The Complete Poetical Works of Edgar Allan Poe - LightNovelsOnl.com
You're reading novel online at LightNovelsOnl.com. Please use the follow button to get notifications about your favorite novels and its latest chapters so you can come back anytime and won't miss anything.
_Pol_. _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?
_Bal_. That he, Castiglione, not being aware Of any feud existing, or any cause Of quarrel between your lords.h.i.+p and himself, Cannot accept the challenge.
_Pol_. 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_?
_Bal_. No more, my lord, than I have told you: The Count Castiglione will not fight.
Having no cause for quarrel.
_Pol_. 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 pr'ythee, say Unto the Count--it is exceeding just He should have cause for quarrel.
_Bal_. My lord!--my friend!--
_Pol_. (_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 pr'ythee, leave me--hither doth come a person With whom affairs of a most private nature I would adjust.
_Bal_. I go--to-morrow we meet, Do we not?--at the Vatican.
_Pol_. At the Vatican.
(_Exit Bal_.)
_Enter Castiglione_.
_Cas_. The Earl of Leicester here!
_Pol_. I _am_ the Earl of Leicester, and thou seest, Dost thou not, that I am here?
_Cas_. 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.
_Pol_. Draw, villain, and prate no more!
_Cas_. Ha!--draw?--and villain? have at thee then at once, Proud Earl!
(_Draws._)
_Pol_.
(_drawing_.) Thus to the expiatory tomb, Untimely sepulchre, I do devote thee In the name of Lalage!
_Cas_. (_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.
_Pol_. 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!
_Cas_. 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.
_Pol_. Now, by my halidom, I do believe thee!--coward, I do believe thee!
_Cas_. 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 hia 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. Oh, pity me!
_Pol.
(greatly softened_). Alas!--I do--indeed I pity thee.
_Cas_. And Lalage--
_Pol_. _Scoundrel!--arise and die!_
_Cas_. It needeth not be--thus--thus--Oh, 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.
_Pol_. Now's Death and h.e.l.l!
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 _wilt not_ fight me?
Thou liest! thou _shalt_!
(_Exit_.)
_Cas_. Now this indeed is just!
Most righteous, and most just, avenging Heaven!
[Footnote 1: By Sir Thomas Wyatt.--Ed.]
NOTE ON POLITIAN
20. Such portions of "Politian" as are known to the public first saw the light of publicity in the 'Southern Literary Messenger' for December 1835 and January 1836, being styled "Scenes from Politian; an unpublished drama." These scenes were included, unaltered, in the 1845 collection of Poems by Poe. The larger portion of the original draft subsequently became the property of the present editor, but it is not considered just to the poet's memory to publish it. The work is a hasty and unrevised production of its author's earlier days of literary labor; and, beyond the scenes already known, scarcely calculated to enhance his reputation. As a specimen, however, of the parts unpublished, the following fragment from the first scene of Act II. may be offered. The Duke, it should be premised, is uncle to Alessandra, and father of Castiglione her betrothed.
_Duke_. Why do you laugh?
_Castiglione_. Indeed.
I hardly know myself. Stay! Was it not On yesterday we were speaking of the Earl?
