The Wonder-Working Magician by Calderón de la Barca, Pedro, 1600-1681, MacCarthy, Denis Florence, 1817-1882

4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14

A word from our supporters: File extension SWF

Calderon's Dramas. The Wonder-working Magician By Denis Florence Mac-carthy. Introduction.

* * * * * Scene Ii. * * * * * Scene Iii.

* * * * * Scene Iv. * * * * * Scene V.

Scene Viii. * * * * * Scene Ix.

* * * * * Scene X. Livia. Alternatively.

Act The Second. Scene I. The Street In Front Of Lysander's House. * * * * * Scene Ii.

* * * * * Scene Vi. * * * * * Scene Vii.

* * * * * Scene Viii.

* * * * * Scene Xi. The Same. * * * * * Scene Xii.

* * * * * Scene Xvi.

* * * * * Scene Xvii. Justina. I . . . . * * * * * Scene Xviii.

* * * * * Scene Iii. * * * * *

* * * * * Scene V.

* * * * * Scene Vi. * * * * * Scene Vii. Justina.

* * * * * Scene Viii. * * * * * Scene Ix.

* * * * * Scene X. A Wood. * * * * * Scene Xi.

Scene Xv. * * * * * Scene Xvi.

* * * * * Scene Xvii. Hall In The Palace Of The Governor.

* * * * * Scene Xxii. * * * * * Scene Xxiii.

* * * * * Scene Xxvii.

* * * * *

SCENE IV.

Enter LELIUS and FLORUS.-- CYPRIAN.

LELIUS. 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.

FLORUS. Then, this instant Draw your sword; for here are deeds, If in words elsewhere we've striven.

LELIUS. Yes, I know that in the field, While the tongue is mute, the glitter Of the sword speaks thus. [They fight.

CYPRIAN. What's this? Hold, good Florus! Lelius, listen!-- Here until your rage is calmed, Even unarmed I stand betwixt ye.

LELIUS. Thus to interrupt my vengeance, Whence, O Cyprian, have you risen Like a spectre?

FLORUS. A wild wood-god, Have you from these tree-trunks issued?

* * * * *

SCENE V.

Enter MOSCON and CLARIN.

MOSCON. Yonder, where we left our master, I hear sword-strokes; run, run quickly.

CLARIN. Well, except to run away, I am anything but nimble;-- Truly a retiring person.

MOSCON and CLARIN. Sir . . . .

CYPRIAN. 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, two such precious lives To their country and their kindred?

LELIUS. Cyprian, although respect Which on many grounds I give thee, Holds my sword suspended thus In due deference for an instant,-- To the scabbard's 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 the field, no power can link them Friends again, save this, that one Must his life give as a victim.

FLORUS. This I also say, and ask thee, With thy people, that thou quittest, Leaving us to end our quarrel Without any help or hindrance.

CYPRIAN. 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 oftentimes 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.