The Complete Works: Poetry, Plays, Letters and Extensive Biographies. John Keats

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The Complete Works: Poetry, Plays, Letters and Extensive Biographies - John  Keats

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away my reason: hark ye, Sir,

      It is no secret; that Erminia,

      Erminia, Sir, was hidden in your tent;

      O bless ‘d asylum! comfortable home!

      Begone, I pity thee, thou art a Gull

      Erminia’s last new puppet

      Gersa. Furious fire!

      Thou mak’st me boil as hot as thou canst flame!

      And in thy teeth I give thee back the lie!

      Thou liest! Thou, Auranthe’s fool, a wittol

      Ludolph. Look! look at this bright sword;

      There is no part of it to the very hilt

      But shall indulge itself about thine heart

      Draw but remember thou must cower thy plumes,

      As yesterday the Arab made thee stoop

      Gersa. Patience! not here, I would not spill thy blood

      Here underneath this roof where Otho breathes,

      Thy father almost mine

      Ludolph. O faltering coward

      Re-enter PAGE.

      Stay, stay, here is one I have half a word with

      Well What ails thee child?

      Page.

      My lord,

      Ludolph. Good fellow

      Page. They are fled!

      Ludolph.

      They who?

      Page.

      When anxiously

      I hasten ‘d back, your grieving messenger,

      I found the stairs all dark, the lamps extinct,

      And not a foot or whisper to be heard.

      I thought her dead, and on the lowest step

      Sat listening; when presently came by

      Two muffled up, one sighing heavily,

      The other cursing low, whose voice I knew

      For the Duke Conrad’s. Close I follow’d them

      Thro’ the dark ways they chose to the open air;

      And, as I follow’d, heard my lady speak.

      Ludolph.

      Thy life answers the truth!

      Page.

      The chamber’s empty!

      Ludolph.

      As I will be of mercy! So, at last,

      This nail is in my temples!

      Gersa.

      Be calm in this.

      Ludolph. I am.

      Gersa.

      And Albert too has disappeared;

      Ere I met you, I sought him everywhere ;

      You would not hearken.

      Ludolph.

      Which way went they, boy?

      Gersa.

      I’ll hunt with you.

      Ludolph.

      No, no, no. My senses are

      Still whole. I have surviv’d. My arm is strong

      My appetite sharp for revenge! I’ll no sharer

      In my feast; my injury is all my own,

      And so is my revenge, my lawful chattels!

      Terrier, ferret them out! Burn burn the witch!

      Trace me their footsteps! Away!

      [Exeunt.

      Act V

      Scene I

A part of the ForestEnter CONRAD and AURANTHE

      Auranthe.

      Go no further; not a step more; thou art

      A master-plague in the midst of miseries.

      Go I fear thee. I tremble every limb,

      Who never shook before. There’s moody death

      In thy resolved looks Yes, I could kneel

      To pray thee far away. Conrad, go, go

      There! yonder underneath the boughs I see

      Our horses!

      Conrad.

      Aye, and the man.

      Auranthe.

      Yes, he is there.

      Go, go, no blood, no blood; go, gentle Conrad!

      Conrad.

      Farewell!

      Auranthe.

      Farewell, for this Heaven pardon you.

[Exit AURANTHE,

      Conrad. If he survive one hour, then may I die

      In unimagined tortures or breathe through

      A long life in the foulest sink of the world!

      He dies ’tis well she do not advertise

      The caitiff of the cold steel at his back.

[Exit CONRADEnter LUDOLPH and PAGE

      Ludolph.

      Miss’d the way, boy, say not that on your peril!

      Page.

      Indeed, indeed I cannot trace them further.

      Ludolph.

      Must I stop here? Here solitary die?

      Stifled beneath the thick oppressive shade

      Of these dull boughs, this oven of dark thickets,

      Silent, without revenge? pshaw! bitter end,

      A bitter death, a suffocating death,

      A gnawing silent deadly, quiet death!

      Escaped? fled? vanish’d? melted into air?

      She’s gone! I cannot clutch her! no revenge!

      A muffled death, ensnar’d in horrid silence!

      Suck’d to my grave amid a dreamy calm!

      O, where is that illustrious noise of war,

      To smother up this sound of labouring breath,

      This rustle of the trees!

      [AURANTHE shrieks at a distance.

      Page.

      My Lord, a noise!

      This

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