Early Plays — Catiline, the Warrior's Barrow, Olaf Liljekrans by Henrik Ibsen
page 62 of 328 (18%)
page 62 of 328 (18%)
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The goal I sought is unattainable;--
The whole was but a fleeting dream of youth. FURIA. Now you deceive yourself, my Catiline! You hover still about that single project;-- Your soul is noble,--worthy of a ruler,-- And you have friends--. Ah, wherefore hesitate? CATILINE. [Meditating.] I shall--? What do you mean--? With civil blood--? FURIA. Are you a man,--yet lack a woman's courage? Have you forgot that nimble dame of Rome, Who sought the throne straight over a father's corpse? I feel myself a Tullia now; but you--? Scorn and despise yourself, O Catiline! CATILINE. Must I despise myself because my soul No longer harbors selfish aspirations? FURIA. You stand here at a cross-road in your life; Yonder a dull, inactive course awaits you,-- A half-way something, neither sleep nor death;-- Before you, on the other hand, you see A sovereign's throne. Then choose, my Catiline! CATILINE. You tempt me and allure me to destruction. FURIA. Cast but the die,--and in your hand is placed Forevermore the welfare of proud Rome. |
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