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And I lie so composedly.
Now, in my bed
That you fancy me dead;
Now in my bed
That you fancy me dead—
Thinking me dead.
But my heart it is brighter
Than all of the many
For it sparkles with Annie—
Of the love of my Annie—
Of the eyes of my Annie.
ROME.—A Hall in a Palace. Alessandra and Castiglione.
Alessandra. Thou art sad, Castiglione.
Castiglione. Sad !—not I.
Oh, I 'm the happiest, happiest man in Rome!
• "Politian" was a juvenile production, and is the least meritorious work Poe has left.—Ed.
Aless. Methinks thou hast a singular way of showing Thy happiness! What ails thee, cousin of mine? Why didst thou sigh so deeply?
Cas. Did I sigh?
I was not conscious of it. It is a fashion,
Aless. Thou didst. Thou art not well. Thou
Cas. (musing.) Nothing, fair cousin, nothing—not even deep sorrow—r 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.
Aless. Thou wilt—thou must. Attend thou also more To thy dress and equipage,—they are over-plain
For thy lofty rank and fashion: much depends
Cos. I '11 see to it.
Alm. Then see to it! Pay more attention, sir, To a becoming carriage: much thou wantest In dignity.
Cos. Much, much—oh, much I want In proper dignity!
Aless. (haughtily). Thou mockest me, sir!
Cos. (abstractedly). Sweet, gentle Lalage!
Aless. Heard I aright?
I speak to him—he speaks of Lalage! Sir Count! (places her hand on his shoulder) what
art thou dreaming? He's not well! What ails thee, sir?
Cos. (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.
Di Broglio. My son, I 've news for thee ! —Hey! what's the matter? (Observing Alessandra.) F the pouts? Kiss her, Castiglione !—kiss her, You dog! and make it up, I say, this minute! I 've news for you both. Politian is expected Hourly in Rome — Politian, Earl of Leicester! We 'll have him at the wedding. 'T is his first visit To the imperial city.
AUss. What! Politian
Of Britain, Earl of Leicester?
Di Brog. The same, my love.
We 'll have him at the wedding. A man quite young
Aless. I have heard much of this Politian.
Di Brog. Far from it, love.
No branch, they say, of all philosophy
Aless. T is very strange!
I have known men have seen Politian,
Cas. Ridiculous! Now I have seen Politian
Di Brog. Children, we disagree. Let us go forth and taste the fragrant air Of the garden. Did I dream, or did I hear Politian was a melancholy man' ! [Exeunt.