Poetical Works of Robert Bridges, Volume 4Bridges, Robert
General
Poetical Works of Robert Bridges, Volume 4
Bridges, Robert
English drama; English poetry
_Man._ Hear them.
Palicio’s life is forfeit, for he has killed
Three of his guards: but to the dangerous deed
He had provocation, such as I should hold
Clears him of crime: wherefore I take upon me
To force a loan of Justice while she sleeps,
For fear a thief should rob her: to this, moreover,
The claim of kinship binds me,—nay, be patient,
And hear me out.—Already our disorders 840
Have been reported at the Spanish court;
The enquiry set on foot will much endamage
Hugo’s good name: I doubt not we shall have
Another viceroy, and the revolution
Will justify the movers.
_Mar._ Oh! all that,
Be as it may, will never cure his wound.
He needs a surgeon: we must find a surgeon.
_Man._ No: he must lie concealed till I procure
His pardon. His discovery now were death.
_Mar._ But if I bring one secretly?
_Man._ How secretly? 850
Better cry down the streets the man is here:
That might escape attention.
_Mar._ I know a man.
Have I not sometimes shewn thee certain sonnets
Writ in Sicilian speech?
_Man._ Eh! Michael Rosso?
_Mar._ ’Tis he. I think he’d love to do my bidding
In a more dangerous matter. Give me leave,
I’ll bring him here to-night.
_Man._ I had thought of him,
But shrank from taxing his good-will. And yet—
(_Aside._) For his own sake ’twere kind ... and Margaret asks it ...
Secrets, they say, discover sympathies.— 860
(_Aloud._) Ay, ’tis well thought of.
_Mar._ I can answer for him.
_Man._ I see. Yet there’s no cause why he should know.
Escort him blindfold hither; let Palicio
Have his face covered. Let him ask no questions:
And when ’tis done convey him blindfold back.
’Twere best he should not know.
_Mar._ O, brother, I thank thee.
_Man._ Why, girl, thou’rt crazed.
_Mar._ May I not go at once?
_Man._ Nay, wait till dusk; and see, take here my seal,
Since thou must go alone: ’twill be thy freedom
From any questionings of any people. 870
Use all precautions, and impose on Rosso
Sacredest secrecy: ’tis thou and he
Must carry it thro’. Be careful.
_Mar._ I will put on
Some common clothing, and disguise my face.
I thank thee. [_Exit._
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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