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Sardanapalus monologue from the perform by master

A monologue from the play by Master Byron

NOTE: This monologue is published from Master Byron: 6 Plays. Lord Byron. Los Angeles: Black Box Press, 2007.

SARDANAPALUS: I saw, that is, I dreamed myself

Here—here—even where were, guests even as we were

Myself a host that deemed him self but guests

Willing to similar all in interpersonal freedom

But , on my proper hand and my still left, instead

Of thee and Zames, and our customed meeting

Was ranged on my left hand a haughty, dark

And deadly face, I possibly could not recognise it

But I had viewed it, although I knew not really where:

The features were a giant\s, as well as the eye

Would still be, yet lit, his lengthy locks curled down

In the vast breast, whence an enormous quiver went up

With shaft-heads feathered from the eagle\s wing

That peeped up bristling through his serpent frizzy hair.

I asked him to fill the cup which in turn stood

Between us, nevertheless he answered not, My spouse and i filled it

He took it not, yet stared upon me, till

I trembled at the set glare of his vision:

I frowned upon him as a king should frown

This individual frowned not really in his switch, but viewed me

With all the same feature, which appalled me more

Because it improved not, and I turned pertaining to refuge

To milder guests, and sought them on the right

Exactly where thou wert wont to be. But—

In thy personal chair—thy personal place in the banquet—

I actually sought thy sweet face in the circle—but

Instead—a grey-haired, withered, bloody-eyed

And bloody-handed, ghastly, ghostly thing

Female in garb, and crowned upon the brow

Furrowed with years, however sneering together with the passion

Of vengeance, leering too with that of lust

Sate—my problematic veins curdled! Upon

Her proper hand—her lank, bird-like, right hand—stood

A goblet, bubbling o\er with blood, and on

Her left, another, stuffed with—what I saw not

But turned coming from it and her. Nevertheless all along

The desk sate a variety of crowned wretches

Of various aspects, yet of one appearance.

It was therefore palpable, I really could have touched them.

We turned from a single face to a new, in

The hope to get at last one that I knew

Ere I saw their own: but no—all turned after me

And stared, although neither consumed nor drank, but looked

Till We grew rock, as they appeared half to get

Yet breathing stone, for I believed life in them

And life in me: there is a pudgy kind

Of sympathy among us, like they

Had lost an integral part of death to come to me

And i also the half of life to sit simply by them.

We were in an lifestyle all separate

From bliss or earth—And rather i want to see

Fatality all than such an existence!

At last We sate, marbled, as they, the moment rose

The Hunter as well as the Crone, and smiling about me—

Yes, the increased but rspectable aspect of

The Hunter smiled upon me—I should declare

His lip area, for his eyes relocated not—and the woman\s

Slender lips calm to something such as a smile.

Equally rose, and the crowned statistics on each hands

Rose likewise, as if aping their chief shades—

Pure mimics actually in death—but I sate still:

A desperate bravery crept through every limb

And at the final I feared them certainly not, but chuckled

Full within their phantom confronts. But then—then

The Seeker laid his hand upon mine: I took that

And appreciated it—but that melted coming from my own

Although he as well vanished, and left nothing but

The recollection of a main character, for this individual looked and so.

Aye, Myrrha, but the female

The female who remained, the girl flew upon me

And burnt my lips up with her noisome kisses

And, flinging throughout the goblets on each hand

Methought their harmful toxins flowed around us, until

Each created a hideous river. Still she clung

The different phantoms, like a row of statues

Stood dull such as our temples or wats, but your woman still

Appreciated me, while I shrunk via her, like

In lieu of her remote descendant, I

Had been the son who slew her for her incest.

Then—then—a chaos of loathsome things

Thronged solid and shapeless: I was useless, yet feeling—

Buried, and raised again—consumed by earthworms

Purged by the flames, and withered up!

I can repair nothing additional of my personal thoughts

Save that I longed for the, and wanted for thee

In all these kinds of agonies—and woke and found the.

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