1835
                             SCENES FROM "POLITIAN"
                               by Edgar Allan Poe
 
                  DRAMATIS PERSONAE
 
  POLITIAN, Earl of Leicester.        A MONK.
  DI BROGLIO, a Roman Duke.           LALAGE
  COUNT CASTIGLIONE, his son.         ALESSANDRA, betrothed to
  BALDAZZAR, Duke of Surrey,              Castiglione.
   Friend to Politian.                JACINTA, maid to Lalage.
 
                The Scene lies in Rome
                         I.
 
                ROME- A Hall in a Palace
 
              ALESSANDRA and CASTIGLIONE.
 
                      ALESSANDRA
  Thou art sad, Castiglione.
 
                      CASTIGLIONE
                            Sad!- not I.
  Oh, I'm the happiest, happiest man in Rome!
  A few days more, thou knowest, my Alessandra,
  Will make thee mine. Oh, I am very happy!
 
                      ALESSANDRA.
  Methinks thou hast a singular way of showing
  Thy happiness!- what ails thee, cousin of mine?
  Why didst thou sigh so deeply?
 
                      CASTIGLIONE
  I was not conscious of it. It is a fashion,
  A silly- a most silly fashion I have
  When I am very happy. Did I sigh?                         (Sighing)
 
                      ALESSANDRA
  Thou didst. Thou art not well. Thou hast indulged
  Too much of late, and I am vexed to see it.
  Late hours and wine, Castiglione,- these
  Will ruin thee! thou art already altered-
  Thy looks are haggard- nothing so wears away
  The constitution as late hours and wine.
 
                      CASTIGLIONE (musing)
  Nothing, fair cousin, nothing- not even deep sorrow-
  Wears it away like evil hours and wine.
  I will amend.
 
                      ALESSANDRA
           Do it! I would have thee drop
  Thy riotous company, too- fellows low born-
  Ill suit the like with old Di Broglio's heir
  And Alessandra's husband.
 
                      CASTIGLIONE
                      I will drop them.
 
                      ALESSANDRA
  Thou wilt- thou must. Attend thou also more
  To thy dress and equippage- 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?
    speak to him- he speaks of Lalage!
  Sir Count! (places her hand on his shoulder) what art thou dreaming?
        (aside) 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 grey in fame. I have not seen him,
  But Rumour speaks of him as of a prodigy
  Preeminent in arts and arms, and wealth,
  As of one who entered madly into life,
  Drinking the cup of pleasure to the dregs.
  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 he.
  He is a dreamer, and a man 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 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."
  O, beautiful!- most beautiful- how like
  To what my fevered soul doth dream of Heaven!
  O happy land (pauses) She died!- the maiden died!
  A 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 and weep- 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)
  There, ma'am, 's the book. Indeed she is very troublesome.  (Aside)
 
                      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 farther aid
  Thou needest, Jacinta?
 
                      JACINTA
                 Is there no farther aid!
  That's meant for me (aside). 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
  Would have given a real diamond to such as you;
  And at the best I'm certain, madam, you cannot
  Have use for jewels now. But I might have sworn it.          (Exit)
 
      (LALAGE bursts into tears and leans her head upon the
          table- after a short pause raises it)
 
                      LALAGE
  Poor Lalage!- and is it come to this?
  Thy servant maid!- but courage!- 'tis but a viper
  Whom thou hast cherished to sting thee to the soul!
                                               (Taking up the mirror)
  Ha! here at least 's a friend- too much a friend
  In earlier day- a friend will not deceive thee.
  Fair mirror and true! now tell me (for thou canst)
  A tale- a pretty tale- and heed thou not
  Though it be rife with woe. It answers me.
  It speaks of sunken eyes, and wasted cheeks,
  And Beauty long deceased- remembers me
  Of Joy departed- Hope, the Seraph Hope,
  Inurned and entombed:- now, in a tone
  Low, sad, and solemn, but most audible,
  Whispers of early grave untimely yawning
  For ruined maid. Fair mirror and true- thou liest not!
  Thou hast no end to gain- no heart to break-
  Castiglione lied who said he loved-
  Thou true- he false!- false!- false!
 
         (While she speaks, a monk enters her apartment, and
                 approaches unobserved)
 
                      MONK
                           Refuge thou hast,
  Sweet daughter, in Heaven. Think of eternal things!
  Give up thy soul to penitence, and pray!
 
                      LALAGE (arising hurriedly)
  I cannot pray!- My soul is at war with God!
  The frightful sounds of merriment below
  Disturb my senses- go! I cannot pray-
  The sweet airs from the garden worry me!
  Thy presence grieves me- go!- thy priestly raiment
  Fills me with dread- thy ebony crucifix
  With horror and awe!
 
                      MONK
              Think of thy precious soul!
 
                      LALAGE
  Think of my early days!- think of my father
  And mother in Heaven think of our quiet home,
  And the rivulet that ran before the door!
  Think of my little sisters!- think of them!
  And think of me!- think of my trusting love
  And confidence- his vows- my ruin- think- think
  Of my unspeakable misery!- begone!
  Yet stay! yet stay!- what was it thou saidst of prayer
  And penitence? Didst thou not speak of faith
  And vows before the throne?
 
                      MONK
                    I did.
 
 
                      LALAGE
                          'Tis well.
  There is a vow were fitting should be made-
  A sacred vow, imperative, and urgent,
  A solemn vow!
 
                      MONK
        Daughter, this zeal is well.
 
                      LALAGE
  Father, this zeal is anything but well!
  Hast thou a crucifix fit for this thing?
  A crucifix whereon to register
  This sacred vow?                             (He hands her his own)
  Not that- Oh! no!- no!- no!                            (Shuddering)
  Not that! Not that!- I tell thee, holy man,
  Thy raiments and thy ebony cross affright me!
  Stand back! I have a crucifix myself,-
  I have a crucifix Methinks 'twere fitting
  The deed- the vow- the symbol of the deed-
  And the deed's register should tally, father!
                (Draws a cross-handled dagger, and raises it on high)
  Behold the cross wherewith a vow like mine
  Is written in Heaven!
 
                      MONK
                   Thy words are madness, daughter,
  And speak a purpose unholy- thy lips are livid-
  Thine eyes are wild- tempt not the wrath divine!
  Pause ere too late!- oh, be not- be not rash!
  Swear not the oath- oh, swear it not!
 
                      LALAGE
                            'Tis sworn!
                        III.
 
      An apartment in a Palace. POLITIAN and BALDAZZAR
 
                      BALDAZZAR
  -Arouse thee now, Politian!
  Thou must not- nay indeed, indeed, shalt not
  Give away unto these humors. Be thyself!
  Shake off the idle fancies that beset thee,
  And live, for now thou diest!
 
                      POLITIAN
                      Not so, Baldazzar
  Surely I live.
 
                      BALDAZZAR
        Politian, it doth grieve me
  To see thee thus.
 
                      POLITIAN
               Baldazzar, it doth grieve me
  To give thee cause for grief, my honored friend.
  Command me, sir! what wouldst thou have me do?
  At thy behest I will shake off that nature
  Which from my, forefathers I did inherit,
  Which with my mother's milk I did imbibe,
  And be no more Politician, but some other.
  Command me, sir!
 
                      BALDAZZAR
           To the field, then- to the field-
  To the senate or the field.
 
                      POLITIAN.
                   Alas! Alas!
  There is an imp would follow me even there!
  There is an imp hath followed me even there!
  There is- what voice was that?
 
                      BALDAZZAR
                            I heard it not.
  I heard not any voice except thine own,
  And the echo of thine own.
 
                      POLITIAN
                     Then I but dreamed.
 
                      BALDAZZAR
  Give not thy soul to dreams: the camp- the court,
  Befit thee- Fame awaits thee- Glory calls-
  And her, the trumpet-tongued, thou wilt not hear
  In hearkening to imaginary sounds
  And phantom voices.
 
                      POLITIAN
                  It is a phantom voice!
  Didst thou not hear it then?
 
                      BALDAZZAR
                      I heard it not.
 
                      POLITIAN
  Thou heardst it not!- Baldazaar, speak no more
  To me, Politian, of thy camps and courts.
  Oh I am sick, sick, even unto death,
  Of the hollow and high-sounding vanities
  Of the populous Earth! Bear with me yet awhile!
  We have been boys together- schoolfellows-
  And now are friends- yet shall not be so long-
  For in the eternal city thou shalt do me
  A kind and gentle office, and a Power
  A Power august, benignant and supreme-
  Shall then absolve thee of all further duties
  Unto thy friend.
 
 
                      BALDAZZAR
              Thou speakest a fearful riddle
  I will not understand.
 
                      POLITIAN
               Yet now as Fate
  Approaches, and the Hours are breathing low,
  The sands of Time are changed to golden grains,
  And dazzle me, Baldazzar. Alas! alas!
  I cannot die, having within my heart
  So keen a relish for the beautiful
  As hath been kindled within it. Methinks the air
  Is balmier now than it was wont to be,-
  Rich melodies are floating in the winds-
  A rarer loveliness bedecks the earth-
  And with a holier lustre the quiet moon
  Sitteth in Heaven.- Hist! hist! thou canst not say
  Thou hearest not now, Baldazzar?
 
                      BALDAZZAR
                         Indeed I hear not.
 
                      POLITIAN
  Not hear it!- listen now!- listen!- the faintest sound
  And yet the sweetest that ear ever heard!
  A lady's voice!- and sorrow in the tone!
  Baldazzar, it oppresses me like a spell!
  Again!- again!- how solemnly it falls
  Into my heart of hearts! that eloquent voice
  Surely I never heard- yet it were well
  Had I but heard it with its thrilling tones
  In earlier days!
 
                      BALDAZZAR
              I myself hear it now.
  Be still!- the voice, if I mistake not greatly,
  Proceeds from yonder lattice- which you may see
  Very plainly through the window- it belongs,
  Does it not? unto this palace of the Duke?
  The singer is undoubtedly beneath
  The roof of his Excellency- and perhaps
  Is even that Alessandra of whom he spoke
  As the betrothed of Castiglione,
  His son and heir.
 
                      POLITIAN
  Be still!- it comes again!
 
                      VOICE (very faintly)
            "And is thy heart so strong
            As for to leave me thus
            Who hath loved thee so long
            In wealth and woe among?
            And is thy heart so strong
            As for to leave me thus?
                Say nay- say nay!"
 
                      BALDAZZAR
  The song is English, and I oft have heard it
  In merry England- never so plaintively-
  Hist! hist! it comes again!
 
                      VOICE (more loudly)
            "Is it so strong
            As for to leave me thus
            Who hath loved thee so long
            In wealth and woe among?
            And is thy heart so strong
            As for to leave me thus?
                Say nay- say nay!"
 
                      BALDAZZAR
  'Tis hushed and all is still!
 
                      POLITIAN
                  All is not still!
 
                      BALDAZZAR
  Let us go down.
 
                      POLITIAN
          Go down, Baldazzar, go!
 
                      BALDAZZAR
  The hour is growing late- the Duke awaits use-
  Thy presence is expected in the hall
  Below. What ails thee, Earl Politian?
 
                      VOICE (distinctly)
            "Who hath loved thee so long
            In wealth and woe among,
            And is thy heart so strong?
                Say nay- say nay!"
 
 
                      BALDAZZAR
  Let us descend- 'tis time. Politian, give
  These fancies to the wind. Remember, pray,
  Your bearing lately savored much of rudeness
  Unto the Duke. Arouse thee! and remember
 
                      POLITIAN
  Remember? I do. lead on! I do remember.
                                                              (Going)
  Let us descend. Believe me I would give,
  Freely would give the broad lands of my earldom
  To look upon the face hidden by yon lattice-
  "To gaze upon that veiled face, and hear
  Once more that silent tongue."
 
                      BALDAZZAR
                         Let me beg you, sir,
  Descend with me- the Duke may be offended.
  Let us go down, I pray you.
 
                      VOICE (loudly)
                      Say nay!- say nay!
 
                      POLITIAN (aside)
  'Tis strange!- 'tis very strange- methought the voice
  Chimed in with my desires, and bade me stay!
                                             (Approaching the window)
  Sweet voice! I heed thee, and will surely stay.
  Now be this Fancy, by Heaven or be it Fate,
  Still will I not descend. Baldazzar make
  Apology unto the Duke for me;
  I go not down to-night.
 
                      BALDAZZAR
                  Your lordship's pleasure
  Shall be attended to. Good-night, Politian.
 
 
                      POLITIAN
  Good-night, my friend, good-night.
                         IV.
 
           The gardens of a Palace- Moonlight
 
                 LALAGE, and POLITIAN
 
                      LALAGE
  And dost thou speak of love
  To me, Politian?- dost thou speak of love
  To Lalage?- ah, woe- ah, woe is me!
  This mockery is most cruel- most cruel indeed!
 
                      POLITIAN
  Weep not! oh, sob not thus!- thy bitter tears
  Will madden me. Oh, mourn not, Lalage-
  Be comforted! I know- I know it all,
  And still I speak of love. Look at me, brightest
  And beautiful Lalage!- turn here thine eyes!
  Thou askest me if I could speak of love,
  Knowing what I know, and seeing what I have seen.
  Thou askest me that- and thus I answer thee-
  Thus on my bended knee I answer thee.                    (Kneeling)
  Sweet Lalage, I love thee- love thee- love thee;
  Thro' good and ill- thro' weal and woe I love thee.
  Not mother, with her first-born on her knee,
  Thrills with intenser love than I for thee.
  Not on God's altar, in any time or clime,
  Burned there a holier fire than burneth now
  Within my spirit for thee. And do I love?                 (Arising)
  Even for thy woes I love thee- even for thy woes-
  Thy beauty and thy woes.
 
                      LALAGE
                    Alas, proud Earl,
  Thou dost forget thyself, remembering me!
  How, in thy father's halls, among the maidens
  Pure and reproachless of thy princely line,
  Could the dishonored Lalage abide?
  Thy wife, and with a tainted memory-
  MY seared and blighted name, how would it tally
  With the ancestral honors of thy house,
  And with thy glory?
 
                       POLITIAN
                  Speak not to me of glory!
  I hate- I loathe the name; I do abhor
  The unsatisfactory and ideal thing.
  Art thou not Lalage and I Politian?
  Do I not love- art thou not beautiful-
  What need we more? Ha! glory!- now speak not of it.
  By all I hold most sacred and most solemn-
  By all my wishes now- my fears hereafter-
  By all I scorn on earth and hope in heaven-
  There is no deed I would more glory in,
  Than in thy cause to scoff at this same glory
  And trample it under foot. What matters it-
  What matters it, my fairest, and my best,
  That we go down unhonored and forgotten
  Into the dust- so we descend together.
  Descend together- and then- and then, perchance-
 
                      LALAGE
  Why dost thou pause, Politian?
 
                      POLITIAN
                          And then, perchance
  Arise together, Lalage, and roam
  The starry and quiet dwellings of the blest,
  And still-
 
                      LALAGE
        Why dost thou pause, Politian?
 
                      POLITIAN
  And still together- together.
 
                      LALAGE
                      Now Earl of Leicester!
  Thou lovest me, and in my heart of hearts
  I feel thou lovest me truly.
 
                      POLITIAN
                     Oh, Lalage!
                                     (Throwing himself upon his knee)
  And lovest thou me?
 
                      LALAGE
              Hist! hush! within the gloom
  Of yonder trees methought a figure passed-
  A spectral figure, solemn, and slow, and noiseless-
  Like the grim shadow Conscience, solemn and noiseless.
                                           (Walks across and returns)
  I was mistaken- 'twas but a giant bough
  Stirred by the autumn wind. Politian!
 
                      POLITIAN
  My Lalage- my love! why art thou moved?
  Why dost thou turn so pale? Not Conscience' self,
  Far less a shadow which thou likenest to it,
  Should shake the firm spirit thus. But the night wind
  Is chilly- and these melancholy boughs
  Throw over all things a gloom.
 
                      LALAGE
                       Politian!
  Thou speakest to me of love. Knowest thou the land
  With which all tongues are busy- a land new found-
  Miraculously found by one of Genoa-
  A thousand leagues within the golden west?
  A fairy land of flowers, and fruit, and sunshine,
  And crystal lakes, and over-arching forests,
  And mountains, around whose towering summits the winds
  Of Heaven untrammelled flow- which air to breathe
  Is Happiness now, and will be Freedom hereafter
  In days that are to come?
 
                      POLITIAN
                 O, wilt thou- wilt thou
  Fly to that Paradise- my Lalage, wilt thou
  Fly thither with me? There Care shall be forgotten,
  And Sorrow shall be no more, and Eros be all.
  And life shall then be mine, for I will live
  For thee, and in thine eyes- and thou shalt be
  No more a mourner- but the radiant Joys
  Shall wait upon thee, and the angel Hope
  Attend thee ever; and I will kneel to thee
  And worship thee, and call thee my beloved,
  My own, my beautiful, my love, my wife,
  My all;- oh, wilt thou- wilt thou, Lalage,
  Fly thither with me?
 
                      LALAGE
                A deed is to be done-
  Castiglione lives!
 
                      POLITIAN
              And he shall die!                                (Exit)
 
                      LALAGE (after a pause)
  And- he- shall- die!- alas!
  Castiglione die? Who spoke the words?
  Where am I?- what was it he said?- Politian!
  Thou art not gone- thou are not gone, Politian!
  I feel thou art not gone- yet dare not look,
  Lest I behold thee not; thou couldst not go
  With those words upon thy lips- O, speak to me!
  And let me hear thy voice- one word- one word,
  To say thou art not gone,- one little sentence,
  To say how thou dost scorn- how thou dost hate
  My womanly weakness. Ha! ha! thou art not gone-
  O speak to me! I knew thou wouldst not go!
  I knew thou wouldst not, couldst not, durst not go.
  Villain, thou art not gone- thou mockest me!
  And thus I clutch thee- thus!- He is gone, he is gone
  Gone- gone. Where am I?- 'tis well- 'tis very well!
  So that the blade be keen- the blow be sure,
  'Tis well, 'tis very well- alas! alas!
                          V
 
               The suburbs. POLITIAN alone
 
                      POLITIAN
  This weakness grows upon me. I am faint,
  And much I fear me ill- it will not do
  To die ere I have lived!- Stay, stay thy hand,
  O Azrael, yet awhile!- Prince of the Powers
  Of Darkness and the Tomb, O pity me!
  O pity me! let me not perish now,
  In the budding of my Paradisal Hope!
  Give me to live yet- yet a little while:
  'Tis I who pray for life- I who so late
  Demanded but to die!- what sayeth the Count?
                  (Enter BALDAZZAR)
 
                      BALDAZZAR
  That knowing no cause of quarrel or of feud
  Between the Earl Politian and himself.
  He doth decline your cartel.
 
                      POLITIAN
                      What didst thou say?
  What answer was it you brought me, good Baldazzar?
  With what excessive fragrance the zephyr comes
  Laden from yonder bowers!- a fairer day,
  Or one more worthy Italy, methinks
  No mortal eyes have seen!- what said the Count?
 
                      BALDAZZAR
  That he, Castiglione' not being aware
  Of any feud existing, or any cause
  Of quarrel between your lordship and himself,
  Cannot accept the challenge.
 
                      POLITIAN
                      It is most true-
  All this is very true. When saw you, sir,
  When saw you now, Baldazzar, in the frigid
  Ungenial Britain which we left so lately,
  A heaven so calm as this- so utterly free
  From the evil taint of clouds?- and he did say?
 
                      BALDAZZAR
  No more, my lord, than I have told you, sir:
  The Count Castiglione will not fight,
  Having no cause for quarrel.
 
                      POLITIAN
                      Now this is true-
  All very true. Thou art my friend, Baldazzar,
  And I have not forgotten it- thou'lt do me
  A piece of service; wilt thou go back and say
  Unto this man, that I, the Earl of Leicester,
  Hold him a villain?- thus much, I prythee, say
  Unto the Count- it is exceeding just
  He should have cause for quarrel.
 
                      BALDAZZAR
                          My lord!- my friend!-
 
                      POLITIAN (aside)
  'Tis he!- he comes himself? (aloud) Thou reasonest well.
  I know what thou wouldst say- not send the message-
  Well!- I will think of it- I will not send it.
  Now prythee, leave me- hither doth come a person
  With whom affairs of a most private nature
  I would adjust.
 
                      BALDAZZAR
             I go- to-morrow we meet,
  Do we not?- at the Vatican.
 
                      POLITIAN
                      At the Vatican.
                                                     (Exit BALDAZZAR)
                  Enter CASTIGLIONE
 
                      CASTIGLIONE
  The Earl of Leicester here!
 
                      POLITIAN
  I am the Earl of Leicester, and thou seest,
  Dost thou not? that I am here.
 
                      CASTIGLIONE
                        My lord, some strange,
  Some singular mistake- misunderstanding-
  Hath without doubt arisen: thou hast been urged
  Thereby, in heat of anger, to address
  Some words most unaccountable, in writing,
  To me, Castiglione; the bearer being
  Baldazzar, Duke of Surrey. I am aware
  Of nothing which might warrant thee in this thing,
  Having given thee no offence. Ha!- am I right?
  'Twas a mistake?- undoubtedly- we all
  Do err at times.
 
                      POLITIAN
           Draw, villain, and prate no more!
 
                      CASTIGLIONE
  Ha!- draw?- and villain? have at thee then at once,
  Proud Earl!                                                 (Draws)
 
                      POLITIAN (drawing)
       Thus to the expiatory tomb,
  Untimely sepulchre, I do devote thee
  In the name of Lalage!
 
                      CASTIGLIONE
             (letting fall his sword and recoiling to
                     the extremity of the stage)
                    Of Lalage!
  Hold off- thy sacred hand!- avaunt, I say!
  Avaunt- I will not fight thee- indeed I dare not.
 
                      POLITIAN
  Thou wilt not fight with me didst say, Sir Count?
  Shall I be baffled thus?- now this is well;
  Didst say thou darest not? Ha!
 
                      CASTIGLIONE
                         I dare not- dare not-
  Hold off thy hand- with that beloved name
  So fresh upon thy lips I will not fight thee-
  I cannot- dare not.
 
                      POLITIAN
                 Now by my halidom
  I do believe thee!- coward, I do believe thee!
 
                      CASTIGLIONE
  Ha!- coward!- this may not be!
     (Clutches his sword and staggers towards POLITIAN, but
        his purpose is changed before reaching him, and he
        falls upon his knee at the feet of the Earl)
                           Alas! my lord,
  It is- it is- most true. In such a cause
  I am the veriest coward. O pity me!
 
                      POLITIAN (greatly softened)
  Alas!- I do- indeed I pity thee.
 
                      CASTIGLIONE
                           And Lalage-
 
                      POLITIAN
  Scoundrel!- arise and die!
 
 
                      CASTIGLIONE
  It needeth not be- thus- thus- O let me die
  Thus on my bended knee. It were most fitting
  That in this deep humiliation I perish.
  For in the fight I will not raise a hand
  Against thee, Earl of Leicester. Strike thou home-
                                                   (Baring his bosom)
  Here is no let or hindrance to thy weapon-
  Strike home. I will not fight thee.
 
                      POLITIAN
                          Now, s' Death and Hell!
  Am I not- am I not sorely- grievously tempted
  To take thee at thy word? But mark me, sir,
  Think not to fly me thus. Do thou prepare
  For public insult in the streets- before
  The eyes of the citizens. I'll follow thee
  Like an avenging spirit I'll follow thee
  Even unto death. Before those whom thou lovest-
  Before all Rome I'll taunt thee, villain,- I'll taunt thee,
  Dost hear? with cowardice- thou will not fight me?
  Thou liest! thou shalt!                                      (Exit)
 
                      CASTIGLIONE
                Now this indeed is just!
  Most righteous, and most just, avenging Heaven!
 
 
                      -THE END-