Poetical Works of Robert Bridges, Volume 4Bridges, Robert
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Poetical Works of Robert Bridges, Volume 4
Bridges, Robert
English drama; English poetry
_Mar._ I fear him not.
Giovanni promised, should this venture fail,
To sail to Rome.
_Lu._ And I? shall I to Rome?
_Mar._ See, see! who is it, that gallops down the hill?
Why, ’tis Giovanni!
_Lu._ Where, my lady, where?
_Mar._ See’st thou not by the firs?
_Lu._ I hear the hoofs,
But cannot see the rider.
_Mar._ There he goes:
Now on the road.
_Lu._ I see him.
_Mar._ Look, Lucia;
That is his horse.
_Lu._ Maybe a messenger
He mounts for speed. He rides to Monreale. 1870
_Mar._ Now we shall see. Nay, nay: he turns to the left.
He’s for Palermo: and ’tis he, ’tis he,
Giovanni.
_Enter the Brigand with a letter._
_Brig._ A letter for the lady, from the captain.
[_Gives and stands aside._
_Mar._ Give’t me. I faint. Lucia, take it, read it.
Look! Read it me. I cannot see. The letters dance.
_Lu._ (_reading_).
_Margaret, there’s but one course. My men suspect me.
Of those who held this secret, I alone
Was absent. Manuel’s shelter, my escape,
Thy presence here, all point alike at me._ 1880
_I could not say farewell! When thou hast this
I am gone. I ride to join my men in prison._
_Mar._ Ah! ah! I knew it, I knew it! what have [_Sinks down._
I done?
_Lu._ Mistress, my dearest mistress!
ACT · IV
SCENE · 1
_The hall in Manuel’s house: it is hung with black. PHILIP and LIVIO;
the latter dressed in black, at a desk._
_PHILIP._
Argue not with me, Livio: Manuel’s death
Lies at my door. This last catastrophe
Followed on his disgrace, which I was main
To bring about.
_LIVIO._
But since his guilt was clear,
Your deed was honourable.
_Ph._ I am not sure.
I was too hasty. How can I quit myself 1890
In the ill I have done thy sister?
_Liv._ Her fever, duke,
Cannot be laid to you.
_Ph._ ’Twas the three shocks
Following so fast. Manuel’s disgrace, and then
My suit urged out of time, and last his death:
’Twill be no wonder if her mind give way.
_Liv._ Please heaven it pass. I never thought she loved him
So well.
_Ph._ Nor I, be sure. Where is that Blasco?
_Liv._ He went to gather what the sailors know
Of Manuel’s end.
_Ph._ No hope but that he’s drowned.
I go now to the palace. Should I meet 1900
With Blasco, it may be I shall detain him. [_Going._
_Liv._ Ah!
_Ph._ He has lied to me.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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