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Read books onlineDrama 禄 The Purgatory of St. Patrick by Pedro Calder贸n de la Barca (good short books txt) 馃摉

Book online 芦The Purgatory of St. Patrick by Pedro Calder贸n de la Barca (good short books txt) 馃摉禄. Author Pedro Calder贸n de la Barca



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bowed the head, Or with patience heard related The sad tragedies of fate? Hopeless and disconsolate In this solitude I've waited, Till some happy chance might rise When no longer I should grieve, And the king would give me leave To appear before his eyes.

LEOGAIRE. That already has been given thee; For so sad was he, believing Thou wert dead, so deep his grieving, All the past will be forgiven thee Since thou livest. Come with me, Fortune will once more embrace thee,- In his favour to replace thee Let my happy privilege be.

PAUL. For that late unseemly brawl See me humbly bending low; You, my lord Prince Philip, know That I am one Juan Paul. My suspicion and abuse Pray forgive, your majesty, Think that what I said to thee Was but cackled by a goose. At your service, night and day, Are whatever goods I've got - Lucy here, myself and cot; And God bless us all, I pray.

PHILIP. For your hospitality I am grateful, and I trust To repay it.

PAUL. If you must, Let the first instalment be Just to take my wife away. Thurs you will reward us two; She'll be glad to go with you, I, without her, glad to stay.

[Exeunt PHILIP and LEOGAIRE.

LUCY [aside]. Was there ever love so vain As is mine, a brief caress Cradled in forgetfulness?

OLD MAN. Juan Paul, as we remain Here alone, 'twere well to greet As a friend this labourer, Newly sent us.

PATRICK. Nay, good sir, I'm a slave, and I entreat That as such you understand me; I, the lowest of the low, Hither come to serve, and so I implore that you command me As a slave, since I am one.

OLD MAN. Oh, what modesty!

PAUL. What humility!

LUCY. What good looks, too, and gentility! I, in truth, can't help being drawn By his face.

PAUL. Came ever here (This is quite between us two) Any wandering stranger who Did not draw you so, my dear? Eh, my Lucy?

LUCY. Boorish, base, Is your vile insinuation 'Gains my innocent inclination For the whole of the human race! [Exit.

OLD MAN. To your sharpness and good will, Paul, I trust a thing that may Cost my life.

PAUL. Then don't delay. Tell it, since you know my skill.

OLD MAN. This new slave that here you see, I suspect is not secure, And I hasten to procure Means by which he more may be. For the present I confide him To your care, by day or night Let him not escape your sight, Ever watchful keep beside him. [Exit.


* * * * *


SCENE VIII.

PATRICK and PAUL.

PAUL [aside]. I'm to keep what you discarded! Good in faith!- [To PATRICK] Behold in me Your strict guard; in you I see The sole thing I ever guarded In my life; with such a care I can neither sleep nor eat. If you wish to use your feet You can go, your road lies there. Nay, in flying quickly hence You to me a good will do, Since my care will fly with you. Go in peace.

PATRICK. With confidence You may trust me, for I'm not, Though a slave, a fugitive. Lord! how gladly do I live In this solitary spot, Where my soul in raptured prayer May adore Thee, or in trance See the living countenance Of Thy prodigies so rare! Human wisdom, earlthly lore, Solitude reveals and reaches; What diviner wisdom teaches In it, too, I would explore.

PAUL. Tell me, talking thus apart, Who it is on whom you call?

PATRICK. Great primeval cause of all, Thou, O Lord, in all things art! These blue heavens, these crystal skies Formed of dazzling depths of light, In which sun, moon, stars unite, Are they not but draperies Hung before Thy heavenly land?- The discordant elements, Water, fire, earth, air immense, Prove they not Thy master hand? Or in dark or brightsome hours, Praise they not Thy power and might? O'er the earth dost Thou not write In the characters of flowers Thy great goodness? And the air, In reverberating thunder, Does it not in fear and wonder Say, O Lord, that Thou art there? Are not, too, Thy praises sung By the fire and water - each Dowered for this divinest speech, With tongue the wave, the flame with tongue? Here, then, in this lonely place I, O Lord, may better be, Since in all things I find Thee. Thou hast given to me the grace Of Obedience, Faith, and Fear; As a slave, then, let me stay, Or remove me where I may Serve Thee truly, if not here.*

[An Angel descends, holding in one hand a shield in which is a mirror, and in the other hand a letter.


[footnote] *For the earlier version of this prayer, see Note.


* * * * *


SCENE IX.

An Angel. - THE SAME.

ANGEL. Patrick!

PATRICK. Ah! who calls me?

PAUL. Why, No one calls. [Aside.] The man is daft, Poetry should be his craft.

ANGEL. Patrick!

PATRICK. Ah! who calls me?

ANGEL. I.

PAUL [aside]. Who he speaks to, I can't see. Well, to stop his speech were hard, I'm not here his mouth to guard. [Exit.


* * * * *


SCENE X.

The Angel and PATRICK.

PATRICK. Ah! it cannot be to me Comes such glory! For, behold! Pearl and rosy dawn in one, Shines a cloud, from which its sun Breaks in crimson and in gold! Living stars its robe adorning, Rose and jasmine sweetly blended, Dazzling comes that vision splendid, Scattering purple pomps of morning.

ANGEL. PATRICK!

PATRICK. Sunlight strikes me blind! Heavenly Lord, who canst thou be?

ANGEL. I am Victor, whom to thee God thy angel-guard assigned: With this scroll, to give it thee [Gives him the letter. I am sent.

PATRICK. Sweet messenger, Paranymph of all things fair, Who amidst the hierarchy Of the highest hosts of heaven Singest in melodious tone - "Glory unto Thee alone, Holy, Holy Lord, be given!"

ANGEL. Read the letter.

PATRICK. With amaze, I see here "To Patrick" Oh, Can a slave be honoured so?

ANGEL. Open it.

PATRICK. It also says - "Patrick! Patrick! hither come, Free us from our slavery!"- More it means than I can see, Since I do not know by whom I am called. Oh, faithful guide, Speedily dispel my error!

ANGEL. Look into this shining mirror.

PATRICK. Heavens!

ANGEL. What seest thou inside?

PATRICK. Numerous people there seem thronging, Old men, children, women, who Seem to call me.

ANGEL. Nor do you Stay, but satisfy their longing. You behold the Irish nation, Who expect to hear God's truth From your lips. Oh, chosen youth, Leave your slavery. The vocation God has given thee is to sow Faith o'er all the Irish soil. There as Legate thou shalt toil, Ireland's great Apostle. Go First to France, to German's home, The good bishop: there thou'lt make Thy profession: there thou'lt take The monk's habit, and to Rome Pass, where letters thou'lt procure For that mighty work of thine, In the bulls of Celestine: Thou wilt visit, then, in Tours Martin, the great bishop there. Now upborne upon the wind Come with me, for thou wilt find God has given with prescient care His commands to all, that so Fitly thy great work be done; But 'tis time we should be gone: Let us on our journey go. [They disappear.


* * * * *


ACT THE SECOND.

HALL OF A TOWER IN THE PALACE OF EGERIUS.

SCENE I.

LUIS and POLONIA

LUIS. Yes, Polonia, yes, for he Who betrays inconstancy Has no reason for complaining That another love is gaining On his own; that fault will be Ever punished so. For who Proudly soars that doth not fall? Therefore 'tis that I forestall Philip's love howe'er so true. He is nobler to the view, As one nobly born may be; But in that nobility, Which one's self can win and wear, I with justice may declare I am nobler far than he; I more honour have obtained Than on Philip's cradle rained: Let the fact excuse the boast, For this land from coast to coast Rings with victories I have gained. Three years is it since I came To these isles (it seems a day); Three swift years have rolled away Since I made it my chief aim Thee to serve - my highest fame. Trophies numerous as the sand, Mars might envy, has my hand Won for thy great sire and thee - Being the wonder of the sea, And th' amazement of the land.

POLONIA. Luis, yes, thy gallant bearing, Or inherited or acquired, Has within my breast inspired A strange fear, a certain daring,- Ah, I know not if, declaring This, 'tis love, for blushes rise At perceiving with surprise That at last hath come the hour, When my heart must own the power Of a deity I despise. This alone I'll say, that here Long thy hope had been fruition, But that I the disposition Of the king, my father, fear, But still hope and persevere.


* * * * *


SCENE II.

PHILIP. - THE SAME.

PHILIP [aside]. If to find my death I come, Why precipitate my doom? But so patient who could be As to not desire to see What impends, how dark its gloom?

LUIS. Then, what pledge may I demand Of your faith?

POLONIA. This hand.

PHILIP. Not so, How to hinder it I shall know; More of this I must withstand.

POLONIA. Woe is me!

PHILIP. Wilt give thy hand to this outcast of the wave? And, oh thou, to whom pride gave The presumption to aspire To a sun's celestial fire, Knowing that thou wert my slave, Why thus dare to come between Me and mine?

LUIS. Because I dare
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