Poetical Works of Robert Bridges, Volume 4Bridges, Robert
General
Poetical Works of Robert Bridges, Volume 4
Bridges, Robert
English drama; English poetry
_Mar._ Thou wilt lose nothing, for my brother alone
Can do much more than thou with these base men,
Who stain the cause. One favour more.
_Pal._ What is it?
_Mar._ ’Tis that this evening, love, be spent together.
_Pal._ I mean it should. To-night our fellows meet
In various rendezvous, as you may see 1442
Upon the paper. There are ten in all
They will not need my presence till to-morrow,
When the bands join at sundown. O, Margaret:
I knew that thou wouldst come.
_Mar._ I think, Giovanni,
Thou shouldst have met me first thyself: thy men
Are rough.
_Pal._ Was any rude?
_Mar._ Nay, ’twas well meant,
But sounded strangely.
_Pal._ Say but who it was.
_Mar._ No, ’tis forgiven. 1450
_Pal._ (_going_). Kiss me.
_Mar._ Ah, now, Giovanni,
Where wilt thou go?
_Pal._ But for one hour, my dearest,
I must be absent. Then shall I be yours
For all the day.
_Mar._ Farewell. And prithee send
Lucia. I will await thee.
_Pal._ Farewell. [_Exit._
_Mar._ I have his promise,
If this scheme fail. ’Tis mine to make it fail.
O, ’tis too dangerous: to trust so far
That dollar-ballasted Iscariot,
The weather-trimming Blasco.—The paper! the list!
I’ll have their names. Where can I write them? Ah!
My prayer-book. I will send them straight to Hugo.
Poor Constance! Burn the palace! Ay, and thee,
For aught they care. Now, who comes first? Bendettu
Jacupu ... and your place?—within the cloister 1463
Of Santo Spirito. Next, Squarcialupu ...
Why, that’s the ruffian who would like a dozen
Wives such as I. He’ll find one were too many.
Go you to prison, sir, and cool your thoughts.
You burn the palace!—Messer Vincentiu
Lazaru ... at his peltry shed at Baido.
Now there’s two pages of them: the little prayers
Will hardly shrive them ... here’s one I cannot read.
B-o-n-o-Bononio, now I have him. 1472
Why who could trust such men? Set them in power
But for a day ... say this next villain here,
Fardello ... he’s a murderer—ay, for him
I write his death, maybe: but for the rest
I’ll take such care that Manuel’s voice shall ease
Their accusation. Now I have them all.
Lucia! Ho, Lucia!
_Enter Lucia._
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