 Act I of the Wonder Working Magician by Pedro Calderón de la Barca, translated by Dennis Florence McCarthy. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. To the memory of Shelley, whose admiration for the light and odor of the flowery and starry autos is the highest tribute to the beauty of Calderón's poetry, this drama is inscribed. Persons Cyprian, read by Adrian Stevens Demon, read by Todd Leilius, the governor of Antioch's son, read by Kristen Hand Flores, friend of Leilius, read by Adam Bielka Moscon, servant to Cyprian, read by Alan Mapstone Claren, servant of Cyprian, read by Thomas Peter The governor of Antioch, read by Algeepug Fabius, his servant, read by Timothy Ferguson Lassander, the reputed father of Justina, read by Larry Wilson Justina, read by Jean Vidae Livia, her maid, read by T.J. Burns Servant, read by Craig Franklin A soldier, chorus, people, voice within, read by Kimberly Shoemaker Chorus of voices, read by Alan Mapstone A voice, read by Nima A phantom figure of Justina, read by Eva Davis The skeleton, read by Lian Yao Stage directions, read by Sonia Scene, Antioch, and its environs The wonder-working magician, act the first Scene one, a word near Antioch Enter Cyprian in a student's gown, followed by Claren and Moscon, as poor scholars, carrying books In the pleasant solitude of this tranquil spot, this thicket formed of interlacing bows, butts and flowers and shrubs, commingled You may leave me, leaving also as my best companions with me, for I need none else, those books which I bade you to bring hither from the house For while today Antioch, the mighty city, celebrates with such rejoicing the great temple newly finished unto Jupiter, the bearing thither also of his image publicly in grant procession To its shrine to be uplifted, I, escaping the confusion of the streets and squares, have flitted hither wood to spend in study, what of daylight yet may glimmer Go, enjoy the festival, go to Antioch and Mingle, in its various sports returning when the sun descending, sinketh, to be buried in the waves Which, beneath the dark clouds fringes, round the royal course of gold, shine like sepulchres of silver, here you'll find me Sir, although most decidedly my wish is to behold the sports, yet I cannot go without a whisper of some few five thousand words which I'll give you in a jiffy Can it be that on a day of such free, such unrestricted revelry, and mirth, and fun, you, with your old books, come hither to this country place, rejecting all the frolics of the city? Well, I think my master's right, but there's nothing more insipid than a grand procession day, half vendangos, priests, and fiddles Clarence, from the first to last, all your life you've been a trickster, a smart, temporizing toady, a bold flatterer, a trimmer, since you praise the thoughts of others and nearspeak your own The civil way to tell a man he lies is to say he's wrong, you twig me, now I think I speak my mind Moscon, Claren, both I bid ye cease this silly altercation, it is ever thus betwixt ye, puffed up with your little knowledge, each maintains his own opinion Go, and as I've said, here seek me, when night falls and with the thickness of its shadows veils from you, this most fair and wondrous system of the universe How comes it that although you have admitted it is not right to see the feast, yet you go to see it? Simple is the answer, no one follows the advice which he has given to another Moscon, aside To see Livia, with the gods I will wind Exit, Claren, aside If the honest truth were told, Livia is the girl that gives me something worth the living for, even her name has in it this assurance Livia, yes, minus A, I live for Livia Exit, scene two Now I am alone, and may, if my mind can be so lifted, study the great problem which keeps my soul disturbed, bewildered Since I read in Pliny's page the mysterious words there written, which define a god, because it doth seem beyond the limits of my intellect to find one who all those signs exhibits This mysterious hidden truth must I seek for Reads Scene three Enter the demon in Galadres, Cyprian Demon, aside Though thou givest all thy thoughts to the research, Cyprian, thou must ever miss it, since I'll hide it from thy mind There's a rustling in this thicket. Who is there? Who art thou? Sir, a mere stranger, who has ridden all this morning up and down these dark roads, not knowing whither, having lost my way, my horse to the emerald in encircles with a tapestry of green these lone hills I've loosed. It gives him at the same time food and rest I'm to Antioch-bound on business of importance, my companions I have parted from. Through listless laps of thought, a thing that happens to the most of earthly pilgrims, I have lost my way, and lost comrades, servants, and assistants I am much surprised to learn that in view of the uplifted towers of Antioch you thus lost your way. There's not a single path that on this mountainside, more or less by feet imprinted, but doth lead unto its walls, as to its one central limit by whatever path you take you'll go right It is an instance of that ignorant, which in sight even of truth the true goal misses. And as it appears not wise thus to enter a strange city unattended and unknown, asking even my way, it is fitter that till night doth conquer day, here, while light doth last, to linger By your dress and by these books round you, like alerted circle of wise friends, I see you are a great student, and the instinct of my soul doth ever draw me unto men to books addicted Have you studied much? Well, no, but I've knowledge quite sufficient not to be deemed ignorant Then what sciences know you? Many Why, we cannot reach even one, after years of studious vigil, and can you, what vanity, without study know so many? Yes, for I am of a country where the most exalted science needs no study to be known Would I wear a happy inmate of that country? Here our studies prove our ignorance more No figment is the fact that without study I had the superb ambition for the first professor's chair to compete and thought to win it, having very numerous votes And although I failed, sufficient glory is it to have tried, for not always to the winner is the fame If this you doubt, name the subject of your study, and then let us argue on it I, not knowing your opinion, even although it be the right, shall the opposite view insist on I am greatly gratified that you make this proposition, here in Plinius is a passage which much anxious thought doth give me, how to understand to know who's the God of whom he has written It is that passage which declares, well I know the words, this dictum, God is one supremist good, one pure essence, one existence, self-sustained, all sight, all hands Yes, it is true And what is in it so obstruous? I cannot find such a God as Plinius figures, if he be the highest good, then is Jupiter deficient in that attribute we see him acting like a mortal sinner many a time This, Danai, this Europa II doth witness, can then, by the highest good, all whose actions, all whose instincts should be sacred and divine, human frailty be committed These are fables which the learned first made use of, to exhibit underneath the names of Gods what in truth was but a hidden system of philosophy This reply is not sufficient, since such or is due to God none should dare to him attribute, none should stain his name with sins Though these sins should be fictitious, and considering well the case, if the highest good is figured by the Gods, of course they must, will what is best and fittest, how, then, can some Gods wish one thing, some another This we witness, in the dubious responses which are by their statues given Here you cannot say I speak of learned abstractions of the ideal, to two armies, if two shrines promise give of being victors, one, of course, must lose the battle The conclusion is so simple, need I said, that two wills, mutually antagonistic, cannot lead unto one end They being thus in opposition, one we must consider good, one as bad we must consider, but an evil willing God would imply a contradiction, then the highest good can dwell not among Gods who know division I deny your major, since these responses may be given by the oracles, or ends which our intellectual vision cannot reach Disprovenance, thus more good may have arisen to the loser in that battle, then its gain could bring the winner Granted, but that God ought not, for the Gods are not malicious, to have promised victory it would have been quite sufficient without this most false assurance The defeat to have been permitted, then if God must be all-sight every God should see distinctly with clear vision to the end, seeing that, he owed in fixing on a false conclusion, then, though the deity may with fitness be divided into persons, yet his essence must be single in the smallest circumstance It was needful for this business that the oracles should rouse the two hosts alike If fitting, they were genii that could rouse them good and bad as they distinguish by the learned, who are in fact spirits who among us mingle, and who good and evil acts, evil thoughts suggest and whisper a convincing argument for the immortal soul's existence Of these ministers could God have made for use, nor thus exhibit he was capable of a lie to affect his ends? Consider that these seeming contradictions cannot affirm faith diminish in the oneness of the Gods, if in things of higher import they know not of dissonance Take man's wondrous frame for instance, surely that majestic structure once conception doth exhibit If man's maker then were one, he some vantage must have given him, or the others, and if they all are equal, it is admitted that they are so, from the fact of their mutual opposition to each other, when the thought of creating man was hinted by one God, another could say, No, no, I do not wish it, than if God must be all hands, time might come when they would differ, one creating, one undoing, ere the other's work was finished, since the power of each was equal, but unequal were their wishes, which of these two powers would conquer? On impossible and false issues there can be no argument But your premise is admitting, say what then? That there must be one soul, God all hands, or vision, good supreme, supreme in grace, one who cannot err, omniscient, one the highest, none can equal, not beginning, yet the beginner, one pure essence, one soul substance, one wise worker, one soul willer, And though he, in one or two, or more persons be distinguished, yet the sovereign deity must be one, sublime and single, the first cause of every cause, the first germ of all existence. How can I deny so clear, so conclusive a position? They rise. Do you feel it? Who would not feel to find another quicker in the rivalry of wit? And though I am not deficient in an answer, I restrain it, hearing steps approaching hither through the wood. Besides, till's time I proceed to the city. Go in peace. Remain in peace. Aside. So involved in study is he, that I now must wean him from it, weaving round him the bewitchment of rare beauty. Since I have lived to attempt my fires to kindle in Justina's breast, one stroke, thus two vengences, shall give me. Exit. Never saw I such a man. But since still my people linger, I, the cause of so much doubt, will now strive to reconsider. He resumes his reading without perceiving the approach of those who enter. Scene four. Enter Lilius and Flores, Cyprian. Further let us not proceed, for these rocks, these boughs so thickly interwoven that the sun cannot even find admittance, shall be the sole witnesses of our duel. Then this instant draw your sword, for hear our deeds if in words elsewhere we've striven. Yes, I know that in the field, while the tongue is mute, the glitter of the sword speaks thus. They fight. What's this? Hold! Good Flores! Lilius! Listen! Here, until your rage has calmed, even unarmed, I stand betwixt ye. Thus to interrupt my vengeance. Went, O Cyprian, have you risen like a spectre? A wild wood-god! Have you from these tree-trunks issued? Scene five. Enter Moscon and Claren. Yonder, where we left our master, I hear sword strokes. Run, run, quickly! Well, except to run away, I am anything but nimble. Truly a retiring person. Sir! No more. Your gabble irks me. How, what's this? Two noble friends, who in blood, in birth, in lineage, are to-day of Antioch all its expectancy. The city's eye of fashion, one the son of the governor, of the princely House Colalto, one the heir, thus to peril, as of little value, to such precious lives to their country and their kindred. Cyprian, although respect, which on many grounds I give thee, holds my sword, suspended thus, and due deference for an instant, to the scabbards calm repose, it hath got no power to win it. Thou of science knowest more than the duel. Pretermitting this, that when two nobles meet in this field, no power can link them friends again. Save this, that one must his life give as a victim. This I also say, and ask thee with thy people that thou quittest, leaving us to end our quarrel without any help or hindrance. Though it seems to you my calling makes me know the laws but little. Of the duel, that strict code, valour and vain pride have written, you are wrong, for I was born with the obligations fitting, rank like yours, to know in truth, infamy and honour's limits. The devotion to my studies has my courage not diminished, for they often time shake hands, arms and letters as though kinsmen. If to meet here in the field was the quarrel's first condition, having met and fought its lies Calumny can never whisper, and the cause you thus can tell me of the feud that brings you hither, for I promise, if on hearing, what to me is thus committed, I perceive that satisfaction must on either side be given here to leave you both alone, unobserved by any witness. Then on this condition solely that you leave us, when the bitter truth is told, to end our quarrel, I, to tell the cause, am willing. I, a certain lady love, the same lady as his mistress Floris also loves. Now see how incompatible are our wishes, since betwixt to jealous nobles no mediation is admitted. Why this lady loves so much that the sunlight I would hinder from beholding her sweet face. Since then all interposition is in vain, pray stand aside, and our quarrel let us finish. Stay, for one more thing I'd know, tell me this of your fair mistress, is she possible to your hopes, or impossible to your wishes? Oh, she is so good and wise, that if even the sun incandled jealousy in the heart of Floris, it was jealousy pure and simple without cause, for even the sun dare not look upon her visage. Would you marry with her, then? This is all my heart's ambition. And would you? Ah, would to heaven, I were destined for such blisses. For although she's very poor, virtue dours her with its riches. If you both aspire to wed her, is it not an act most wicked, most unworthy thus beforehand, her unspotted fame to injure? What will say the world, if one of you two shall marry with her, after having killed the other, for her sake? The supposition is not probable, in fact, to imagine it is sufficient. I by no means say you should, eat your chances, try to win her, at one time, for I would blush such a craven proposition, came from me, because the lover who could keep his jealousy hidden would condone even shame thereafter were the opportunity given. But I say that you should learn which of you it is your mistress gives the preference to, then. Stay! For it were an act too timid, too faint-hearted thus to ask of a lady such admission as the choosing him or me. For if me she chose, more fixed is my call for satisfaction, for his fault has this addition, he loves one who loves but me. If to him the choice is given, this intensifies my anger all the more, that she, my mistress whom I love, should love another. Her selection could do little in the matter, which at last to our swords should be committed, the accepted for his honour, the refused for his dismissal. I confess that I adopt altogether that opinion, still the privilege of selection may to ladies be permitted. So today I mean to ask her of her father, is it sufficient to have come here to the field and my naked sword uplifted, especially as one is by who the further fight resisteth, for my honour. So to she, Lilius, my sword I'm willing. She's his sword. By your argument and action, Floris, you have half convinced me. I forego the remaining half. True or false, I thus act with you. She's his sword. I today will seek her father. On, of course, the supposition that this lady you pay court to suffers naught by the admission. Since you both have spoken proudly of her virtue and her strictness, tell me who she is, for I, who am held throughout the city in esteem, would fore you both speak to her, at first a little, that she thus may be prepared when her father tells your wishes. You are right. Her name? Justina. Daughter of Lysander. Little, now that I have heard her name, seem the praises you have given her. She's virtuous as she's noble. Instantly I'll pay my visit. Floris, aside. May heaven grant that in my favour her cold heart be moved to pity. Exit. Love my hopes with laurel crown when they are to her submitted. Exit. Further mischief or misfortune grant me heaven that I may hinder. Exit. Scene six. Mosconn Clarem. As your worship, herd our master now is going to pay a visit to Justina. Yes, my lord, but what matter if he didn't? Matter quite enough, your worship. He has no business there. Why, prithee? Why, because I die for Livia, who is made to this Justina, and I wouldn't have even the sun get a glimpse of her through the window. Well, that's good, but for Lady to contend we're worse than silly, whom I mean to make my wife. Excellent faith. The fancy tickles quite my fancy. Let her say who it is that annoys our nixer to annoy to see. Let's go and see her, and she'll choose. A good idea, though I fear she'll pitch on you. Have you then that wise suspicion? Yes, for always these same Livia's choose the worst than grateful minks's. Excellent. Scene seven. The hole in the house of Lysander. Enter Justina and Lysander. Consolation, sir, is vain after what I've seen today. The whole city, madly gay, error-blinded, and insane, consecrating shrine and feign to an image which I know cannot be a god, although some demonic power may pass, making breathe the silent brass as a proof that it is so. Fair Justina, thou indeed were not who thou art. If thou didst not weep as thou dost now, didst not in thy pure heart bleed for what Christ's divine screen suffers on this sinful day. Thus my lineage I display. For thy child I could not be. Could I, without weeping, see this idolatrous display? Ah, my good, gentle maid. Thou art not my daughter. No, twer too happy if twer so. But, oh God, what's this I've said? My life's secret is betrayed. It was my soul that spoke aloud. What do you say, sir? Oh, a crowd of old thoughts my heart hath stirred. Many times me thought I heard what but now ye have avowed, and yet never wished to hear at the risk per chance of painting a more accurate explaining of your sorrow and my fear. But since now it doth appear right that I should be possessed of the whole truth half-confessed. Let me say, though bold appearing, trust your secret to my hearing, since it hath escaped your breast. Ah, Justina, I have long kept this secret from your ears, fearing from your tender ears that the telling might be wrong. But now, seeing you are strong, firm in thought, in action brave, seeing too that with this stave I go creeping o'er the ground, rapping with a hollow sound at the portals of the grave, knowing that my time is brief, I would not hear leave you. No, in your ignorance. I owe my own peace to this relief. Then attentive to my grief, let your pleasure list. A fear struggles in my breast. Severe is the test my duty pays. From this most perplexing maze, oh, sir, rescue me. Then here. I, most beautiful Justina, Imla Sander, this commencement with my name need not surprise you. For though known to you already, it is right, for all that follows, that it should be remembered, since of me you know no more than what this my name presenteth. Yes, I am La Sander, son of that city which on seven hills a hydra seems of stone, since at seven proud heads erecteth. Of that city now the seat of the mighty Roman Empire, cradle of Christ's wider realm, boon that Rome alone could merit. There, of poor and humble parents, I was born, if poor expresses well their rank, who left behind them virtues, not vain earthly treasures. Both of them, by birth, were Christians, joyful both to be descended from brave sires, who with their blood happily life's page had reddened, terminating the dull scroll with death's bright emblazoned letters. In the Christian faith, well grounded, I grew up, and so well learned it that I would, in its defence, even a thousand lives surrender. I was still young when to roam in disguise and ill-attended came our good Pope Alexander, who then pudently directed the high apostolic sea, though its place there was not settled. For as the despotic power of the stern and cruel Gentiles satisfies its thirst with blood from the martyr's veins that shed it. So must still the primitive church keep concealed its sons and servants. Not that they decline to die, not that martyrdom is dreaded, but that rebel rage should not, at one stroke, one hour of vengeance triumph or the ruined church, so that no one should be left it, who could preach and teach the word, who could cataclyse the Gentile. Alexander, being in Rome, I was secretly presented to him there, and from his hand which was graciously extended, with his blessing I received holy orders, which the serfs well might envy me, since man only such an honour merits. Alexander is my mission unto Antioch then sent to me, where the law of Christ in secret I should preach, with glad contentment I obeyed, and at their mercy, through so many nations wending came at length to Antioch. And when I, these hills ascending, saw beneath me the valley, all its golden towers and temples, the sun failed me, and down-sinking drew with him the day, presenting for my solace a companion, and a substitute for his presence. In the light of stars a pledge that he'd soon return to bless me. With the sun I lost my way, and then wandering dejected through the windings of the forest found me in the dim recesses of a natural bower, wherein even the numerous rays that trembled downward from each living torch could in no ways find an entrance, or to black clouds turned the leaves that by day were green with freshness, here arranging to wait the new sun's reviving presence. Giving fancy that full scope, that wide range which it possesses, I in solitude indulged many and many a deep reflection. Thus absorbed I was in thought, when there came to me the echo of a sigh, half heard, for half to its owner retroverted, then collecting in my near all my senses joined together. I again heard more distinctly that weak cry, that faint expression, that mute idiom of the sad, since by it they're comprehended. From a woman came that groan, to whose sigh so low and gentle followed a man's deeper voice, who thus speaking low addressed her, thou first stained of noblest blood by my hands this moment perish, ere thou meetest with thy death, neath the hands of infamous headsmen. Then the hapless woman said in a voice that sobbed and trembled, ah, lament for thine own blood, but for me do not lament thee. I attempted then to reach them, that the stroke might be prevented, but I could not, since the voices at that moment ceased and ended, and a horseman rode away, among the tree trunks undetected. Loadstone of my deep compassion was that voice which still exerted all its failing powers to speak, amid the groans and tears, this sentence, dying innocent and a Christian, I am martyr's death may merit. Following the polar star of the voice I came directly where the gloom revealed a woman, though I could not well observe her, who in life's despairing struggle hand to hand with death contended. Scarcely was I heard when she, summoning up her strength, addressed me, bloodstained, murderer, mine, come back, nor in this last hour desert me, of my life. I am, said I, only one whom chance hath sent here, guided it may be by heaven to assist you in this dreadful hour of trial. Vain, she said, is the favor that your mercy offers to my life, for see, drop by drop the lifestream ever, let this hapless one enjoy it, who it seems that heaven intended, being borne upon my grave, all my misery should inherit. So she died, and then I... Scene 8. Livia, Justina and Lysanda Enter Livia. Sir, the same tradesman who so presses to be paid comes here to seek you by the magistrate attended, that you were not in, I told him, by that door you have an exit. This untimely interruption by their coming, how it frets me, for upon your tragic story, life's sole reason all depended, but retire, sir, lest the justice should hear meet you if he enters. Ah, with what indignities poverty must be contented. They are coming here, no doubt, outside I can hear some persons. No, they're not they, I see the Cyprian. How? What sendeth Cyprian here? Scene 9. Enter Cyprian, Clarin and Moscon. A wish to serve you is the sole cause of my presence, for unseeing the officials issuing from your house the friendship which I owe until Lysanda made me bold herein to enter, but to know. A side. Disturbed, bewildered, am I, if by chance. A side. What jellied frost is freezing up my veins. I in any way could help you. A side. Ah, how badly I have spoken, fire not frost my blood possesses. May heaven guard you many years, since in his more grave concernments thus you honour my dear father with your favours. I shall ever be most gratified to serve you. A side. What disturbs me, what unnerves me. He is not just now at home. Thus then, lady, I can better tell you what is the true cause that doth bring me here at present, for the cause that you have heard is not that which wholly led me here to see you. Then what is it? This which craves your brief attention, fair Justinia, beauty's shrine, to whose human loveliness, nature with a fond excess, adds such marks of the divine, tis your rest that doth incline hither my desire to-day, but see what the tyrant's way of despotic fate can do, while I bring your rest to you, you from me take mine away. Lelios, of his passion proud, nevertheless was love to blame. Florious, burning with love's flame, nair could flame be more allowed. Each of them by vows they vowed, sought to kill his friend for you. I for you disturbed the two. Woe is me! But see the end! While from death I saved my friend, you my own death gave in you. Lest the scandal-monger's hum should be buzzed about your name, here to speak with you I came. Would that I had never come! That your choice might strike it dumb, being the umpire in the cause, being the judge in love-sweet laws, but behold what I endure, while I their sick hearts may cure, jealousy my own heart gnaws. Lady, I propose to be their bold spokesman here, that you might decide betwixt the two which you would select. Ah, me! That I might. Oh, misery! Ask you of your father, vain this pretence, no more I'll fain, for you see while I'm speaking about them, my heart is seeking but a vent for its own pain. Half in wonder and dismay at the vile address you make me, reason, speech alike forsake me, and I know not what to say. Never in the slightest way have your clients had from me encouragement for this embassy. Floris never, Lelias know, of the scorn that I can show, let them this a warning be. If I, knowing that you loved someone else, would dare to seek your regard, my love were weak, and could justly be reproved, but here seeing you stand unmoved like a rock mid-raging seas, no extraneous miseries make me say, I love you now, it is not for my friends I bow, so your warning here with ease to Lelias, what shall I say? That he well may trust the boating fears of his love of many years. Too flurrious? Not my face to see. And to myself? Your love should be not so bold. Though a God should will? Will a God do more for you than for those I have denied? Yes. Well, then I have replied to Lelias, Floris, and to you. Exion Justina and Cyprian at opposite sides. Scene 10. Clarin, Moscon, and Livia. Livia, hi. And Livia, ho. List, good lass. We're here, we two. Well, what want you, sir? And you, what do you want? We both would show, if by chance you do not know, that we love you to distraction. On a murderous transaction we came here to kill each other, so to put an end to the bother, just choose one for satisfaction. Why, the thing that you are demanding is so great, it hath bereft me of my wits. My grief hath left me without sense or understanding. Choose but one, my heart expanding, beats so hard as straight to shun. I, one only, tis for fun that you ask me so to do, for with hard enough for two, why require that I choose one? Two at once would you have to woo? We're not too embarrassed, you pray. No, we women have a way to dispose of them, two by two. What's the way? Do tell us, do. What is it? Speak. You put one out. I would love them to not doubt. How? Alternatively. Eh? What's alternatively? Tis to say that I would love them day about. Exit. Where I choose today. Goodbye. I, tomorrow, the better part, so I give it with all my heart. Livia in fine for whom I die, today love me, and today love I. Happy is he who so much can say. Harken, my friend, you know my way. Why, this speech? Does a threat lie in it? Mind, she is not yours a minute after the clock strikes twelve today. Exit. Seen eleven, the street before Lysander's house, night, and the florists and lilias at opposite sides, not seeing each other. Lilias, aside. Scarcely has the darksome night or the brow of heaven extended its black veil when I come hither to adore this sacred threshold. For although at Cyprian's prayer I, my sharp sword, have suspended, I have not my love, for love cannot be suspended ever. Flores, aside. Here the dawn will find me waiting, here because his force compels me to go hence for I elsewhere, and away from my true centre would to love the day had come, and with it the dear expected answer Cyprian may bring me, risking all upon that venture. Lilias, aside. I have surely in that window heard a noise. Flores, aside. Some sound descends here from that balcony. Seen twelve, the demon appears at the window in the house of Lysander. Lilias, aside. A figure issues from it whose dim presence I distinguish. Flores, aside. Through the darkness I can there perceive some person. Demon, aside. For the many persecutions, or Justina's head impending, her pure honour to defame, thus I make a bold commencement. He descends by a leather. Lilias, aside. But, oh, woe, what's this I witness? Flores, aside. What do I see? Oh, wretched, wretched. From the balcony to the ground the dark figure has descended. From her house a man comes forth. Jealousy, kill me not, preserve me till I discover who he is. I will try to intercept him and find out at once who thus tastes the bliss I've lost forever. They advance with drawn swords to recognise the person who has descended. Demon, aside. Not alone, Justina's fame, do I by this act discredit, but dissensions, perhaps murders, thus provoke. Ope, earth-dark center, and receive me, leaving here this confusion. He disappears between Flores and Lilias, who meet together. Scene 13, Flores and Lilias. Sir, whoever you may be, it doth import me to know who you are directly, so at every risk I come here on this resolute quest determined. Say who you are. If the accident of my having been the observer of your secret love compels you to this valorous aggression, more than it can concern me to know, it doth concern me to know you, for to be curious is far less than to be jealous. Yes, by heaven, for who is master of the house have I to learn here? Who it is at such an hour by this balcony ascending, gaineth that which I lose, weeping at these greatings. This excelleth good in faith it is thus to dim the clear light of my resentment, by attributing to me that which solely your offense is. Who you are I have to know, death to him who has left me dead with jealousy here by coming from this balcony. How excessive, how superfluous is this caution, proving what it would dissemble. Veinly would the tongue untangle that which the keen sword can better thus cut through. With it I answer. They fight. In this way I'll know for certain who is the admitted lover of Justina. My intention is the same. I'll die or know you. Scene 14. Enter Cyprian, Moscon and Clarion. Gentlemen, I pray you let me interpose in this your quarrel since by accident I am present. You cannot oblige me more than by letting the fight be ended. Floris? Yes. For sword and hand I my name deny not ever to who asks. I'm at your side, death to him who would offend you. You producing me less fear, both of you thus joined together, then did he alone. What? Lelios? Yes. Cyprian to Floris. I am prevented now from standing at your side since between you I present me. How is this, in one day twice, have I your disputes to settle? Then this time will be the last, for we've settled them already. Since in knowing who he is, who Justina's heart possesses, now no more my hope remaineth, even the thought of it hath left me. If you have not too Justina spoken yet, do not address her. This I ask you in the name of my wrongs and my resentments. Having seen her secret favors, Floris' happier fate deservedeth. From this balcony I saw him, from my lost delight descending, and my heart is not so base as to meanly love, in presence of such jealousies so well proved, of delusions, ah, so certain. Exit. Stay. Scene 15. You must not follow him. Aside. Oh, this news with death overwhelms me, since if he who is the loser of what you have gained expressly says he would forget it, you should not try his patient temper. Both by you and him at once has mine own been too well tested. Speak not now unto Justina about me, for though full vengeance I propose to take for being thus supplanted and rejected, every hope of her being mine now has ceased for shameful were it in the face of such proved facts to persist in my addresses. Exit. Scene 16. Cyprian, Moscon, and Claren. Cyprian, aside. What is this, O heavens, I hear? Can it be the two are jealous of each other at one time, and I too of both together, doubtless from some strange delusion, the two suffer which I welcome with a sort of satisfaction, for to it I am indebted for the fact of their desisting from their suit and their pretension. Moscon, have for me by morning a rich courtsuit, sword and feathers. Claren, be thy care, for love in a certain area splendour takes delight, for now no longer books or studies give me pleasure. Love, they say, doth murder mind. Learning dies when he is present. Exit. End of Act I. Act II of the Wonder Working Magician by Pedro Calderón de la Barca, translated by Dennis Florence McCarthy. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Act II. Scene I. The street in front of Lysander's house. Enter Cyprian, Moscon, and Claren in gala dresses. Cyprian, aside. Where presumptuous thoughts are where would you lead me? With a go, if for certain now you know that the high attempts you dare are delusive dreams of bliss, since you strived to scale Heaven's wall, but from that proud height to fall had long down a darker base. I, Justina, saw so near would to God I had not seen her, nor in her divine demeanour. All the light of Heaven's fourth sphere, love as twain for her contend, both being jealous he should woo, and I, jealous of the two, know not which doth most offend. All I know is that suspicion, her disdain, my own desires fill my heart with furious fires drive me to my perdition. This I know, and know no more, this I feel in all my straight Heavens. Justina is my fate. Heavens, Justina, I adore. Moscon? Sir? Inquire, I pray, if lie Sanders in. I fly! No, sir, no, on me rely. Moscon can't go there to-day. Ever wrangling in this way, how you both my patience try, why can he not go, say why? Because to-day is not his day. Mine it is, sir, at his sorrow. So your message I will bear. Moscon can't to-day go there. He will have his turn to-morrow. What new madness can this be, which your usual few doth show? But now neither of you go, since in all her brilliancy comes Justina. From the street to her house she goes. Scene two. Enter Justina and Livia, veiled. Cyprian, Moscon and Claren. Ah, me, Cyprian's here. Aside to her. See, Livia, see? Cyprian, aside. I must strive and be discreet, feigning with a ready wit till my jealousy I can prove. I will only speak of love, if my jealousy will permit. Not in vain, senora sweet, have I changed my student's dress, the livery of thy loveliness, as a servant at thy feet, thus I were. If size could move thee, I would labour to deserve thee. Give me leave at least to serve thee, since thou wilt not let me love thee. Slight effect, sir, as I see, have my words produced on you, since they have not brought. Too true. A forgetfulness of me. In what way must I explain clearer than I have done before, that persistence at my door is and ever must be vain? If a day, a month, a year, if for ages there you stay, not but this that now I say ever can you hope to hear, as it were my latest breath let this sad assurance move thee. Fate forbids that I should love thee, Cyprian. Except in death. She moves towards the house. At these words my hopes revive. Sad, no, no to joy they move me, for if thou in death canst love me, soon for me will death arrive. Be it so, and since so nigh comes the hour your words to prove, ah, even now begin to love, since I now begin to die. Justina enters. Scene three. Cyprian, Moscon, Claren and Livia. Lydia, while my master yonder, like a living skeleton, life and motion being gone on his luckless love, Dothponder, give me an embrace. Stay, stay, patience, man, until I see, for I like my conscience free. If today is your right day, Tuesday, yes, and Wednesday, no. What are you counting there? Awake, Moscon's mum. He might mistake, and I wish not to ask so. For desiring to pursue a just course betwixt you both, turn about. I would be lost not to give you each's due, but I see that you are right. Ha, ha, it is your day. Embrace me then. Yes, again, and yet again. Heart to me, my Lady Bright, may I from your ardour borrow a good omen in my case? And as Claren you embrace, Moscon, you'll embrace tomorrow. Your suspicion is, in fact, quite absurd. On me rely, Jupiter forbid, that I should commit so bad an act, as to be cool in any way to a friend. I will, to thee, give an embrace and equity, when it is your worship's day. Exit. Scene four. Cyprian, Moscon, and Claren. Well, I'll not be by to see. That's a comfort. How? Why so? Need I be charguing to know, if the girl's not mine, that she thus to you her debt did pay? No. This makes my point more strong, since to me it were no wrong if it chanced not on my day. But our master Yonder, see how absorbed he seems. More near, if he speaks, I'd like to hear. And I too would like. Ah, me. As Moscon and Claren approach Cyprian from opposite sides, he gesticulates with his arms, and accidentally strikes both. Love, how great Diagon is! Ah, ah, me. Ah, me. I ball. Well, I think that we may call this the land of the Siamese. What? And have you both been here? I at least was here, I'll swear. And I also. Oh, Tisper, end at once my sad career. Ah, what human heart to woe like to mine has given a home. Scene five. The country. Cyprian, Claren and Moscon. Where the Moscon do we roam? When we've reached the end, we'll know. Leagues behind us lies the town. Still we go. A strange proceeding. Little time there we for reading, idly pacing up and down. Claren, get thee home. And I? Sly boots, would you rather stay? Go. Here leave me both away. Mind, he tells us both to fly. Exe and Claren and Moscon. Scene six. Memory of a maddened brain. Do not with such strong control make me think another soul is what in my heart doth reign. Blind idolater I have been, lost in love's ambitious flight, since such beauty met my sight, since a goddess I have seen. Yet in such a maze of woe, rigorous fate doth make me move, that I know but whom I love, and of whom I am jealous know. Yet this passion is so strong, ah, so sweet this fascination, driving my imagination with resistless force along, that I would, I know too well how this madness doth degrade me, to some devilish power to aid me, where it even to rise from hell, where some mightier power hath kept it, sharing all its pains in common, I would, to possess this woman, give my soul. Scene seven. The demon and Cyprian. Demon within. Ah, and I accept it. A great tempest is heard, with thunder and lightning. What's this? You haven't so pure, clear but a moment hence, and now obscure, you fright the gentle day, the thunderballs, the lightning's forkhead ray, leapt from its riven breast, terrific shapes it cannot keep at rest. All the whole heaven, a crown of clouds doth wear, and with the curling mist, like streaming hair, this mountain's brow is bound. Outspread below the whole horizon round is one volcanic pyre, the sun is dead, the air is smoke, heaven fire. Philosophy how far from the ice-tray, when I cannot explain the marvels of this day, and now the sea are born on clouds the while, seems like some ruined pile, that crumbling down the wind, as twer a wall in dust not foamed doth fall, and struggling through the gloom facing the storm, a mighty ship seeks room on the open sea, whose rage it seems to court, flying the dangerous pity of the port, the noise, the terror, and that fearful cry give fatal augury of the impending stroke death hesitates, for each already dies who death awaits. With poor tents the whole atmosphere is rife, nor is it all the effect of elemental strife, the ship is rigged with tempest as it flies, it rushes on the lee, the war is now no longer of the sea, upon a hidden rock it strikes, it breaks us with a thundershock, blood flakes the foam, where helpless it is tossed. The sound of the tempest increases, and voices are heard within. We sink, we sink, we're lost, demon within. For what I have in hand I'll trust this plank to bear me to the land. As scorning the wild wave one man alone his life attempts to save, while lurching over mid the below swell, the great ship sinks to where the tritons dwell there, with its mighty rips, a sunder-rent, it lies a course of the sea, its grave and monument. Enter the demon, dripping with wet, as it escaped from the sea. Demon, aside. For the end I wished again it was of necessity that upon this sapphire sea I, this fearful storm, should feign, and inform, unlike that one which in this wild wood I wore, when I found my deepest lore by his keener wit outdone, come again to assail him here, trusting better now to prove both his intellect and his love. Allowed. Earth, love at earth, oh mother dear, from this monster, this wild sea, give me shelter in thy arms. Lose, my friend, the dread alarms, and the cruel memory of thy peril happily past, since we learn, or late, or soon, that beneath the inconstant moon human bliss does never last. Who are thou at whose kind feet has my fortune cast me here? One who, with a pitying tear for a ruin so complete, would alleviate your woe. Oh, impossible, for me never, never can there be any solace. How? Why so? All my priceless wealth are lost, but I'm wrong to thus complain. I'll forget, nay, think it gain, since my life it hath not cost. Now that the wild whirl malign of this earthquake storm doth cease, and the sky returns to peace, quiet, calm and crystalline, and the bright succeeds the dark with such strange rapidity that the storm would seem to be only raised to sink thy bark, tell me, who, thou art, repay thus a sympathy so sincere? It has cost me to come here more than you have seen today, more than I can well express. Of the miseries I recall, this ship's loss is least of all. Would you see that clearly? Yes. I am, since you wish to know it, an epitome, a wonder of all happiness and misfortune. One I have lost, I weep the other. By my gifts was I so glorious, so conspicuous in my order of a lineage so illustrious, with a mind so well informed, that my rare endowment's feeling, a great king—in truth, the noblest king of kings, for all would tremble if he looked in anger on them—in his palace, roofed with diamonds, and with gems as bright as morning. If I call them stars, it is certain the comparison were too modest. His a special favorite called me, which I epitad of honour, so inflamed my pride as rival for his royal seat I plotted, hoping soon my victor footsteps would his golden thrones have trodden. It was an unheard of daring, that, chastise I must acknowledge, I was mad. But then repentance were a still, insane or folly. Obstinent in my resistance, with my spirit yet unconquered, I preferred to fall with courage, than surrender with dishonour. If the attempt was rash, the rashness was not solely my misfortune, or among his numerous vassals, not a few my standard followed. From his court, in fine thus vanquished, though part victor in the contest, I went forth, my eyes outflashing, flames of anger and abhorrence, and my lips proclaiming vengeance for the public insult offered to my pride among his people, scattering murder, raping, horror. Then a bloody pirate, I the wide plains of the sea ran over, Argus of its dangerous shallows, linkside where the reefs lay covered. In that vessel which the wind bit by bit so soon demolished, In that vessel which the sea as a dustless ruin swallowed, I today these fields of crystal eagerly ran o'er my object being stoned by stone to examine, tree by tree to search this forest. For a man in it is living, whom it is of great importance I should see, this day expecting the fulfilment of a promise which he gave, and I accepted. This infuriate tempest stopped me, and although my powerful genius could chain up east, south, and north wind, I cared not, as if despairing of success, with other objects, other aims in view, to turn them to the west wind's summer softness. Aside I had said I could, but did not, for I note the dangerous workings of his mind, and thus to magic bind him by these hints the stronger. Let not my wild fury fright thee, nor be at my power astonished, for I could my own death give me if I were by rage so prompted, and so great that power, the sunlight, by my science could be blotted. I, in magic am so mighty, that I can describe the orbits of the stars, for I have travelled through the farthest and beyond them. And in order that this boasting may not seem to you, mere bombast, look, if at this very instant you desire it, this untrodden, nimrod of rude rocks more savage than a Babylon is recorded, shall without a leaf being shaken, show the most horrific portents. I am, then, the orphan guest here, of these ash trees, of these poplars, and though what I am, assistance at thy feet here I ask from thee. And I wish the good I purchased to repay thee with the product of unnumbered years of study, though it now slight effort costs me, giving to your wildest wishes. Here I touch his love. The fondest longings of your heart, whatever passion can desire or covet. If through courtesy or caution you should not accept my offer, let my good intentions pay you, if from greater acts you stop me. For the pity that you show me which I thankfully acknowledge, I will be a friend so faithful, that henceforth the changeful monster of events and acts called fortune, which twixed flattering words and scornful, generous now and now a miser, shows a friendly face or hostile, neither it nor that laborious ever-flying running worker time, for lodestone of the ages, nor even heaven itself, heaven proper, to whose dars the dark world oweeth all its most divine adornment, will have power to separate me from your side a single moment, since you here have given me welcome. And even this is almost nothing when compared with what my wishes hope thereafter to accomplish. Well, to the sea my thanks adieu, that bore you struggling to the shore and led you to this grove where you will quickly prove the friendly feelings that inflame my breast. If happily I merit such a guest, then let us homeward wend, for I esteem you now as an old friend, my guest you are, and so you must not leave me while my house suits you. Do you then receive me wholly as yours? Cyprian embracing him. This act doth prove it true, that seals an eternal bond betwixt us too. Aside. Oh, if I could win ear this man to instruct me in his magic law, since by that art my love might gain some solace for its pain or yielding to its mighty laws, my love at length might win my love's sweet cause, the cause of all my torment, madness, rage. Demon aside. The workings of his mind and love I gauge. Scene eight. Clarion and Moscon enter running from opposite sides. Cyprian and the demon. Oh, are you sir, alive? My friend, do you speak civilly for once as something new? That he's alive requires no demonstration. I struck this lofty note of admiration, thou noble lacky, to express my wonder how from this storm of lightning rain and thunder, without a miracle he could survive. Will you stop wondering? Now you've seen him alive. These are my servants, sir. What brings you here? Your spleen wants more to stir. They have a pleasant humour. Foolish pair, their weary wit is off too hard to bear. This man, sir, waiting here. Who is he? He's my guest, so do not fear. Wherefore have guests at such a time as this? Cyprian to the demon. Your worth is lost on ignorance such as his. My master's right. Are you forsooth his heir? No, but our new friend there looks like a guest, unless I deceive me, who will honour our poor house a year or two. What on me? When a guest soon means to go away, well, he'll not make much smoke in the house, we say, but this. Speak out. We'll make, I do not joke. What? In the house a deuce deal of smoke. In order to repair the danger done by the rude sea and air, come thou with me. Demon aside. I'm thine while thou hast breath. I go to repair thy rest. Demon aside. And I thy death. An entrance having gained within his breast, and thus my end obtained. My rage and satiate now without control, seeks by another way to win Justina's soul. Exit. Guess if you can what I am thinking about. What is it? That a new volcano has burst out in the late storm. There's such a softer smell. It came from the guest, as my good nose could tell. He uses bad pastiles then, but I can infer the cause. What is it? The poor gentleman has a slight rash on his skin, a ticklish glow, and uses sulfur ointment. God, to so! Exit. Scene 9. The Street. Lilius and Fabius. You return then to this street. Yes, the life that I deplore I return to seek once more where twas lost. Ah, guide my feet love to find it. That house there is Justina's. Come away. Wherefore, when I will today once again my love declare, and as she, I saw it plain, trusted someone else at night, tis not strange, an open light, that I try to soothe my pain. Leave me go, for it is best that I enter here alone. My rank in Antioch is known, my father governor, thus dressed in his robe as tourer, my strong passion listening to no mentor. I, Justina's house, will enter to protest against my wrong. Exit. Scene 10. A hall in the house of Lysander. Justina and afterwards Lilius. Livia? But a step. Who's there? Lilius enters. It is I. What novelty! What extreme temerity thus my lord compels you! Spare your reproaches. Jealous groan, I can bear that you reprove. Pardon me, for with my love my respect has also flown. Why at such a perilous cost have you dared? Because I'm mad. To intrude? Heartbroken. Sad. Here! Because in truth I'm lost. Nor perceive how scandal-view such an act is now you do, Gainst. Be not so moved, for you little honour now can lose. Lilius, spare at least my fame. Ah, Justina, it were best that this language you addressed unto him who nightly came down here from this balcony. It is enough for me to show all your lightness that I know, that lest coy and cold to me your pretended honour prove. If I am disdained, displaced, it is another suit your taste, not that you your honour love. Silence! Cease! Your words withhold. Who with insult ere before dared to pass my threshold's door? Are you then so blind and bold, so audacious, so insane as my pure light to eclipse through the libel of your lips by Chimera's false in vain? In my house, a man? To so. From my balcony? With shame, I repeat it. O my fame, over us twain your aegis throw. Scene eleven, the same. The demon appears at the door which is behind Justina. Demon, aside. For the dark design I handle, for my double plot I come, raging to this simple home. Now to work the greatest candle ever seen, here brooding over him, this wild love of mad with ire, I will fan his jealous fire. I will place myself before him, catch his eye, and then, as fleeing, in an invisible gloom, array me. He affects to come in, and being seen by Lilius muffleds himself in his cloak and reenters the inner apartment. Man, do you come here to slay me? No, to die. What object seeing paralyzes thus your senses? What I see is your untruth. Tell me now, the wish, foresooth, has invented my offenses. From that very chamber there came a man, I turned my head, when he saw my face he fled back into the room. The air must this fantasy display, this illusion. O that sight! Is it not enough by night, Lilius, but an open day thus fictitious forms to see? Phantom shape or real lover, now the truth I will discover. He goes into the room where the demon has disappeared. I know Hindren's offer thee, for my innocence away at the cost of this permission, thus finds out the night's submission to correct by the light of day. Scene 12. Lysanda and Justina, Lilius within. My Justina. Justina aside. What was me? Ah, if here before Lysanda or Lilius from that room comes forth. My misfortunes, my disasters fly to be consoled by thee. What can be the grief, the sadness that your face betrays so plainly? And no wonder, when the pallor springs even from the heart. This sobbing stops my weak words in their passage. Lilius appears at the door of the apartment. Lilius aside. I begin now to believe, since he is not in this chamber. Jealousy can cause these spectres. He, the man I saw, has vanished. How I know not. Justina aside to Lilius. Come not forth, Lilius, here before my father. Convalescent in my sickness, I will wait till he is absent. Retires. Why this weeping? Why this sighing? What sir moves thee? What unmans thee? I am moved by a misfortune. I am unmanned by a disaster. Greater far than Tenderpity ever wept. The dread example cruelty has worn to make in the innocent blood of martyrs. To the governor of this city, DCS Caesar, a strict mandate has dispatched. I can speak no more. Justina aside. What position ere was harder? Moved with pity for the Christian's hither comes to me lice-hander. The sad noose to tell not knowing Lilius to his words may harken. Lilius, the governor's son. So Justina? Sir, no farther, since you feel it so acutely speak upon this painful matter. Let me, for I'll feel some solace when to thee it is imparted. In it he commands. Proceed not further now, when you should rather cheat your years with more repose. How? When I, to make your partner in those lively fears whose bodines are sufficient to dispatch me, would inform you of the edict, the most cruel that the margin of the Tiber ever saw, written blood to stain its waters. Do you stop me? Ah, Justina, you were want in another manner once to listen to me. Sir, different were the circumstances. Lilius at the door, aside. I can hear but indistinctly half-formed words and broken accents. Scene 13. Flores enters. Justina and Lice-hander, Lilius peeping at the door of the inner room. Flores, aside. Lice-hander has a jealous lover, who but enters to unmask here. A pretended purity to forego politer manners. I come here with that intention, but as she is with her father I will wait a new occasion. Who is there? Some footstep passes. Flores, aside. Ah, just now impossible, without speaking to get back here. Some excuse I'll try to offer. I am... You here, sir? You're pardon, I ask leave, sir, to speak with you, on a most important matter. Justina, aside. Oh, take pity on me, fortune, for these trials are too many. Well, sir, speak. Flores, aside. What shall I say? Never was I so embarrassed. Lilius, aside at the door. Flores, in Justina's house, leaves and enters like a master. These are not unfounded jealousies, these are real and substantial. You go pale, you change your color. Do not wonder, be not startled, for I came to give a warning to your life of utmost value, of an enemy that you have, who your swift destruction planeth. What I've said is quite sufficient. Lysander, aside. Flores doubtless must have gathered somehow that I am a Christian, and thus comes in kindliest manner of my danger to apprise me. Allowed. Speak, hide nothing in this matter. Scene 14. Livia enters. Justina, Lysander and Flores. Lilius at the door of the room. Sir, the governor, who is waiting at the door of the house, commanded me to call you to his presence. Best I wait for his departure. Aside. Meantime, my excuse I'll think of, so tis well that you dispatch him. I appreciate your politeness. Here I will return, Instanter. Exe and Lysander and Livia. Scene 15. Justina and Flores. Lilius at the door. Are you then that virtuous maiden who, the very breeze that flatters with its soft and sweet caresses, you would call rude, bold, unmannered? How, then, is it you surrendered even the very keys of the casket of your honor? Hold. Hold, Flores, do not dare to throw a shadow on that honor, which the sun, after the most strict examine, has proved bright and pure. Too late comes this idle boast. It happens that I know to whom you have given free access. You dare this scandal? By a balcony. Do not say it. To your honor. Thus will you blast me? Yes, for hypocritical virtue merits something even harsher. Lilius at the door aside. Flores was not, then, the hero of the balcony. Some more happy lover than us twain she welcomes. Oh, defame not Noble Damsel since you noble blood inherit. Noble Damsel, darest thou call thee when thy very arms received him, and from thy balcony he departed? Power subdue thee from the fact that the governor is his father. Vanity led thee on to show that in Antioch he commanded. Lilius aside. Here he speaks of me. Not seeing any graver defective manner than what in his birth and breeding rank may cover with its mantle. But not so. Lilius entus. Be silent, Flores, nor attack me in my absence. For of a rival to speak ill is the act but of a dastard. Tis to stop this I come forward anger after so many passes which my sword has had with thine that I have not yet dispatched thee. Who not guilty ever saw her in such dangerous straits entangled? What behind your back was spoken I before you will establish. Truth is truth where their tis uttered. They grasped their swords. Flores, Lilius, what would you have, then? I would have full satisfaction where I heard the insulting language. I'll maintain what I have said, where I said it. From so many strokes of fortune free me, Heaven. And I'll learn to chastise your rashness. Seen 16, the governor entus with Lysenda and the tendons, Justina, Lilius, and Flores. Hold, stand back. Unhappy me. What is this? My empty scabbards, naked swords. They're quite sufficient to inform me what has happened. What misfortune. What affliction. Ah, my lord. Enough. No, father. Lilius, thou a son of mine, a desturber? Thou a scandal to all Antioch through my favour? Think, my lord. Arrest. Disarm them. Take them hence. Make no distinction on account of blood or rank here. Let them suffer both alike, since in guilt alike they acted. Lilius, aside. I came jealous and go outraged. Flores, aside. To my pains, new pains are added. Indistinct and separate prisons, and with watchful eyes to guard them, place the two. And you, Lysander, is it possible you have tarnished such a normal reputation, suffering? No, let not these dazzling false appearances mislead you, for Justina in what happened was quite blameless. In her house here would you have her live, regardless of the fact that they were young, and that she was fair. My anger I restrain, as people say, I, an interested party, sentence past as partial judge. But of you, who cause this quarrel, now that maiden shame has left you, well I know that you have glad me with the occasion I desire, of exposing, of unmasking, in the light of actual vices, the false virtuous part you have acted. Exeunt the governor and his attendants, Lilius and Flores follow as prisoners. Seen 17. Justina and Lysander. I reply but with my tears. Tears as vain as they are tardy. What an act was mine, Justina, when to thee my lips imparted who thou art. Oh, would I never told thee that upon the margin of a dead in this forest a dead mother's womb here cast thee. I do not attempt excuses. Heaven will make them, then, hereafter. When too late, perhaps. No limit can be late here while life lasteth. For the punishment of crimes. Injured truth to re-establish. I, from what I have seen, condemn thee. I thee from what thou knowest not, rather. Leave me. I go forth to die where my grief will soon dispatch me. At thy feet I would lose my life. But do not reject me, father. Exeunt. Seen 18. A hall in Cyprian's house. At the end is an open gallery through which is seen the country. Cyprian, the demon, Moscon and Clarin. Since the hour that I have been in your house aghast, you ne'er show a gay and cheerful air. Sadness in your face is seen. It is wrong your cure to shun, seeking to mislead my eyes, since I would unsphere the skies, shake the stars, and shroud the sun, for the least desire you feel that more pleasantly you might live. Magic has no power to give the impossible I conceal, though the misery I betray. Come, confess the longed-for bliss. I love a woman. And is this the impossible that you say? If you knew her, you would agree. Well, describe her. I'm resigned, though I can't but smile to find what a coward you must be. A fair cradle of the skies where the infant sun reposes, air he rises, decked with roses, robed in snow to dry heaven's eyes. The green prison-bud that tries to restrain the conscious rose when the crimson captive knows, April treads its gardens near, turning dawn's half-frozen tear to a smile where sunshine glows. The sweet stream let gliding by, though it scarcely dares to breathe, softest murmurs through its teeth, from the frosts that on it lie, the bright pink in its small sky shining like a coral star, the blithe bird that flies afar, dressed in shifting shades and blooms, soaring scythes of plumes harping high over heaven's blue bar, the white rock that cheats the sun when it tries to melt it down, when it melts it is but the crown which from winter's snow it won. The green bay that will not shun, though the heavens are all aglow, for its feet a bath of snow, green Narcissus of the brook, fearless leaning o'er to look, though the stream runs chill below, in a word, the crimson dawn, sun, mead, streamlet, rosebud, May bird that sings his amorous lay, April's laugh that gems the lawn, Pink that sips the dew's up-drawn, Rock that stands in storm and shine, Baitry that delights to twine round its fadeless leaves the sun. All are parts which met in one form this woman most divine. For myself in blind unrest, Guess my madness if you can, I to seem another man in these courtly robes am dressed, Studious karma I now detest, Fame no longer fires my mind, Passion reigns where thought refined, I my firmness fling to tears, Courage I resign to fears, And my hopes I give the wind I have said, And so will do that to some infernal sprite, I would offer with delight, And the pledge I now renew, Even my soul for her I woo, But my offer is in vain, Hell rejects it with disdain, For my soul it may allege, Is a disproportionate pledge, For the interest I would gain. Is this, then, your boasted courage In the footsteps of dejected swains to follow, Who grow timid when their first assaults rejected? Are examples, then, so distant of their ladies who surrender, All their vanities to entreaties, All their pride to fond addresses? Would you make your breast the prison of your love, Your arms her feathers? Can you doubt it? Then command them to retire those two, your servants, So that we remain here only. Go! Both leave me for the present. I obey! Exit. And I as well. Aside concealing himself. Such a guest must be the devil. They are gone. Demon aside. That Clarence hiding is to me of small concernment. What wish you know? First fasten well this door. Yes, none can enter. For the possession of this woman with your lips you have asserted You would give your soul. Tis so. Then the contract is accepted. What do you say? That I accept it. How? So much have I affected by my science That I will teach you how by it to get possession Of the woman that you worship. For I, though so wise and learned, Have no other means to win her. Let us now in writing So to what we have resolved between us. Do you wish by new pretenses To prolong the pains I suffer? In my hand is what I tender. But in yours is not the offer that you make me know For never conjurations or enchantments Can free will control or fetter? Give me, on the terms you spoke of, Your signet bond. Clarence peeping. The deuce. This fellow is no fool I see. No green horn in this business is this devil. I give him my bond. No truly, though my lodgings wanted a tenant For the space of twenty ages, I wouldn't do it. Sir, much jesting may with my refriends be pastime Not with those who are dejected. I, in proof of what I am able to effect, Will now present you with an example, Though it faintly shows the power my art possesses. From this gallery what is seen? Much of sky and much of meadow Would a rivulet and a mountain. Which to you doth seem most pleasant? The proud mountain. For in it is my adored one represented. Proud competitor of time. Rival of the years for ever, Who as king of fields and plains Crowns thee with the cloud and tempest. Move thyself. Change earth and air. Look, see who I am that tell thee. And look, thou too, Since a mountain I can move. Thou mayest a maiden. The mountain moves from one side to the other In the perspective of the theatre. Never saw I such a wonder, Nair a sight of so much terror. Clarin peeping. With the fright and with the fear I enjoy a twofold tremble. Mighty mountain bird that flyest trees For wings replacing feathers, Boat whose rocks supply the tackle As thou farest through the zephyre Center back-return thee, And so end this fear, this terror. The mountain returns to its original position. If one proof is not sufficient, I will give you then a second. Do you wish to see the woman you adore? Yes. Then thy entrails hope thou monster To whose being the four elements are servants. Show to us the perfect beauty Thou hideest in thy centre. A rock opens, and Justina is seen, sleeping. Is this she whom you adore? Whom I idolise beyond measure. For since I have power to give her, I can take her too, remember? Now, impossible dream of mine, Now thy arms will be the centre Of my love, thy lips the sun Burning, brimming as with nectar. Stay, for till the word you gave me Is affirmed and well attested, You can touch her not. Cyprian rushes towards the rock, Which closes. Oh, stay, cloud that hides The most resplendent sun That on my bliss air dawned, But his air my void-arm presses. I believe your art. Acknowledge, now, I am your slave forever. What do you wish I do for thee? What do you ask? To be protected by your signature Here written in your blood At the foot of a ladder. Clarin peeping. Oh, I'd given my soul That I, to stay here, had not been tempted. For my pen I use this dagger. Paper let this white cloth serve for, And the ink wherewith I write it. Be the blood my arm presents me. He writes with the point of a dagger Upon a piece of linen, Having drawn blood from one of his arms. Cyprian aside. Oh, I freeze with fear, with horror. I, great Cyprian, say expressly, I will give my immortal soul. Oh, what lethargy, what frenzy! Unto him, who is art, will teach me. What confusion, what strange terror! How I may, of fair Justina, Haughty mistress mine possess me. I have signed it with my name. Demon aside. Now, to my deceits, is rendered valid homage. When such reason, when discourse like his, Must tremble even when my help is sought for. Have you written? And signed the letter. Then the sun you adore is thine. Thine, too, for the year's eternal Is the soul I offer thee. Soul for soul I pay my debtors. Then for thine I give to thee Thy Justinas. In what term, then, think you, You can teach to me all your magic art? A twelve month. But on this condition. Speak. That within a cavern buried, Without any other study, We may live there both together, In our service having no one, Or us, too, but this attendant. Dregs out, Claren. Who, being curious, hid him here? By securing thus his person, That our secret is well kept, We, I think, may be quite certain. Claren aside. Oh, that I had never waited. How does it happen, though? So many neighbours prone to pry, As I am not caught thus by the devil. So far well. My love, my genius, Have this happy end effected. First, Justantina will be mine, Then by my new lights, new learning, I will wake the world's surprise. I have gained what I intended. I not so. You come with us. Aside. Or my great foe, I've got the better. Ah, how happy my desires, If I reach to such possession. Demon, aside. Never will my envy rest Till I gain both souls to serve me. Let us go, And in the deepest cavern, This wild world presenteth, You, today, will learn in magic Your first lesson. Let us enter, For my mind with such a master, For my love with such incentive, Will the sorcerer Cyprian's name Live before the world forever. End effect, too.