i>.</p> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_367" id="Page_367">[Pg 367]</a></span></p> + + +<h3><span class="smcap">Act II</span></h3> + +<blockquote> +<p class="font09 pmb1">Léandre, between whom and Lucinde a mutual attachment +subsists, has an interview with Sganarelle, at which he implores +the latter's assistance to obtain a meeting with his mistress, +and tells him that her dumbness is a mere trick—a sham illness +which she has feigned to free herself from a distasteful marriage +into which her father wants to hurry her. In consideration +of a purse of gold which Léandre gives him, Sganarelle +introduces the young lover into M. Géronte's house as his apothecary, +and when Léandre asks whether it is not necessary to +know five or six long medical words with which to lard his +conversation, ridicules the notion, and says that a medical dress +is quite sufficient disguise. "I am resolved to stick to physic +all my life," says Sganarelle. "I find that it is the best line of +all; for whatever we do, right or wrong, we are paid, all the +same. Blunders make no odds to us; we cut away the material +we have to work with as we choose. A shoemaker, in making +a pair of shoes, cannot spoil a scrap of leather without having +to pay for it; but in this business we can spoil a man without +its costing us a cent. The mistakes are never put down to our +account; it is always the fault of the fellow who dies."</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="block2a"> +<p>[<i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Jacqueline</span>, <span class="smcap">Lucinde</span>, <span class="smcap">Géronte</span>, <span class="smcap">Léandre</span> <i>and</i> +<span class="smcap">Sganarelle.</span></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Jacqueline:</span> Here's your daughter, monsieur. She<br /> +wishes to walk a bit.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Sganarelle:</span> It will do her good. Go to her, Mr.<br /> +Apothecary, and feel her pulse, and I will consult with<br /> +you presently about her malady. (<i>At this point he draws</i><br /> +<span class="smcap">Géronte</span> <i>to one side of the stage, puts one arm on his<br /> +shoulders, places his hand under his chin, and makes him<br /> +turn towards him, whenever</i> <span class="smcap">Géronte</span> <i>wants to see what<br /> +is going on between his daughter and the apothecary,<br /> +while he holds the following discourse with him to keep<br /> +his attention</i>:) Monsieur, it is a great and subtle question<br /> +among doctors whether women are easier to cure<br /> +than men. I beg you please listen to this. Some say<br /> +"no," some say "yes." I say both "yes" and "no";<br /> +for as the incongruity of the opaque humours which are<br /> +found in the natural temperament of women causes the<br /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_368" id="Page_368">[Pg 368]</a></span> +animal side always to struggle for mastery over the<br /> +spiritual, we find that the inequality of their opinions<br /> +depends on the oblique motion of the circle of the moon;<br /> +and as the sun——</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Lucinde:</span> NO, I can never change my feelings.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Géronte:</span> Hark! My daughter speaks! O the great +virtue of physic! How deeply am I indebted to you, +monsieur, for this marvellous cure!</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Sganarelle</span> (<i>walking about the stage, wiping his +forehead)</i>: It is a complaint that has given me much +trouble.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Lucinde:</span> Yes, father, I have recovered my speech; +but I have recovered it only to tell you that I will never +have any other husband than Léandre.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Géronte:</span> But——</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Lucinde:</span> Nothing will shake the resolution I have +taken.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Géronte:</span> What——</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Lucinde:</span> All your excellent reasons will be in vain.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Géronte:</span> If——</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Lucinde:</span> All your talk will have no effect.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Géronte:</span> I——</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Lucinde:</span> It is a subject on which I am quite determined.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Géronte:</span> But——</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Lucinde:</span> No paternal power can force me to marry +against my will.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Géronte:</span> I have——</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Lucinde:</span> You can make every effort you like.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Géronte:</span> It——</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Lucinde:</span> My heart cannot submit to such a tyranny.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Géronte:</span> There——</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Lucinde:</span> And I will sooner throw myself into a convent +than marry a man I don't love.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Géronte:</span> But——</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Lucinde</span> (<i>speaking in deafening tone of voice</i>): It +is no use. You waste your time. I will not do anything +of the kind. I am resolved.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_369" id="Page_369">[Pg 369]</a></span></p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Géronte:</span> Ah! What a wildness of speech! I beg +you, monsieur, to make her dumb again.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Sganarelle:</span> That is impossible. All that I can do +for you is to make you deaf, if you like.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Géronte:</span> You shall marry Horace this very evening.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Lucinde:</span> I will sooner marry death.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Sganarelle:</span> Let me take this disease in hand. It +is a complaint that has got hold of her, and I know the +remedy to apply.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Géronte:</span> Is it possible that you can cure this mental +malady also?</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Sganarelle:</span> Yes; let me manage it. I have remedies +for everything, and our apothecary is the man for +this cure. (<i>He calls the apothecary, and speaks to him</i>.) +You see that the passion she has for this Léandre is quite +against the wishes of her father, and that it is necessary +to find a prompt remedy for the evil, which will only +become worse by delay. For my part, I see but one +remedy, a dose of purgative flight suitably mixed with +two drachms of matrimony in pills. Go and take a little +turn in the garden with her to prepare the humours, +while I talk here with her father; but, above all, lose +no time. Apply the remedy at once—apply the specific +remedy.</p> + +<p class="ij4">[<i>Exeunt</i> <span class="smcap">Léandre</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Lucinde</span>. <i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Lucas</span> <i>and</i> +<span class="smcap">Martine</span>.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Lucas:</span> Your daughter has run away with Léandre. +He was the apothecary, and this is the doctor who has +performed the operation.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Géronte:</span> Quick, fetch the police, and prevent him +from going off! Oh, traitor, I will have you punished +by law.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Lucas:</span> You shall hang for this, doctor! Don't stir a<br /> +step from here!</p> + +<p class="ij4">[<i>Re-enter</i> <span class="smcap">Léandre</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Lucinde</span>.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Léandre:</span> Monsieur, I appear before you as Léandre, + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_370" id="Page_370">[Pg 370]</a></span> +and to restore Lucinde to your authority. We intended +to go off and to get married, but this undertaking has +given place to a more honourable proceeding. It is only +from your hands that I will receive Lucinde. I have +to tell you, monsieur, that I have just received letters +from which I learn that my uncle is dead, and that I am +the heir to all his property.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Géronte:</span> Monsieur, your virtue merits every consideration, +and I give you my daughter with the greatest +pleasure in the world.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Sganarelle:</span> Physic has had a narrow escape.</p> + +<p class="it1"><span class="smcap">Martine:</span> Since you are not going to be hanged, you +may thank me for making you a doctor. It was I who +gained you that honour.</p> + +<p class="it1 pmb3"><span class="smcap">Sganarelle:</span> I forgive you the beating because of the +dignity to which you have raised me, but be prepared +henceforth to show great respect towards a man of my +consequence; and remember that a doctor's anger is +more to be feared than folk imagine.</p> +</div> +</div> + +<p class="center"> +(<span class="smcap">Molière:</span> <i>Continued in Vol. XVIII</i>)<br /> +</p> + + +<p class="center font08 pmb3"> +<i>Printed in the United States of America</i><br /> +</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_371" id="Page_371">[Pg 371]</a></span></p> + +<div class="footnotes"><span class="font11">FOOTNOTES:</span> + +<div class="footnote"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_AD_30" id="Footnote_AD_30"></a><a href="#FNanchor_AD_30"><span class="label">[AD]</span></a> Molière, whose real name was Jean Baptiste Poquelin, the +name Molière not having been assumed until he had commenced +authorship, was born at Paris, January 15, 1622. Almost nothing +is known of his early life, except that in his fourteenth year +he was sent to the Jesuit Collège de Clermont, in Paris, and that +later he studied law. In 1645 he suddenly appeared upon the +stage as a member of a company of strolling players, and later, +through the recommendation of influential friends, his company +gained permission to act before the King. His comedies soon +placed him in the front rank of French dramatists, and he is +now regarded as perhaps the greatest of all comic dramatists. +Of all the learned classes that fell under Molière's merciless +lash, none came so completely as the profession of medicine. +This is especially the case in "The Doctor in Spite of Himself" +("Lie Médecin Malgré Lui"), which appeared in June, +1666, and in which Molière himself played the role of Sganarelle. +</p> +<p> +The piece was originally acted with the "Misanthrope," but its +immediate and pronounced success justified its being put on the +bill alone. Both in conception and in motive the "Doctor" is +frankly farcical, yet the lines abound in delicious satire, and on +occasions melt from sheer buffoonery into graceful comedy. +Molière died on February 17, 1673.</p> +</div></div> + +<p class="pmb3" /> + +<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 44640 ***</div> +</body> + + +</html> diff --git a/44640-h/images/002_deco.jpg b/44640-h/images/002_deco.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..d9ba4ca --- /dev/null +++ b/44640-h/images/002_deco.jpg diff --git a/44640-h/images/coverpage.jpg b/44640-h/images/coverpage.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..48f0b25 --- /dev/null +++ b/44640-h/images/coverpage.jpg diff --git a/44640-h/images/frontis.jpg b/44640-h/images/frontis.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..dbd2fc0 --- /dev/null +++ b/44640-h/images/frontis.jpg diff --git a/44640-h/images/title_frame.jpg b/44640-h/images/title_frame.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..baa09d9 --- /dev/null +++ b/44640-h/images/title_frame.jpg |
