Chapter 40

SIGISMUND, ESTRELLA, ROSAURA, Soldiers, Attendants, BASILIUS, ASTOLFO, and CLOTALDO.

A SOLDIER. 'Mid the thickets of the mountain, 'Neath these dark boughs so united, The King hides.

SIGISMUND. Pursue him then, Leave no single shrub unrifled, Nothing must escape your search, Not a plant, and not a pine tree.

CLOTALDO. Fly, my lord!

BASILIUS. And wherefore fly?

ASTOLFO. Come!

BASILIUS. Astolfo, I'm decided.

CLOTALDO. What to do?

BASILIUS. To try, Clotaldo, One sole remedy that surviveth. [To SIGISMUND. If 'tis me thou'rt seeking, Prince, At thy feet behold me lying. [Kneeling. Let thy carpet be these hairs Which the snows of age have whitened. Tread upon my neck, and trample On my crown; in base defilement Treat me with all disrespect; Let thy deadliest vengeance strike me Through my honour; as thy slave Make me serve thee, and in spite of All precautions let fate be, Let heaven keep the word it plighted.

SIGISMUND. Princes of the Court of Poland, Who such numerous surprises Have astonished seen, attend, For it is your prince invites ye. That which heaven has once determined, That which God's eternal finger Has upon the azure tablets Of the sky sublimely written, Those transparent sheets of sapphire Superscribed with golden ciphers Ne'er deceive, and never lie; The deceiver and the liar Is he who to use them badly In a wrongful sense defines them. Thus, my father, who is present, To protect him from the wildness Of my nature, made of me A fierce brute, a human wild-beast; So that I, who from my birth, From the noble blood that trickles Through my veins, my generous nature, And my liberal condition, Might have proved a docile child, And so grew, it was sufficient By so strange an education, By so wild a course of living, To have made my manners wild;-- What a method to refine them! If to any man 'twas said, "It is fated that some wild-beast will destroy you," would it be Wise to wake a sleeping tiger As the remedy of the ill? If 'twere said, "this sword here hidden In its sheath, which thou dost wear, Is the one foredoomed to kill thee," Vain precaution it would be To preserve the threatened victim. Bare to point it at his breast. If 'twere said, "these waves that ripple Calmly here for thee will build Foam-white sepulchres of silver," Wrong it were to trust the sea When its haughty breast is lifted Into mountain heights of snow, Into hills of curling crystal. Well, this very thing has happened Unto him, who feared a wild-beast, And awoke him while he slept; Or who drew a sharp sword hidden Naked forth, or dared the sea When 'twas roused by raging whirlwinds And though my fierce nature (hear me) Was as 'twere the sleeping tiger, A sheathed sword my innate rage And my wrath a quiet ripple, Fate should not be forced by means So unjust and so vindictive, For they but excite it more; And thus he who would be victor O'er his fortune, must succeed By wise prudence and self-strictness. Not before an evil cometh Can it rightly be resisted Even by him who hath foreseen it, For although (the fact's admitted) By an humble resignation It is possible to diminish Its effects, it first must happen, And by no means can be hindered. Let it serve as an example This strange sight, this most surprising Spectacle, this fear, this horror, This great prodigy; for none higher E'er was worked than this we see, After years of vain contriving, Prostrate at my feet a father, And a mighty king submitted. This the sentence of high heaven Which he did his best to hinder He could not prevent. Can I, Who in valour and in science, Who in years am so inferior, It avert? My lord, forgive me, [To the King. Rise, sir, let me clasp thy hand; For since heaven has now apprized thee That thy mode of counteracting Its decree was wrong, a willing Sacrifice to thy revenge Let my prostrate neck be given.

BASILIUS. Son, this noble act of thine In my heart of hearts reviveth All my love, thou'rt there reborn. Thou art Prince; the bay that bindeth Heroes' brows, the palm, be thine, Let the crown thine own deeds give thee.

ALL. Long live Sigismund our King!

SIGISMUND. Though my sword must wait a little Ere great victories it can gain, I to-day will win the highest, The most glorious, o'er myself.-- Give, Astolfo, give your plighted Hand here to Rosaura, since It is due and I require it.

ASTOLFO. Though 'tis true I owe the debt, Still 'tis needful to consider That she knows not who she is; It were infamous, a stigma On my name to wed a woman . . . .

CLOTALDO. Stay, Astolfo, do not finish; For Rosaura is as noble As yourself. My sword will right her In the field against the world: She's my daughter, that's sufficient.

ASTOLFO. What do you say?

CLOTALDO. Until I saw her To a noble spouse united, I her birth would not reveal. It were now a long recital, But the sum is, she's my child.

ASTOLFO. That being so, the word I've plighted I will keep.

SIGISMUND. And that Estrella May not now be left afflicted, Seeing she has lost a prince Of such valour and distinction, I propose from mine own hand As a husband one to give her, Who, if he does not exceed Him in worth, perhaps may rival. Give to me thy hand.

ESTRELLA. I gain By an honour so distinguished.

SIGISMUND. To Clotaldo, who so truly Served my father, I can give him But these open arms wherein He will find what'er he wishes.

A SOLDIER. If thou honorest those who serve thee, Thus, to me the first beginner Of the tumult through the land, Who from out the tower, thy prison, Drew thee forth, what wilt thou give?

SIGISMUND. Just that tower: and that you issue Never from it until death, I will have you guarded strictly; For the traitor is not needed Once the treason is committed.

BASILIUS. So much wisdom makes one wonder.

ASTOLFO. What a change in his condition!

ROSAURA. How discreet! how calm! how prudent!

SIGISMUND. Why this wonder, these surprises, If my teacher was a dream, And amid my new aspirings I am fearful I may wake, And once more a prisoner find me In my cell? But should I not, Even to dream it is sufficient: For I thus have come to know That at last all human blisses Pass and vanish as a dream, And the time that may be given me I henceforth would turn to gain: Asking for our faults forgiveness, Since to generous, noble hearts It is natural to forgive them.

End of Project Gutenberg's Life Is A Dream, by Pedro Calderon de la Barca