Count Alarcos; a Tragedy. Earl of Beaconsfield Benjamin Disraeli
LEON.
All ladies have.
And yet as little of the fainting mood
As one could fix on—
I:2:64 ALAR.
Mendola left treasure?
I:2:65 SIDO.
Wedges of gold, a chamber of sequins
Sealed up for ages, flocks of Barbary sheep
Might ransom princes, tapestry so rare
The King straight purchased, covering for the price
Each piece with pistoles.
I:2:66 COUN.
Is she very fair
I:2:67 LEON.
As future queens must ever be, and yet
Her face might charm uncrowned.
I:2:68 COUN.
It grieves me much
To hear the Prince departs. ’Tis not the first
Among her suitors
I:2:69 ALAR.
Your good uncle lives—
Nunez de Leon?
I:2:70 LEON.
To my cost, Alarcos;
He owes me much.
I:2:71 SIDO.
Some promises his heir
Would wish fulfilled.
I:2:72 COUN.
In Gascony, they said,
Navarre had sought her hand.
I:2:73 LEON.
He loitered here
But could not pluck the fruit: it was too high.
Sidonia threw him in a tilt one day.
The Infanta has her fancies; unhorsed knights
Count not among them.
[Enter a CHAMBERLAIN who whispers COUNT ALARCOS.]
I:2:74 ALAR.
Urgent, and me alone
Will commune with! A Page! Kind guests, your pardon,
I’ll find you here anon. My Florimonde,
Our friends will not desert you, like your spouse.
[Exit ALARCOS.]
I:2:75 COUN.
My Lords, will see our gardens?
I:2:76 SIDO.
We are favoured.
We wait upon your steps.
I:2:77 LEON.
And feel that roses
Will spring beneath them.
I:2:78 COUN.
You are an adept, sir,
In our gay science.
I:2:79 LEON.
Faith, I stole it, lady,
From a loose Troubadour Sidonia keeps
To write his sonnets.
[Exeunt omnes.]
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