The Two Lovers of Heaven by Pedro Calderon de la Barca - HTML preview

ACT THE THIRD.

 

 

 

SCENE I.--The Garden of Polemius.

 

 

Enter POLEMIUS, AURELIUS, CLAUDIUS, and ESCARPIN.

 

POLEMIUS.

All my house is in confusion,

Full of terrors, full of horrors;[11]

Ah! how true it is a son

Is the source of many sorrows!--

 

CLAUDIUS.

But, my lord, reflect . . .

 

ESCARPIN.

                            Consider . . .

Think . . .

 

POLEMIUS.

            Why think, when misery follows?--

Cease: you add to my affliction,

And in no way bring me solace.

Since you see that in his madness

He is now more firm and constant,

Falling sick of new diseases,

Ere he's well of old disorders:

Since one young and beauteous maiden,

Whom love wished to him to proffer,

Free from every spot and blemish,

Pure and perfect in her fondness,

Is the one whose fatal charms

Give to him such grief and torment,

That each moment he may perish,

That he may expire each moment;

How then can you hope that I

Now shall list to words of comfort?--

 

CLAUDIUS.

Why not give this beauteous maiden

To your son to be his consort,

Since you see his inclination?

 

POLEMIUS.

For this reason: when the project

I proposed, the two made answer,

That before they wed, some problem,

Some dispute that lay between them

Should be settled: this seemed proper:

But when I would know its nature

I could not the cause discover.

From this closeness I infer

That some secret of importance

Lies between them, and that this

Is the source of all my sorrows.

 

AURELIUS.

Sir, my loyalty, my duty

Will not let me any longer

Silence keep, too clearly seeing

How the evil has passed onward.

On that day we searched the mountain. . . .

 

POLEMIUS (aside).

Woe is me! could he have known then

All this time it was Chrysanthus?

 

AURELIUS.

I approaching, where with shoulders

Turned against me stood one figure,

Saw the countenance of another,

And methinks he was . . .

 

POLEMIUS (aside).

                          Ye gods!

Yes, he saw him! help! support me!

 

AURELIUS.

The same person who came hither

Lately in the garb of a doctor,

Who to-day to cure Chrysanthus

Such unusual treatment orders.

Do you ascertain if he

Is Carpophorus; let no portent

Fright you, on yourself rely,

And you'll find that all will prosper.

 

POLEMIUS.

Thanks, Aurelius, for your warning,

Though't is somewhat tardily offered.

Whether you are right or wrong,

I to-day will solve the problem.

For the sudden palpitation

Of my heart that beats and throbbeth

'Gainst my breast, doth prove how true

Are the suspicions that it fostered.

And if so, then Rome will see

Such examples made, such torments,

That one bleeding corse will show

Wounds enough for myriad corses.  [Exeunt Aurelius and Polemius.

 

CLAUDIUS.

Good Escarpin . . .

 

ESCARPIN.

                    Sir.

 

CLAUDIUS.

                          I know not

How to address you in my sorrow.

Do you say that Cynthia was

One of those not over-modest

Beauties who to court Chrysanthus

Hither came, and who (strange portent!)

Had some share of his bewitchment

In the stupor that came on them?

 

ESCARPIN.

Yes, sir, and what's worse, Daria

Was another, thus the torment

That we both endure is equal,

If my case be not the stronger,

Since to love her would be almost

Less an injury than to scorn her.

 

CLAUDIUS.

Well, I will not quarrel with you

On the point (for it were nonsense)

Whether one should feel more keenly

Love or hate, disdain or fondness

Shown to one we love; enough

'T is to me to know, that prompted

Or by vanity or by interest,

She came hither to hold converse

With him,'t is enough to make me

Lose the love I once felt for her.

 

ESCARPIN.

Sir, two men, one bald, one squint-eyed,

Met one day . . .

 

CLAUDIUS.

                  What, on your hobby?

A new story?

 

ESCARPIN.

              To tell stories,

Sir, is not my'forte','pon honour:--

Though who would n't make a hazard

When the ball is over the pocket?--

 

CLAUDIUS.

Well, I do not care to hear it.

 

ESCARPIN.

Ah, you know it then: Another

Let me try: A friar once . . .

Stay though, I have quite forgotten

There are no friars yet in Rome:

Well, once more: a fool . . .

 

CLAUDIUS.

                              A blockhead

Like yourself, say: cease.

 

ESCARPIN.

                            Ah, sir,

My poor tale do n't cruelly shorten.

While the sacristan was blowing . . .

 

CLAUDIUS.

Why, by heaven! I'll kill you, donkey.

 

ESCARPIN.

Hear me first, and kill me after.

 

CLAUDIUS.

Was there ever known such folly

As to think'mid cares so grave

I could listen to such nonsense?  (exit.

[Enter Chrysanthus and Daria, at opposite sides.]

 

DARIA (to herself).

O ye gods, since my intention

Was in empty air to scatter

All these prodigies and wonders

Worked in favour of Chrysanthus

By the Christians' sorcery, why,

Having you for my copartners,

Do I not achieve a victory

Which my beauty might make facile?

 

CHRYSANTHUS.

O ye heavens, since my ambition

Was to melt Daria's hardness,

And to bring her to the knowledge

Of one God who works these marvels,

Why, so pure is my intention,

Why, so zealous and so sanguine,

Does not easy victory follow,

Due even to my natural talent?

 

DARIA (aside).

He is here, and though already

Even to see him, to have parley

With him, lights a living fire

In my breast, which burns yet glads me,

Yet he must confess my gods,

Ere I own that I am vanquished.

 

CHRYSANTHUS (aside).

She comes hither, and though I

By her beauty am distracted,

Still she must become a Christian

Ere a wife's dear name I grant her.

 

DARIA (aside).

Venus, to my beauty give

Power to make of him my vassal.

 

CHRYSANTHUS (aside).

Grant, O Lord, unto my tongue

Words that may dispel her darkness.

 

DARIA (aside).

To come near him makes me tremble.

 

CHRYSANTHUS (aside).

To address her, quite unmans me:--

Not in vain, O fair Daria, (aloud.

Does the verdure of this garden,

When it sees thee pass, grow young

As beneath spring's dewy spangles;

Not in vain, since though't is evening,

Thou a new Aurora dazzleth,

That the birds in public concert

Hail thee with a joyous anthem;

Not in vain the streams and fountains,

As their crystal current passes,

Keep melodious time and tune

With the bent boughs of the alders;

The light movement of the zephyrs

As athwart the flowers they're wafted,

Bends their heads to see thee coming,

Then uplifts them to look after.

 

DARIA.

These fine flatteries, these fine phrases

Make me doubt of thee, Chrysanthus.

He who gilds the false so well,

Must mere truth find unattractive.

 

CHRYSANTHUS.

Hast thou then such little faith

In my love?

 

DARIA.

             Thou needst not marvel.

 

CHRYSANTHUS.

Why?

 

DARIA.

      Because no more of faith

Doth a love deserve that acteth

Such deceptions.

 

CHRYSANTHUS.

                  What deceptions?

 

DARIA.

Are not those enough, Chrysanthus,

That thou usest to convince me

Of thy love, of thy attachment,

When my first and well-known wishes

Thou perversely disregardest?

Is it possible a man

So distinguished for his talents,

So illustrious in his blood,

Such a favourite from his manners,

Would desire to ruin all

By an error so unhappy,

And for some delusive dream

See himself abhorred and branded?

 

CHRYSANTHUS.

I nor talents, manners, blood,

Would be worthy of, if madly

I denied a Great First Cause,

Who made all things, mind and matter,

Time, heaven, earth, air, water, fire,

Sun, moon, stars, fish, birds, beasts, Man then.

 

DARIA.

Did not Jupiter, then, make heaven,

Where we hear his thunders rattle?

 

CHRYSANTHUS.

No, for if he could have made

Heaven, he had no need to grasp it

For himself at the partition,

When to Neptune's rule he granted

The great sea, and hell to Pluto;--

Then they were ere all this happened.[12]

 

DARIA.

Is not Ceres the earth, then?

 

CHRYSANTHUS.

                               No.

Since she lets the plough and harrow

Tear its bosom, and a goddess

Would not have her frame so mangled.

 

DARIA.

Tell me, is not Saturn time?

 

CHRYSANTHUS.

He is not, though he dispatcheth

All the children he gives birth to;

To a god no crimes should happen.

 

DARIA.

Is not Venus the air?

 

CHRYSANTHUS.

                       Much less,

Since they say that she was fashioned

From the foam, and foam, we know,

Cannot from the air be gathered.

 

DARIA.

Is not Neptune the sea?

 

CHRYSANTHUS.

                         As little,

For inconstancy were god's mark then.

 

DARIA.

Is not the sun Apollo?

 

CHRYSANTHUS.

                        No.

 

DARIA.

The moon Diana?

 

CHRYSANTHUS.

                 All mere babble.

They are but two shining orbs

Placed in heaven, and there commanded

To obey fixed laws of motion

Which thy mind need not embarrass.

How can these be called the gods--

Gods adulterers and assassins!

Gods who pride themselves for thefts,

And a thousand forms of badness,

If the ideas God and Sin

Are opposed as light to darkness?--

With another argument

I would further sift the matter.

Let then Jupiter be a god,

In his own sphere lord and master:

Let Apollo be one also:

Should Jove wish to hurl in anger

Down his red bolts on the world,

And Apollo would not grant them,

He the so-called god of fire;

From the independent action

Of the two does it not follow

One of them must be the vanquished?

Then they cannot be called gods,

Gods whose wills are counteracted.

One is God whom I adore . . .

And He is, in fine, that martyr

Who has died for love of thee!--

Since then, thou hast said, so adverse

Was thy proud disdain, one only

Thou couldst love with love as ardent

Almost as his own, was he

Who would . . .

 

DARIA.

                Oh! proceed no farther,

Hold, delay thee, listen, stay,

Do not drive my brain distracted,

Nor confound my wildered senses,

Nor convulse my speech, my language,

Since at hearing such a mystery

All my strength appears departed.

I do not desire to argue

With thee, for, I own it frankly,

I am but an ignorant woman,

Little skilled in such deep matters.

In this law have I been born,

In it have been bred: the chances

Are that in it I shall die:

And since change in me can hardly

Be expected, for I never

At thy bidding will disparage

My own gods, here stay in peace.

Never do I wish to hearken

To thy words again, or see thee,

For even falsehood, when apparelled

In the garb of truth, exerteth

Too much power to be disregarded.  [Exit.

 

CHRYSANTHUS.

Stay, I cannot live without thee,

Or, if thou wilt go, the magnet

Of thine eye must make me follow.

All my happiness is anchored

There.  Return, Daria. . . .

 

(Enter Carpophorus.)

 

CARPOPHORUS.

                             Stay.

Follow not her steps till after

You have heard me speak.

 

CHRYSANTHUS.

                          What would you?

 

CARPOPHORUS.

I would reprimand your lapses,

Seeing how ungratefully

You, my son, towards me have acted.

 

CHRYSANTHUS.

I ungrateful!

 

CARPOPHORUS.

               You ungrateful,

Yes, because you have abandoned,

Have forgotten God's assistance,

So effectual and so ample.

 

CHRYSANTHUS.

Do not say I have forgotten

Or abandoned it, wise master,

Since my memory to preserve it

Is as't were a diamond tablet.

 

CARPOPHORUS.

Think you that I can believe you,

If when having in this garment

Sought you out to train and teach you,

In the Christian faith and practice,

Until deep theology

You most learnedly have mastered;

If, when having seen your progress,

Your attention and exactness,

I in secret gave you baptism,

Which its mark indelibly stampeth;

You so great a good forgetting,

You for such a bliss so thankless,

With such shameful ease surrender

To this love-dream, this attachment?

Did it strike you not, Chrysanthus,

To that calling how contrasted

Are delights, delirious tumults,

Are love's transports and its raptures,

Which you should resist?  Recall too,

Can you not? the aid heaven granted

When you helped yourself, and prayed for

Its assistance: were you not guarded

By it when a sweet voice sung,

When a keen wit glowed and argued,

When the instrument was silenced,

When the tongue was forced to stammer,

Until now, when with free will

You succumb to the enchantment

Of one fair and fatal face,

Which hath done to you such damage

That't will work your final ruin,

If the trial longer lasteth?--

 

CHRYSANTHUS.

Oh! my father, oh! my teacher,

Hear me, for although the charges

Brought against me thus are heavy,

Still I to myself have ample

Reasons for my exculpation.

Since you taught me, you, dear master,

That the union of two wills

In our law is well established.

Be not then displeased, Carpophorus . . .

(Aside.) Heavens! what have I said?  My father!

 

(Enter Polemius.)

 

POLEMIUS (aside).

Ah! this name removes all doubt.

But I must restrain my anger,

And dissemble for the present,

If such patience Jove shall grant me:--

How are you to-day, Chrysanthus?  (aloud.

 

CHRYSANTHUS.

Sir, my love and duty cast them

Humbly at your feet: (aside, Thank heaven,

That he heard me not, this calmness

Cannot be assumed).

 

POLEMIUS.

                     I value

More than I can say your manner

Towards my son, so kind, so zealous

For his health.

 

CARPOPHORUS.

                 Heaven knows, much farther

Even than this is my ambition,

Sir, to serve you: but the passions

Of Chrysanthus are so strong,

That my skill they overmaster.

 

POLEMIUS.

How?

 

CARPOPHORUS.

      Because the means of cure

He perversely counteracteth.

 

CHRYSANTHUS.

Ah! sir, no, I've left undone

Nothing that you have commanded.

 

CARPOPHORUS.

No, not so, his greatest peril

He has rashly disregarded.

 

POLEMIUS.

I implicitly can trust you,

Of whose courage, of whose talents

I have been so well informed,

That I mean at once to grant them

The reward they so well merit.

 

CARPOPHORUS.

Sir, may heaven preserve and guard you.

 

POLEMIUS.

Come with me; for I desire

That you should from my apartments

Choose what best doth please you; I

Do not doubt you'll find an ample

Guerdon for your care.

 

CARPOPHORUS.

                        To be

Honoured in this public manner

Is my best reward.

 

POLEMIUS (aside).

                    The world

Shall this day a dread example

Of my justice see, transcending

All recorded in time's annals.  (Exeunt Polemius and Carpophorus.)

 

CHRYSANTHUS.

Better than I could have hoped for

Has it happened, since my father

Shows by his unruffled face

That his name he has not gathered.

What more evidence can I wish for

Than to see the gracious manner

In which he conducts him whither

His reward he means to grant him?

Oh! that love would do as much

In the fears and doubts that rack me,

Since I cannot wed Daria,

And be faithful to Christ's banner.

 

(Enter Daria.)

 

DARIA (aside).

Tyrant question which methought

Timely flight alone could answer,

Once again, against my will

To his presence thou dost drag me.

 

CHRYSANTHUS (aside).

But she comes again: let sorrow

Be awhile replaced by gladness:--

Ah! Daria, so resolved[13] (aloud,

Not to see or hear me more,

Art thou here?

 

DARIA.

                Deep pondering o'er,

As the question I revolved,

I would have the mystery solved:

'T is for that I'm here, then see

It is not to speak with thee.

 

CHRYSANTHUS.

Speak, what doubt wouldst thou decide?

 

DARIA.

Thou hast said a God once died

Through His boundless love to me:

Now to bring thee to conviction

Let me this one strong point try . . .

 

CHRYSANTHUS.

What?

 

DARIA.

       To be a God, and die,

Doth imply a contradiction.

And if thou dost still deny

To my god the name divine,

And reject him in thy scorn

For beginning, I opine,

If thy God could die, that mine

Might as easily be born.

 

CHRYSANTHUS.

Thou dost argue with great skill,

But thou must remember still,

That He hath, this God of mine,

Human nature and divine,

And that it has been His will

As it were His power to hide--

God made man--man deified--

When this sinful world He trod,

Since He was not born as God,

And it was as man He died.

 

DARIA.

Does it not more greatness prove,

As among the beauteous stars,

That one deity should be Mars,

And another should be Jove,

Than this blending God above

With weak man below?  To thee

Does not the twin deity

Of two gods more power display,

Than if in some mystic way

God and man conjoined could be?

 

CHRYSANTHUS.

No, I would infer this rather,

If the god-head were not one,

Each a separate course could run:

But the untreated Father,

But the sole-begotten Son,

But the Holy Spirit who

Ever issues from the two,

Being one sole God, must be

One in power and dignity:--

Until thou dost hold this true,

Till thy creed is that the Son

Was made man, I cannot hear thee,

Cannot see thee or come near thee,

Thee and death at once to shun.

 

DARIA.

Stay, my love may so be won,

And if thou wouldst wish this done,

Oh! explain this mystery!

What am I to do, ah! me,

That my love may thus be tried?

 

CARPOPHORUS (within).

Seek, O soul! seek Him who died

Solely for the love of thee.

 

CHRYSANTHUS.

All that I could have replied

Has been said thus suddenly

By this voice that, sounding near,

Strikes upon my startled ear

Like the summons of my death.

 

DARIA.

Ah! what frost congeals my breath,

Chilling me with icy fear,

As I hear its sad lament:

Whence did sound the voice?  [Enter Polemius and soldiers.

 

POLEMIUS.

                             From here:

'T is, Chrysanthus, my intent

Thus to place before thy sight--

Thus to show thee in what light

I regard thy restoration

Back to health, the estimation

In which I regard the wight

Who so skilfully hath cured thee.

A surprise I have procured thee,

And for him a fit reward:

Raise the curtain, draw the cord,

See,'t is death!  If this . . .

(A curtain is drawn aside, and Carpophorus is seen beheaded, the head

being at some distance from the body.)

 

CHRYSANTHUS.

                                 I freeze!--

 

POLEMIUS.

Is the cure of thy disease,

What must that disease have been!

'T is Carpophorus. . . .

 

DARIA.

                         Dread scene!

 

POLEMIUS.

He who with false science came

Not to give thee life indeed,

But that he himself should bleed:--

That thy fate be not the same,

Of his mournful end take heed:

Do not thou that dost survive,

My revenge still further drive,

Since the sentence seems