Forthwith upon your brows the royal crown, That now weighs heavy on my aged brows, I will devolve; and while I pass away Into some cloister, with my Maker there To make my peace in penitence and prayer, Happily settle the disorder'd realm That now cries loudly for a lineal heir.
SEG.
And so--
When the crown falters on your shaking head, And slips the sceptre from your palsied hand, And Poland for her rightful heir cries out;When not only your stol'n monopoly Fails you of earthly power, but 'cross the grave The judgment-trumpet of another world Calls you to count for your abuse of this;Then, oh then, terrified by the double danger, You drag me from my den--Boast not of giving up at last the power You can no longer hold, and never rightly Held, but in fee for him you robb'd it from;And be assured your Savage, once let loose, Will not be caged again so quickly; not By threat or adulation to be tamed, Till he have had his quarrel out with those Who made him what he is.
KING.
Beware! Beware!
Subdue the kindled Tiger in your eye, Nor dream that it was sheer necessity Made me thus far relax the bond of fate, And, with far more of terror than of hope Threaten myself, my people, and the State.
Know that, if old, I yet have vigour left 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 For all the loss of a distorted stem.
SEG.
That will I straightway bring to trial--Oh, After a revelation such as this, The Last Day shall have little left to show Of righted wrong and villainy requited!
Nay, Judgment now beginning upon earth, Myself, methinks, in sight of all my wrongs, Appointed heaven's avenging minister, Accuser, judge, and executioner Sword in hand, cite the guilty--First, as worst, The usurper of his son's inheritance;Him and his old accomplice, time and crime Inveterate, and unable to repay 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, That I may trample on the false white head So long has worn my crown! Where are my soldiers?
Of all my subjects and my vassals here 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).
Ay, 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, Forthwith shall draw the curtain of the Past About you; and this momentary gleam Of glory that you think to hold life-fast, So coming, so shall vanish, as a dream.
SEG.
He prophesies; the old man prophesies;
And, at his trumpet's summons, from the tower The leash-bound shadows loosen'd after me My rising glory reach and over-lour--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 enclosed 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 extinguish'd stars--Reach me the sword He flung me--Fill me such a bowl of wine As that you woke the day with--KING.
And shall close,--
But of the vintage that Clotaldo knows.
(Exeunt.)
