Life Is a Dream Part 7

Oh, my Lord!

SEG.

Well then--If no magician, as you say, Yet setting me a riddle, that my brain, With all its senses whirling, cannot solve, Yourself or one of these with you must answer-- How I--that only last night fell asleep Not knowing that the very soil of earth I lay down--chain'd--to sleep upon was Poland-- Awake to find myself the Lord of it, With Lords, and Generals, and Chamberlains, And ev'n my very Gaoler, for my va.s.sals!

Enter suddenly Clotaldo

CLOTALDO.

Stand all aside That I may put into his hand the clue To lead him out of this amazement. Sir, Vouchsafe your Highness from my bended knee Receive my homage first.

SEG.

Clotaldo! What, At last--his old self--undisguised where all Is masquerade--to end it!--You kneeling too!

What! have the stars you told me long ago Laid that old work upon you, added this, That, having chain'd your prisoner so long, You loose his body now to slay his wits, Dragging him--how I know not--whither scarce I understand--dressing him up in all This frippery, with your dumb familiars Disvizor'd, and their lips unlock'd to lie, Calling him Prince and King, and, madman-like, Setting a crown of straw upon his head?

CLO.

Would but your Highness, as indeed I now Must call you--and upon his bended knee Never bent Subject more devotedly-- However all about you, and perhaps You to yourself incomprehensiblest, But rest in the a.s.surance of your own Sane waking senses, by these witnesses Attested, till the story of it all, Of which I bring a chapter, be reveal'd, a.s.sured of all you see and hear as neither Madness nor mockery--

SEG.

What then?

CLO.

All it seems: This palace with its royal garniture; This capital of which it is the eye, With all its temples, marts, and a.r.s.enals; This realm of which this city is the head, With all its cities, villages, and tilth, Its armies, fleets, and commerce; all your own; And all the living souls that make them up, From those who now, and those who shall, salute you, Down to the poorest peasant of the realm, Your subjects--Who, though now their mighty voice Sleeps in the general body unapprized, Wait but a word from those about you now To hail you Prince of Poland, Segismund.

SEG.

All this is so?

CLO.

As sure as anything Is, or can be.

SEG.

You swear it on the faith You taught me--elsewhere?--

CLO (kissing the hilt of his sword).

Swear it upon this Symbol, and champion of the holy faith I wear it to defend.

SEG (to himself).

My eyes have not deceived me, nor my ears, With this transfiguration, nor the strain Of royal welcome that arose and blew, Breathed from no lying lips, along with it.

For here Clotaldo comes, his own old self, Who, if not Lie and phantom with the rest-- (Aloud) Well, then, all this is thus.

For have not these fine people told me so, And you, Clotaldo, sworn it? And the Why And Wherefore are to follow by and bye!

And yet--and yet--why wait for that which you Who take your oath on it can answer--and Indeed it presses hard upon my brain-- What I was asking of these gentlemen When you came in upon us; how it is That I--the Segismund you know so long No longer than the sun that rose to-day Rose--and from what you know-- Rose to be Prince of Poland?

CLO.

So to be Acknowledged and entreated, Sir.

SEG.

So be Acknowledged and entreated-- Well--But if now by all, by some at least So known--if not entreated--heretofore-- Though not by you--For, now I think again, Of what should be your attestation worth, You that of all my questionable subjects Who knowing what, yet left me where I was, You least of all, Clotaldo, till the dawn Of this first day that told it to myself?

CLO.

Oh, let your Highness draw the line across Fore-written sorrow, and in this new dawn Bury that long sad night.

SEG.

Not ev'n the Dead, Call'd to the resurrection of the blest, Shall so directly drop all memory Of woes and wrongs foregone!

CLO.

But not resent-- Purged by the trial of that sorrow past For full fruition of their present bliss.

SEG.

But leaving with the Judge what, till this earth Be cancell'd in the burning heavens, He leaves His earthly delegates to execute, Of retribution in reward to them And woe to those who wrong'd them--Not as you, Not you, Clotaldo, knowing not--And yet Ev'n to the guiltiest wretch in all the realm, Of any treason guilty short of that, Stern usage--but a.s.suredly not knowing, Not knowing 'twas your sovereign lord, Clotaldo, You used so sternly.

CLO.

Ay, sir; with the same Devotion and fidelity that now Does homage to him for my sovereign.

SEG.

Fidelity that held his Prince in chains!

CLO.

Fidelity more fast than had it loosed him--

SEG.

Ev'n from the very dawn of consciousness Down at the bottom of the barren rocks, Where scarce a ray of suns.h.i.+ne found him out, In which the poorest beggar of my realm At least to human-full proportion grows-- Me! Me--whose station was the kingdom's top To flourish in, reaching my head to heaven, And with my branches overshadowing The meaner growth below!

CLO.

Still with the same Fidelity--

SEG.

To me!--

CLO.

Ay, sir, to you, Through that divine allegiance upon which All Order and Authority is based; Which to revolt against--

SEG.

Were to revolt Against the stars, belike!

CLO.

And him who reads them; And by that right, and by the sovereignty He wears as you shall wear it after him; Ay, one to whom yourself-- Yourself, ev'n more than any subject here, Are bound by yet another and more strong Allegiance--King Basilio--your Father--

SEG.

Basilio--King--my father!--

CLO.

Oh, my Lord, Let me beseech you on my bended knee, For your own sake--for Poland's--and for his, Who, looking up for counsel to the skies, Did what he did under authority To which the kings of earth themselves are subject, And whose behest not only he that suffers, But he that executes, not comprehends, But only He that orders it--

SEG.

The King-- My father!--Either I am mad already, Or that way driving fast--or I should know That fathers do not use their children so, Or men were loosed from all allegiance To fathers, kings, and heaven that order'd all.

But, mad or not, my hour is come, and I Will have my reckoning--Either you lie, Under the skirt of sinless majesty Shrouding your treason; or if _that_ indeed, Guilty itself, take refuge in the stars That cannot hear the charge, or disavow-- You, whether doer or deviser, who Come first to hand, shall pay the penalty By the same hand you owe it to-- (Seizing Clotaldo's sword and about to strike him.)

(Enter Rosaura suddenly.)

ROSAURA.

Fie, my Lord--forbear, What! a young hand raised against silver hair!--