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ROME. — A Hall in a Palace. Alessandra and Castiglione.
LESSANDRA. Thou art sad, Castiglione,
Castiglione. Sad ! — not I.
Aless. Methinks thou hast a singular way of showing
Cas. Did I sigh?
Cas. (musing). Nothing, fair cousin, nothing — not
even deep sorrow Wears it away like evil hours and wine. I will amend.
Aless. Do it! I would have thee drop Thy riotous company, too
fellows low born Ill suit the like with old Di Broglio's heir And Alessandra's husband.
Cas. I will drop them.
Cas. I'll see to it.
Aless. Then see to it ! - pay more attention, sir,
Cas. Much, much, oh much I want
Aless. (haughtily). Thou mockest me, sir !
Aless. Heard I aright?
thou dreaming? he's not well! What ails thee, sir?
Cas. (starting). Cousin ! fair cousin ! — madam! I crave thy pardon- indeed I am not well — Your hand from off my shoulder, if you please. This air is most oppressive !
Madam - the Duke !
Enter Di Broglio.
what's the matter? (observing Alessandra.)
Aless. What! Politian
Di Brog. The same, my love. We'll have him at the wedding. A man quite young years,
in fame. I have not seen him,
Aless. I have heard much of this Politian.
Di Brog. Far from it, love.
Aless. 'T is very strange !
Cas. Ridiculous ! Now I have seen Politian
Di Brog. Children, we disagree.
ROME. — A Lady's apartment, with a window open and looking
into a garden, Lalage, in deep mourning, reading at a table on
Lal. I did not know, Jacinta, you were in waiting.
- for I am humble, most humble. Jac. (asiile). 'Tis time.
(Jacinta seats herself in a sidelong manner upon
the chair, resting her clbows upon the back, and regarding her mistress with a contemptuous look. Lalage continues to read )
Lal. “It in another climate, so he said,
turns over some leaves, and resumes.) “No lingering winters there, nor snow, nor shower But Ocean ever to refresh mankind Breathes the shrill spirit of the western wind.” Oh, beautiful ! — most beautiful ! - how like To what my fevered soul doth dream of Heaven ! O happy land ! (pauses). She died ! — the maiden
died ! O still more happy maiden who couldst die! Jacinta!
(Facinta returns no answer, and Lalage presently
resumes.) Again ! a similar tale Told of a beauteous dame beyond the sea ! Thus speaketh one Ferdinand in the words of the play, “ She died full young
one Bossola answers him “I think not so - her infelicity Seemed to have years too many". - Ah, luckless lady! Jacinta! (Still no answer.)
Here's a far sterner story But like-oh, very like in its despair — Of that Egyptian queen, winning so easily A thousand hearts — losing at length her own. She died. Thus endeth the history -- and her maids Lean over her and weep — two gentle maids