The Complete Works of John Keats: Poems, Plays & Personal Letters. John Keats

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The Complete Works of John Keats: Poems, Plays & Personal Letters - John  Keats


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      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.

       Table of Contents

       Table of Contents

      A part of the Forest.

      Enter 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 CONRAD.

      Enter 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 way hark!

      Ludolph.

       Yes, yes! A hope! A music!

       A glorious clamour! How I live again! [Exeunt.

       Table of Contents

      Another part of the Forest,

      Enter ALBERT (wounded).

      Albert.

       O for enough life to support me on

       To Otho’s feet

      Enter LUDOLPH.

      Ludolph.

       Thrice villainous, stay there

       Tell me where that detested woman is

       Or this is through thee!

      Albert.

       My good Prince, with me

       The sword has done its worst; not without worst

       Done to another Conrad has it home

       I see you know it all

       Ludolph. Where is his sister?

       AURANTHE rushes in.

      Auranthe.

       Albert!

      Ludolph.

       Ha! There! there! He is the paramour I

       There hug him dying! O, thou innocence,

       Shrine him and comfort him at his last gasp,

       Kiss down his eyelids! Was he not thy love?

       Wilt thou forsake him at his latest hour?

       Keep fearful and aloof from his last gaze,

       His most uneasy moments, when cold death

       Stands with the door ajar to let him in?

      Albert.

       O that that door with hollow slam would close

       Upon me sudden, for I cannot meet,

       In all the unknown chambers of the dead,

       Such horrors

       Ludolph. Auranthe! what can he mean?

       What horrors? Is it not a joyous time?

       Am I not married to a paragon

       “Of personal beauty and untainted soul”?

       A blushing fair-eyed Purity! A Sylph,

       Whose snowy timid hand has never sin’d

       Beyond a flower pluck’d, white as itself?

       Albert, you do insult my Bride your Mistress

       To talk of horrors on our wedding night.

      Albert.

       Alas! poor Prince, I would you knew my heart.

       ’Tis not so guilty

       Ludolph. Hear you he pleads not guilty

       You are not? or if so what matters it?

       You have escap’d me, free as the dusk air

       Hid in the forest safe from my revenge;

       I cannot catch you — You should laugh at me,

       Poor cheated Ludolph, make the forest hiss

       With jeers at me You tremble; faint at once,

       You will come to again. O Cockatrice,

       I have you. Whither wander those fair eyes

       To entice the


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