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Early Plays — Catiline, the Warrior's Barrow, Olaf Liljekrans by Henrik Ibsen
page 60 of 328 (18%)

FURIA. Your fate, my Catiline!

CATILINE. Only the gods of wisdom know my fate,--
No human being.

FURIA. Yet I know your fate.
I am your shadow;--strange, mysterious ties
Bind us together.

CATILINE. Bonds of hatred.

FURIA. No!
Rose ever spirit from the dankest grave
For hate and vengeance? Listen, Catiline!
The rivers of the underworld have quenched
Each earthly flame that raged within my breast.
As you behold me here, I am no longer
The stormy Furia,--wild and passionate,--
Whom once you loved--

CATILINE. You do not hate me then?

FURIA. Ah, now no more. When in the tomb I stood,--
And faltered on the path that separates
This life from death, at any moment ready
To greet the underworld,--lo, seized me then
An eerie shuddering; I know not what--;
I felt in me a mystic transformation;--
Away flowed hate, revenge, my very soul;
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