SRI AUROBINDO
Collected Plays and Short Stories
Part One
See what a keen and fatal glint it has,
Aslaug.
Hast thou been haunted by a look,
O Hertha, has a touch bewildered thee,
Compelling memory?
Then the gods too work.
A marble statue gloriously designed
Without that breath our cunning maker gives,
One feels it pain to break. This statue breathes!
Out of these eyes there looks an intellect
That claims us all; this marble holds a heart,
The heart holds love. To break it all, to lay
This glory of God's making in the dust!
Why do these thoughts besiege me? Have I then —
No, it is nothing; it is pity works,
It is an admiration physical.
O he is far too great, too beautiful
For a dagger's penetration. It would turn,
The point would turn; it would deny itself
To such a murder. 
Aslaug, it is love.
When he lays a lingering hand
Upon thy tresses, — Aslaug, for he loves, —
What shakes me? Have I learned
To pity, to tremble? That were new indeed
In Olaf's race. Give me self-knowledge, gods.
What are these unaccustomed moods you send
Into my bosom? They are foreign here.
Eric enters and regards them. Hertha,
seeing him, rises to depart.
Thou art the other dancing-woman come
From Sweden to King Eric!
He has eyes
That look into the soul. What mean his words?
But they are common. Let me leave you, Aslaug.
I would have freedom here from thy pursuit.
Why shouldst thou anywhere be free from me?
I am full of wrath against thee and myself.
It is too strange — I am afraid!
Of what? Of what? Am I not Aslaug still?
Art thou a sorceress or conspirator?
But thou art both to seize my throne and heart.
And I will deal with thee, thou dreadful charm,
As with my enemy.
Let him never touch!
I give thee grace no longer; bear thy doom.
My doom is in my hands, not thine.
And thou hast always erred. Dar'st thou imagine
That I who have enveloped in three years
All Norway more rebellious than its storms,
Can be resisted by a woman's strength,
However fierce, however swift and bold?
I have seen thy strength. I cherish mine unseen.
And I thy weakness. Something yet thou fear'st.
Nothing at all. 
Yes, though thy eyes defy me,
Thy colour changes and thy limbs betray thee.
All is not lionlike and masculine there
Within.
Touch me not!
If it's that thou fear'st?
Why dost thou fear it? Is it thine own heart
Thou tremblest at? Aslaug, is it thy heart?
He takes her suddenly into his arms
and kisses her. Aslaug remains like
one stricken and bewildered.
Lift up thine eyes; let me behold thy strength!
Whatever was thy purpose, thou art taken,
Aslaug, thou sweet and violent soul surprised,
Intended for me when the stars were planned!
Sweetly, O Aslaug, to thy doom consent,
The doom to love, the death of hatred. Draw
No useless curtaining of shamed refusal
Between our yearnings, passionately take
Thy leap of love across the abyss of hate.
Force not thy soul to anger. Leave veils and falterings
For meaner hearts. Between us let there be
A noble daylight.
Let me think awhile! 
Thy arms, thy lips prevent me.
Love only!
O Eric, king, usurper, conqueror!
O robber of men's hearts and kingdoms! O
Thou only monarch!
Art thou won at last,
O woman who disturb'st the musing stars
With passion? Soul of Aslaug, art thou mine?
I cannot think. I have lost myself! My heart
Desires eternity in an embrace.
Wilt thou deny me anything I claim
Ever, O Aslaug? Art thou mine indeed?
What have I done? What have I spoken? I love!
(after a silence, feeling in her bosom)
But what was there concealed within my breast?
I take not a divided realm, a crown
That's shared. Thou hadst a purpose in thy heart
I know not, but divine. Thou lov'st at length;
But I have knowledge of the human heart,
What opposite passions wrestle there with gusts 
And treacherous surprises. I trust not then
Too sudden a change, but if thou canst be calm,
Yet passionately submit, I will embrace thee
For ever. Think and speak. Art thou all mine?
I know no longer if I am my own.
The world swims round me and heaven's points are changed.
A purpose! I had one. I had besides
A brother! Had! What have I now? You gods,
How have you rushed upon me? Leave me, King.
It is not good to trust a sudden heart.
The blood being quiet, we will speak again
Like souls that meet in heaven, without disguise.
I do not leave thee, for thou art ominous
For there has been too much between us once
And now too little. Leave me, King, awhile
To wrestle with myself and calmly know
In this strange strife the gods have brought me to,
Which thing of these in me must live and which
Be dumb for ever.
Something still resists.
I will not leave thee till I know it and tame.
King, thou art wise
In war and counsel, not in women's hearts. 
Thou hast surprised a secret that my soul
Kept tremblingly from my own knowledge. Yet,
If thou art really wise, thou wilt avoid
To touch with a too rude and sudden hand
The direr god who made my spirit fear
To own its weakness.
Art thou wise thyself?
I take thee not for counsellor.
Yet beware,
There was a gulf between my will and heart
Which is not bridged yet.
Break thy will, unless
Thou wouldst have me break it for thee.
The older Aslaug rises now against the new.
It rises, rises. Let it rise. Leave me
My freedom.
Aslaug, no, for free thou roam'st
A lioness midst thy passions.
Whatever Fate commands.
I am master of my Fate. 
Too little, who are not masters of ourselves!
Art thou that dancing-woman, Aslaug, yet?
I am the dancing-girl who sought thee, yet,
Eric.
It may be still the swiftest way.
Let then my dancing-woman dance for me
Tonight in my chambers. I will see the thing
Her dancing means and tear its mystery out.
If thou demandest it, then Fate demands.
Thy god grows sombre and he menaces,
It seems! For afterwards I can demand
Whatever soul and body can desire
Twixt man and woman?
If thy Fate permits.
Thy love, it seems, communes not with respect.
The word exists not between thee and me.
It is burned up in too immense a fire.
Wilt thou persist? Even after thou hast lain
Upon my bosom thou claimest my respect?
Yet art a dancing-woman, so thou say'st.
Aslaug, let not the darker gods prevail.
Put off thy pride and take up truth and love.
I am a dancing-woman, nothing more.
The hate love struck down rises in thy heart.
But I will have it out, by violence,
Unmercifully.
He strides upon her, and she half
cowers from him, half defies.
(taking her violently into his arms)
Thou shalt survive the end of Time. Tonight!
How did it come? What was it leaped on me
And overpowered? O torn distracted heart,
Wilt thou not pause a moment and give leave
To the more godlike brain to do its work?
Can the world change within a moment? Can
Hate suddenly be love? Love is not here.
I have the dagger still within my heart.
O he is terrible and fair and swift!
He is not mortal. Yet, be silent, yet
Give the brain leave. O marble brilliant face!
O thou art Odin, thou art Thor on earth!
What is there in a kiss, the touch of lips,
That it can change creation? There's a wine
That turns men mad; have I not drunk of it?
To be his slave, know nothing but his will!
Aslaug and Eric! Aslaug, sister of Swegn,
Who makes his bed on the inclement snow
And with the reindeer herds, that was a king.
Who takes his place? Eric and Aslaug rule.
Eric who doomed him to the death, if seized, 
Aslaug, the tyrant, the usurper's wife,
Who by her brother's murder is secured
In her possession. Wife! The concubine,
The slave of Eric, — that his pride intends.
What was it seized on me, O heavenly powers?
I have given myself, my brother's throne and life,
My pride, ambition, hope, and grasp, and keep
Shame only. Tonight! What happens then tonight?
I dance before him, — royal Olaf's child
Becomes the upstart Eric's dancing-girl!
What happens else tonight? One preys upon
Aslaug of Norway! O, I thank thee, heaven,
That thou restorest me to sanity.
It was his fraudulent and furious siege,
And something in me proved a traitor. Fraud?
O beauty of the godlike brilliant eyes!
O face expressing heaven's supremacy!
No, I will put it down, I put it down.
Help me, you gods, help me against my heart.
I will strike suddenly, I will not wait.
'Tis a deceit, his majesty and might,
His dreadful beauty, his resistless brain.
It will be very difficult to strike!
But I will strike. Swegn strikes, and Norway strikes,
My honour strikes, the gods, and all his life
Offends each moment.
Why, what has happened?
That thou shalt not know.
It is not difficult
To know what drives her. I must act at once,
Or this may have too suddenly a tragic close.
Not blood, but peace, not death, you Gods, but life,
But tranquil sweetness!
Eric, Hertha.
I sent for thee to know thy name and birth.
My name is Hertha and my birth too mean
To utter before Norway's lord.
Yet speak.
A Trondhjem peasant and a serving-girl
Were parents to me.
And from such a stock
Thy beauty and thy wit and grace were born?
The gods prodigiously sometimes reverse
The common rule of Nature and compel
Matter with soul. How else should it be guessed
That gods exist at all?
Who nurtured thee?
A dancing-girl of Gothberg by a lord
Of Norway entertained, to whom a child
I was delivered. Song and dance were hers;
I made them mine.
Their names? the thrall? the lord?
Olaf of Norway, earl of Trondhjem then,
And Thiordis whom he loved.
Thou knowest Swegn,
The rebel?
Yes, I know.
And lov'st perhaps?
Myself much better.
Treacherous and rude and ruthless, is he not?
I would not speak of kings and mighty earls:
These things exceed my station.
Ah, thou lov'st!
Thou art mistaken, King.
He cannot conquer and he will not yield,
But weakens Norway.
This in him I blame.
Thou hast seen that? Thy peasant father got
A wondrous politician for his child!
I am what the Gods
Have made me. But I understand at last;
Thou think'st me other than I seem.
Some thought
Like that I had.
King Eric, wilt thou hear?
I much desire it, if I hear the truth.
Betray me not to Aslaug then.
That's just.
What if I came, O King,
For other purpose, not to sing and dance,
And yet thy friend, the well-wisher, at least,
Of Norway and her peace?
Speak plainly now.
If I can show thee how to conquer Swegn
Without one stroke of battle, wilt thou grant
My bitter need?
I would give much.
Wilt thou?
If so I conquer him and thy desire
Is something I can grant without a hurt
To Norway or myself.
It is.
Speak then,
Demand.
I have not finished yet. Meantime
If I avert a danger from thy head
Now threatening it, do I not earn rewards
More ample?
More? On like conditions, then.
If I yield up great enemies to thy hands
Thou know'st not of, wilt thou reject my price,
Confusing different debts in one account?
Hast thou yet more to ask? Thou art too shrewd
A bargainer.
Giving Norway needed peace,
Thyself friends, safety, empire, is my claim
Excessive then?
I grant thee three demands.
They are all. He asks not more who has enough.
Thrice shall I ask and thrice shall Eric give
And never have an enemy again
In Norway.
Speak.
Thy enemies are here,
No dancing-girls, but Hertha, wife of Swegn,
And Aslaug, child of Olaf Thorleikson,
His sister.
It is well.
The danger lies
In Aslaug's hand and dagger which she means
To strike into thy heart. Tonight she strikes.
And Swegn?
Send me to him with perilous word
Of Aslaug in thy hands; so with her life
Buy his surrender, afterwards his love
With kingly generosity and trust.
Freely and frankly hast thou spoken, Queen
Who wast in Trondhjem: now as freely ask.
The life of Swegn; his liberty as well,
Submitting.
They are thine.
And Aslaug's life
And pardon, not her liberty.
They are given.
And, last, forgiveness for myself, O King,
My treason and my plots.
This too I grant.
I have nothing left to ask for.
Thou hast done?
Let me consign thee to thy prison then.
My prison! Wilt thou send me not to Swegn?
I will not. Why, thou subtle, dangerous head,
Restored to liberty, what perilous schemes
Might leap into thy thought! Shall I give Swegn,
That fierce and splendid fighter, such a brain
Of cunning to complete and guide his sword?
What if he did not yield, rejected peace?
Wilt thou not tell him Aslaug's life is safe?
Thou hast promised, King!
I keep
My promise to thee, Hertha, wife of Swegn.
For Swegn thou askest life and liberty,
For Aslaug life and pardon, for thyself
Forgiveness only. I can be cunning too.
Hertha, thou art my prisoner and thrall.
Hertha (after a pause, smiling)
I see. I am content. Thou showest thyself
Norway's chief brain as her victorious sword.
Free or a prisoner, let me do homage
To Eric, my King and Swegn's.
Thou art content?
This face and noble bearing cannot lie.
I am content and feel as safe with thee
As in my husband's keeping.
Thou subtle voice, thou close and daring brain.
I would I felt myself as safe with thee.
King Eric, think me not thy enemy.
What thou desirest, I desire yet more.
Keep to that well; let Aslaug not suspect.
My way I'll take with her and thee and Swegn.
Thou help'st me even as Thor and Odin did.
1 Of something unachieved.
2 Yet that were best,
{DocumentDescription}
{StartingDate}
{Year}
1910
{/Year}{Exactness}
Exact
{/Exactness}{/StartingDate}{EndingDate}{Year}
1913
{/Year}{Exactness}
Exact
{/Exactness}{/EndingDate}{DateType}
Writting
{/DateType}{WorkKind}
Play
{/WorkKind}{/DocumentDescription}