Books: Life Is A Dream
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Pedro Calderon de la Barca >> Life Is A Dream
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[A sound of drums and trumpets, with voices within.]
*[footnote] The asonante to the end of Scene IV. is in i--e, or their
vocal equivalents.
**[footnote] These four lines are a paraphrase of the original.
Clarin's jokes are different, and not much better. He says he spends
his days studying philosophy in the works of 'Nicomedes' (or
'Not-eating'), and his nights perusing the decrees of the 'Nicene'
Council (Concilio 'Niceno', the Council of 'No-Supper').
* * * * *
SCENE II.
Soldiers and CLARIN.
FIRST SOLDIER [within]. He is here within this tower.
Dash the door from off its hinges;
Enter all
CLARIN: Good God! 'tis certain
That 'tis me they seek so briskly,
Since they say that I am here.
What can they require?
FIRST SOLDIER [within]. Go in there.
[Several Soldiers enter.
SECOND SOLDIER. Here he is.
CLARIN. He's not.
ALL THE SOLDIERS. Great lord!
CLARIN [aside]. Are the fellows mad or tipsy?
FIRST SOLDIER. Thou art our own Prince, and we
Will not have, and won't admit of,
Any but our natural Prince;
We no foreign Prince here wish for.
Let us kneel and kiss thy feet.
THE SOLDIERS. Live, long live our best of Princes!
CLARIN [aside.] 'Gad! the affair grows rather serious.
Is it usual in this kingdom
To take some one out each day,
Make him Prince, and then remit him
To this tower? It must be so,
Since each day that sight I witness.
I must therefore play my part.
SOLDIERS. Thy feet give us!
CLARIN. I can't give them,
As I want them for myself.
For a prince to be a cripple
Would be rather a defect.
SECOND SOLDIER. We have all conveyed our wishes
To your father; we have told him
You alone shall be our Prince here,
Not the Duke.
CLARIN. And were you guilty
'Gainst my sire, of disrespect?
FIRST SOLDIER. 'Twas the loyalty of our spirit.
CLARIN. If 'twas loyalty, I forgive you.
SECOND SOLDIER. Come, regain thy lost dominion.
Long live Sigismund!
ALL. Live the Prince.
CLARIN [aside]. Say they Sigismund? Good. Admitted.
Sigismund must be the name
Given to all pretended princes.
* * * * *
SCENE III.
SIGISMUND, CLARIN, and Soldiers.
SIGISMUND. Who has named here Sigismund?
CLARIN [aside.] Ah, I'm but an addled prince, then!
FIRST SOLDIER. Who is Sigismund?
SIGISMUND. Who? I.
SECOND SOLDIER [to CLARIN]. How, then, didst thou, bold and silly,
Dare to make thee Sigismund?
CLARIN. I a Sigismund? Thou fibbest;
It was you yourselves that thus
Sigismundized me and princed me:
All the silliness and the boldness
Have been by yourselves committed.
FIRST SOLDIER. Great and brave Prince Sigismund
(For thy bearing doth convince us
Thou art he, although on faith
We proclaim thee as our prince here).
King Basilius, thy father,
Fearful of the Heavens fulfilling
A prediction, which declared
He would see himself submitted
At thy victor feet, attempts
To deprive thee of thy birthright,
And to give it to Astolfo,
Muscovy's duke. For this his missives
Summoned all his court: the people
Understanding, by some instinct,
That they had a natural king,
Did not wish a foreign princeling
To rule o'er them. And 'tis thus,
That the fate for thee predicted
Treating with a noble scorn,
They have sought thee where imprisoned
Thou dost live, that issuing forth,
By their powerful arms assisted,
From this tower, thy crown and sceptre
Thou shouldst thus regain, and quit them
Of a stranger and a tyrant.
Forth! then; for among these cliffs here
There is now a numerous army,
Formed of soldiers and banditti,
That invoke thee: freedom waits thee;
To the thousand voices listen.
[Voices within.] Long, long live Prince Sigismund!
SIGISMUND. Once again, O Heaven! wouldst wish me
Once again to dream of greatness
Which may vanish in an instant?
Once again to see the glories,
That a royal throne encircle,
Die in darkness and in gloom,
Like a flame the winds extinguish?
Once again by sad experience
To be taught the dangerous limits
Human power may overleap,
At its birth and while it liveth?
No, it must not, must not be:--
See me now one more submitted
To my fate; and since I know
Life is but a dream, a vision,
Hence, ye phantoms, that assume
To my darkened sense the figure
And the voice of life -- although
Neither voice nor form is in them.
I no longer now desire
A feigned majesty, a fictitious
And fantastic pomp -- illusions
Which the slightest breath that ripples
The calm ether can destroy,
Even as in the early spring-time,
When the flowering almond tree
Unadvisedly exhibits
All its fleeting bloom of flowers,
The first blast their freshness withers,
And the ornament and grace
Of its rosy locks disfigures.
Now I know ye -- know ye all,
And I know the same false glimmer
Cheats the eyes of all who sleep.
Me false shows no more bewilder;
Disabused, I now know well
Life is but a dream -- a vision.
SECOND SOLDIER. If thou thinkest we deceive thee,
Turn thine eyes to those proud cliffs here,
See the crowds that wait there, willing,
Eager to obey thee.
SIGISMUND. Yet
Just as clearly and distinctly,
I have seen another time
The same things that now I witness,
And 'twas but a dream.
SECOND SOLDIER. At all times
Great events, my lord, bring with them
Their own omens; and thy dream
But the actual fact prefigured.
SIGISMUND. You say well, it was an omen;
But supposing the bright vision
Even were true, since life is short,
Let us dream, my soul a little,
Once again, remembering now
With all forethought and prevision
That we must once more awake
At the better time not distant;
That being known, the undeceiving,
When it comes, will be less bitter;
For it takes the sting from evil
To anticipate its visit.
And with this conviction, too,
Even its certainty admitting,
That all power being only lent
Must return unto the Giver,
Let us boldly then dare all.--
For the loyalty you exhibit,
Thanks, my lieges. See in me
One who will this land deliver
From a stranger's alien yoke.
Sound to arms; you soon shall witness
What my valour can effect.
'Gainst my father I have lifted
Hostile arms, to see if Heaven
Has of me the truth predicted.
At my feet I am to see him . . .
But if I, from dreams delivered,
[Aside.
Wake ere then, and nothing happens,
Silence now were more befitting.
ALL. Long live Sigismund, our king!
* * * * *
SCENE IV.
CLOTALDO, SIGISMUND, CLARIN, and Soldiers.
CLOTALDO. Ha! what tumult, Heavens! has risen?
SIGISMUND. Well, Clotaldo.
CLOTALDO. Sire . . . . On me
[Aside.
Will his wrath now fall.
CLARIN [aside]. He'll fling him
Headlong down the steep, I'll bet.
[Exit.
CLOTALDO. At your royal feet submitted
I know how to die.
SIGISMUND. My father,
Rise, I pray, from that position,
Since to you, my guide and polestar,
Are my future acts committed;
All my past life owes you much
For your careful supervision.
Come, embrace me.
CLOTALDO. What do you say?
SIGISMUND. That I dream, and that my wishes
Are to do what's right, since we
Even in dreams should do what's fitting.
CLOTALDO. Then, my prince, if you adopt
Acting rightly as your symbol,
You will pardon me for asking,
So to act, that you permit me.
No advice and no assistance
Can I give against my king.
Better that my lord should kill me
At his feet here.
SIGISMUND. Oh, ungrateful!
Villain! wretch! [Aside.] But Heavens! 'tis fitter
I restrain myself, not knowing
But all this may be a vision.--
The fidelity I envy
Must be honoured and admitted.
Go and serve your lord, the king.
Where the battle rages thickest
We shall meet. -- To arms, my friends!
CLOTALDO. Thanks, most generous of princes.
[Exit.
SIGISMUND. Fortune, we go forth to reign;
Wake me not if this is vision,
Let me sleep not if 'tis true.
But whichever of them is it,
To act right is what imports me.
If 'tis true, because it is so;
If 'tis not, that when I waken
Friends may welcome and forgive me.
[Exeunt all, drums beating.
* * * * *
SCENE V.
HALL IN THE ROYAL PALACE.
BASILIUS and ASTOLFO.
BASILIUS. Who can expect, Astolfo, to restrain
An untamed steed that wildly turns to flee?
Who can the current of a stream detain,
That swollen with pride sweeps down to seek the sea?
Who can prevent from tumbling to the plain
Some mighty peak the lightning's flash sets free?
Yet each were easier in its separate way,
Than the rude mob's insensate rage to stay.
The several bands that throng each green retreat
This truth proclaim by their disparted cries;
Astolfo here the echoing notes repeat,
While there 'tis Sigismund that rends the skies
The place where late the land was glad to greet
The choice we made, a second venture tries;
And soon will be, as Horror o'er it leans,
The fatal theatre of tragic scenes.
ASTOLFO. My lord, let all this joy suspended be,
These plaudits cease, and to another day
Defer the rapture thou hast promised me;
For if this Poland (which I hope to sway)
Resists to-day my right of sovereignty,
'Tis that by merit I should win my way.
Give me a steed; to stem this wild revolt
My pride shall be the flash that bears the bolt.
[Exit.
BASILIUS. Slight help there is for what is fixed by fate,
And much of danger to foresee the blow;
If it must fall, defence is then too late,
And he who most forestalls doth most foreknow.
Hard law! Stern rule! Dire fact to contemplate!
That he who thinks to fly doth nearer go.
Thus by the very means that I employed,
My country and myself I have destroyed.
* * * * *
SCENE VI.
ESTRELLA and BASILIUS.
ESTRELLA. If, mighty lord, thy presence, which it braves,
The tumult of the crowd cannot defeat --
The frenzy of the multitude that raves
In hostile bands through every square and street,--
Thou'lt see thy kingdom swim in crimson waves,
A purple sea of blood shall round it beat;
For even already in its dismal doom
All is disaster, tragedy, and gloom.
Such is thy kingdom's ruin, so severe
The hard and bloody trial fate hath sent,
Dazed is the eye, and terrified the ear;
Dark grows the sun, and every wind is spent;
Each stone a mournful obelisk doth rear,
And every flower erects a monument;
A grave seems every house, whence life is gone,--
Each soldier is a living skeleton.
* * * * *
SCENE VII.
CLOTALDO, BASILIUS, and ESTRELLA.
CLOTALDO. Thanks be to God, I reach thy feet alive.
BASILIUS. What news of Sigismund, Clotaldo, say?
CLOTALDO. The crowd, whom frenzy and blind impulse drive,
Into the tower resistless burst their way,
Released the Prince, who seeing thus revive
The honour he had tasted for one day,
Looked brave, declaring, in a haughty tone,
The truth at last that heaven must now make known.
BASILIUS. Give me a horse! In person forth I'll ride
To check the pride of this ungrateful son.
Where Science erred let now the sword decide;
By my own valour shall my throne be won!
[Exit.
ESTRELLA. Let me the glory of the fight divide --
A twinkling star beside that royal sun --
Bellona matched with Mars: for I would dare
To scale even heaven to rival Pallas there.
[Exit, and they sound to arms.
* * * * *
SCENE VIII.
ROSAURA, who detains CLOTALDO.
ROSAURA. Though the trumpets from afar
Echo in thy valorous breast,
Hear me, list to my request,
For I know that all is war.
Well thou knowest that I came
Poor to Poland, sad, dejected;
And that graciously protected,
Thou thy pity let me claim.
It was thy command, ah, me!
I should live here thus disguised,
Striving, as thy words advised
(Hiding all my jealousy),
To avoid Astolfo's sight;
But he saw me, and though seeing,
With Estrella, he -- false being!--
Converse holds this very night
In a garden bower. The key
I have taken, and will show
Where, by entering, with a blow
Thou canst end my misery.
Thus, then, daring, bold, and strong,
Thou my honour wilt restore;
Strike, and hesitate no more,
Let his death revenge my wrong.
CLOTALDO. It is true, my inclination
Since thou first wert seen by me,
Was to strive and do for thee
(Be thy tears my attestation)
All my life could do to serve thee.
What I first was forced to press,
Was that thou should'st change thy dress;
Les if chancing to observe thee
Masquerading like a page,
By appearances so strong
Led astray, the Duke might wrong
By a thought thy sex and age.
Meanwhile various projects held me
In suspense, oft pondering o'er
How thy honour to restore;
Though (thy honour so compelled me)
I Astolfo's life should take --
Wild design that soon took wing --
Yet, as he was not my king,
It no terror could awake.
I his death was seeking, when
Sigismund with vengeful aim
Sought for mine; Astolfo came,
And despising what most men
Would a desperate peril deem,
Stood in my defence; his bearing,
Nigh to rashness in its daring,
Showed a valour most extreme.
How then, think, could I, whose breath
Is his gift, in murderous strife,
For his giving me my life,
Strive in turn to give him death?
And thus, grateful, yet aggrieved,
By two opposite feelings driven,
Seeing it to thee have given,
And from him have it received,
Doubting this, and that believing,
Half revenging, half forgiving,
If to thee I'm drawn by giving,
I to him am by receiving;
Thus bewildered and beset,
Vainly seeks my love a way,
Since I have a debt to pay,
Where I must exact a debt
ROSAURA. It is settled, I believe,
As all men of spirit know,
That 'tis glorious to bestow,
But a meanness to receive.
Well, admitting this to be,
Then thy thanks should not be his,
Even supposing that he is
One who gave thy life to thee;
As the gift of life was thine,
And from him the taking came,
In this case the act was shame,
And a glorious act in mine.
Thus by him thou art aggrieved,
And by me even complimented,
Since to me thou hast presented
What from him thou hast received:
Then all hesitation leaving,
Thou to guard my fame shouldst fly,
Since my honour is as high
As is giving to receiving.
CLOTALDO. Thou it seems a generous fever
In a noble heart to give,
Still an equal fire may live
In the heart of the receiver.
Heartlessness is something hateful,
I would boast a liberal name;
Thus I put my highest claim
In the fact of being grateful.
Then to me that title leave,--
Gentle birth breeds gentleness;
For the honour is no less
To bestow than to receive.
ROSAURA. I received my life from thee,
But for thee I now were dead;
Still it was thyself that said
No insulted life could be
Called a life: on that I stand;
Nought have I received from thee,
For the life no life could be
That was given me by thy hand.
But if thou wouldst first be just
Ere being generous in this way
(As I heard thyself once say),
Thou will give me life I trust,
Which thou hast not yet; and thus
Giving will enhance thee more,
For if liberal before,
Thou wilt then be generous.
CLOTALDO. Conquered by thy argument,
Liberal I first will be.
I, Rosaura, will to thee
All my property present;
In a convent live; by me
Has the plan been weighed some time,
For escaping from a crime
Thou wilt there find sanctuary;
For so many ills present them
Through the land on every side,
That being nobly born, my pride
Is to strive and not augment them.
By the choice that I have made,
Loyal to the land I'll be,
I am liberal with thee,
And Astolfo's debt is paid;
Choose then, nay, let honour, rather,
Choose for thee, and for us two,
For, by Heaven! I could not do
More for thee were I thy father!--
ROSAURA. Were that supposition true,
I might strive and bear this blow;
But not being my father, no.
CLOTALDO. What then dost thou mean to do?
ROSAURA. Kill the Duke.
CLOTALDO. A gentle dame,
Who no father's name doth know,
Can she so much valour show?
ROSAURA. Yes.
CLOTALDO. What drives thee on?
ROSAURA. My fame.
CLOTALDO. Think that in the Duke thou'lt see . . . .
ROSAURA. Honour all my wrath doth rouse.
CLOTALDO. Soon thy king -- Estrella's spouse.
ROSAURA. No, by Heaven! it must not be.
CLOTALDO. It is madness.
ROSAURA. Yes, I see it.
CLOTALDO. Conquer it.
ROSAURA. I can't o'erthrow it.
CLOTALDO. It will cost thee . . . .
ROSAURA. Yes, I know it.
CLOTALDO. Life and honour.
ROSAURA. Well, so be it.
CLOTALDO. What wouldst have?
ROSAURA. My death.
CLOTALDO. Take care!
It is spite.
ROSAURA. 'Tis honour's cure.
CLOTALDO. 'Tis wild fire.
ROSAURA. That will endure.
CLOTALDO. It is frenzy.
ROSAURA. Rage, despair.
CLOTALDO. Can there then be nothing done
This blind rage to let pass by?
ROSAURA. No.
CLOTALDO. And who will help thee?
ROSAURA. I.
CLOTALDO. Is there then no remedy?
ROSAURA. None.
CLOTALDO. Think of other means whereby . . . .
ROSAURA. Other means would seal my fate.
[Exit.
CLOTALDO. If 'tis so, then, daughter, wait,
For together we shall die.
[Exit.
* * * * *
SCENE IX.
THE OPEN PLAIN.
SIGISMUND, clothed in skins: Soldiers marching. CLARIN.
[Drums are heard.]
SIGISMUND. If Rome could see me on this day
Amid the triumphs of its early sway,
Oh, with what strange delight
It would have seen so singular a sight,
Its mighty armies led
By one who was a savage wild beast bred,
Whose courage soars so high,
That even an easy conquest seems the sky!
But let us lower our flight,
My spirit; 'tis not thus we should invite
This doubtful dream to stay,
Lest when I wake and it has past away,
I learn to my sad cost,
A moment given, 'twas in a moment lost;
Determined not to abuse it,
The less will be my sorrow should I lose it.
[A trumpet sounds.
CLARIN. Upon a rapid steed,
(Excuse my painting it; I can't indeed
Resist the inspiration),
Which seems a moving mass of all creation,
Its body being the earth,
The fire the soul that in its heart hath birth,
Its foam the sea, its panting breath the air,
Chaos confused at which I stand and stare,
Since in its soul, foam, body, breath, to me
It is a monster made of fire, earth, air, and sea;
Its colour dapple grey,
Speckled its skin, and flecked, as well it may,
By the impatient spur its flank that dyes,
For lo! it doth not run, the meteor flies;
As borne upon the wind,
A beauteous woman seeks thee.
SIGISMUND. I'm struck blind!
CLARIN. Good God, it is Rosaura, oh, the pain!
[Retires.
SIGISMUND. Heaven has restored her to my sight again.
* * * * *
SCENE X.
ROSAURA, in a light corselet, with sword and dagger;
SIGISMUND, and Soldiers.
ROSAURA. Noble-hearted Sigismund!
Thou whose hidden light heroic
Issues from its night of shadows
To the great deeds of its morning;
And as heaven's sublimest planet
From the white arms of Aurora
Back restores their beauteous colour
To the wild flowers and the roses,
And upon the seas and mountains,
When endiademed with glory,
Scatters light, diffuses splendour,
Braids their foam, their hair makes golden;
Thus thou dawnest on the world
Bright auspicious sun of Poland,
Who will help a hapless woman,
She who at thy feet doth throw her,
Help her, since she is unhappy,
And a woman; two good motives
Quite enough to move a man
Who of valour so doth boast him,
Though even one would be sufficient,
Though even one would be all potent.
Thou hast seen me thrice already,
Thrice thou hast not truly known me,
For each time by different dresses
Was I strangely metamorphosed.
First I seemed to thee a man,
When within thy sad and sombre
Cell thou sawest me, when thy life
Wiled from me mine own misfortunes.
As a woman next thou sawest me,
Where the splendours of thy throne-room
Vanished like a fleeting vision,
Vain, phantasmal and abortive.
The third time is now, when being
Something monstrous and abnormal,
In a woman's dress thou see'st me
With a warrior's arms adorned.
And to pity and compassion
That thou may'st be moved more strongly,
Listen to the sad succession
Of my tragical misfortunes.
In the Court of Muscovy
I was born of a noble mother,
Who indeed must have been fair
Since unhappiness was her portion.
Fond and too persuading eyes
Fixed on her, a traitor lover,
Whom, not knowing, I don't name,
Though mine own worth hath informed me
What was his: for being his image,
I sometimes regret that fortune
Made me not a pagan born,
That I might, in my wild folly,
Think he must have been some god,
Such as he was, who in golden
Shower wooed Danae, or as swan
Leda loved, as bull, Europa.
When I thought to lengthen out,
Citing these perfidious stories,
My discourse, I find already
That I have succinctly told thee
How my mother, being persuaded
By the flatteries of love's homage,
Was a fair as any fair,
And unfortunate as all are.
That ridiculous excuse
Of a plighted husband's promise
So misled her, that even yet
the remembrance brings her sorrow.
For that traitor, that Aeneas
Flying from his Troy, forgot there,
Or left after him his sword.
By this sheath its blade is covered,
But it shall be naked drawn
Ere this history is over.
From this loosely fastened know
Which binds nothing, which ties nothing,
Call it marriage, call it crime,
Names its nature cannot alter,
I was born, a perfect image,
A true copy of my mother,
In her loveliness, ah, no!
In her miseries and misfortunes.
Therefore there is little need
To say how the hapless daughter,
Heiress of such scant good luck,
Had her own peculiar portion.
All that I will say to thee
Of myself is, that the robber
Of the trophies of my fame,
Of the sweet spoils of my honour,
Is Astolfo . . . . Ah! to name him
Stirs and rouses up the choler
Of the heart, a fitting effort
When an enemy's name is spoken,--
Yes, Astolfo was that traitor,
Who, forgetful of his promise
(For when love has passed away,
Even its memory is forgotten),
Came to Poland, hither called.
From so sweet so proud a conquest,
To be married to Estrella,
Of my setting sun the torch light.
Who'll believe that when one star
Oft unites two happy lovers,
Now one star, Estrella, comes
Two to tear from one another?
I offended, I deceived,
Sad remained, remained astonished,
Mad, half dead, remained myself;
That's to say, in so much torment,
That my heart was like a Babel
Of confusion, hell, and horror:
I resolving to be mute,
(For there are some pains and sorrows
That by feelings are expressed,
Better than when words are spoken).
I by silence spoke my pain,
Till one day being with my mother
Violante, she (oh, heavens!)
Burst their prison; like a torrent
Forth they rushed from out my breast,
Streaming wildly o'er each other.
No embarrassment it gave me
To relate them, for the knowing
That the person we confide to
A like weakness must acknowledge
Gives as 'twere to our confusion
A sweet soothing and a solace,
For at times a bad example
Has its use. In fine, my sorrows
She with pity heard, relating
Even her own grief to console me:
When he has himself been guilty
With what ease the judge condoneth!
Knowing from her own experience
That 'twas idle, to slow-moving
Leisure, to swift-fleeting time,
To intrust one's injured honour.
She could not advise me better,
As the cure of my misfortunes,
Than to follow and compel him
By prodigious acts of boldness
To repay my honour's debt:
And that such attempt might cost me
Less, my fortune wished that I
Should a man's strange dress put on me.
She took down an ancient sword,
Which is this I bear: the moment
Now draws nigh I must unsheath it,
Since to her I gave that promise,
When confiding in its marks,
Thus she said, "Depart to Poland,
And so manage that this steel
Shall be seen by the chief nobles
Of that land, for I have hope
That there may be one among them
Who may prove to thee a friend,
An adviser and consoler."
Well, in Poland I arrived;
It is useless to inform thee
What thou knowest already, how
A wild steed resistless bore me
To thy caverned tower, wherein
Thou with wonder didst behold me.
Let us pass too, how Clotaldo
Passionately my cause supported,
How he asked my life of the king
Who to him that boon accorded;
How discovering who I am
He persuaded me my proper
Dress to assume, and on Estrella
To attend as maid of honour,
So to thwart Astolfo's love
And prevent the marriage contract.
Let us, too, pass by, that here
thou didst once again behold me
In a woman's dress, my form
Waking thus a twofold wonder,
And approach the time, Clotaldo
Being convinced it was important
That should wed and reign together
Fair Estrella and Astolfo,
'Gainst my honour, me advised
To forego my rightful project.
But, O valiant Sigismund,
Seeing that the moment cometh
For thy vengeance, since heaven wishes
Thee to-day to burst the portals
Of thy narrow rustic cell,
Where so long immured, thy body
Was to feeling a wild beast,
Was to sufferance what the rock is,
And that 'gainst thy sire and country
Thou hast gallantly revolted,
And ta'en arms, I come to assist thee,
Intermingling the bright corselet
Of Minerva with the trappings
Of Diana, thus enrobing
Silken stuff and shining steel
In a rare but rich adornment.
On, then, on, undaunted champion!
To us both it is important
To prevent and bring to nought
This engagement and betrothal;
First to me, that he, my husband,
Should not falsely wed another,
Then to thee, that their two staffs
Being united, their joined forces
Should with overwhelming power
Leave our doubtful victory hopeless.
Woman, I come here to urge thee
To repair my injured honour,
And as man I come to rouse thee
Crown and sceptre to recover.
Woman I would wake thy pity
Since here at thy feet I throw me,
And as man, my sword and person
In thy service I devote thee.
But remember, if to-day
As a woman thou should'st court me,
I, as man, will give thee death
In the laudable upholding,
Of my honour, since I am
In this strife of love, this contest,
Woman my complaints to tell thee,
And a man to guard my honour.
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