Название | The Complete Works of John Keats: Poems, Plays & Personal Letters |
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Автор произведения | John Keats |
Жанр | Языкознание |
Серия | |
Издательство | Языкознание |
Год выпуска | 0 |
isbn | 9788027230198 |
I feel her gnawing here! Let her but vanish,
Then, father, I will lead your legions forth,
Compact in steeled squares, and speared files,
And bid our trumpets speak a fell rebuke
To nations drows’d in peace!
Otho.
Tomorrow, Son,
Be your word law forget to-day
Ludolph. I will
When I have finish ‘d it now! now! I’m pight,
Tight-footed for the deed!
Erminia.
Alas! Alas!
Ludolph.
What Angel’s voice is that? Erminia!
Ah! gentlest creature, whose sweet innocence
Was almost murder’d; I am penitent,
Wilt thou forgive me? And thou, holy Man,
Good Ethelbert, shall I die in peace with you?
Erminia. Die, my lord!
Ludolph.
I feel it possible.
Otho.
Physician?
Physician.
I fear me he is past my skill.
Otho.
Not so!
Ludolph.
I see it, I see it I have been wandering
Half-mad not right here I forget my purpose.
Bestir, bestir, Auranthe! ha! ha! ha!
Youngster! Page! go bid them drag her to me!
Obey! This shall finish it! [Draws a dagger.
Otho.
O my Son! my Son!
Sigifred.
This must not be stop there!
Ludolph.
Am I obey’d?
A little talk with her no harm haste ! haste !
[Exit Page.
Set her before me never fear I can strike.
Several Voices. My Lord! My Lord!
Gersa.
Good Prince!
Ludolph.
Why do ye trouble me? out-out-out away!
There she is! take that! and that! no, no-
That’s not well done Where is she?
The doors open. Enter Page. Several women are seen grouped
about AURANTHE in the inner room.
Page.
Alas! My Lord, my Lord! they cannot move her!
Her arms are stiff, her fingers clench’d and cold
Ludolph. She’s dead!
[Staggers and jails into their arms.
Ethelbert.
Take away the dagger.
Gersa.
Softly; so!
Otho.
Thank God for that!
Sigifred.
I fear it could not harm him.
Gersa.
No! brief be his anguish!
Ludolph.
She’s gone I am content Nobles, good night!
We are all weary faint set ope the doors
I will to bed! Tomorrow [Dies.
THE CURTAIN FALLS.
Letters