Early Plays — Catiline, the Warrior's Barrow, Olaf Liljekrans by Henrik Ibsen
page 45 of 328 (13%)
page 45 of 328 (13%)
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Here is your villa,--here your future joys!
[He draws out a purse filled with gold and throws it on the table.] AURELIA. Oh, you have sold--? CATILINE. Yes,--all I sold today;-- And to what end? In order to corrupt-- AURELIA. O Catiline, no more! Let us not think On this affair; sorrow is all it brings. CATILINE. Your quiet-patience wounds me tenfold more Than would a cry of anguish from your lips! [An old SOLDIER enters and approaches CATILINE.] THE SOLDIER. Forgive me, master, that thus unannounced I enter your abode at this late hour. Ah, be not wroth-- CATILINE. What is your errand here? THE SOLDIER. My errand here is but a humble prayer, Which you will hear. I am a needy man, One who has sacrificed his strength for Rome. Now I am feeble, can no longer serve; Unused my weapons rust away at home. The hope of my old age was in a son, |
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