The Bride of Messina, and On the Use of the Chorus in TragedySchiller, Friedrich
General
The Bride of Messina, and On the Use of the Chorus in Tragedy
Schiller, Friedrich
Drama
Both Choruses, afterwards BEATRICE.
The Chorus of DON MANUEL enters in solemn procession,
adorned with garlands, and bearing the bridal ornaments
above mentioned. The Chorus of DON CAESAR opposes their
entrance.
First Chorus (CAJETAN).
Begone!
Second Chorus (BOHEMUND).
Not at thy bidding!
CAJETAN.
Seest thou not
Thy presence irks?
BOHEMUND.
Thou hast it, then, the longer!
CAJETAN.
My place is here! What arm repels me?
BOHEMUND,
Mine!
CAJETAN.
Don Manuel sent me hither.
BOHEMUND.
I obey
My Lord Don Caesar.
CAJETAN.
To the eldest born
Thy master reverence owes.
BOHEMUND.
The world belongs
To him that wins!
CAJETAN.
Unmannered knave, give place!
BOHEMUND.
Our swords be measured first!
CAJETAN.
I find thee ever
A serpent in my path.
BOHEMUND.
Where'er I list
Thus will I meet thee!
CAJETAN.
Say, why cam'st thou hither
To spy?----
BOHEMUND.
And thou to question and command?
CAJETAN.
To parley I disdain!
BOHEMUND.
Too much I grace thee
By words!
CAJETAN.
Thy hot, impetuous youth should bow
To reverend age.
BOHEMUND.
Older thou art--not braver.
BEATRICE (rushing from her place of concealment).
Alas! What mean these warlike men?
CAJETAN (to BOHEMUND).
I heed not
Thy threats and lofty mien.
BOHEMUND.
I serve a master
Better than thine.
BEATRICE.
Alas! Should he appear!
CAJETAN.
Thou liest! Don Manuel thousandfold excels.
BOHEMUND.
In every strife the wreath of victory decks
Don Caesar's brows!
BEATRICE.
Now he will come! Already
The hour is past!
CAJETAN.
'Tis peace, or thou shouldst know
My vengeance!
BOHEMUND.
Fear, not peace, thy arm refrains.
BEATRICE.
Oh! Were he thousand miles remote!
CAJETAN.
Thy looks
But move my scorn; the compact I obey.
BOHEMUND.
The coward's ready shield!
CAJETAN.
Come on! I follow.
BOHEMUND.
To arms!
BEATRICE (in the greatest agitation).
Their falchions gleam--the strife begins!
Ye heavenly powers, his steps refrain! Some snare
Throw round his feet, that in this hour of dread
He come not: all ye angels, late implored
To give him to my arms, reverse my prayers;
Far, far from hence convey the loved one!
[She runs into the alcove. At the moment when the two
Choruses are about to engage, DON MANUEL appears.
DON MANUEL, the Chorus.
DON MANUEL.
What do I see!
First Chorus to the Second (CAJETAN, BERENGAR, MANFRED).
Come on! Come on!
Second Chorus (BOHEMUND, ROGER, HIPPOLYTE).
Down with them!
DON MANUEL (stepping between them with drawn sword).
Hold!
CAJETAN.
'Tis the prince!
BOHEMUND.
Be still!
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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