Mapping Keats’s Progress: Otho the Great: A Tragedy in Five Acts: Act IV SCENE II

References to this poem

Otho the Great: A Tragedy in Five Acts: Act IV SCENE II

An Apartment in the Castle.

Enter LUDOLPH and Page.

Page. Still very sick, my lord; but now I went,
Knowing my duty to so good a prince;
And there her women, in a mournful throng,
Stood in the passage whispering; if any
Moved, ’twas with careful steps, and hush’d as death
They bade me stop.
Ludolph. Good fellow, once again
Make soft inquiry; prythee, be not stay’d
By any hindrance, but with gentlest force
Break through her weeping servants, till thou com’st
E’en to her chamber door, and there, fair boy, —
If with thy mother’s milk thou hast suck’d in
Any diviner eloquence, — woo her ears
With plaints for me, more tender than the voice
Of dying Echo, echoed.
Page. Kindest master!
To know thee sad thus, will unloose my tongue
In mournful syllables. Let but my words reach
Her ears, and she shall take them coupled with
Moans from my heart, and sighs not counterfeit.
May I speed better! (Exit Page.)
Ludolph (solus). Auranthe! My life!
Long have I lov’d thee, yet till now not lov’d
When I had heard e’en of thy death perhaps,
And thoughtless! — suffered thee to pass alone
Into Elysium! — now I follow thee,
A substance or a shadow, wheresoe’er
Thou leadest me, — whether thy white feet press,
With pleasant weight, the amorous-aching earth,
Or thro’ the air thou pioneerest me,
A shade! Yet sadly I predestinate!
O, unbenignest Love, why wilt thou let
Darkness steal out upon the sleepy world
So wearily, as if night’s chariot-wheels
Were clog’d in some thick cloud? O, changeful Love,
Let not her steeds with drowsy-footed pace
Pass the high stars, before sweet embassage
Comes from the pillow’d beauty of that fair
Completion of all delicate nature’s wit!
Pout her faint lips anew with rubious health;
And, with thine infant fingers, lift the fringe
Of her sick eye-lids; that those eyes may glow
With wooing light upon me, ere the morn
Peers with disrelish, grey, barren, and cold! (Enter GERSA and Courtiers.)
Otho calls me his lion, — should I blush
To be so tamed? so —
Gersa. Do me the courtesy.
Gentlemen, to pass on.
First knight. We are your servants. (Exeunt Courtiers.)
Ludolph. It seems then, sir, you have found out the man
You would confer with; — me?
Gersa. If I break not
Too much upon your thoughtful mood, I will
Claim a brief while your patience.
Ludolph. For what cause
Soe’er, I shall be honour’d.
Gersa. I not less.
Ludolph. What may it be? No trifle can take place
Of such deliberate prologue, serious ’haviour.
But, be it what it may, I cannot fail
To listen with no common interest;
For though so new your presence is to me,
I have a soldier’s friendship for your fame.
Please you explain.
Gersa. As thus — for, pardon me,
I cannot, in plain terms, grossly assault
A noble nature; and would faintly sketch
What your quick apprehension will fill up;
So finely I esteem you.
Ludolph. I attend.
Gersa. Your generous father, most illustrious Otho,
Sits in the banquet-room among his chiefs;
His wine is bitter, for you are not there;
His eyes are fix’d still on the open doors,
And ev’ry passer in he frowns upon,
Seeing no Ludolph comes.
Ludolph. I do neglect.
Stay there No — guess? More princely you must be
Than to make guesses at me. ’Tis enough.
I’m sorry I can hear no more.
Gersa. And I
As griev’d to force it on you so abrupt;
Yet, one day, you must know a grief, whose sting
Will sharpen more the longer ’tis conceal’d.
Ludolph. Say it at once, sir! dead — dead — is she dead?
Gersa. Mine is a cruel task: she is not dead,
And would, for your sake, she were innocent.
Ludolph. Hungarian! Thou amazest me beyond
All scope of thought, convulsest my heart’s blood
To deadly churning! Gersa, you are young,
As I am; let me observe you, face to face
Not grey-brow’d like the poisonous Ethelbert,
No rheumed eyes, no furrowing of age,
No wrinkles, where all vices nestle in
Like crannied vermin, — no! but fresh, and young,
And hopeful featur’d. Ha! by heaven you weep!
Tears, human tears! Do you repent you then
Of a curs’d torturer’s office? Why shouldst join, —
Tell me, — the league of devils? Confess — confess —
The lie!
Gersa. Lie! — but begone all ceremonious points
Of honour battailous! I could not turn
My wrath against thee for the orbed world.
Ludolph. Your wrath, weak boy? Tremble at mine, unless
Retraction follow close upon the heels
Of that late ’stounding insult! Why has my sword
Not done already a sheer judgment on thee?
Despair, or eat thy words! Why, thou wast nigh
Whimpering away my reason! Hark ye, sir,
It is no secret, that Erminia,
Erminia, sir, was hidden in your tent, —
O blessed asylum! Comfortable home!
Begone! I pity thee; thou art a gull,
Erminia’s fresh puppet!
Gersa. Furious fire!
Thou mak’st me boil as hot as thou canst flame!
And in thy teeth I give thee back the lie!
Thou liest! Thou, Auranthe’s fool! A wittol!
Ludolph. Look! look at this bright sword;
There is no part of it, to the very hilt,
But shall indulge itself about thine heart!
Draw! but remember thou must cower thy plumes,
As yesterday the Arab made thee stoop.
Gersa. Patience! Not here; I would not spill thy blood
Thy father, — almost mine.
Ludolph. O faltering coward! (Enter Page.)
Stay, stay; here is one I have half a word with.
Well? What ails thee, child?
Page. My lord!
Ludolph. What wouldst say?
Page. They are fled!
Ludolph. They! Who?
Page. When anxiously
I hasten’d back, your grieving messenger,
I found the stairs all dark, the lamps extinct,
And not a foot or whisper to be heard.
I thought her dead, and on the lowest step
Sat listening; when presently came by
Two muffled up, — one sighing heavily,
The other cursing low, whose voice I knew
For the Duke Conrad’s. Close I follow’d them
Thro’ the dark ways they chose to the open air;
And, as I follow’d, heard my lady speak.
Ludolph. Thy life answer the truth!
Page. The chamber’s empty!
Ludolph. As I will be of mercy! So, at last,
This nail is in my temples!
Gersa. Be calm in this.
Ludolph. I am.
Gersa. And Albert too has disappear’d;
Ere I met you, I sought him everywhere;
You would not hearken.
Ludolph. Which way went they, boy?
Still whole. I have surviv’d. My arm is strong,
My appetite sharp — for revenge! I’ll no sharer
In my feast; my injury is all my own,
And so is my revenge, my lawful chattels!
Jackall, lead on: the lion preys to-night.
Terrier, ferret them out! Burn — burn the witch!
Trace me their footsteps! Away! (Exeunt.)

Mapping Keats’s Progress
A Critical Chronology

Otho the Great: A Tragedy in Five Acts: Act IV SCENE II

MLA Style: Works Cited

Chicago Style: Note

Chicago Style: Bibliography

Mapping Keats’s ProgressA Critical Chronology

Otho the Great: A Tragedy in Five Acts: Act IV SCENE II

MLA Style: Works Cited

Chicago Style: Note

Chicago Style: Bibliography

Mapping Keats’s Progress
A Critical Chronology