An
apartment
in a Palace.
Edgar Allen Poe
--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!
Lal. '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.
Bal. Politian, it doth grieve me
To see thee thus.
Pol. Baldazzar, it doth grieve me
To give thee cause for grief, my honoured friend.
Command me, sir! what wouldst thou have me do?
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!
Lal. '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.
Bal. Politian, it doth grieve me
To see thee thus.
Pol. Baldazzar, it doth grieve me
To give thee cause for grief, my honoured friend.
Command me, sir! what wouldst thou have me do?
