CATILINE. Fear is not the reason. 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. Glory and might your silent fate conceals, And yet you falter,—dare not lift a hand! You journey yonder to the forests, where Each longing that you cherished will be quenched. Ah, tell me, Catiline, is there no trace Of thirst for glory left within your heart? And must this princely soul, for triumphs born, Vanish unknown in yonder nameless desert? Hence, then! But know that thus you lose forever What here you could by daring deeds attain.
CATILINE. Go on, go on!
FURIA. With trembling and with fear The future generations will recall Your fate. Your life was all a daring game;— Yet in the lustre of atonement it would shine, Known to all men, if with a mighty hand You fought your way straight through this surging throng,— If the dark night of thraldom through your rule Gave way before a new-born day of freedom,— If at some time you—