ACT III

Scene i

[Enter CLARION.]

 

CLARION: I lodge in this enchanted tower
A captive, for I know the truth,
But if my knowledge means sure death,
What will my ignorance lead to?
That such a hungry, hungry man
Should perish like a living corpse!
I’m feeling sorry for myself,
So go ahead, say, “That’s for sure,”
For surely, that’s not hard to see.
This silence, too, is pretty rough,
But when your name is Clarion, well,
There’s just no way to hold your tongue.
My sole companions in this place—
And this would be a wild guess—
Are mice and spiders lurking here.
Who needs a goldfinch for a pet?
My teeming brain is still awhirl
With everything I dreamt last night:
The sound of trumpet blares and shawms
Came mingled with deceptive sights
Like one of flagellants that marched
In some procession of the cross,
First rising, then descending, then
Succumbing once they saw the lost
Blood flowing down their fellows’ backs.
These bouts with hunger here of late
May cause the swoons in me as well,
For, while I’m left to starve by day,
An empty Plato offers no
Consolement of philosophy,
While each night I appear before
A Diet of Worms, which isn’t meet.
So if this new Church calendar
Considers silence “blessed” now,
Let Secret be my patron saint—
I’ll fast for him and break no vows.
I haven’t breathed a word yet, so
My punishment seems well deserved:
What greater sacrilege is there
Than quiet from one hired to serve?

Scene ii

[The sound of drums and soldiers’ voices offstage.]

 

1ST SOLDIER: They’re holding him inside this tower.
Here, batter down these bolted doors
And storm the cell!

 

CLARION: Good heavens, have
They come for me? I’m pretty sure,
Since they seem pretty sure I’m here.
Whatever could they want?

 

1ST SOLDIER: Charge in!

 

2ND SOLDIER: He’s here!

 

CLARION: Oh, no he’s not!

SOLDIERS: [To CLARION.] My lord!

 

CLARION: They must be drunkards on a binge!

 

2ND SOLDIER: All hail, our prince and rightful liege!
To you alone do we submit
Our forces, natural-born heir,
And not to any foreign prince.
To prove our troth, we kiss your feet.

 

SOLDIERS: Long live the prince, whom we love well!

 

CLARION: Good God, can this be happening?
Is it the custom in this realm
To seize a body every day
And make a prince of him before
He’s thrown back in the tower? Must be,
Since each day there’s a different lord.
Looks like I’ll have to play the part.

 

SOLDIERS: Give us your feet!

 

CLARION: I can’t because
I need to use them for myself
And it would be a tragic flaw
To govern as a soleless prince.

 

2ND SOLDIER: We’ve seen your father and declared
Our will to him: it’s you alone
We recognize as Poland’s heir,
And not the Muscovite.

 

CLARION: You told
My father? Have you no respect,
You lousy bunch of so-and-so’s?

 

1ST SOLDIER: One can’t keep loyal hearts in check.

CLARION: Well, loyalty I can excuse.

 

2ND SOLDIER: Restore the kingdom to your line.
Long live Prince Segismund!

 

SOLDIERS: Long life!

 

CLARION: Ah, they said “Segismund.” All right,
So Segismund’s the word they use
To mean a prince is counterfeit.

 

[Enter SEGISMUND.]

Scene iii

SEGISMUND: Is someone calling out my name?

 

CLARION: Am I a has-been as a prince?

 

2ND SOLDIER: Who here is Segismund?

 

SEGISMUND: I am.

 

2ND SOLDIER: You reckless fool! Impersonate
The heir apparent to the throne?

 

CLARION: Now that’s a game I’d never play.
Besides, it was the lot of you
That segismundized me. Ergo,
The only foolish recklessness
Put on display here was your own.

 

1ST SOLDIER: Great prince, brave Segismund! Although
The standards that we bear are yours,
It’s solemn faith alone compels
Our number to proclaim you lord.
Your father Basil, our great king,
Has lived in terror of the skies
Fulfilling their dread prophecy
That presaged you would see him lie
Subdued beneath your feet. For this,
He’d planned to yield your titled claim
And highborn right to Astolf, Duke
Of Moscow, and eclipse your reign.
King Basil had convened the court
When Poland learned an heir survived
And wished him to succeed the king,
Reluctant that a foreign line
Should govern them on native soil.
So, holding the inclemency
Of starry fate in noble scorn,
They sought your cell to see you freed
From these cruel chains. All live in hope
The rightful heir will leave these grounds
And, buttressed by their arms, reclaim
For them the scepter and the crown
Out that usurping tyrant’s grip!
Come forth! Amid this barrenness
An army, sizable and strong,
Of bandits and staunch citizens
Acclaims you. Longed-for liberty
Awaits you, hear its beckoning call!

 

VOICES: [Offstage.] Long live Prince Segismund!
All hail!

 

SEGISMUND: What’s this? Must I be held enthralled
Again, cruel skies, to fleeting dreams
Of grandeur Time will surely mock?
Must I again be forced to glimpse
Amid the shadows and the fog
The majesty and faded pomp
That waft inconstant on the wind?
Must I again be left to face
Life’s disillusion or the risks
To which man’s limits are exposed
From birth and never truly end?
This cannot be. It cannot be.
Behold me here, a slave again
To fortune’s whims. As I have learned
That life is really just a dream,
I say to you, false shadows, Go!
My deadened senses know your schemes,
To feign a body and a voice
When voice and body both are shams.
I’ve no desire for majesty
That’s phony or for pompous flam,
Illusions of sheer fantasy
That can’t withstand the slightest breeze
And dissipate entirely like
The blossoms on an almond tree
That bloom too early in the spring
Without a hint to anyone.
The beauty, light, and ornament
Reflecting from their rosy buds
Fade all too soon; these wilt and fall
When but the gentlest gusts blow by.
I know you all too well, I do,
To fancy you’d act otherwise
Toward other souls who likewise sleep.
So let this vain pretending cease;
I’m disabused of all I thought
And know now life is but a dream.

 

2ND SOLDIER: We have not come here to deceive.
Just cast your eyes upon the lair
Of haughty hills that ring this tower
And see the host of men prepared
To follow and obey you.

SEGISMUND: Once
I saw the same approving crowd
Appear before me as distinct
And clear as I perceive things now,
But I was dreaming.

 

2ND SOLDIER: Great events
Are oft preceded, good my lord,
By portents, which is what occurred
When you did dream these things before.

 

SEGISMUND: A portent. Yes, you must be right.
If all is truly as you’ve deemed
And man’s life, sadly, is so short,
Then let us dream, my soul, let’s dream
Again! But this time we will face
Full recognition of the fact
That we may waken from this sleep
At any hour and be brought back.
Still, knowing such things in advance
Should temper disappointment’s stings;
To put the cure before the harm
Does much to mock the injuring.
In short, as all have been forewarned
That, even when man’s sway seems sure,
Our power is borrowed on this earth
And harks back always to its source,
What can we lose by venturing?
I thank you, vassals, for this show
Of loyalty. With all my skill
And bravery I’ll smash this yoke
Of foreign slavery you fear!
Come, sound the call to arms. This
sword
Will vouch my courage is no lie.
It’s my intent to levy war
Against my father, proving thus
That heaven prophesied the truth.
I’ll see him prone beneath my feet—
Unless I wake before I do,
In which case it might just be best
To say no more about these plans.

 

ALL: All hail to you, Prince Segismund!

Scene iv

[Enter CLOTALDO.]

 

CLOTALDO: Good heavens, what’s this uproar, man?

 

SEGISMUND: Clotaldo.

 

CLOTALDO: Sire. [Aside.] He’s sure to vent
His rage upon me now.

 

CLARION: I bet
He throws the codger off this cliff.

 

[He exits.]

 

CLOTALDO: I bow to you, though I expect
To die here at your feet.

 

SEGISMUND: Pray stand,
Good father. Rise up from the ground,
My polestar and sole guiding light!
You coaxed my better nature out
And well I know the debt you’re owed
For rearing me so faithfully.
Let me embrace you.

 

CLOTALDO: How is that?

SEGISMUND: I’m dreaming now, but in my dream
I’m striving to do good. No chance
To do kind deeds should be ignored.

 

CLOTALDO: My lord, since you profess these acts
Of grace as your new creed, I’m sure
You’ll take no great offense with me
For likewise cleaving to these views.
Wage war against your father? Then
I simply cannot counsel you
And aid the downfall of my king.
So slay me, humbled still upon
This ground you tread.

 

SEGISMUND: Oh, traitor! Vile,
Ungrateful wretch! Almighty God!
Some self-command might serve me well
Until it’s certain that I wake.
I envy your stouthearted show,
Clotaldo. Thank you for this faith.
Go, then, and serve the king you love;
We’ll meet upon the battle lines.
All others, sound the call to arms!

 

CLOTALDO: I kiss your feet a thousand times.

 

SEGISMUND: Come, Fortune! Off we go to reign,
So dare not wake me if I sleep
Nor let me sleep should this be true,
For whether I now sleep or dream
It’s vital still that man do good
In dream or sleep for good’s own sake,
At least to win himself some friends
For when he ultimately wakes.

 

[All exit as the call to arms sounds.]

Scene v

[Enter King BASIL and ASTOLF.]

 

BASIL: Good Astolf, who can stop a bolting horse
And still its rage into serenity?
Or check a surging river’s headlong course
Before its waters flow into the sea?
Or halt a falling boulder gathering force
While hurtling down a mountain fast and free?
Yet, none of these is harder to arrest
Than masses who feel angered and
oppressed.
Divulge by edict any news from court
And all at once you’ll hear the echoes sound
Throughout the hills, as anguished cries
exhort
“Hail Astolf” while “Hail Segismunds”
resound.
Our throne room has been turned into
a sort
Of second stage where horrid plays abound,
A baneful theater where fate flaunts her will
And only tragedy is on the bill.

 

ASTOLF: Then, sire, I will assuredly delay this cause
For celebration proffered by your hand
And shun both flattery and loud applause,
For Poland, where I’d looked to rule as
planned,
Resists my reign today and flouts your laws
So I might prove my worth to lead the land.
Bring me a steed whose spirit knows no like;
You’ve heard me thunder, now watch
lightning strike!

 

[He exits.]

BASIL: No one escapes the inescapable
Or any danger omens have in store.
Resisting fortune is impossible;
Ignoring forecasts just makes them
more sure.
In our case, this harsh law looms terrible
As fleeing danger brings one to its door.
Base ruin now appears our secret’s cost,
For we’re alone to blame now Poland’s lost.

Scene vi

[Enter STELLA.]

 

STELLA: If your wise presence, sire, can’t stop
the spread
Of opposition forces gaining ground
While ever more combative factions head
Throughout our streets and plazas, palace
bound,
You’ll see the realm awash in waves of red,
Your subjects bathing in the blood
now found
But in their crimson veins. What tragic
gloom
Surrounds our kingdom’s decadence and
doom!
To sense the downfall of your rule so near
Amid the savage violence of this plot
Astounds the eye and terrifies the ear.
The wind grows still, the sun turns to a blot;
Each rock will be a headstone to revere,
Each flower the marker on a fresh grave’s
spot,
Each edifice a lofty house of death,
Each soldier but a skeleton with breath.

Scene vii

[Enter CLOTALDO.]

 

CLOTALDO: I’ve made it here alive, for God is kind.

 

BASIL: Clotaldo, have you news about our son?

 

CLOTALDO: The masses, sire, a monster rash and blind,
Besieged the tower and, seeing it overrun,
Freed Segismund. No sooner did he find
A second time this second honor won
Than out he burst emboldened and uncouth,
Resolved to prove the heavens spoke the
truth.

 

BASIL: Bring us a steed, for as your king we must
Defeat this ingrate out of royal pride.
But this time in our crown’s defense we’ll
trust
Cold steel where once our hapless science
vied.

 

[He exits.]

 

STELLA: Bright sun, I’ll be Bellona at your side
And join my name to one far more august.
On outstretched wings I’ll soar above
the frays
And rival Pallas in my warlike ways.

 

[She exits as the call to arms is sounded.]

Scene viii

[Enter ROSAURA, who stops CLOTALDO.]

 

ROSAURA: I know the seething valor pent
Within your breast attends the call
To arms, but hear me now, for all
Can see that war is imminent.
When I arrived in Poland just
A poor, humiliated maid,
Your valor was my only aid
And you the sole man I could trust
To pity me. Then you procured
That I’d reside—oh, heart!—disguised
At palace, where I was advised
To keep my jealousy obscured
And my good self from Astolf’s sight.
He spied me, though, and now insists
On mocking me with garden trysts
He holds with Stella every night.
But I hold this, the garden’s key,
Which you could use for entering
The place unseen, and thereby bring
An end to all my cares for me.
So might my honor be restored
By one who’s strong, brave, and resolved
To see this problem duly solved
By winning vengeance with the sword.

 

CLOTALDO: It’s true I’ve been disposed to act
On your behalf since first we met,
Rosaura, and collect that debt—
Your tears bore witness to this fact—
By all the powers I possess.
That’s why I urged you to acquire
More proper feminine attire
So you’d be clad in seemly dress
When Astolf sighted you at court.
It couldn’t, then, occur to him
Your clothes were but a flighty whim
To turn lost honor into sport.
At just that time I moved to find
Some way to make the rogue repent
His insult, even if this meant—
For honor so engaged my mind!—
Contriving Astolf’s death. See where
The ravings of an old man lead?
He’s not my king, and thus the deed
Should cause not wonder or despair.
I’d plotted murder when the same
Urge struck Prince Segismund, who tried
Dispatching me! Good Astolf spied
This wrong and, self-neglecting, came
To my defense stoutheartedly.
His noble showing of largesse
Bore all the marks of recklessness
And far surpassed mere bravery.
Now, as mine is a grateful soul,
How could I ever cause the death
Of one whose heart left me with breath
And handed me my life back whole?
My care and my affection stand
Divided now between you two:
As I gave back a life to you
But then received one from his hand,
To which of you do I owe more?
Which action claims priority?
Receiving now obliges me
As much as giving did before
And so fulfillment of my plan,
Which once seemed certain, now does not.
I’d suffer compassing the plot
And wrongly kill a worthy man.

ROSAURA: It’s not my place here, I believe,
To sway one so superlative
But, noble as it is to give,
It’s just as vile to receive.
So, following this principle,
You owe that man no gratitude,
For anyone would now conclude
That, though he made life possible
For you and you for me, it’s clear
He basely undermined your fame
And compromised your noble name
While I’ve made you look cavalier.
He, therefore, causes you offense.
I, therefore, merit your first thought
As what you’ve given me is naught
But what he gave in impudence.
You, therefore, ought to strive to
save
A reputation thus disgraced
And favor my claim, not his, based
On what you both received and gave.

 

CLOTALDO: A mark of true nobility
Entails this giving with free hands,
But showing gratitude demands
That one receive as graciously.
The reputation that’s pursued
My person holds me generous
And honored by the populace,
So add to these marks gratitude,
A noble trait I hope to claim
By acting now both liberally
And gratefully, for honesty
Is giving and receiving’s name.

 

ROSAURA: You gave this damaged life to me
And I recall well how you pled.
When I accepted it, you said
A life lived with indignity
Was no true life and so the thought
That I’ve received one is absurd.
The life your giving hand conferred
On me was not a life, but naught.
If you’d be liberal before
You’re grateful, following your fame,
As I have heard you just proclaim,
My hope is that you’ll soon restore
The life you thought you’d given. Why,
If giving makes one seem sublime,
Be liberal first and you’ll have time
For feeling grateful by and by.

 

CLOTALDO: Then liberal first I’ll be, for these
Persuasive arguments declare
Your fitness to be named my heir.
Take my bequest and seek the ease
A convent grants, for in your case
This recourse makes the greatest sense:
Exchange this fleeing from offense
For refuge in a holy place.
The kingdom presently is torn
By factional extremity
And such affliction mustn’t be
Made worse by one who’s nobly born.
Through this solution, I’ll be viewed
Both loyal to my country’s fight
And generous to your suffered slight
While showing Astolf gratitude.
This remedy resolves things best;
What else might you have settled for?
God knows I couldn’t help you more
Were I your father in this quest.

 

ROSAURA: Were you my sire out to avenge
This wrong, I’d suffer it as mine.
But as you aren’t, I must decline.

 

CLOTALDO: How, then, will you exact revenge?

 

ROSAURA: I’ll kill the duke.

 

CLOTALDO: What’s this? The same
Poor maid who grew up fatherless
Displaying such courageousness?

 

ROSAURA: That’s right.

 

CLOTALDO: What moves you?

 

ROSAURA: My good name.

 

CLOTALDO: Soon Astolf will claim reverence . . .

 

ROSAURA: He stole all honor from my life.

 

CLOTALDO: As king, and Stella as his wife.

 

ROSAURA: An outrage God won’t countenance!

 

CLOTALDO: It’s madness, child.

 

ROSAURA: I’m sure you’re right.

 

CLOTALDO: Control these urges.

 

ROSAURA: So you say.

 

CLOTALDO: You’ll lose your life . . .

 

ROSAURA: It’s true, I may.

CLOTALDO: And honor, too.

 

ROSAURA: How well I might.

 

CLOTALDO: What will this mean?

 

ROSAURA: My death.

 

CLOTALDO: Don’t wage
War out of spite.

 

ROSAURA: My honor calls.

 

CLOTALDO: That’s folly!

 

ROSAURA: Valor never palls.

 

CLOTALDO: Sheer lunacy!

 

ROSAURA: Or wrath and rage.

 

CLOTALDO: Can’t this blind fury be allayed
In any other way?

 

ROSAURA: No, none.

 

CLOTALDO: But who will second you?

 

ROSAURA: No one.

 

CLOTALDO: You won’t be swayed?

 

ROSAURA: I won’t be swayed.

 

CLOTALDO: The deed brings with it quite a cost.

 

ROSAURA: I would be lost at any rate.

CLOTALDO: If that’s the case, my child, then wait—
Together let us both be lost.

 

[They exit.]

Scene ix

[Trumpets blare as soldiers march onstage with CLARION and SEGISMUND, who is dressed in animal pelts.]

 

SEGISMUND: If proud Rome’s Golden Age
Could view my entrance on this martial
stage,
How loudly would it voice
Delight at this strange triumph and rejoice
Amazed to understand
A beast had armies under his command!
With such unbridled might,
The heavens could be mine without a fight!
But spirit, help me quell
These arrogant displays and not dispel
This lingering applause;
I’d grieve to wake without it now because
To lose what dreams contain
Would surely bring me pain.
The less I hold things dear,
The less I’ll suffer when they disappear.

 

[A clarion sounds offstage.]

 

CLARION: Look there! A wingèd horse—
I’m sorry, but my stories pack more force
When I hyperbolize—
Four elements incarnate in its guise:
Its body mass the earth,
Its soul the fire ablaze beneath its girth,
Its froth the water and its breath the air.
I relish chaos and confusion where
The soul, froth, breath, and body all can be
A monster made of fire, wind, land, and sea,
Though dapple-gray of hue
And patchy, straddled by a horseman who
Digs spurs into its side
To fly upon his ride.
But this is a refined
And jaunty dame!

 

SEGISMUND: Her radiance leaves me blind.

 

CLARION: Lord, it’s Rosaura! See?

 

[He exits.]

 

SEGISMUND: The heavens have restored this sight to me.

Scene x

[Enter ROSAURA, dressed in a loose-fitting skirt, with a dagger and sword.]

 

ROSAURA: Magnanimous Prince Segismund!
Your lordly heroism shines
Upon this day of noble feats
From out the shades of darkest night!
For as the brightest-gleaming orb
Among the stars displays its power
In Dawn’s embrace, restoring light
To roses and to blooming flowers,
Emerging crowned with fulgent rays
Above the mountains and the seas,
Dispersing beams, dispensing glow,
Illuming froth and bathing peaks,
So may you rise atop the world,
Proud Poland’s shining sun! Avail
A woman fraught with wretchedness
Who, prostrate at your feet today,
A woman first and then a wretch,
Trusts you’ll comply—as either one
Of these conditions should suffice—
Since each is more than I could want
To obligate a gentleman
Who boasts of gallantry to act.
Three times already have you looked
On me with wonder, blind to facts
About my life, as all three times
My clothes displayed a different self:
On the occasion we first met
Inside a cell so dank I held
My grieved existence charmed beside
Your own, you took me for a man.
When next you gazed on me you saw
A woman, as the palace plans
Suspending you mid dream and pomp
Turned all to shadows and vain schemes.
The third time here, your eyes behold
This monstrous and unnatural freak
Attired in female finery
Yet bravely bearing manly arms.
As you’ll be more disposed to aid
My cause once pity moves your heart,
I’ll tell now of the tragic blows
That fate’s compelled me to absorb.
I was of woman nobly born
In Moscow at the royal court.
My mother had to have been fair,
For she was not a happy maid.
A vile deceiver laid his eyes
On her, a villain who remains
Both nameless and unknown to me.
His valor, though, has given rise
To mine, and being the result
Of his desires, I now repine
Not being born a pagan child
So I half-madly might feel pleased
To think this man was like those gods
Whose cunning metamorphoses
Into a swan, gold shower, or bull
Left Leda ravished, Danaë duped,
And fair Europa raped. I thought
I was digressing, but these lewd
Accounts of perfidy provide
An overview to this sad tale.
My mother, far more lovely still
Than any woman, fell betrayed
By her seducer’s gallant words
And thus, like many, was undone.
The old trick of a marriage pledge
Imparted by a honeyed tongue
Beguiled her so, that to this day
Its memory dispels her joys.
In fact, the tyrant so recalled
Aeneas in his flight from Troy
He even left his sword behind.
We’ll leave its blade ensheathed for now
But have no doubt I’ll draw this steel
Before I end my sad account.
So, from their bond, a loose-tied knot
That neither ties one down nor binds,
Not quite a marriage or a crime—
It’s all the same now to my mind—
I issued forth, my mother’s twin
And living picture when it came
Not to her comely countenance
But all her sorrows and travails.
As heiress to the vast estate
Of love’s misfortune she bequeathed,
I hardly feel the need to say
I’ve come into her destiny.
The most I’ll say about myself
Is that the thief who dared despoil
The trophy of my honor’s claim
And left my maiden virtue soiled
Is Astolf! Heavens, how my heart
Beats quick with rage when I pronounce
His name, a natural response
To hearing enemies announced.
Duke Astolf, disremembering
The joys he’d so ungratefully found—
Yes, memories of love gone by
Are just that quickly blotted out—
Arrived in Poland, called away
From this great conquest, having come
To claim fair Stella as his bride,
A torch beside my setting sun.
Now who would think so stellar-made
A union, sanctioned by the stars,
Could come unraveled just because
Maid Stella came between our hearts?
I, then, dishonored and deceived,
Remained forlorn, remained half-crazed,
Remained a corpse, remained myself,
Which is to say, too much remained
Of that infernal turmoil lodged
Within the Babylon of my mind.
I swore myself to silence, then,
As there are trials and pains in life
Authentic feeling can convey
Far better than the mouth could hope,
And voiced my grief by keeping mute.
One day, though, as I sat alone,
My mother, Violante, stormed
The fortress where these miseries lay
And out they poured like prisoners
Colliding all in unleashed haste.
I felt no shame confessing them,
For when a person shares her griefs
With one she knows has likewise felt
Her share of them from being weak,
The sorrow starts to dissipate
And spreads a balm upon the hurt.
A bad example, after all,
Can be of use. In short, she heard
My plaints with sympathy and tried
Consoling me with her own woes—
A judge who’s been delinquent finds
Forgiveness easy to bestow!
So, as she’d learned that honor wronged
Could never hope to be set right
By whiling idle hours away
Or simply watching time go by,
She set me on a different course.
Her sage advice? That I pursue
And hold my tempter liable for
The loss his blandishments produced,
Obliging him with courtly ways.
Now, to ensure this quest would pose
Small risk to me, fate intervened
To outfit me in manly clothes.
My mother took an old sword down,
The one I’ve girded round my waist,
And so the time has come at last,
As I have pledged, to bare its blade.
Convinced this sword would be a sign,
She said, “Set out for Poland’s fields
And let her grandest noblemen
Be certain to observe the steel
Now gracing you. In one of them
Your luckless fortune may well find
A sympathetic ear, and all
Your sorrows solace in due time.”
I came, indeed, to Poland, where—
Let’s skip a bit, for why repeat
What everyone already knows?—
A bolting brute, half-horse, half-beast,
Unsaddled me outside that cave
Where you first spied my loveliness.
Now skip to where Clotaldo takes
A special interest in my quest
And begs the king to spare my life,
A favor Basil deigns to grant.
On learning my identity,
He urges me, dressed like man,
To put on lady’s clothes and serve
Maid Stella on the palace grounds
Where I’ve used all my craft to thwart
Duke Astolf’s love and Stella’s vows.
Let’s also skip where seeing me
Confounded you that time at court
As I, then wearing female garb,
Appeared in yet another form,
And speak of what Clotaldo’s done.
Self-servingly, he now ascribes
Great weight to Astolf being king
With Stella reigning as his bride
And, to my honor’s detriment,
Has bid me suffer this offense.
Brave Segismund, how clear it dawns
On all this day that sweet revenge
Belongs to you! The heavens smile
On your felicitous release
From out so crude a prison cell
Where you had grown resigned to be
A rock against all suffering
And beast unmoved by sentiment.
Now, as you take up arms to fight
Your native land and sovereign,
I come to pledge my aid, bedecked
In chaste Diana’s flowing robes
Atop a suit of Pallas’s
Own armor. Draped in clashing clothes
Of genteel fabric and cold steel,
I join your forces dually dressed.
To battle, then, bold general!
For it’s in both our interests
To stop these banns from going forth
And set this royal bond aside:
For me, so that the man I call
My husband takes no other wife;
For you, so that no gain in strength
Resulting from their allied states
Will threaten our great victory
Once you’ve returned as prince to reign.
I come, a woman, urging you
To join the cause to which I’m bound;
But as a man, I come to press
This late reclaiming of your crown.
I come, a woman, at your feet
To move you to commiserate;
But as a man, I come to serve
Beside you in your people’s aid.
I come, a woman, so you might
Assuage my sorrows and my pain;
But as a man, I come with sword
And person ready to assail.
So, should you find yourself inclined
To woo me as a woman, rest
Assured that, as a man, I’d be
Compelled to kill you in defense
Of honor, honorably, because
In this campaign of love you’ve planned,
I’ll play the woman with my plaints,
But fight with honor like a man.

 

SEGISMUND: Just heavens! If it’s really true
I dream, suspend my memory!
It isn’t possible for all
I’ve seen to fit into a dream!
If God would but reveal to me
How I might blot these troubles out
And give them not another thought!
What mortal ever faced such doubts?
If I had only dreamt I dwelt
Amid such luxury, how could
This woman have recounted what
I saw and seemed so plausible?
It was true, then. That was no dream.
If this is so, which by all rights
Should leave me more confused, not less,
Who is it that could call my life
A dream? Do this world’s glories so
Resemble dreams in what they vaunt
That even the most genuine
Are destined to be reckoned false
As fake ones are considered true?
Have these so little difference
That every man must ask himself
Now whether all he relishes
Around him is a lie or truth?
Why must the copy counterfeit
The true original so well
That none dare hazard which is which?
If such be life’s design, and all
Our splendid pageantry and strength,
Our solemn pomp and majesty,
Must vanish into shadow’s depths,
Let’s seize the time that’s given us
And reap what pleasures may be reaped,
For all we now enjoy on earth
Is but what we enjoy in dreams.
I hold Rosaura in my power;
Her beauty captivates my soul.
So let me profit from this chance
To let love set aside the codes
Of valor, trust, and chivalry
That she’s invoked in her request.
As this is but another dream,
Let’s all dream happy things on end
And rue them only once we wake!
Be careful or your logic might
Convince you this is fact again!
A dream may reach vainglorious heights,
But who’d pass heaven’s glories up
For human ones, had he the choice?
What happy turns of fate weren’t dreams?
What man has felt tremendous joy
And not then asked himself in time,
Once memory had reviewed the scene:
“Weren’t all these things I witnessed but
A dream?” If knowledge like this means
Great disappointment—for I’ve learned
That pleasure is a lovely flame
The merest breath of air blows out
So only wafting ash remains—
Let’s look toward the eternal, then,
And seek renown that never dies
Where joy will not succumb to sleep
Or splendor ever napping lie!
Rosaura’s honor lingers lost
And it’s incumbent on a prince
To see that honor be restored.
I swear by God above I’ll win
Her honor back before my crown
And save her name from future harm!
It’s best I flee temptation so
Enticing. Sound the call to arms!
I’ll wage war on my foes this day
Before the night’s encroaching shade
Can shroud the sunlight’s golden rays
In somber black and dark-green waves.

ROSAURA: Sire, why do you withdraw from me?
I would have hoped that soothing words
Were due my sorrows at the least
As balm for salving heartfelt hurt.
How is it possible, then, lord,
That I should go unseen, unheard?
Why won’t you even look this way?

 

SEGISMUND: Rosaura, only honor’s call
Could prompt this seeming cruelty
In serving kinder mercy’s cause.
My voice declines to answer you
To let my honor give reply.
I hold my speech so that my deeds
Will speak for me in their own right
And shield my gaze from you because
No man in such dire straits can pledge
To aid a woman’s honor when
She looks the sight of loveliness.

 

[Exit SEGISMUND and soldiers.]

 

ROSAURA: Why does he speak in riddles, skies?
He knows my suffering has been great,
So how could he equivocate
By giving such abstruse replies?

Scene xi

[Enter CLARION.]

 

CLARION: My lady, when you’ve time to spare . . .

 

ROSAURA: Why, Clarion! Man, where have you been?

 

CLARION: Just trying to read my fortune in
A deck of cards, confined up there—
They slay me . . . no, they slay me not—
A face card would ensure a brush
With death, but trumped, would leave me
flush
With life again. That parlous spot
All but convinced me I would bust.

 

ROSAURA: Whatever from?

 

CLARION: From finding out
The secret of your past. No doubt

 

[Drumbeats sound offstage.]

 

Clotaldo . . . What’s that sound I just Heard?

 

ROSAURA: Beating drums and battle
whoops?

 

CLARION: Armed soldiers sortie from the court
To end the palace siege. To thwart
Prince Segismund’s unruly troops,
They’ll make a stand for all they’re worth!

 

ROSAURA: It’s cowardly to be allied
With him and not fight at his side,
A scandalous wonder on this earth,
Where cruel acts flourish and survive
In anarchy despite man’s laws.

 

[She exits.]

Scene xii

SOME VOICES: [Offstage.] Long live our king’s
triumphant cause!

 

OTHER VOICES: [Offstage.] Long may our freedom live
and thrive!

 

CLARION: Long live their freedom and their king!
I wish the both of them the best,
But nothing leaves me more distressed,
Than being forced to choose one thing.
Instead of risking life and limb,
I’ll step aside, avoid distress,
And act like Nero through this mess—
He never let things get to him!
It’s up to me now to decide
What else should worry me but me.
I’ll just make sure that I can see
The party rage from where I hide.
Ah, this is where I’ll catch my breath,
Secluded on this rocky sheer.
No, death will never find me here
And I don’t give two figs for death.

 

[He hides.]

Scene xiii

[With the sound of arms clashing, King BASIL, CLOTALDO, and ASTOLF enter fleeing.]

 

BASIL: What king has ever felt defeat
Or father harassment so dire?

 

CLOTALDO: Your army has been routed, sire,
And scatters in confused retreat.

ASTOLF: None but the treacherous victors stride
The field.

 

BASIL: The battle thus desists
To make of victors loyalists
And traitors of the losing side.
Let’s flee our tyrant son and his
Inhuman rage, Clotaldo, flee
His savage wrath and cruelty!

 

[Shots are heard offstage, and CLARION falls wounded from his hiding place.]

 

CLARION: Sweet heavens, help me now!

 

ASTOLF: Who is
This soldier of misfortune here
That wallows at our feet in mud,
His body soaked and stained with blood?

 

CLARION: A hapless piece of man, I fear,
Who vainly sought to turn his face
From death, but met it anyhow,
Whose final dodge did not allow
Him final shrift. There’s just no place
To hide from death and not be found,
From which a man might well assume
The more he tries to spurn the tomb,
The sooner he’ll lie underground.
Go, then, rejoin your vast brigades
And charge into the bloody breach
Where you’ll be farthest from harm’s
reach,
Mid clashing swords and cannonades,
More safe than hiding in the hills,
Which offer no security
Against the tide of destiny
Or what inclement fortune wills.
Think you by fleeing you’ll be fine
And cheat death in this way again?
You’ll die precisely where and when
Your deaths fulfill God’s grand design.

 

[He collapses offstage.]

 

BASIL: You’ll die precisely where and when
Your deaths fulfill God’s grand design!
Almighty heavens, truer words
Than these man never spoke before!
They lead us toward a greater truth
Imparted by this talking corpse
Whose wound is but a second mouth
From which that trickling liquid drips
Like wisdom off a bloody tongue
To teach how man’s initiatives
All come to naught when they presume
To counteract the powers on high.
Our own attempts to rid this land
Of treachery and homicide
Have ended in its capture by
The forces we had most opposed.

 

CLOTALDO: Though it is common knowledge, sire,
That fate’s familiar with all roads
And hunts down even those who think
Themselves hid mid these stones, it still
Is hardly Christian sentiment
To say one can’t escape its ills.
A prudent man might easily
Emerge victorious over fate.
I beg you, sire, if you stand fair
To common wretchedness and pain,
Seek refuge where it might be had.

ASTOLF: Your Majesty, Clotaldo may
Advise you as a prudent man
Who’s reached a wise, mature
old age,
But I’ll speak as a daring youth:
You’ll find a horse concealed within
The tangled thickets of these hills,
A fleet abortion of the wind.
Ride hard until you’re safe; I’ll guard
The rear to safeguard your escape.

 

BASIL: If death fulfills God’s grand design
Or otherwise should lie in wait
For us today, we’ll stand our ground
And meet it face-to-face at last.

Scene xiv

[The call to arms sounds, and SEGISMUND enters with his entire company, including STELLA and ROSAURA.]

 

SOLDIER: Here! Somewhere mid these bosky hills
In thickets off the beaten path
The king is hiding.

 

SEGISMUND: After him!
Look under every living plant!
I’ll see this dusky forest combed
First trunk by trunk, then branch by branch!

 

CLOTALDO: Flee, sire!

 

BASIL: What purpose would it serve?

 

ASTOLF: Who holds you?

 

BASIL: Astolf, step aside.

CLOTALDO: Where will you turn, my lord?

 

BASIL: We’ve but
One recourse left us at this time.
If it is us you look for, prince,
Then look no farther than your feet
Where we now lay this carpet wove
Of white hairs from our snowy peak.
Come, tread upon our neck and trounce
Our crown, humiliate us, drag
Our dignity and reverence down,
Take vengeance on our honor fast
And use us as your captive slave.
For what has our precaution served?
Let fate receive its proper due:
The heavens stayed true to their word.

 

SEGISMUND: Proud worthies of the Polish court,
Attend your true and rightful prince
And I’ll make sense of what these
strange
Events you’ve witnessed have evinced.
What heaven has decreed shall come
To pass is writ in God’s own script
Upon this drawing board of blue,
Where shining print and twinkling signs
Embellish these celestial sheets
Like gilded letters hand-inscribed.
Not once have stars deceived or lied,
Though one soul does lie and deceive:
That man who’d read this coded script
To hazard wildly what stars mean.
My father, humbled at my feet,
Believing he could shun the rage
Portended for me, had his son,
Born human, made a beast and caged.
His action thus ensured, despite
My natural nobility,
My pure aristocratic blood
And all my gallant qualities—
For I was born a docile soul
And gentle child—that so deprived
An upbringing and inhumane,
Debasing, brutish way of life
Would father in me beastlike ways.
Now, how was this confounding fate?
For say some stranger should predict
One day: “An animal shall slay
You by and by.” What strategy
For thwarting such a fate would force
A man to rouse brutes from their sleep?
Or if that stranger warned, “The sword
You gird upon your thigh shall be
The one to cause your death,” how vain
All efforts to eschew this end
Should seem if one then bared the blade
And left it pointing at his chest!
Or if he bode, “The silvery spumes
That cap the sea shall someday serve
As gravestones on your watery tomb,”
How prudent would it be to brave
The ocean deep precisely as
Its cresting waves and snow-capped peaks
Arose like mountains of clear glass?
To act so heedlessly tempts fate,
As he who wakes a sleeping beast
Discovers once he’s sensed its threat;
As he who fears a sword’s cold steel
Learns while unsheathing it; as he
Who swims in stormy seas construes.
For even if—now hear me out—
My fury were a sleeping brute,
My savagery a tempered sword,
And all my raging tranquil seas,
Harsh treatment and blind vengefulness
Would not reverse man’s destiny,
But hasten that it come to pass.
That mortal who, by hopeful acts,
Would influence the turns of fate
Must seek a more judicious path.
Foreseeing future harm does not
Ensure the victim will be spared
Its ravages, for while it’s true
That man may save himself some care
Through sheer humility—that’s clear—
This happens only once the harm
Presents itself, as there is just
No chance that fate will be disarmed.
Let this amazing spectacle,
These strange events, this horror show
And wondrous pageant play serve as
A lesson to us all. Who knows
A more exemplary case? Despite
Divining heaven’s secret plans,
A father lies at his son’s heels,
A king who’s forfeited command.
The skies had willed this to occur
And, intrigue as he might to stave
Off fate, he failed. What chance could I
Then hope to have—a man less gray,
Less brave, less erudite than he—
To alter fortune’s ways? Rise, sire.
Give me your hand. Since heaven has
Exposed the ruses you contrived
As yet more futile ploys to change
Their plotted course, I humbly bare
My neck to you, beneath your heels,
So you might settle these affairs.

 

BASIL: Our noble son, this virtuous
Display has fathered you again
In our own heart. You’ll reign as prince.
The laurel leaf and palm are meant
For you as victor on this day.
Let gallant actions be your crown.

 

ALL: Long live Prince Segismund! All hail!

 

SEGISMUND: Now that it seems my valor’s bound
To win me yet more victories,
I’ll start with my most dogged foe
And quell myself. Come, Astolf, take
Rosaura’s hand and be betrothed.
Thus will your debt of honor be
Repaid, and I’ll vouchsafe for this.

 

ASTOLF: Correct though you may be about
Such satisfaction, lord, admit
The lady cannot claim descent
And that I’d stain my family name
By marrying a woman who . . .

 

CLOTALDO: Before you say more, Astolf, wait.
Rosaura’s blood is noble as
Your own, and gladly would I duel
The man who’d gainsay this, for she’s
My child. That should suffice for you.

 

ASTOLF: How’s that?

 

CLOTALDO: I thought it best to keep
The secret hid till she could be
Both honorably and nobly wed.
The story is quite long, indeed,
But in the end, she is my child.

 

ASTOLF: If this is true, I will uphold
My pledge.

SEGISMUND: We’ve only Stella now
To turn our thoughts to and console.
Considering her sudden loss
Of so renowned and brave a prince,
I place in my own hands the charge
Of finding one who rivals him,
If not superior in worth
And riches, then at least his peer.
Fair Stella, take my hand.

 

STELLA: I’ve no
Right to the happiness I feel.

 

SEGISMUND: Clotaldo, loyal servitor
Of my good sire, these arms now stretch
Forth to embrace you, promising
To render all you may request.

 

1ST SOLDIER: This man has never served your cause
And yet is honored so? What lies
Ahead for me, then, as the font
Of all this turmoil and the might
That freed you from your tower jail?

 

SEGISMUND: That selfsame tower. And to ensure
You’ll not set foot from there alive,
We’ll station guards at all the doors.
Of what use is the traitor once
The treason has been carried out?

 

BASIL: Your wisdom awes this gathering.

 

ASTOLF: He seems a different person now.

 

ROSAURA: A prudent and judicious prince!

 

SEGISMUND: But why should you feel awe or fear? The dream that was my schoolmaster Will grieve me if it reappears And I awake to find myself Imprisoned once again, locked up In my rank cell. But should it not, To dream this would be quite enough! For on this earth, I’ve come to see That all of human happiness Must reach an end, just like a dream. So in what little time is left, I’ll seize this opportunity To ask forgiveness for our flaws, As noble souls like yours are wont To pardon others for their faults.