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    Psychologies
    Psychologies
    Psychologies
    Ebook73 pages44 minutes

    Psychologies

    By Ronald Sir Ross

    ()

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    About this ebook

    DigiCat Publishing presents to you this special edition of "Psychologies" by Ronald Sir Ross. DigiCat Publishing considers every written word to be a legacy of humankind. Every DigiCat book has been carefully reproduced for republishing in a new modern format. The books are available in print, as well as ebooks. DigiCat hopes you will treat this work with the acknowledgment and passion it deserves as a classic of world literature.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherDigiCat
    Release dateSep 16, 2022
    ISBN8596547383888
    Psychologies

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      Book preview

      Psychologies - Ronald Sir Ross

      Ronald Sir Ross

      Psychologies

      EAN 8596547383888

      DigiCat, 2022

      Contact: DigiCat@okpublishing.info

      Table of Contents

      OTHO

      THE TRIUMPH

      EVIL

      THE MARSH

      THE BOY’S DREAM

      OTHO

      Table of Contents

      Otho.

      Soldiers.

      [After Otho had been partially defeated by Vitellius, his soldiers clamoured to be led again to battle. Otho refused in the manner shown here in brief.]

      Soldiers.Once more to battle, Otho!

      Otho. Soldiers.Once more to battle, Otho!No, not for Rome’s sake.

      Soldiers.Cæsar, once more!

      Otho. Soldiers.Cæsar, once more!Is Rome forgotten then?

      Soldiers.To battle, Cæsar!

      Big Soldier. Soldiers.To battle, Cæsar!Hear us, little Cæsar!

      Bearded Soldier.Are we, then, dogs that Cæsar will not lead us?

      Soldiers.Ah!

      Bearded Soldier.Did we fly? Are we mercenaries?

      Soldiers.Ah!

      Young Soldier.Blood, blood, blood!

      Big Soldier. Young Soldier.Blood, blood, blood!Listen, pretty one, listen!

      Soldiers.Once more, Otho, once more!

      Centurion. Soldiers.Once more, Otho, once more!You mongrels, peace!

      Small Soldier.I smoke for battle, Cæsar. I’ll fail thee no more.

      Soldiers.God Cæsar, lead us!

      Young Soldier(beating his shield). Blood, blood,

      blood, blood, blood!

      Soldiers. To battle, Cæsar!

      Bearded Soldier. Soldiers. To battle, Cæsar!Are we Egyptians?

      Centurion. Bearded Soldier. Soldiers. To battle, Cæsar!Are we Egyptians?Peace!

      Big Soldier.Hear, pretty one, hear!

      Otho. Big Soldier.Hear, pretty one, hear!For this your love these thanks.

      For your great hearts my heart. My blood for yours

      As yours would flow for mine. This life for all,

      And for my country.

      Soldier. And for my country.Let us die for it then.

      Another.These kisses for your feet.

      Young Soldier(gashing his arm). This blood to wash them!

      Another(doing the same). And this to keep you Cæsar.

      Otho. Another(doing the same). And this to keep you Cæsar.I am that—

      And would not be it. For about the world

      The warlike pest is blown, and Cæsar stands

      Knee-deep in blood, or is not Cæsar. Cease!

      Keep me no more with Fortune. She and I

      Are wedded-weary of each other.

      Soldiers. Are wedded-weary of each other.War! War!

      Centurion.Dogs! Listen while great Cæsar speaks.

      Soldiers. Centurion.Dogs! Listen while great Cæsar speaks.To war!

      Old Soldier.See, Cæsar, how these wounds burst out once more

      With blood that clamours to be shed for thee!

      Otho.For this great love my thanks, brave hearts. My tears

      Do thank you. So my country’s bitter wounds

      Burst out with blood once more for me. O there!

      Too much already have those dreadful wounds

      Bled gouts and gushes of black blood for me—

      For nothing. What am I—no god, a man—

      To loose the life of myriads and to make

      Italy a charnel for a name? Enough.

      The battle was against us. Let it be.

      The gods have spoken, and love not to warn

      In vain. I am resolved. I’ll war no more.

      Soldiers.Ah! Ah!

      Small Soldier. Soldiers.Ah! Ah!We are not vanquisht!

      Otho. Small Soldier. Soldiers.Ah! Ah!We are not vanquisht!But not victors.

      The omens are adverse. Vitellius wins.

      What matter if he win? So let him win.

      Shall Rome be river’d with her children’s blood

      That he or I should wear a purple rag?

      What is’t to Rome who should be Cæsar? Hear.

      We Cæsars rise, and rule, and rot—yet are

      But as the names of nothing for a time;

      The marks on foolish calendars of days

      For farmers’ fruit-trees and memorial stones—

      Notches on sticks, and gossip for winter nights;

      Add not a corngrain to the goodman’s store,

      A word to wisdom, nor a stave to song;

      Nor worth the delving of a ditch to hide

      Our bones in, less a dreadful sepulchre

      To hold the harvest of a continent.

      For which of us shall Italy be more fair?

      Will yonder sun more brightly beam for me

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