Poetical Works of Robert Bridges, Volume 4Bridges, Robert
General
Poetical Works of Robert Bridges, Volume 4
Bridges, Robert
English drama; English poetry
_The suitor._ Lady, if ever thou didst see
Three dewdrops gathered full within
Some unawakened lily’s cup,
Each swollen to fall, or e’er begin
The stalks to dress themselves aright:
For yet the sun, that hasteth up,
Pricks not their delicate stems,
Nor spreads the crimson petals bright: 1640
That were an image of the gems
Which in this casket lie, a pair
Fit for thine ears to wear.
_Pen._ I thank thee, good Peisander; set it down
Here with the rest.
_Ul._ (_aside to Amph._). Sir, I would speak with thee.
_Amph._ (_to Ul._). Nay, stand aloof.—
_Pen._ Ye do me honour, lords;
Yet must reception end. I will take all,
And note the givers. Now my constant grief
Is strangely awakened. (_To maids._) Gather up the gifts.
_Ul._ (_aside to Amph._). Sir! speak with me. 1650
_Amph._ (_to Ul._). What wouldst thou?
_Ant._ See, the rogue
Begins to beg.
_Eur._ Lady, ere yet thou go,
Grant me thine ear. There is come into the hall
A beggar, who for mere propriety [_Ul. sits._
We would were housed without. The prince, thy son,
Against our general comfort bids him here.
Let thy kind favour spare us this annoyance.
_Pen._ That is he?
_Eur._ Ay.
_Ant._ Lo! by the fire he sits.
_Pen._ (_aside_). How strange a man. (_To Tel._) Is this
thy guest, my son?
_Tel._ ’Tis he I spoke of.
_Pen._ (_to Tel._). Surely the complaint
Hath a fair ground. To save offence ’twere best
Dismiss him with some gift—I leave, my lords,
This matter where it lies: My son rules here. 1662
Farewell. Keep peace amongst you.
(_To maids._) Bear off the gifts. [_Exit._
_All._ Farewell, fairest Penelope.
_Eur._ Ere now we sit again,
I ask the prince once more if he persist
To vex our party with this beggar’s presence.
_Tel._ Press me not, lords, ye know my will: and how
In night and darkness should I turn away
A houseless guest? Nay, but for you ’tis time 1670
Ye sought your lodges.
_Ant._ (_to Eum._). Thou presumptuous swineherd,
Why drovest thou this nuisance to the town?
Had we not tramps and scamps eno’, starved beggars
And needy scavengers, haunting the place,
Ravening thy master’s substance, that thou now
Must fetch in this one too?
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account