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Early Plays — Catiline, the Warrior's Barrow, Olaf Liljekrans by Henrik Ibsen
page 62 of 328 (18%)
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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