The Two Lovers of Heaven: Chrysanthus and Daria by Pedro Calderón de la Barca (classic books for 12 year olds .TXT) 📕

But before you give the answer Which your subtle wit may dictate, I would with your own eyes have thee See him first, you 'll then know better What my urgent need demandeth. Come, he 's not far off, his quarter Is adjoining this apartment; When you see him, I am certain You will think it a disaster Far less evil he should die, Than that in this cruel manner He should outrage his own blood, And my bright escutcheon blacken. [He opens a door, and Chrysanthus is seen seated in a chair, with his hands and feet in irons.]

CLAUDIUS. Thus to see my friend, o'erwhelms me With a grief I cannot master.

POLEMIUS. Stay, do not approach him nearer; For I would not he remarked thee, I would save him the disgrace Of being seen by thee thus shackled.

CLAUDIUS. What his misery may dictate We can hear, nor yet attract him.

CHRYSANTHUS. Was ever human fate so strange as mine?
Were unmatched wishes ever mated so?
Is it not enough to feel one form of woe, Without being forced 'neath opposite forms to pine? A triune God's mysterious power divine,
From heaven I ask for life, that I may know,
From heaven I ask for death, life's grisly foe, A fair one's favour in my heart to shrine: But how can death and life so well agree,
That I can ask of heaven to end their strife, And grant them both in pitying love to me?
Yet I will ask, though both with risks are rife, Neither shall hinder me, for heaven must be
The arbiter of death as well as life.

POLEMIUS. See now if I spoke the truth.

CLAUDIUS. I am utterly distracted. (The door closes.

POLEMIUS. Lest perhaps he should perceive us, Let us move a little further. Now advise me how to act, Since you see the grief that racks me.

CLAUDIUS. Though it savours of presumption To white hairs like yours, to hazard Words of council, yet at times Even a young man may impart them: Well-proportioned punishment Grave defects oft counteracteth. But when carried to extremes, It but irritates and hardens. Any instrument of music Of this truth is an example. Lightly touched, it breathes but sweetness, Discord, when 't is roughly handled. 'T is not well to send an arrow To such heights, that in discharging The strong tension breaks the bowstring, Or the bow itself is fractured. These two simple illustrations Are sufficiently adapted To my purpose, of advising Means of cure both mild and ample. You must take a middle course, All extremes must be abandoned. Gentle but judicious treatment Is the method for Chrysanthus. For severer methods end in Disappointment and disaster. Take him, then, from out his prison, Leave him free, unchecked, untrammelled, For the danger is an infant Without strength to hurt or harm him. Be it that those wretched Christians Have bewitched him, disenchant him, Since you have the power; for Nature With such careful forethought acteth, That an antidotal herb She for every poison planteth. And if, finally, your wish Is that he this fatal sadness Should forget, and wholly change it To a happier state and gladder, Get him married: for remember Nothing is so well adapted To restrain discursive fancies As the care and the attachment Centered in a wife and children; Taking care that in this matter Mere convenience should not weigh More than his own taste and fancy: Let him choose his wife himself. Pleased in that, to rove or ramble Then will be beyond his power, Even were he so attracted, For a happy married lover Thinks of naught except his rapture.

POLEMIUS. I with nothing such good counsel Can repay, except the frankness Of accepting it, which is The reward yourself would ask for. And since I a mean must choose Between two extremes of action, From his cell, to-day, my son Shall go forth, but in a manner That will leave his seeming freedom Circumscribed and safely guarded. Let that hall which looketh over Great Apollo's beauteous garden Be made gay by flowing curtains, Be festooned by flowery garlands; Costly robes for him get ready; Then invite the loveliest damsels Rome can boast of, to come hither To the feasts and to the dances. Bring musicians, and in fine Let it be proclaimed that any Woman of illustrious blood Who from his delusive passions Can divert him, by her charms Curing him of all his sadness, Shall become his wife, how humble Her estate, her wealth how scanty. And if this be not sufficient, I will give a golden talent Yearly to the leech who cures him By some happy stroke of practice. [Exit.

CLAUDIUS. Oh! a father's pitying love, What will it not do, what marvel Not attempt for a son's welfare, For his life?

Enter ESCARPIN.

ESCARPIN.
My lord 'por Baco!' (That 's the god I like to swear by, Jolly god of all good rascals) May I ask you what 's the secret?

CLAUDIUS. You gain little when you ask me For a secret all may know. After his mysterious absence Your young lord 's returned home ill.

ESCARPIN. In what way?

CLAUDIUS.
That none can fathom, Since he does not tell his ailment Save by signs and by his manner.

ESCARPIN. Then he 's wrong, sir, not to tell it Clearly: with extreme exactness Should our griefs, our pains be mentioned. A back tooth a man once maddened, And a barber came to draw it. As he sat with jaws expanded, "Which tooth is it, sir, that pains you?" Asked of him the honest barber, And the patient in affected Language grandly thus made answer, "The penultimate"; the dentist Not being used to such pedantic Talk as this, with ready forceps Soon the last of all extracted. The poor patient to be certain, With his tongue the spot examined, And exclaimed, his mouth all bleeding, "Why, that 's not the right tooth, master". "Is it not the ultimate molar?" Said the barber quite as grandly. "Yes" (he answered), "but I said The penultimate, and I 'd have you Know, your worship, that it means Simply that that 's next the farthest". Thus instructed, he returned To the attack once more, remarking "In effect then the bad tooth Is the one that 's next the last one?" "Yes", he said, "then here it is", Spoke the barber with great smartness, Plucking out the tooth that then Was the last but one; it happened From not speaking plain, he lost Two good teeth, and kept his bad one.

CLAUDIUS. Come and something newer learn In the stratagem his father Has arranged to cure the illness Of Chrysanthus, whom he fancies . . .

ESCARPIN. What?

CLAUDIUS.
Is spell-bound by the Christians Through the power of their enchantments:- (Since to-day I cannot see thee, [aside. Cynthia fair, forgive my absence). [Exit.

ESCARPIN. While these matters thus proceed, I shall try, let what will happen, Thee to see, divine Daria:- At my love, oh! be not angered, Since the penalty of beauty Is to be beloved: then pardon. [Exit.


SCENE II.-The Wood.


Enter DARIA from the chase with bow and arrows.

DARIA. O stag that swiftly flying Before my feathered shafts the winds outvieing, Impelled by wings, not feet, If in this green retreat Here panting thou wouldst die, And stain with blood the fountain murmuring by, Await another wound, another friend, That so with quicker speed thy life may end; For to a wretch that stroke a friend must be That eases death and sooner sets life free. [She stumbles and falls near the mouth of a cave.] But, bless me, heaven! I feel My brain grow hot, my curdling blood congeal: A form of fire and snow I seem at once to turn: this sudden blow, This stumbling, how I know not, by this stone, This horrid mouth in which my grave is shown, This cave of many shapes, Through which the melancholy mountain gapes, This mountain's self, a vast Abysmal shadow cast Suddenly on my heart, as if 't were meant To be my rustic pyre, my strange new monument, All fill my heart with wonder and with fear, What buried mysteries are hidden here That terrify me so, And make me tremble 'neath impending woe. [A solemn strain of music is heard from within.] Nay more, illusion now doth bear to me The sweetest sounds of dulcet harmony, Music and voice combine:- O solitude! what phantasms are thine! But let me listen to the voice that blent Sounds with the music of the instrument.

Music from within the cave.

SONG. Oh! be the day for ever blest, And blest be pitying heaven's decree, That makes the darksome cave to be Daria's tomb, her place of rest!

DARIA. Blest! can such evil auguries bless? And happy can that strange fate be That gives this darksome cave to me As monument of my sad life?

MUSIC.
Yes.

DARIA. Oh! who before in actual woe The happier signs of bliss could read? Will not a fate so rigorous lead To misery, not to rapture?-

MUSIC.
No.

DARIA. O fantasy! unwelcome guest! How can this cave bring good to me?

MUSIC. Itself will tell, when it shall be Daria's tomb, her place of rest.

DARIA. But then, who gave the stern decree, That this dark cave my bones should hide?

MUSIC. Daria, it was he who died, Who gave his life for love of thee.

DARIA. "Who gave his life for love of me!" Ah! me, and can it be in sooth That gentle noble Roman youth I answered with such cruelty In this same wood the other day, Saying that I his love would be If he would only die for me! Can he have cast himself away Down this dark cave, and there lies dead, Buried within the dread abyss, Waiting my love, his promised bliss?- My soul, not now mine own, has fled!

CYNTHIA (within). Forward! forward! through the gloom Every cave and cavern enter, Search the dark wood to its centre, Lest it prove Daria's tomb.

DARIA. Ah! me, the sense confounding, Both here and there are opposite voices sounding. Here is my name in measured cadence greeted, And there in hollow echoes oft repeated. Would that the latter cries that reach my ear Came from my mates in this wild forest sphere, In the dread solitude that doth surround me Their presence would be welcome. [Enter Cynthia with bow and arrows.]

CYNTHIA.
Till I found me, Beauteous Daria, by thy side once more, Each mountain nook my search had well gone o'er.

DARIA (aside). Let me dissemble The terror and surprise that make me tremble, If I have power to feign Amid the wild confusion of my brain:- Following the chase to-day, Wishing Diana's part in