Page 61 of 172 SCENES FROM "POLITIAN." - Complete Poetical Works

_Lal_. 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 further aid

Thou needest, Jacinta?

_Jac_. (_aside_.) Is there no _further_ aid!

That's meant for me. I'm sure, madam, you need not

Be always throwing those jewels in my teeth.

_Lal_. Jewels! Jacinta,--now indeed, Jacinta,
I thought not of the jewels.

_Jac_. 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_.)

_Lal_. 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 days--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!

_Lal.
(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 successful man will profit from his mistakes and try again in a different way. Dale Carnegie