The Complete Poetical Works of Edgar Allan Poe - Эдгар Аллан По

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Alessandra Thou wilt—thou must. Attend thou also more To thy dress and equipage—they are over plain For thy lofty rank and fashion—much depends Upon appearances. Castiglione I'll see to it. Alessandra Then see to it!—pay more attention, sir, To a becoming carriage—much thou wantest In dignity. Castiglione Much, much, oh, much I want In proper dignity. Alessandra (haughtily) Thou mockest me, sir! Castiglione (abstractedly) Sweet, gentle Lalage! Alessandra Heard I aright? I speak to him—he speaks of Lalage? Sir Count! [places her hand on his shoulder] what art thou dreaming? He's not well! What ails thee, sir? Castiglione (starting) Cousin! fair cousin!—madam! I crave thy pardon—indeed I am not well— Your hand from off my shoulder, if you please. This air is most oppressive!—Madam—the Duke! Enter Di Broglio Di Broglio My son, I've news for thee!—hey!—what's the matter? [observing Alessandra]. I' the pouts? Kiss her, Castiglione! kiss her, You dog! and make it up, I say, this minute! I've news for you both. Politian is expected Hourly in Rome—Politian, Earl of Leicester! We'll have him at the wedding. 'Tis his first visit To the imperial city. Alessandra What! Politian Of Britain, Earl of Leicester? Di Broglio The same, my love. We'll have him at the wedding. A man quite young In years, but gray in fame. I have not seen him, But Rumor speaks of him as of a prodigy Pre-eminent in arts, and arms, and wealth, And high descent. We'll have him at the wedding. Alessandra I have heard much of this Politian. Gay, volatile and giddy—is he not, And little given to thinking? Di Broglio Far from it, love. No branch, they say, of all philosophy So deep abstruse he has not mastered it. Learned as few are learned. Alessandra 'Tis very strange! I have known men have seen Politian And sought his company. They speak of him As of one who entered madly into life, Drinking the cup of pleasure to the dregs. Castiglione Ridiculous! Now I have seen Politian And know him well—nor learned nor mirthful he. He is a dreamer, and shut out From common passions. Di Broglio Children, we disagree. Let us go forth and taste the fragrant air Of the garden. Did I dream, or did I hear Politian was a melancholy man? [Exeunt]

       II

      ROME.—A Lady's Apartment, with a window open and looking into a garden. LALAGE, in deep mourning, reading at a table on which lie some books and a hand-mirror. In the background JACINTA (a servant maid) leans carelessly upon a chair.

Lalage Jacinta! is it thou?
Jacinta (pertly) Yes, ma'am, I'm here.
Lalage I did not know, Jacinta, you were in waiting. Sit down!—let not my presence trouble you— Sit down!—for I am humble, most humble.
Jacinta (aside) 'Tis time.
(Jacinta seats herself in a side-long manner upon the chair, resting her elbows upon the back, and regarding her mistress with a contemptuous look. Lalage continues to read.)
Lalage "It in another climate, so he said, Bore a bright golden flower, but not i' this soil!" [pauses—turns over some leaves and resumes.] "No lingering winters there, nor snow, nor shower— But Ocean ever to refresh mankind Breathes the shrill spirit of the western wind" Oh, beautiful!—most beautiful!—how like To what my fevered soul doth dream of Heaven! O happy land! [pauses] She died!—the maiden died! O still more happy maiden who couldst die! Jacinta! [Jacinta returns no answer, and Lalage presently resumes,] Again!—a similar tale Told of a beauteous dame beyond the sea! Thus speaketh one Ferdinand in the words of the play— "She died full young"—one Bossola answers him— "I think not so—her infelicity Seemed to have years too many"—Ah, luckless lady! Jacinta! [still no answer.] Here's a far sterner story— But like—oh, very like in its despair— Of that Egyptian queen, winning so easily A thousand hearts—losing at length her own. She died. Thus endeth the history—and her maids Lean over her and keep—two gentle maids With gentle names—Eiros and Charmion! Rainbow and Dove!—Jacinta!
Jacinta (pettishly) Madam, what is it?
Lalage Wilt thou, my good Jacinta, be so kind As go down in the library and bring me The Holy Evangelists?
Jacinta Pshaw!
[Exit]
Lalage If there be balm For the wounded spirit in Gilead, it is there! Dew in the night time of my bitter trouble Will there be found—"dew sweeter far than that Which hangs like chains of pearl on Hermon hill."
[re-enter Jacinta, and throws a volume on the table]
Jacinta (aside) There, ma'am, 's the book. Indeed she is very troublesome.
Lalage (astonished) What didst thou say, Jacinta? Have I done aught To grieve thee or to vex thee?—I am sorry. For thou hast served me long and ever been Trustworthy and respectful. [resumes her reading.]
Jacinta (aside) I can't believe She has any more jewels—no—no—she gave me all.
Lalage What didst thou say, Jacinta? Now I bethink me Thou hast not spoken lately of thy wedding. How fares good Ugo?—and when is it to be? Can I do aught?—is there no further aid Thou needest, Jacinta?
Jacinta (aside) Is there no further aid! That's meant for me. [aloud] I'm sure, madam, you need not Be always throwing those jewels in my teeth.
Lalage Jewels! Jacinta,—now indeed, Jacinta, I thought not of the jewels.
Jacinta Oh, perhaps not! But then I might have sworn it. After all, There's Ugo says the ring is only paste, For he's sure the Count Castiglione never

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