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قراءة كتاب Plays and Lyrics
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اللغة: English
الصفحة رقم: 5
class="stanza">Berengere. So—and strange.
Alessa. We have
But put away the distaff and the needle.
But put away the distaff and the needle.
(Camarin enters.)
Berengere. The distaff and the needle—it may be.
And yet you do not seem——
And yet you do not seem——
Alessa. My lady—?
Berengere. Go;
And send me Hassan.
And send me Hassan.
(The women leave.)
Camarin—you saw?
They were not as their wont is.
They were not as their wont is.
Camarin. To your eyes,
My Berengere, that apprehension haunts.
They were as ever. Then be done with fear!
My Berengere, that apprehension haunts.
They were as ever. Then be done with fear!
Berengere. I cannot.
Camarin. To the abyss with it. To-night
Is ours—Renier tarries at Famagouste—
Is ours for love and for a long delight!
Is ours—Renier tarries at Famagouste—
Is ours for love and for a long delight!
Berengere. Whose end may be—
Camarin. Dawn and the dewy lark!
And passing of all presage from you.
And passing of all presage from you.
Berengere (sits). No:
For think, Yolanda's look when by the cypress
We read the verses! And my dream that I
Should with a cross—inscrutable is sleep!—
Bring her deep bitterness.
For think, Yolanda's look when by the cypress
We read the verses! And my dream that I
Should with a cross—inscrutable is sleep!—
Bring her deep bitterness.
Camarin. Dreams are a brood
Born of the night and not of destiny.
She guesses not our guilt, and Renier
Clasps to his breast ambition as a bride—
Ambition for Amaury.
Born of the night and not of destiny.
She guesses not our guilt, and Renier
Clasps to his breast ambition as a bride—
Ambition for Amaury.
Berengere. None can say.
He's much with this Venetian, our guest.
Though Venice gyves us more with tyranny
Than would the Saracen.
He's much with this Venetian, our guest.
Though Venice gyves us more with tyranny
Than would the Saracen.
Camarin. But through this lady
Of the Pisani, powerful in Venice,
He hopes to lift again his dynasty
Up from decay; and to restore this island,
This venture-dream of the seas, unto his house.
'Tis clear, my Berengere!
Of the Pisani, powerful in Venice,
He hopes to lift again his dynasty
Up from decay; and to restore this island,
This venture-dream of the seas, unto his house.
'Tis clear, my Berengere!
Berengere. Then, her design?
And what the requital that entices her?
And what the requital that entices her?
(Rises.)
Evil will come of it, to us some evil,
Or to Yolanda and Amaury's love.
But, there; the women.
Or to Yolanda and Amaury's love.
But, there; the women.
Camarin. And too brief their stay.
What signal for to-night?
What signal for to-night?
Berengere. Be in the garden.
Over the threshold yonder I will wave
The candle-sign, when all are passed to sleep.
Over the threshold yonder I will wave
The candle-sign, when all are passed to sleep.
Camarin. And with the beam I shall mount up to you
Quicker than ecstasy.
Quicker than ecstasy.
Camarin. But to return unto your breast!
(He leaves her by the divan.)
(The women re-enter with silver lighted lamps; behind them are Hassan and the slave Smarda. They wait for Berengere, who has stood silent, to speak.)
Berengere (looking up). Ah, you are come; I had forgotten.
And it is time for sleep.—Hassan, the gates:
Close them.
And it is time for sleep.—Hassan, the gates:
Close them.
Hassan. And chain them, lady?
Berengere. Wait no longer.
Lord Renier will not come.
Lord Renier will not come.
Hassan. No word of him?
Berengere. None, though he yesterday left Nicosie
With the priest Moro.
With the priest Moro.
Hassan. Lady—
Berengere. Wait no longer.
Come, women, with your lamps and light the way.
Come, women, with your lamps and light the way.
(The women go by the steps. Berengere follows.)
Hassan (staring after her). The reason of this mood in her? The reason?
Something is vile. Lady Yolanda weeps
In secret; all for what?—unless because
Of the Paphian—or this Venetian.
(Seeing Smarda.) Now,
Slave! Scythian! You linger?
Something is vile. Lady Yolanda weeps
In secret; all for what?—unless because
Of the Paphian—or this Venetian.
(Seeing Smarda.) Now,
Slave! Scythian! You linger?
Smarda. I am bidden—
My mistress.
My mistress.
Hassan. Spa! Thy mistress hath, I think,
Something of hell in her and has unpacked
A portion in this castle. Is it so?
Something of hell in her and has unpacked
A portion in this castle. Is it so?
Smarda. My lady is of Venice.
Hassan. Strike her, God.
Her smirk admits it.
Her smirk admits it.
Smarda. Touch me not!
Hassan. I'll wring
Thy tongue out sudden, if it now has lies.
What of thy lady and Lord Renier?
Thy tongue out sudden, if it now has lies.
What of thy lady and Lord Renier?
Smarda. Off!
(Renier enters behind, with Moro.)
Hassan. Thy lady and Lord Renier, I say!
What do they purpose?
What do they purpose?
Smarda. Fool-born! look