NAPOLEON [rousing himself] This now must close. Roustan misunderstood me, though his hint Serves as a fillip to a flaccid brain.... --How gild the sunset sky of majesty Better than by the act esteemed of yore? Plutarchian heroes outstayed not their fame, And what nor Brutus nor Themistocles Nor Cato nor Mark Antony survived, Why, why should I? Sage Canabis, you primed me! [He unlocks a case, takes out a little bag containing a phial, pours from it a liquid into a glass, and drinks. He then lies down and falls asleep again. Re-enter CONSTANT softly with a bunch of keys in his hand. On his way to the cabinet he turns and looks at NAPOLEON. Seeing the glass and a strangeness in the EMPEROR, he abandons his object, rushes out, and is heard calling. Enter MARET and BERTRAND.] BERTRAND [shaking the Emperor] What is the matter, sire? What's this you've done? NAPOLEON [with difficulty] Why did you interfere!--But it is well; Call Caulaincourt. I'd speak with him a trice Before I pass. [MARET hurries out. Enter IVAN the physician, and presently CAULAINCOURT.] Ivan, renew this dose; 'Tis a slow workman, and requires a fellow; Age has impaired its early promptitude. [Ivan shakes his head and rushes away distracted. CAULAINCOURT seizes NAPOLEON'S hand.] CAULAINCOURT Why should you bring this cloud upon us now! NAPOLEON Restrain your feelings. Let me die in peace.-- My wife and son I recommend to you; Give her this letter, and the packet there. Defend my memory, and protect their lives. [They shake him. He vomits.] CAULAINCOURT He's saved--for good or ill-as may betide! NAPOLEON God--here how difficult it is to die: How easy on the passionate battle-plain! [They open a window and carry him to it. He mends.] Fate has resolved what man could not resolve. I must live on, and wait what Heaven may send! [MACDONALD and other marshals re-enter. A letter is brought from MARIE LOUISE. NAPOLEON reads it, and becomes more animated. They are well; and they will join me in my exile. Yes: I will live! The future who shall spell? My wife, my son, will be enough for me.-- And I will give my hours to chronicling In stately words that stir futurity The might of our unmatched accomplishments; And in the tale immortalize your names By linking them with mine. [He soon falls into a convalescent sleep. The marshals, etc. go out. The room is left in darkness.] SCENE V BAYONNE. THE BRITISH CAMP