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 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. Music ceases. Oh but to save the reeling brain from wreck [After looking in the mirror.] [He covers his eyes for a while. What, this fantastic Segismund the same 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 Our own Prince Segismund -" If reason, sense, and self-identity Art thou not maddest striving to be sane, And catching at that Self of yesterday That, like a leper's rags, best flung away! Or if not mad, then dreaming-dreaming? — well — Not mocked by that, but as poor souls have been By those who wronged them, to give wrong new relish? Or have those stars indeed they told me of As masters of my wretched life of old, Into some happier constellation rolled, And brought my better fortune out on earth Clear as themselves in heav'n! [The great officers of state crowd around him with protestations of fidelity; Clotaldo, his old warder, comes, and after attempts at explaining and justifying the situation, Segismund in a fury attempts to strike his head off; the Princess Estrella, betrothed to the Duke of Muscovy, enters, and Segismund claims her for his own and attempts to throttle the Duke; the King is called in, and after a storm of reproaches which the King parries on the ground of good intentions, Segismund closes as follows:] King Be assured your Savage, once let loose, Will not be caged again so quickly; not Till he have had his quarrel out with those Beware! Beware! Subdue the kindled Tiger in your eye, To wield the sword as well as wear the crown; And if my more immediate issue fail, Not wanting scions of collateral blood, Whose wholesome growth shall more than compensate Segismund That will I straightway bring to trial - Oh, The Last Day shall have little left to show Accuser, judge, and executioner, Sword in hand, cite the guilty-First, as worst, Him and his old accomplice, time and crime The golden years of life they stole away. What, does he yet maintain his state, and keep The throne he should be judged from? Down with him, So long has worn my crown! Where are my soldiers? Not one to do my bidding? Hark! A trumpet! The trumpet [He pauses as the trumpet sounds as in Act I., and masked Soldiers gradually fill in behind the throne.] King [rising before his throne] — Aye, indeed, the trumpet blows A memorable note, to summon those Who, if forthwith you fall not at the feet Of him whose head you threaten with the dust, Of glory, that you think to hold life-fast, Segismund King He prophesies; the old man prophesies; And, at his trumpet's summons, from the tower The leash-bound shadows loosened after me My rising glory reach and overlour But, reach not I my height, he shall not hold, But with me back to his own darkness! [He dashes toward the throne and is inclosed by the soldiers Traitors! Hold off! Unhand me! Am not I your king? And you would strangle him! But I am breaking with an inward Fire Shall scorch you off, and wrap me on the wings Of conflagration from a kindled pyre Of lying prophecies and prophet kings Above the extinguished stars-Reach me the sword He flung me-Fill me such a bowl of wine As that you woke the day with — And shall close,— But of the vintage that Clotaldo knows. [He is drugged, returned to the tower, and on waking assured that the recent taste of freedom and kingship was all a dream, and his former life in the tower the reality.] Segismund "Tis nothing but a dream? Clotaldo You know Nay, you yourself Why, have you never dreamt the like before? Never, to such reality. Clotaldo Such dreams We fly at something higher than we are Last night? Last night? Clotaldo Aye, do you not remember As, rising from his throne of rock, he sailed That burned about him, while with poising wings He darkled in it as a burning brand Is seen to smolder in the fire it feeds? Segismund -- Last night-last night-Oh, what a day was that And yet, perhaps, Only some few dark moments, into which Imagination, once lit up within And unconditional of time and space, Can pour infinities. Segismund And I remember How the old man they called the King, who wore The crown of gold about his silver hair, Bid me beware lest all should be a dream. Clotaldo Aye, there another specialty of dreams, That once the dreamer 'gins to dream he dreams, Segismund Would it had been upon the verge of death Lifting me up to glory, to fall back, Stunned, crippled-wretcheder than ev'n before. Clotaldo Yet not so glorious, Segismund, if you As to work murder and revenge on those Revenged it only. Clotaldo Then in dream True. But as they say So that men sometimes in their dreams confess One must beware to check aye, if one may, Since Dreaming, Madness, Passion, are akin Of reason, and the guiding will of man: Shall be that conscious power of self-control, |