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
[_Lays his dagger on the table._
Draw not your sword. See here my dagger.
_Man._ Ha!
And bloodied freshly.
_Pal._ Let me bar the door. [_Goes to door._
_Man._ Why, can it be?—
_Pal._ I am Palicio.
_Man._ Thou here!
_Pal._ You see.
_Man._ From prison?
_Pal._ Escaped, thank God!
I skirmished with my guards, and being pursued
Came thro’ your orange garden. Here none will seek me. 320
Hide me!
_Man._ Thee, madman, here?
_Pal._ Ay, call me madman.
I am mad, and praise God for it ... if to hate tyrants
Be madness, I’m past cure: or if ’tis madness
To escape from prison ...
_Man._ Nay, neither. I blamed thee not
In these; but that thou thinkest to overbear
The troops of Spain with thy small brigand crew:
To escape from justice flying to my house,—
The chief justiciary.
_Pal._ What will you do?
_Man._ Return thee straight to prison.
_Pal._ First, I beseech you,
Help me to bind my wound.
_Man._ Art thou much hurt? 330
_Pal._ A thrust in the arm, a petty prick, which yet
Bleeds uncontrolledly.
_Man._ Undo it. It spurts.
Hold here thy hand, while with thy handkerchief
I bind thy arm.
_Pal._ Look you, ’tis lower down.
_Man._ Peace, man! ’Twill stay the blood to bind thee here.
Hast thou no other hurt?
_Pal._ Nay, none but this.
And see, ’tis staunched already. I must thank you,
Tho’ here your help should end. Call in the hirelings;
They’ll not be far. I will go back with them.
And yet ’twere pity; for ’tis certain death: 340
I have killed three of them. Manuel, I pray you—
I pray you, Manuel, crush not all my hopes,
My just cause. Give me a sword and a man’s dress,
And let me forth to try my fortune!
_Man._ Nay.
_Pal._ Then if I take my dagger and venture out ...
[_Takes it._
I’ll yet escape. Deny me not this chance.
See, I’ll not ask your leave, but only go. _Going._
_Man._ Giovanni, stay. Thou hast done me a great wrong
In flying here. Why didst thou choose my house?
_Pal._ ’Twas as I fled for life: the hue-and-cry 350
Came gathering faster round me: being still clear,
And seeing your wall, it seemed my safety lay
In that leap, could I make it.
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