Poetical Works of Robert Bridges, Volume 4 — John Shaqi
Poetical Works of Robert Bridges, Volume 4Bridges, Robert
General
Poetical Works of Robert Bridges, Volume 4
Bridges, Robert
English drama; English poetry
_Mar._ Now let me light these candles.
[_Stage brightens._
_Pal._ (_aside_). Surely in God’s paradise, that rest of souls,
His angels and pure spirits look and speak
And move like this. O wonder! Wherefore comes she?
And how to keep her but a moment longer
From the discovery? and how to tell her? 670
_Mar._ Now while I sit. [_Finds gown on the chair._
... Why, oh! ’tis drenched with blood,
Your gown. Are you so hurt?
_Pal._ A sword-thrust, lady.
_Mar._ A sword-thrust. Ah!
_Pal._ Thou earnest unadvised,
Lady: I wore the gown; if that deceived thee.
Yet ’twas but a disguise to save my life.
I am Palicio.
_Mar._ Sir!
_Pal._ Escaped from prison
And my pursuers hither. Thy brother’s kindness
Hides me from death awhile.
_Mar._ I pray thy pardon.
’Twas not mere idle curiosity
That made my fault; but made I’ll mend it, sir, 680
As soon as may be. [_Going._
_Pal._ (_springing up_). Stay, nay, put down that key.
I bid thee stay. Thou hast forced my secret. Hear
The whole, and when thou hast heard I shall not fear
The unlocking of thy lips.
_Mar._ Why, sir, the thing
My brother means to hide is hidden to me.
_Pal._ ’Tis not alone my life ...
_Mar._ Ah! see the blood is trickling down thy hand!
_Pal._ Pest! it hath started freshly.
_Mar._ Cannot I help thee?
_Pal._ Ay, ’tis the bandage on this arm.
_Mar._ To tie it?
_Pal._ My moving hath displaced it.
_Mar._ See, alas! 690
The ill I have done. Sit, I will bind it for thee.
_Pal._ Myself I cannot.
_Mar._ Nay. Tell thou me how.
_Pal._ Here, round this pad. As tightly as thou wilt.
Nay, tighter yet.
_Mar._ Shall I not harm thee?
_Pal._ Tighter.
_Mar._ I cannot pull it tighter.
_Pal._ Knot it so.
’Twill do: the blood hath ceased.
_Mar._ Oh, I am glad.
Do not thou stir: see, now, to wash thine arm,
I’ll bring thee water. [_Goes for it._
_Pal._ (_aside_). By heaven, where have I lived,
Like a wild beast beneath the open skies,
In dens and caves, and never known the taste 700
Of this soft ravishment? The rich of the earth
Are right: their bars and bolts are wisely wrought,
Having such treasure in their closed chambers.
_Mar._ Here ’tis. Reach forth thine arm.
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.
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account