The Works of Lord Byron. Vol. 5: PoetryByron, George Gordon Byron, Baron
General
The Works of Lord Byron. Vol. 5: Poetry
Byron, George Gordon Byron, Baron
English drama; English poetry
_Sar._ Hold your hands--
Upon your lives, I say. What, deaf or drunken?
My sword! O fool, I wear no sword: here, fellow,
Give me thy weapon. [_To a Guard_.
[SARDANAPALUS _snatches a sword from one of the soldiers,
and rushes between the combatants--they separate_.
_Sar._ In my very palace!
What hinders me from cleaving you in twain,
Audacious brawlers?
_Bel._ Sire, your justice.
_Sal._ Or-- 180
Your weakness.
_Sar._ (_raising the sword_). How?
_Sal._ Strike! so the blow's repeated
Upon yon traitor--whom you spare a moment,
I trust, for torture--I'm content.
_Sar._ What--him!
Who dares assail Arbaces?
_Sal._ I!
_Sar._ Indeed!
Prince, you forget yourself. Upon what warrant?
_Sal._ (_showing the signet_). Thine.
_Arb._ (_confused_). The King's!
_Sal._ Yes! and let the King confirm it.
_Sar._ I parted not from this for such a purpose.
_Sal._ You parted with it for your safety--I
Employed it for the best. Pronounce in person.
Here I am but your slave--a moment past 190
I was your representative.
_Sar._ Then sheathe
Your swords.
[ARBACES _and_ SALEMENES _return their swords to the scabbards_.
_Sal._ Mine's sheathed: I pray you sheathe _not_ yours:
Tis the sole sceptre left you now with safety.
_Sar._ A heavy one; the hilt, too, hurts my hand.
(_To a Guard_.) Here, fellow, take thy weapon back. Well, sirs,
What doth this mean?
_Bel._ The Prince must answer that.
_Sal._ Truth upon my part, treason upon theirs.
_Sar._ Treason--Arbaces! treachery and Beleses!
That were an union I will not believe.
_Bel._ Where is the proof?
_Sal._ I'll answer that, if once 200
The king demands your fellow-traitor's sword.
_Arb._ (_to Sal._). A sword which hath been drawn as oft as thine
Against his foes.
_Sal._ And now against his brother,
And in an hour or so against himself.
_Sar._ That is not possible: he dared not; no--
No--I'll not hear of such things. These vain bickerings
Are spawned in courts by base intrigues, and baser
Hirelings, who live by lies on good men's lives.
You must have been deceived, my brother.
_Sal._ First
Let him deliver up his weapon, and 210
Proclaim himself your subject by that duty,
And I will answer all.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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