Seg monologue (Act 2) — Life Is a Dream

And what care I? She is my cousin too: And if you be a Prince--well, am not I Lord of the very soil you stand upon? By that, and by that right beside of blood That like a fiery fountain hitherto Pent in the rock leaps toward her at her touch, Mine, before all the cousins in Muscovy! You call me Prince of Poland, and yourselves My subjects--traitors therefore to this hour, Who let me perish all my youth away Chain'd there among the mountains; till, forsooth, Terrified at your treachery foregone, You spirit me up here, I know not how, Popinjay-like invest me like yourselves, Choke me with scent and music that I loathe, And, worse than all the music and the scent, With false, long-winded, fulsome compliment, That 'Oh, you are my subjects!' and in word Reiterating still obedience, Thwart me in deed at every step I take: When just about to wreak a just revenge Upon that old arch-traitor of you all, Filch from my vengeance him I hate; and him I loved--the first and only face--till this-- I cared to look on in your ugly court-- And now when palpably I grasp at last What hitherto but shadow'd in my dreams-- Affiances and interferences, The first who dares to meddle with me more-- Princes and chamberlains and counsellors, Touch her who dares!--