CUERVO - Biblioteca Nacional de Colombia

96 PARACELSUS
This night; we'll weather the storm at least: to-morrow
For Nuremburg! Now leave us; this grave clerk
Has divers weighty matters for my ear, (Oporinus goes out)
And spare my lungs. At last, my gallant Festus,
I am rid of this arch-knave that follows me
As a gaunt crow a gasping sheep; at last
May give a loose to my delight. How kind,
How very kind, my first, best, only friend!
Vlhy this looks like fidelity. Embrace me:
Not a hair silvered yet! Right: you shall live
Till I am worth your love; you shall be proud,
And I-but let time show. Did you not wonder?
I sent to you because our compact weighed
Upon my conscience-(you recal the night
At Basil, which the gods confound)-because
Once more I aspire! I call you to my side;
You come. You thought my message strange?
Festus. So strange
That I must hope, indeed, your messenger
Has mingled his own fancies with the words
Purporting to be yours.
Paracelsus. He said no more,
'Tis probable, than the precious folks I leave
Said fifty-fold more roughly. Well-a-day,
'Tis true; poor Paracelsus is exposed
At last; a most egregious quack he proves,
And those he overreached must spit their hate
On one who, utterly beneath contempt,
Could yet deceive their topping wits. You beard
Bare truth; and at my bidding you come here
To speed me on my enterprise, as once
Your lavish wishes sped me, my own friend?
Festus. '''bat is your purpose, Aureole?
Paracelsus. Oh, for purpose,
There is no lack of precedents in a case
Like mine; at least, if not precisely mine,
The case of men cast off by those they sought
To benefit ...
Festus. They really cast you off ?
I only heard a vague tale of some priest,
Cured by your skill, who wrangled at your claim.
Knowing his life's worth best; and how the judge
The matter was referred to. saw no cause
To interfere, nor you to hide your full
Contempt of him; nor he, again, to smother
His wrath thereat, which raised so fierce a flame
That Basil soon was made no place for you.
Paracelslls. The afIair of Liechtenfels? the shallowest
cause,
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