The Works of Lord Byron. Vol. 5: PoetryByron, George Gordon Byron, Baron
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The Works of Lord Byron. Vol. 5: Poetry
Byron, George Gordon Byron, Baron
English drama; English poetry
_Iden._ (_aside_). I don't much like this fellow--close and dry
He seems,--two things which suit me not; however,
Wine he shall have; if that unlocks him not,
I shall not sleep to-night for curiosity. [_Exit_ IDENSTEIN.
_Gab._ (_to_ WERNER). This master of the ceremonies is
The intendant of the palace, I presume:
'Tis a fine building, but decayed.
_Wer._ The apartment 310
Designed for him you rescued will be found
In fitter order for a sickly guest.
_Gab._ I wonder then you occupied it not,
For you seem delicate in health.
_Wer._ (_quickly_). Sir!
_Gab._ Pray
Excuse me: have I said aught to offend you?
_Wer._ Nothing: but we are strangers to each other.
_Gab._ And that's the reason I would have us less so:
I thought our bustling guest without had said
You were a chance and passing guest, the counterpart
Of me and my companions.
_Wer._ Very true. 320
_Gab._ Then, as we never met before, and never,
It may be, may again encounter, why,
I thought to cheer up this old dungeon here
(At least to me) by asking you to share
The fare of my companions and myself.
_Wer._ Pray, pardon me; my health----
_Gab._ Even as you please.
I have been a soldier, and perhaps am blunt
In bearing.
_Wer._ I have also served, and can
Requite a soldier's greeting.
_Gab._ In what service?
The Imperial?
_Wer._ (_quickly, and then interrupting himself_).
I commanded--no--I mean 330
I served; but it is many years ago,
When first Bohemia[167] raised her banner 'gainst
The Austrian.
_Gab._ Well, that's over now, and peace
Has turned some thousand gallant hearts adrift
To live as they best may: and, to say truth,
Some take the shortest.
_Wer._ What is that?
_Gab._ Whate'er
They lay their hands on. All Silesia and
Lusatia's woods are tenanted by bands
Of the late troops, who levy on the country
Their maintenance: the Chatelains must keep 340
Their castle walls--beyond them 'tis but doubtful
Travel for your rich Count or full-blown Baron.
My comfort is that, wander where I may,
I've little left to lose now.
_Wer._ And I--nothing.
_Gab._ That's harder still. You say you were a soldier.
_Wer._ I was.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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