 | Life is a Dream |  |
Scene III.
Clotaldo, Soldiers, Sigismund, Rosaura, Clarin.Clotaldo
(within).
Warders of this tower,
Who, or sleeping or faint-hearted,
Give an entrance to two persons
Who herein have burst a passage. ...
Rosaura.
New confusion now I suffer.
Sigismund.
'Tis Clotaldo, who here guards me;
Are not yet my miseries ended?
Clotaldo
(within).
Hasten hither, quick! be active!
And before they can defend them,
Kill them on the spot, or capture!
(Voices
within)
Treason!
Clarin.
Watchguards of this tower,
Who politely let us pass here,
Since you have the choice of killing
Or of capturing, choose the latter.
[Enter Clotaldo and Soldiers; he with a pistol, and all with their faces covered.
Clotaldo
(aside to the Soldiers).
Keep your faces all well covered,
For it is a vital matter
That we should be known by no one,
While I question these two stragglers.
Clarin.
Are there masqueraders here?
Clotaldo.
Ye who in your ignorant rashness
Have passed through the bounds and limits
Of this interdicted valley,
17
Who has publicly commanded
None should dare descry the wonder
That among these rocks is guarded,
Yield at once your arms and lives,
Or this pistol, this cold aspic
Formed of steel, the penetrating
Poison of two balls will scatter,
The report and fire of which
Will the air astound and startle.
Sigismund.
Ere you wound them, ere you hurt them,
Will my life, O tyrant master,
Be the miserable victim
Of these wretched chains that clasp me;
Since in them, I vow to God,
I will tear myself to fragments
With my hands, and with my teeth,
In these rocks here, in these caverns,
Ere I yield to their misfortunes,
Or lament their sad disaster.
Clotaldo.
If you know that your misfortunes,
Sigismund, are unexampled,
Since before being born you died
By Heaven's mystical enactment;
If you know these fetters are
Of your furies oft so rampant
But the bridle that detains them,
But the circle that contracts them.
Why these idle boasts? The door
[To the Soldiers.
Of this narrow prison fasten;
Leave him there secured.
Sigismund.
Ah, heavens,
It is wise of you to snatch me
Thus from freedom! since my rage
'Gainst you had become Titanic,
18
Gold-gates of the sun, my anger
On the firm-fixed rocks' foundations
Would have mountains piled of marble.
Clotaldo.
'Tis that you should not so pile them
That perhaps these ills have happened,
[Some of the Soldiers lead Sigismund into his prison, the doors of which are closed upon him.
| Life is a Dream | |