[Music and song.] SIGISMUND enters, lost in amazement. Servants minister to him, presenting costly robes. --CLOTALDO, and CLARIN. SIGISMUND. Help me, Heaven, what's this I see! Help me, Heaven, what's this I view! Things I scarce believe are true, But, if true, which fright not me. I in palaces of state? I 'neath silks and cloth of gold? I, around me, to behold Rich-robed servants watch and wait? I so soft a bed to press While sweet sleep my senses bowed? I to wake in such a crowd, Who assist me even to dress? 'Twere deceit to say I dream, Waking I recall my lot, I am Sigismund, am I not? Heaven make plain what dark doth seem! Tell me, what has phantasy -- Wild, misleading, dream-adept -- So effected while I slept, That I still the phantoms see? But let that be as it may, Why perplex myself and brood? Better taste the present good, Come what will some other day. FIRST SERVANT [aside to the' Second Servant, and to CLARIN]. What a sadness doth oppress him! SECOND SERVANT. Who in such-like case would be Less surprised and sad than he? CLARIN. I for one. SECOND SERVANT [to the First]. You had best address him. FIRST SERVANT [to SIGISMUND]. May they sing again? SIGISMUND. No, no; I don't care to hear them sing. SECOND SERVANT. I conceived the song might bring To your thought some ease. SIGISMUND. Not so; Voiced that but charm the ear Cannot soothe my sorrow's pain; 'Tis the soldier's martial strain That alone I love to hear. CLOTALDO. May your Highness, mighty Prince, Deign to let me kiss your hand, I would first of all this land My profound respect evince. SIGISMUND [aside]. 'Tis my gaoler! how can he Change his harshness and neglect To this language of respect? What can have occurred to me? CLOTALDO. The new state in which I find you Must create a vague surprise, Doubts unnumbered must arise To bewilder and to blind you; I would make your prospect fair, Through the maze a path would show, Thus, my lord, 'tis right you know That you are the prince and heir Of this Polish realm: if late You lay hidden and concealed 'Twas that we were forced to yield To the stern decrees of fate, Which strange ills, I know not how, Threatened on this land to bring Should the laurel of a king Ever crown thy princely brow. Still relying on the power Of your will the stars to bind, For a man of resolute mind Can them bind how dark they lower; To this palace from your cell In your life-long turret keep They have borne you while dull sleep Held your spirit in its spell. Soon to see you and embrace Comes the King, your father, here -- He will make the rest all clear. SIGISMUND. Why, thou traitor vile and base, What need I to know the rest, Since it is enough to know Who I am my power to show, And the pride that fills my breast? Why this treason brought to light Has thou to thy country done, As to hide from the King's son, 'Gainst all reason and all right, This his rank? CLOTALDO. Oh, destiny!