Richelieu: . ing throats for , marry, deeds! DE MAUPRAT. If you would deign to speakThus to your armies ere they march to battle,Perchance your Eminence might have the painOf the throat-cutting to yourself. RICHELIEU [aside). He has wit,This Mauprat—[Aloud) Let it pass ; there is against youWhat you can less excuse.] Messire de Mauprat,Doomed to sure death, how hast thou since consumedThe time allotted thee for serious thoughtAnd solemn penitence? DE MAUPRAT {embarrassed). The time, my Lord? not the question plain? I 11 answer for hast sought nor priest nor shr
Richelieu: . ing throats for , marry, deeds! DE MAUPRAT. If you would deign to speakThus to your armies ere they march to battle,Perchance your Eminence might have the painOf the throat-cutting to yourself. RICHELIEU [aside). He has wit,This Mauprat—[Aloud) Let it pass ; there is against youWhat you can less excuse.] Messire de Mauprat,Doomed to sure death, how hast thou since consumedThe time allotted thee for serious thoughtAnd solemn penitence? DE MAUPRAT {embarrassed). The time, my Lord? not the question plain? I 11 answer for hast sought nor priest nor shrine: no sackcloth chafedThy delicate flesh. The rosary and the deaths-headHave not, with pious meditation, purgedEarth from the carnal gaze. What thou hast not done 48 Richelieu: Brief told ; what done, a volume! Wild debauch,Turbulent riot: — for the morn the dice-box —Noon claimed the duel — and the night the wassailThese, your most holy, pure preparativesFor death and judgment. Do I wrong you, Sir?. DE MAUPRAT. I was not always thus: — if changed my nature,Blame that which changed my fate. — Alas, my Lord,[There is a brotherhood which calm-eyed ReasonCan wot not of betwixt Despair and Mirth. or% The Conspiracy. 49 My birthplace mid the vines of sunny Provence,Perchance the stream that sparkles in my veinsCame from that wine of passionate life which, erst,Glowed in the wild heart of the Troubadour:And danger, which makes steadier courage wary,But fevers me with an insane delight;As one of old who on the mountain cragsCaught madness from a Maenads haunting you, my Lord, — whose path imperial power,And the grave cares of reverent wisdom, guardFrom all that tempts to folly meaner men, —]Were you accursed with that which you inflicted —By bed and board, dogged by one ghastly spectre —The while within you youth beat high, and lifeGrew lovelier from the neighbouring frown of death —The heart no bud, nor fruit — save in those seedsMost worthless, wh
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1800, bookdecade1890, bookpublishernewyo, bookyear1896
