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Disraeli, Benjamin, Earl of Beaconsfield, 1804-1881

"Count Alarcos; a Tragedy"


'Tis Courts like these that make a King feel proud.
Thy future subjects, cousin.
V:2:36 ALAR.
Gracious Sire,
I would be one.
V:2:37 KING.
Our past seclusion lends
A lustre to this revel.
[The KING approaches the Count of LEON; SOLISA advances to ALARCOS.]
V:2:38 SOL.
Why art thou grave?
I came to bid thee smile. In truth, to-night
I feel a lightness of the heart to me
Hath long been strange.
V:2:39 ALAR.
'Tis passion makes me grave.
I muse upon thy beauty. Thus I'd read
My oppressed spirit, for in truth these sounds
Jar on my humour.
V:2:40 SOL.
Now my brain is vivid
With wild and blissful images. Canst guess
What laughing thought unbidden, but resistless,
Plays o'er my mind to-night? Thou canst not guess:
Meseems it is our bridal night.
V:2:41 ALAR.
Thy fancy
Outruns the truth but scantly.
V:2:42 SOL.
Not a breath.
Our long-vexed destinies -- even now their streams
Blend in one tide. It is the hour, Alarcos:
There is a spirit whispering in my ear,
The hour is come. I would I were a man
But for a rapid hour.


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