And Cyprian?

[She becomes troubled at the name of Cyprian. Did I not requite him

With such severity, that he has fled

Where none has ever heard of him again?

Alas! I now begin to fear that this

May be the occasion whence desire grows bold,
As if there were no danger. From the moment
That I pronounced to my own listening heart,
Cyprian is absent, O me miserable!

I know not what I feel! [More calmly.] It must be pity
To think that such a man, whom all the world

Admired, should be forgot by all the world,

And I the cause.

[She again becomes troubled. And yet if it were pity,

Floro and Lelio might have equal share,

For they are both imprisoned for my sake.

[Calmly.] Alas! what reasonings are these? it is

Enough I pity him, and that, in vain,

Without this ceremonious subtlety.

And woe is me! I know not where to find him now,

Even should I seek him thro' this wide world.

Demon

Enter DEMON.

Follow, and I will lead thee where he is.

Justina

Demon

And who art thou, who hast found entrance hither,
Into my chamber thro' the doors and locks?
Art thou a monstrous shadow which
Has formed in the idle air?

my

madness

No. I am one
Called by the thought which tyrannizes thee
From his eternal dwelling; who this day
Is pledged to bear thee unto Cyprian.

Justina

Demon

Justina

Demon

So shall thy promise fail. This agony
Of passion which afflicts my heart and soul
May sweep imagination in its storm;
The will is firm.

Already half is done
In the imagination of an act.

The sin incurred, the pleasure then remains;
Let not the will stop halfway on the road.

I will not be discouraged, nor despair,
Altho' I thought it, and altho' 'tis true
That thought is but a prelude to the deed:-
Thought is not in my power, but action is:
I will not move my foot to follow thee.

But a far mightier wisdom than thine own
Exerts itself within thee, with such power
Compelling thee to that which it inclines
That it shall force thy step; how wilt thou then
Resist, Justina?

Justina
Demon-

By my free will.

I

Must force thy will.

Justina

Demon

It is invincible;
It were not free if thou hadst power upon it.
[He draws but cannot move her.
Come, where a pleasure waits thee.

Justina

It were bought

Justina

Demon

"Tis shame, 'tis torment, 'tis despair.

But how
Canst thou defend thyself from that or me,
If my power drags thee onward?

Justina

Consists in God.

My defense

[He vainly endeavors to force her, and at last releases her. Demon

Justina

Woman, thou hast subdued me,
Only by not owning thyself subdued.
But since thou thus findest defense in God,
I will assume a feigned form, and thus
Make thee a victim of my baffled rage.
For I will mask a spirit in thy form
Who will betray thy name to infamy,
And doubly shall I triumph in thy loss,

First by dishonoring thee, and then by turning
False pleasure to true ignominy.

I

[Exit.

Appeal to Heaven against thee; so that Heaven
May scatter thy delusions, and the blot
Upon my fame vanish in idle thought,

Even as flame dies in the envious air,

And as the floweret wanes at morning frost,
And thou shouldst never But, alas! to whom
Do I still speak? - Did not a man but now
Stand here before me? No, I am alone,
And yet I saw him. Is he gone so quickly?
Or can the heated mind engender shapes
From its own fear? Some terrible and strange
Peril is near. Lisander! father! lord!

'Tis impossible; the doors Which led to this apartment were all lockt. Livia [aside]

I dare say it was Moscon whom she saw,
For he was lockt up in my room.

Lisander

Livia

Justina

Livia

It must
Have been some image of thy fantasy.
Such melancholy as thou feedest is
Skillful in forming such in the vain air
Out of the motes and atoms of the day.

My master's in the right.

Oh would it were
Delusion; but I fear some greater ill.
I feel as if out of my bleeding bosom
My heart was torn in fragments; ay,
Some mortal spell is wrought against my frame
So potent was the charm, that had not God
Shielded my humble innocence from wrong,

I should have sought my sorrow and my shame
With willing steps. Livia, quick, bring my cloak,
For I must seek refuge from these extremes
Even in the temple of the highest God
Where secretly the faithful worship.

Justina [putting on her cloak]—

Here.

In this, as in a shroud of snow, may I
Quench the consuming fire in which I burn,
Wasting away!

Lisander
Livia

Justina

And I will go with thee.

When once I see them safe out of the house
I shall breathe freely.

Lisander

Justina

Thine is the cause, great God! turn for my sake,
And for thine own, mercifully to me!

SEGISMUND'S DREAM

BY CALDERON.

(From Edward Fitzgerald's version of "Vida es Sueño," entitled "Such Stuff as Dreams are Made Of.")

[The King of Poland, frightened by an omen at his son's birth, which the soothsayers have interpreted to mean that the boy will grow up a mere wild beast, bringing fire and slaughter on the country if he succeeds to power, has imprisoned him in a tower till he shall come of age, with a faithful officer for guard. He then has him released-to see if the oracle has been mistaken!—and told that all this confinement and misery has been a dream—as in the "Induction" to the "Taming of the Shrew.”]

Segismund [within]

Forbear! I stifle with your perfume! cease
Your crazy salutations! peace, I say

Begone, or let me go, ere I go mad

With all this babble, mummery, and glare,

For I am growing dangerous Air! room! air!

[He rushes in.

Oh but to save the reeling brain from wreck
With its bewildered senses!

[After looking in the mirror.]

Music ceases.

[He covers his eyes for a while.

What, this fantastic Segismund the same
Who last night, as for all his nights before,
Lay down to sleep in wolfskin on the ground
In a black turret which the wolf howled round.
And woke again upon a golden bed,

Round which as clouds about a rising sun,

In scarce less glittering caparison,

Gathered gay shapes that, underneath a breeze

Of music, handed him upon their knees

The wine of heaven in a cup of gold,

And still in soft melodious undersong

Hailing me Prince of Poland! - "Segismund,"

They said, "Our Prince! The Prince of Poland!" and
Again, "Oh, welcome, welcome, to his own

Our own Prince Segismund

If reason, sense, and self-identity
Obliterated from a worn-out brain,

Art thou not maddest striving to be sane,