900 lines
31 KiB
Plaintext
900 lines
31 KiB
Plaintext
1835
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SCENES FROM "POLITIAN"
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by Edgar Allan Poe
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DRAMATIS PERSONAE
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POLITIAN, Earl of Leicester. A MONK.
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DI BROGLIO, a Roman Duke. LALAGE
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COUNT CASTIGLIONE, his son. ALESSANDRA, betrothed to
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BALDAZZAR, Duke of Surrey, Castiglione.
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Friend to Politian. JACINTA, maid to Lalage.
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The Scene lies in Rome
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I.
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ROME- A Hall in a Palace
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ALESSANDRA and CASTIGLIONE.
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ALESSANDRA
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Thou art sad, Castiglione.
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CASTIGLIONE
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Sad!- not I.
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Oh, I'm the happiest, happiest man in Rome!
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A few days more, thou knowest, my Alessandra,
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Will make thee mine. Oh, I am very happy!
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ALESSANDRA.
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Methinks thou hast a singular way of showing
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Thy happiness!- what ails thee, cousin of mine?
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Why didst thou sigh so deeply?
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CASTIGLIONE
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I was not conscious of it. It is a fashion,
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A silly- a most silly fashion I have
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When I am very happy. Did I sigh? (Sighing)
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ALESSANDRA
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Thou didst. Thou art not well. Thou hast indulged
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Too much of late, and I am vexed to see it.
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Late hours and wine, Castiglione,- these
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Will ruin thee! thou art already altered-
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Thy looks are haggard- nothing so wears away
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The constitution as late hours and wine.
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CASTIGLIONE (musing)
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Nothing, fair cousin, nothing- not even deep sorrow-
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Wears it away like evil hours and wine.
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I will amend.
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ALESSANDRA
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Do it! I would have thee drop
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Thy riotous company, too- fellows low born-
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Ill suit the like with old Di Broglio's heir
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And Alessandra's husband.
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CASTIGLIONE
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I will drop them.
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ALESSANDRA
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Thou wilt- thou must. Attend thou also more
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To thy dress and equippage- they are over plain
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For thy lofty rank and fashion- much depends
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Upon appearances.
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CASTIGLIONE
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I'll see to it.
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ALESSANDRA
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Then see to it!- pay more attention, sir,
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To a becoming carriage- much thou wantest
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In dignity.
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CASTIGLIONE
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Much, much, oh! much I want
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In proper dignity.
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ALESSANDRA (haughtily)
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Thou mockest me, sir.
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CASTIGLIONE (abstractedly)
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Sweet, gentle Lalage!
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ALESSANDRA
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Heard I aright?
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speak to him- he speaks of Lalage!
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Sir Count! (places her hand on his shoulder) what art thou dreaming?
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(aside) He's not well!
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What ails thee, sir?
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CASTIGLIONE (starting)
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Cousin! fair cousin!- madam!
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I crave thy pardon- indeed I am not well-
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Your hand from off my shoulder, if you please.
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This air is most oppressive!- Madam- the Duke!
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(Enter DI BROGLIO)
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DI BROGLIO
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My son, I've news for thee!- hey?- what's the matter? (observing
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Alessandra)
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I' the pouts? Kiss her, Castiglione! kiss her,
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You dog! and make it up, I say, this minute!
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I've news for you both. Politian is expected
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Hourly in Rome- Politian, Earl of Leicester!
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We'll have him at the wedding. 'Tis his first visit
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To the imperial city.
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ALESSANDRA
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What! Politian
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Of Britain, Earl of Leicester?
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DI BROGLIO
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The same, my love.
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We'll have him at the wedding. A man quite young
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In years, but grey in fame. I have not seen him,
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But Rumour speaks of him as of a prodigy
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Preeminent in arts and arms, and wealth,
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As of one who entered madly into life,
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Drinking the cup of pleasure to the dregs.
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And high descent. We'll have him at the wedding.
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ALESSANDRA
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I have heard much of this Politian.
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Gay, volatile and giddy- is he not?
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And little given to thinking.
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DI BROGLIO
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Far from it, love.
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No branch, they say, of all philosophy
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So deep abstruse he has not mastered it.
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Learned as few are learned.
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ALESSANDRA
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'Tis very strange!
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I have known men have seen Politian
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And sought his company. They speak of him
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As of one who entered madly into life,
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Drinking the cup of pleasure to the dregs.
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CASTIGLIONE
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Ridiculous! Now I have seen Politian
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And know him well- nor learned nor he.
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He is a dreamer, and a man shut out
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From common passions.
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DI BROGLIO
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Children, we disagree.
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Let us go forth and taste the fragrant air
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Of the garden. Did I dream, or did I hear
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Politian was a melancholy man? (Exeunt)
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II
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ROME- A Lady's apartment, with a window open and looking into a
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garden. LALAGE, in deep mourning, reading at a table on which lie
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some books and a hand mirror. In the background JACINTA (a servant
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maid) leans carelessly upon a chair.
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LALAGE.
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Jacinta, is it thou?
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JACINTA (pertly)
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Yes, ma'am, I'm here.
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LALAGE.
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I did not know, Jacinta, you were in waiting.
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Sit down!- Let not my presence trouble you-
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Sit down!- for I am humble, most humble.
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JACINTA (aside)
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'Tis time.
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(JACINTA seats herself in a side-long manner upon the chair,
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resting her elbows upon the back, and regarding her mistress
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with a contemptuous look. LALAGE continues to read.)
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LALAGE
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"It in another climate, so he said,
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"Bore a bright golden flower, but not this soil!"
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(pauses- turns over some leaves, and resumes)
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"No lingering winters there, nor snow, nor shower-
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"But Ocean ever to refresh mankind
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"Breathes the shrill spirit of the western wind."
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O, beautiful!- most beautiful- how like
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To what my fevered soul doth dream of Heaven!
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O happy land (pauses) She died!- the maiden died!
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A still more happy maiden who couldst die!
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Jacinta!
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(JACINTA returns no answer, and LALAGE presently resumes)
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Again!- a similar tale
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Told of a beauteous dame beyond the sea!
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Thus speaketh one Ferdinand in the words of the play-
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"She died full young"- one Bossola answers him-
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"I think not so- her infelicity
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"Seemed to have years too many"- Ah luckless lady!
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Jacinta! (still no answer)
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Here 's a far sterner story,
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But like- oh, very like in its despair-
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Of that Egyptian queen, winning so easily
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A thousand hearts- losing at length her own.
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She died. Thus endeth the history- and her maids
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Lean over and weep- two gentle maids
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With gentle names- Eiros and Charmion!
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Rainbow and Dove!- Jacinta!
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JACINTA (pettishly)
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Madam, what is it?
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LALAGE
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Wilt thou, my good Jacinta, be so kind
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As go down in the library and bring me
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The Holy Evangelists?
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JACINTA
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Pshaw! (Exit)
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LALAGE
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If there be balm
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For the wounded spirit in Gilead it is there!
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Dew in the night-time of my bitter trouble
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Will there be found- "dew sweeter far than that
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Which hangs like chains of pearl on Hermon hill."
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(Re-enter JACINTA, and throws a volume on the table)
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There, ma'am, 's the book. Indeed she is very troublesome. (Aside)
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LALAGE (astonished)
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What didst thou say, Jacinta? Have I done aught
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To grieve thee or to vex thee?- I am sorry.
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For thou hast served me long and ever been
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Trustworthy and respectful. (resumes her reading)
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JACINTA (aside)
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I can't believe
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She has any more jewels- no- no- she gave me all.
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LALAGE
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What didst thou say, Jacinta? Now I bethink me
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Thou hast not spoken lately of thy wedding.
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How fares good Ugo?- and when is it to be?
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Can I do aught?- is there no farther aid
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Thou needest, Jacinta?
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JACINTA
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Is there no farther aid!
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That's meant for me (aside). I'm sure, madam, you need not
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Be always throwing those jewels in my teeth.
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LALAGE
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Jewels! Jacinta,- now indeed, Jacinta,
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I thought not of the jewels.
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JACINTA
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Oh! perhaps not!
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But then I might have sworn it. After all,
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There 's Ugo says the ring is only paste,
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For he 's sure the Count Castiglione never
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Would have given a real diamond to such as you;
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And at the best I'm certain, madam, you cannot
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Have use for jewels now. But I might have sworn it. (Exit)
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(LALAGE bursts into tears and leans her head upon the
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table- after a short pause raises it)
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LALAGE
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Poor Lalage!- and is it come to this?
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Thy servant maid!- but courage!- 'tis but a viper
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Whom thou hast cherished to sting thee to the soul!
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(Taking up the mirror)
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Ha! here at least 's a friend- too much a friend
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In earlier day- a friend will not deceive thee.
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Fair mirror and true! now tell me (for thou canst)
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A tale- a pretty tale- and heed thou not
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Though it be rife with woe. It answers me.
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It speaks of sunken eyes, and wasted cheeks,
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And Beauty long deceased- remembers me
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Of Joy departed- Hope, the Seraph Hope,
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Inurned and entombed:- now, in a tone
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Low, sad, and solemn, but most audible,
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Whispers of early grave untimely yawning
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For ruined maid. Fair mirror and true- thou liest not!
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Thou hast no end to gain- no heart to break-
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Castiglione lied who said he loved-
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Thou true- he false!- false!- false!
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(While she speaks, a monk enters her apartment, and
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approaches unobserved)
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MONK
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Refuge thou hast,
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Sweet daughter, in Heaven. Think of eternal things!
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Give up thy soul to penitence, and pray!
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LALAGE (arising hurriedly)
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I cannot pray!- My soul is at war with God!
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The frightful sounds of merriment below
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Disturb my senses- go! I cannot pray-
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The sweet airs from the garden worry me!
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Thy presence grieves me- go!- thy priestly raiment
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Fills me with dread- thy ebony crucifix
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With horror and awe!
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MONK
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Think of thy precious soul!
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LALAGE
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Think of my early days!- think of my father
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And mother in Heaven think of our quiet home,
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And the rivulet that ran before the door!
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Think of my little sisters!- think of them!
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And think of me!- think of my trusting love
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And confidence- his vows- my ruin- think- think
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Of my unspeakable misery!- begone!
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Yet stay! yet stay!- what was it thou saidst of prayer
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And penitence? Didst thou not speak of faith
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And vows before the throne?
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MONK
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I did.
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LALAGE
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'Tis well.
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There is a vow were fitting should be made-
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A sacred vow, imperative, and urgent,
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A solemn vow!
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MONK
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Daughter, this zeal is well.
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LALAGE
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Father, this zeal is anything but well!
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Hast thou a crucifix fit for this thing?
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A crucifix whereon to register
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This sacred vow? (He hands her his own)
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Not that- Oh! no!- no!- no! (Shuddering)
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Not that! Not that!- I tell thee, holy man,
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Thy raiments and thy ebony cross affright me!
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Stand back! I have a crucifix myself,-
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I have a crucifix Methinks 'twere fitting
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The deed- the vow- the symbol of the deed-
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And the deed's register should tally, father!
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(Draws a cross-handled dagger, and raises it on high)
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Behold the cross wherewith a vow like mine
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Is written in Heaven!
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MONK
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Thy words are madness, daughter,
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And speak a purpose unholy- thy lips are livid-
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Thine eyes are wild- tempt not the wrath divine!
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Pause ere too late!- oh, be not- be not rash!
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Swear not the oath- oh, swear it not!
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LALAGE
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'Tis sworn!
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III.
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An apartment in a Palace. POLITIAN and BALDAZZAR
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BALDAZZAR
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-Arouse thee now, Politian!
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Thou must not- nay indeed, indeed, shalt not
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Give away unto these humors. Be thyself!
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Shake off the idle fancies that beset thee,
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And live, for now thou diest!
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POLITIAN
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Not so, Baldazzar
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Surely I live.
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BALDAZZAR
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Politian, it doth grieve me
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To see thee thus.
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POLITIAN
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Baldazzar, it doth grieve me
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To give thee cause for grief, my honored friend.
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Command me, sir! what wouldst thou have me do?
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At thy behest I will shake off that nature
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Which from my, forefathers I did inherit,
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Which with my mother's milk I did imbibe,
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And be no more Politician, but some other.
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Command me, sir!
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BALDAZZAR
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To the field, then- to the field-
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To the senate or the field.
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POLITIAN.
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Alas! Alas!
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There is an imp would follow me even there!
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There is an imp hath followed me even there!
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There is- what voice was that?
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BALDAZZAR
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I heard it not.
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I heard not any voice except thine own,
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And the echo of thine own.
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POLITIAN
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Then I but dreamed.
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BALDAZZAR
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Give not thy soul to dreams: the camp- the court,
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Befit thee- Fame awaits thee- Glory calls-
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And her, the trumpet-tongued, thou wilt not hear
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In hearkening to imaginary sounds
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And phantom voices.
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POLITIAN
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It is a phantom voice!
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Didst thou not hear it then?
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BALDAZZAR
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I heard it not.
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POLITIAN
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Thou heardst it not!- Baldazaar, speak no more
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To me, Politian, of thy camps and courts.
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Oh I am sick, sick, even unto death,
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Of the hollow and high-sounding vanities
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Of the populous Earth! Bear with me yet awhile!
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We have been boys together- schoolfellows-
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And now are friends- yet shall not be so long-
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For in the eternal city thou shalt do me
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A kind and gentle office, and a Power
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A Power august, benignant and supreme-
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Shall then absolve thee of all further duties
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Unto thy friend.
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BALDAZZAR
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Thou speakest a fearful riddle
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I will not understand.
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POLITIAN
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Yet now as Fate
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Approaches, and the Hours are breathing low,
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The sands of Time are changed to golden grains,
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And dazzle me, Baldazzar. Alas! alas!
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I cannot die, having within my heart
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So keen a relish for the beautiful
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As hath been kindled within it. Methinks the air
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Is balmier now than it was wont to be,-
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Rich melodies are floating in the winds-
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A rarer loveliness bedecks the earth-
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And with a holier lustre the quiet moon
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Sitteth in Heaven.- Hist! hist! thou canst not say
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Thou hearest not now, Baldazzar?
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BALDAZZAR
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Indeed I hear not.
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POLITIAN
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Not hear it!- listen now!- listen!- the faintest sound
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And yet the sweetest that ear ever heard!
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A lady's voice!- and sorrow in the tone!
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Baldazzar, it oppresses me like a spell!
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Again!- again!- how solemnly it falls
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Into my heart of hearts! that eloquent voice
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Surely I never heard- yet it were well
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Had I but heard it with its thrilling tones
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In earlier days!
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BALDAZZAR
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I myself hear it now.
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Be still!- the voice, if I mistake not greatly,
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Proceeds from yonder lattice- which you may see
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Very plainly through the window- it belongs,
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Does it not? unto this palace of the Duke?
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The singer is undoubtedly beneath
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The roof of his Excellency- and perhaps
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Is even that Alessandra of whom he spoke
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As the betrothed of Castiglione,
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His son and heir.
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POLITIAN
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Be still!- it comes again!
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VOICE (very faintly)
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"And is thy heart so strong
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As for to leave me thus
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Who hath loved thee so long
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In wealth and woe among?
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And is thy heart so strong
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As for to leave me thus?
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Say nay- say nay!"
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BALDAZZAR
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The song is English, and I oft have heard it
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In merry England- never so plaintively-
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Hist! hist! it comes again!
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VOICE (more loudly)
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"Is it so strong
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As for to leave me thus
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Who hath loved thee so long
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In wealth and woe among?
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And is thy heart so strong
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As for to leave me thus?
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Say nay- say nay!"
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BALDAZZAR
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'Tis hushed and all is still!
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POLITIAN
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All is not still!
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BALDAZZAR
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Let us go down.
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POLITIAN
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Go down, Baldazzar, go!
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BALDAZZAR
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The hour is growing late- the Duke awaits use-
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Thy presence is expected in the hall
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Below. What ails thee, Earl Politian?
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VOICE (distinctly)
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"Who hath loved thee so long
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In wealth and woe among,
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And is thy heart so strong?
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Say nay- say nay!"
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BALDAZZAR
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Let us descend- 'tis time. Politian, give
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These fancies to the wind. Remember, pray,
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Your bearing lately savored much of rudeness
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Unto the Duke. Arouse thee! and remember
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POLITIAN
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Remember? I do. lead on! I do remember.
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(Going)
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Let us descend. Believe me I would give,
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Freely would give the broad lands of my earldom
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To look upon the face hidden by yon lattice-
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"To gaze upon that veiled face, and hear
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Once more that silent tongue."
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BALDAZZAR
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Let me beg you, sir,
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Descend with me- the Duke may be offended.
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Let us go down, I pray you.
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VOICE (loudly)
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Say nay!- say nay!
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POLITIAN (aside)
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'Tis strange!- 'tis very strange- methought the voice
|
|
Chimed in with my desires, and bade me stay!
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|
(Approaching the window)
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|
Sweet voice! I heed thee, and will surely stay.
|
|
Now be this Fancy, by Heaven or be it Fate,
|
|
Still will I not descend. Baldazzar make
|
|
Apology unto the Duke for me;
|
|
I go not down to-night.
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BALDAZZAR
|
|
Your lordship's pleasure
|
|
Shall be attended to. Good-night, Politian.
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POLITIAN
|
|
Good-night, my friend, good-night.
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IV.
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The gardens of a Palace- Moonlight
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LALAGE, and POLITIAN
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LALAGE
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And dost thou speak of love
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|
To me, Politian?- dost thou speak of love
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|
To Lalage?- ah, woe- ah, woe is me!
|
|
This mockery is most cruel- most cruel indeed!
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POLITIAN
|
|
Weep not! oh, sob not thus!- thy bitter tears
|
|
Will madden me. Oh, mourn not, Lalage-
|
|
Be comforted! I know- I know it all,
|
|
And still I speak of love. Look at me, brightest
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|
And beautiful Lalage!- turn here thine eyes!
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|
Thou askest me if I could speak of love,
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Knowing what I know, and seeing what I have seen.
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|
Thou askest me that- and thus I answer thee-
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|
Thus on my bended knee I answer thee. (Kneeling)
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|
Sweet Lalage, I love thee- love thee- love thee;
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|
Thro' good and ill- thro' weal and woe I love thee.
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|
Not mother, with her first-born on her knee,
|
|
Thrills with intenser love than I for thee.
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|
Not on God's altar, in any time or clime,
|
|
Burned there a holier fire than burneth now
|
|
Within my spirit for thee. And do I love? (Arising)
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Even for thy woes I love thee- even for thy woes-
|
|
Thy beauty and thy woes.
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LALAGE
|
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Alas, proud Earl,
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|
Thou dost forget thyself, remembering me!
|
|
How, in thy father's halls, among the maidens
|
|
Pure and reproachless of thy princely line,
|
|
Could the dishonored Lalage abide?
|
|
Thy wife, and with a tainted memory-
|
|
MY seared and blighted name, how would it tally
|
|
With the ancestral honors of thy house,
|
|
And with thy glory?
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POLITIAN
|
|
Speak not to me of glory!
|
|
I hate- I loathe the name; I do abhor
|
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The unsatisfactory and ideal thing.
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Art thou not Lalage and I Politian?
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|
Do I not love- art thou not beautiful-
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|
What need we more? Ha! glory!- now speak not of it.
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|
By all I hold most sacred and most solemn-
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|
By all my wishes now- my fears hereafter-
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|
By all I scorn on earth and hope in heaven-
|
|
There is no deed I would more glory in,
|
|
Than in thy cause to scoff at this same glory
|
|
And trample it under foot. What matters it-
|
|
What matters it, my fairest, and my best,
|
|
That we go down unhonored and forgotten
|
|
Into the dust- so we descend together.
|
|
Descend together- and then- and then, perchance-
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LALAGE
|
|
Why dost thou pause, Politian?
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POLITIAN
|
|
And then, perchance
|
|
Arise together, Lalage, and roam
|
|
The starry and quiet dwellings of the blest,
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|
And still-
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LALAGE
|
|
Why dost thou pause, Politian?
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POLITIAN
|
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And still together- together.
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LALAGE
|
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Now Earl of Leicester!
|
|
Thou lovest me, and in my heart of hearts
|
|
I feel thou lovest me truly.
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POLITIAN
|
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Oh, Lalage!
|
|
(Throwing himself upon his knee)
|
|
And lovest thou me?
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LALAGE
|
|
Hist! hush! within the gloom
|
|
Of yonder trees methought a figure passed-
|
|
A spectral figure, solemn, and slow, and noiseless-
|
|
Like the grim shadow Conscience, solemn and noiseless.
|
|
(Walks across and returns)
|
|
I was mistaken- 'twas but a giant bough
|
|
Stirred by the autumn wind. Politian!
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POLITIAN
|
|
My Lalage- my love! why art thou moved?
|
|
Why dost thou turn so pale? Not Conscience' self,
|
|
Far less a shadow which thou likenest to it,
|
|
Should shake the firm spirit thus. But the night wind
|
|
Is chilly- and these melancholy boughs
|
|
Throw over all things a gloom.
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|
|
|
LALAGE
|
|
Politian!
|
|
Thou speakest to me of love. Knowest thou the land
|
|
With which all tongues are busy- a land new found-
|
|
Miraculously found by one of Genoa-
|
|
A thousand leagues within the golden west?
|
|
A fairy land of flowers, and fruit, and sunshine,
|
|
And crystal lakes, and over-arching forests,
|
|
And mountains, around whose towering summits the winds
|
|
Of Heaven untrammelled flow- which air to breathe
|
|
Is Happiness now, and will be Freedom hereafter
|
|
In days that are to come?
|
|
|
|
POLITIAN
|
|
O, wilt thou- wilt thou
|
|
Fly to that Paradise- my Lalage, wilt thou
|
|
Fly thither with me? There Care shall be forgotten,
|
|
And Sorrow shall be no more, and Eros be all.
|
|
And life shall then be mine, for I will live
|
|
For thee, and in thine eyes- and thou shalt be
|
|
No more a mourner- but the radiant Joys
|
|
Shall wait upon thee, and the angel Hope
|
|
Attend thee ever; and I will kneel to thee
|
|
And worship thee, and call thee my beloved,
|
|
My own, my beautiful, my love, my wife,
|
|
My all;- oh, wilt thou- wilt thou, Lalage,
|
|
Fly thither with me?
|
|
|
|
LALAGE
|
|
A deed is to be done-
|
|
Castiglione lives!
|
|
|
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POLITIAN
|
|
And he shall die! (Exit)
|
|
|
|
LALAGE (after a pause)
|
|
And- he- shall- die!- alas!
|
|
Castiglione die? Who spoke the words?
|
|
Where am I?- what was it he said?- Politian!
|
|
Thou art not gone- thou are not gone, Politian!
|
|
I feel thou art not gone- yet dare not look,
|
|
Lest I behold thee not; thou couldst not go
|
|
With those words upon thy lips- O, speak to me!
|
|
And let me hear thy voice- one word- one word,
|
|
To say thou art not gone,- one little sentence,
|
|
To say how thou dost scorn- how thou dost hate
|
|
My womanly weakness. Ha! ha! thou art not gone-
|
|
O speak to me! I knew thou wouldst not go!
|
|
I knew thou wouldst not, couldst not, durst not go.
|
|
Villain, thou art not gone- thou mockest me!
|
|
And thus I clutch thee- thus!- He is gone, he is gone
|
|
Gone- gone. Where am I?- 'tis well- 'tis very well!
|
|
So that the blade be keen- the blow be sure,
|
|
'Tis well, 'tis very well- alas! alas!
|
|
V
|
|
|
|
The suburbs. POLITIAN alone
|
|
|
|
POLITIAN
|
|
This weakness grows upon me. I am faint,
|
|
And much I fear me ill- it will not do
|
|
To die ere I have lived!- Stay, stay thy hand,
|
|
O Azrael, yet awhile!- Prince of the Powers
|
|
Of Darkness and the Tomb, O pity me!
|
|
O pity me! let me not perish now,
|
|
In the budding of my Paradisal Hope!
|
|
Give me to live yet- yet a little while:
|
|
'Tis I who pray for life- I who so late
|
|
Demanded but to die!- what sayeth the Count?
|
|
(Enter BALDAZZAR)
|
|
|
|
BALDAZZAR
|
|
That knowing no cause of quarrel or of feud
|
|
Between the Earl Politian and himself.
|
|
He doth decline your cartel.
|
|
|
|
POLITIAN
|
|
What didst thou say?
|
|
What answer was it you brought me, good Baldazzar?
|
|
With what excessive fragrance the zephyr comes
|
|
Laden from yonder bowers!- a fairer day,
|
|
Or one more worthy Italy, methinks
|
|
No mortal eyes have seen!- what said the Count?
|
|
|
|
BALDAZZAR
|
|
That he, Castiglione' not being aware
|
|
Of any feud existing, or any cause
|
|
Of quarrel between your lordship and himself,
|
|
Cannot accept the challenge.
|
|
|
|
POLITIAN
|
|
It is most true-
|
|
All this is very true. When saw you, sir,
|
|
When saw you now, Baldazzar, in the frigid
|
|
Ungenial Britain which we left so lately,
|
|
A heaven so calm as this- so utterly free
|
|
From the evil taint of clouds?- and he did say?
|
|
|
|
BALDAZZAR
|
|
No more, my lord, than I have told you, sir:
|
|
The Count Castiglione will not fight,
|
|
Having no cause for quarrel.
|
|
|
|
POLITIAN
|
|
Now this is true-
|
|
All very true. Thou art my friend, Baldazzar,
|
|
And I have not forgotten it- thou'lt do me
|
|
A piece of service; wilt thou go back and say
|
|
Unto this man, that I, the Earl of Leicester,
|
|
Hold him a villain?- thus much, I prythee, say
|
|
Unto the Count- it is exceeding just
|
|
He should have cause for quarrel.
|
|
|
|
BALDAZZAR
|
|
My lord!- my friend!-
|
|
|
|
POLITIAN (aside)
|
|
'Tis he!- he comes himself? (aloud) Thou reasonest well.
|
|
I know what thou wouldst say- not send the message-
|
|
Well!- I will think of it- I will not send it.
|
|
Now prythee, leave me- hither doth come a person
|
|
With whom affairs of a most private nature
|
|
I would adjust.
|
|
|
|
BALDAZZAR
|
|
I go- to-morrow we meet,
|
|
Do we not?- at the Vatican.
|
|
|
|
POLITIAN
|
|
At the Vatican.
|
|
(Exit BALDAZZAR)
|
|
Enter CASTIGLIONE
|
|
|
|
CASTIGLIONE
|
|
The Earl of Leicester here!
|
|
|
|
POLITIAN
|
|
I am the Earl of Leicester, and thou seest,
|
|
Dost thou not? that I am here.
|
|
|
|
CASTIGLIONE
|
|
My lord, some strange,
|
|
Some singular mistake- misunderstanding-
|
|
Hath without doubt arisen: thou hast been urged
|
|
Thereby, in heat of anger, to address
|
|
Some words most unaccountable, in writing,
|
|
To me, Castiglione; the bearer being
|
|
Baldazzar, Duke of Surrey. I am aware
|
|
Of nothing which might warrant thee in this thing,
|
|
Having given thee no offence. Ha!- am I right?
|
|
'Twas a mistake?- undoubtedly- we all
|
|
Do err at times.
|
|
|
|
POLITIAN
|
|
Draw, villain, and prate no more!
|
|
|
|
CASTIGLIONE
|
|
Ha!- draw?- and villain? have at thee then at once,
|
|
Proud Earl! (Draws)
|
|
|
|
POLITIAN (drawing)
|
|
Thus to the expiatory tomb,
|
|
Untimely sepulchre, I do devote thee
|
|
In the name of Lalage!
|
|
|
|
CASTIGLIONE
|
|
(letting fall his sword and recoiling to
|
|
the extremity of the stage)
|
|
Of Lalage!
|
|
Hold off- thy sacred hand!- avaunt, I say!
|
|
Avaunt- I will not fight thee- indeed I dare not.
|
|
|
|
POLITIAN
|
|
Thou wilt not fight with me didst say, Sir Count?
|
|
Shall I be baffled thus?- now this is well;
|
|
Didst say thou darest not? Ha!
|
|
|
|
CASTIGLIONE
|
|
I dare not- dare not-
|
|
Hold off thy hand- with that beloved name
|
|
So fresh upon thy lips I will not fight thee-
|
|
I cannot- dare not.
|
|
|
|
POLITIAN
|
|
Now by my halidom
|
|
I do believe thee!- coward, I do believe thee!
|
|
|
|
CASTIGLIONE
|
|
Ha!- coward!- this may not be!
|
|
(Clutches his sword and staggers towards POLITIAN, but
|
|
his purpose is changed before reaching him, and he
|
|
falls upon his knee at the feet of the Earl)
|
|
Alas! my lord,
|
|
It is- it is- most true. In such a cause
|
|
I am the veriest coward. O pity me!
|
|
|
|
POLITIAN (greatly softened)
|
|
Alas!- I do- indeed I pity thee.
|
|
|
|
CASTIGLIONE
|
|
And Lalage-
|
|
|
|
POLITIAN
|
|
Scoundrel!- arise and die!
|
|
|
|
CASTIGLIONE
|
|
It needeth not be- thus- thus- O let me die
|
|
Thus on my bended knee. It were most fitting
|
|
That in this deep humiliation I perish.
|
|
For in the fight I will not raise a hand
|
|
Against thee, Earl of Leicester. Strike thou home-
|
|
(Baring his bosom)
|
|
Here is no let or hindrance to thy weapon-
|
|
Strike home. I will not fight thee.
|
|
|
|
POLITIAN
|
|
Now, s' Death and Hell!
|
|
Am I not- am I not sorely- grievously tempted
|
|
To take thee at thy word? But mark me, sir,
|
|
Think not to fly me thus. Do thou prepare
|
|
For public insult in the streets- before
|
|
The eyes of the citizens. I'll follow thee
|
|
Like an avenging spirit I'll follow thee
|
|
Even unto death. Before those whom thou lovest-
|
|
Before all Rome I'll taunt thee, villain,- I'll taunt thee,
|
|
Dost hear? with cowardice- thou will not fight me?
|
|
Thou liest! thou shalt! (Exit)
|
|
|
|
CASTIGLIONE
|
|
Now this indeed is just!
|
|
Most righteous, and most just, avenging Heaven!
|
|
|
|
-THE END-
|
|
.
|