[Instantly, in the semi-darkness without, Caliban—witha great cry—springs among the Muses, snatchesfrom Miranda the staff, and rushes with it to thecentre of the middle stage, shouting aloud:]CALIBANAwake, Romans, awake![Low thunders growl, and sharp flashes glimmer about him.]MIRANDA[Cries out, appalled.]The staff! His staff!Touch not its power, lest thou lay waste the world!CALIBAN[Grasping the staff, staggers and sways wildly with it,as though being shocked by an invisible force.]Rome! Now do I hold the roof-beam o’ the world.Now amIlord of lightnings: Lo, mine artShaketh the throne of Prospero.[He strides upon the throne, raising the staff.]Awake,Imperial Rome! Return, ye snake-bright womenOf Troy and Egypt! Stain these yellow sandsWine-red with spillings of your wreathèd bowls,And let the orgied priests of revel reign.—Caligula, be crowned by Setebos!Caligula! Caligula! Caligula!
[Instantly, in the semi-darkness without, Caliban—witha great cry—springs among the Muses, snatchesfrom Miranda the staff, and rushes with it to thecentre of the middle stage, shouting aloud:]CALIBANAwake, Romans, awake![Low thunders growl, and sharp flashes glimmer about him.]MIRANDA[Cries out, appalled.]The staff! His staff!Touch not its power, lest thou lay waste the world!CALIBAN[Grasping the staff, staggers and sways wildly with it,as though being shocked by an invisible force.]Rome! Now do I hold the roof-beam o’ the world.Now amIlord of lightnings: Lo, mine artShaketh the throne of Prospero.[He strides upon the throne, raising the staff.]Awake,Imperial Rome! Return, ye snake-bright womenOf Troy and Egypt! Stain these yellow sandsWine-red with spillings of your wreathèd bowls,And let the orgied priests of revel reign.—Caligula, be crowned by Setebos!Caligula! Caligula! Caligula!
[Instantly, in the semi-darkness without, Caliban—witha great cry—springs among the Muses, snatchesfrom Miranda the staff, and rushes with it to thecentre of the middle stage, shouting aloud:]
CALIBANAwake, Romans, awake![Low thunders growl, and sharp flashes glimmer about him.]
MIRANDA[Cries out, appalled.]The staff! His staff!Touch not its power, lest thou lay waste the world!
CALIBAN[Grasping the staff, staggers and sways wildly with it,as though being shocked by an invisible force.]Rome! Now do I hold the roof-beam o’ the world.Now amIlord of lightnings: Lo, mine artShaketh the throne of Prospero.[He strides upon the throne, raising the staff.]Awake,Imperial Rome! Return, ye snake-bright womenOf Troy and Egypt! Stain these yellow sandsWine-red with spillings of your wreathèd bowls,And let the orgied priests of revel reign.—Caligula, be crowned by Setebos!Caligula! Caligula! Caligula!
[While he cries aloud, the Powers of Setebos come forth from the cell beneath, clad as Roman men, women, and slaves and, joined by the Roman Interlude Pageant on the ground-circle, raise the Emperor on a palanquin upon their shoulders, and bear him up the steps to the middle stage, shouting “Caligula!”
Here a scene of mingled riot and orgy follows:
Women dancers with golden bowls, slaves shackled and driven with whips, rabble groups scrambling for bread loaves flung them by heralds, armed soldiery, and gorgeous patrician lords: these swarm in a sordid saturnalia, from the midst of which the masked form of Caligula rises dominant in splendor. At his gesture, slaves tear the Muses from their shrine, and give them over to the revellers.
High above all, clutching the staff, his huge limbs rioting grotesque from his silken garments, Caliban dances on the throne of Prospero.
Below, bass voices of invisible choirs chant through the din:
“Setebos! Setebos! Thou art Setebos!”
Seized from the throne with the Muses, Miranda—at the centre—is borne in faint dread to the reaching arms of Caligula, who is about to place upon her his crown, when a sudden pealing of silvery trumpets strikes silence over all. In awe the revellers gaze upward, and turn toward the background, listening.
Above them there, from the darkness, appears a colossalCROSS,burning with white fire.
Caligula drops his crown.
Shadow falls on the colorful pageantry, and all sink slowly to their knees, as the Spirits of Ariel appear againabove—their luminous wings outspread like seraphim.
At either end one blows a slim tapering trumpet.
High and clear, then, their choirs chant in Gregorian unison:
SPIRITS OF ARIELVexilla Regis pródeunt;Fulget Crucis mystérium,Quo carne carnis CónditorSuspénsus est patíbulo.Quo vulneratis ínsuperMucróne diro lanceæ,Ut nos laváret crimine,Manavit unda et sánguine.O Crux, ave, spes, unica:Hoc Passiónis témpore,Auge piis justítiamReisque dona veniam.Te summa Deus Trínitas,Collaudet omnis spiritus:Quos per Crucis mystériumSalvas, rege per sæcula.During this chant, the dim revellers beneathbow their bodies more low.
SPIRITS OF ARIELVexilla Regis pródeunt;Fulget Crucis mystérium,Quo carne carnis CónditorSuspénsus est patíbulo.Quo vulneratis ínsuperMucróne diro lanceæ,Ut nos laváret crimine,Manavit unda et sánguine.O Crux, ave, spes, unica:Hoc Passiónis témpore,Auge piis justítiamReisque dona veniam.Te summa Deus Trínitas,Collaudet omnis spiritus:Quos per Crucis mystériumSalvas, rege per sæcula.During this chant, the dim revellers beneathbow their bodies more low.
SPIRITS OF ARIELVexilla Regis pródeunt;Fulget Crucis mystérium,Quo carne carnis CónditorSuspénsus est patíbulo.
Quo vulneratis ínsuperMucróne diro lanceæ,Ut nos laváret crimine,Manavit unda et sánguine.
O Crux, ave, spes, unica:Hoc Passiónis témpore,Auge piis justítiamReisque dona veniam.
Te summa Deus Trínitas,Collaudet omnis spiritus:Quos per Crucis mystériumSalvas, rege per sæcula.
During this chant, the dim revellers beneathbow their bodies more low.
And now, to faint organ music, the Cloudy Curtains, parting, reveal theINNER STAGEhung like an early Christian shrine in a catacomb—with primitive tapestries of dusky blue and gold. Against these in the glow of candles, an image of haloed Saint Agnes holds a white lamb, which silent shepherds are adoring. This group remains motionless as a tableau.
Then silently from either side two priests come forth with swinging censers. Passing forward and down the steps to the ground-circle, they are followed in the dim light by the Roman revellers, who rise and pass off through the Interlude gates.
Last of all rises Caligula, who pauses hesitant, looking back where Miranda still kneels, now grouped about by her Muses.
As he stoops to lift his crown from the earth, two Figures in theINNER SCENE—a Shepherd Boy, and a Shepherd wrapt in a hide mantle—stir from the still picture and come forward in a circle of light, while
THE CLOUDY CURTAINS CLOSE
behind them, and above the white cross vanishes.
Speaking from the place of light to the Emperor’s form in shadow, the Shepherd calls to him:]
THE SHEPHERDCaligula!THE EMPERORWho calls?THE SHEPHERDReveal thyself—What thing thou art.[Stepping slowly into the light, theEMPERORbows himselfbefore theSHEPHERD,holding up his crownwhich the Shepherd takes and says with a gesture:]Lay off thy mask.[Rising, the Emperor puts of his mask, revealing himselfas thePriest of Setebos.]Hail, Lust!LUST[To the Shepherd.]Hail, Prospero!PROSPERO[Putting of his sheepskin cloak, which the boytakes from him.]Return to Setebos.[To the Shepherd Boy.]Ariel, lead him below.ARIELSo, Master![Ariel leads Lust away to the cell beneath.]MIRANDA[Rising, goes to Prospero’s arms.]Father![From the outer dimness, Caliban—who, since the appearanceof the burning Cross, has lain flat on the throne steps—now grovels forward [trailing his silken garment by onesleeve] and flings the staff of Prospero into the light space.]CALIBANNo more! Will never touch it more!PROSPERO[Staring at the staff.]A thousand yearsTo build, and build for beauty, yet in one flareOf riot lust, a lubber idiotConfounds time and my toil.—Ah, daughter, daughter!How shall mine art reclaim this lapsing apeFrom his own bondage?MIRANDASir, my heart is shaken;Yet the sweet sight of Agnes and her lambHath shown new comfort.[Stooping, she lifts the staff and holds it toward him.]Therefore, even as a Shepherd,Take up thy staff in patience, and urge still onwardThis poor sloughed sheep.PROSPEROYea, patience! Sun, moon, stars,And all that waxes hath its waning-hour;But patience is the night behind the stars,Steadfast through all eclipse.[With his staff, he touches Caliban where he lies cringed.]Stir, thou thick clotOf clay and god-spittle! Let thine atoms thawTo mud, where Prosper may imprint once moreHis blurrèd seal.CALIBAN[Hoarsely, half rising.]Mud: yea, methought to beHis Artist, and make dream-things of mine ownLike Ariel his spirits, yet now—am mud.MIRANDA[Pitifully.]Nay, star-dust!ARIEL[Returning.]Master, from those far frontiersYou visited, have you not brought us backMore pageants of your art?PROSPEROYes, Ariel:Back from the dim bourns of the Middle AgeOf Germany, France, Spain, and Italy.And now, for this slave’s tutelage, I’ll show youTheir quaint moralities and mad-cap mirth.Come hither, and watch: Lo, olden Germany!Pageant of the north, appear.
THE SHEPHERDCaligula!THE EMPERORWho calls?THE SHEPHERDReveal thyself—What thing thou art.[Stepping slowly into the light, theEMPERORbows himselfbefore theSHEPHERD,holding up his crownwhich the Shepherd takes and says with a gesture:]Lay off thy mask.[Rising, the Emperor puts of his mask, revealing himselfas thePriest of Setebos.]Hail, Lust!LUST[To the Shepherd.]Hail, Prospero!PROSPERO[Putting of his sheepskin cloak, which the boytakes from him.]Return to Setebos.[To the Shepherd Boy.]Ariel, lead him below.ARIELSo, Master![Ariel leads Lust away to the cell beneath.]MIRANDA[Rising, goes to Prospero’s arms.]Father![From the outer dimness, Caliban—who, since the appearanceof the burning Cross, has lain flat on the throne steps—now grovels forward [trailing his silken garment by onesleeve] and flings the staff of Prospero into the light space.]CALIBANNo more! Will never touch it more!PROSPERO[Staring at the staff.]A thousand yearsTo build, and build for beauty, yet in one flareOf riot lust, a lubber idiotConfounds time and my toil.—Ah, daughter, daughter!How shall mine art reclaim this lapsing apeFrom his own bondage?MIRANDASir, my heart is shaken;Yet the sweet sight of Agnes and her lambHath shown new comfort.[Stooping, she lifts the staff and holds it toward him.]Therefore, even as a Shepherd,Take up thy staff in patience, and urge still onwardThis poor sloughed sheep.PROSPEROYea, patience! Sun, moon, stars,And all that waxes hath its waning-hour;But patience is the night behind the stars,Steadfast through all eclipse.[With his staff, he touches Caliban where he lies cringed.]Stir, thou thick clotOf clay and god-spittle! Let thine atoms thawTo mud, where Prosper may imprint once moreHis blurrèd seal.CALIBAN[Hoarsely, half rising.]Mud: yea, methought to beHis Artist, and make dream-things of mine ownLike Ariel his spirits, yet now—am mud.MIRANDA[Pitifully.]Nay, star-dust!ARIEL[Returning.]Master, from those far frontiersYou visited, have you not brought us backMore pageants of your art?PROSPEROYes, Ariel:Back from the dim bourns of the Middle AgeOf Germany, France, Spain, and Italy.And now, for this slave’s tutelage, I’ll show youTheir quaint moralities and mad-cap mirth.Come hither, and watch: Lo, olden Germany!Pageant of the north, appear.
THE SHEPHERDCaligula!
THE EMPERORWho calls?
THE SHEPHERDReveal thyself—What thing thou art.
[Stepping slowly into the light, theEMPERORbows himselfbefore theSHEPHERD,holding up his crownwhich the Shepherd takes and says with a gesture:]
Lay off thy mask.
[Rising, the Emperor puts of his mask, revealing himselfas thePriest of Setebos.]
Hail, Lust!
LUST[To the Shepherd.]Hail, Prospero!
PROSPERO[Putting of his sheepskin cloak, which the boytakes from him.]Return to Setebos.[To the Shepherd Boy.]Ariel, lead him below.
ARIELSo, Master![Ariel leads Lust away to the cell beneath.]
MIRANDA[Rising, goes to Prospero’s arms.]Father![From the outer dimness, Caliban—who, since the appearanceof the burning Cross, has lain flat on the throne steps—now grovels forward [trailing his silken garment by onesleeve] and flings the staff of Prospero into the light space.]
CALIBANNo more! Will never touch it more!
PROSPERO[Staring at the staff.]A thousand yearsTo build, and build for beauty, yet in one flareOf riot lust, a lubber idiotConfounds time and my toil.—Ah, daughter, daughter!How shall mine art reclaim this lapsing apeFrom his own bondage?
MIRANDASir, my heart is shaken;Yet the sweet sight of Agnes and her lambHath shown new comfort.
[Stooping, she lifts the staff and holds it toward him.]
Therefore, even as a Shepherd,Take up thy staff in patience, and urge still onwardThis poor sloughed sheep.
PROSPEROYea, patience! Sun, moon, stars,And all that waxes hath its waning-hour;But patience is the night behind the stars,Steadfast through all eclipse.
[With his staff, he touches Caliban where he lies cringed.]
Stir, thou thick clotOf clay and god-spittle! Let thine atoms thawTo mud, where Prosper may imprint once moreHis blurrèd seal.
CALIBAN[Hoarsely, half rising.]Mud: yea, methought to beHis Artist, and make dream-things of mine ownLike Ariel his spirits, yet now—am mud.
MIRANDA[Pitifully.]Nay, star-dust!
ARIEL[Returning.]Master, from those far frontiersYou visited, have you not brought us backMore pageants of your art?
PROSPEROYes, Ariel:Back from the dim bourns of the Middle AgeOf Germany, France, Spain, and Italy.And now, for this slave’s tutelage, I’ll show youTheir quaint moralities and mad-cap mirth.Come hither, and watch: Lo, olden Germany!Pageant of the north, appear.