Page:The Works of the Late Edgar Allan Poe (Volume II).djvu/98

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Politian. This weakness grows upon me. I am faint, And much I fear me ill—it will not do To die ere I have lived!—Stay—stay thy hand, O Azrael, yet awhile!—Prince of the Powers Of Darkness and the Tomb, O pity me! O pity me! let me not perish now, In the budding of my Paradisal Hope! Give me to live yet—yet a little while: 'Tis I who pray for life—I who so late Demanded but to die!—what sayeth the Count? Enter Baldazzar. Baldazzar. That knowing no cause of quarrel or of feud Between the Earl Politian and himself, He doth decline your cartel. Pol. What didst thou say? What answer was it you brought me, good Baldazzar? With what excessive fragrance the zephyr comes Laden from yonder bowers!—a fairer day, Or one more worthy Italy, methinks No mortal eyes have seen!—what said the Count? Bal. That he, Castiglione, not being aware Of any feud existing, or any cause Of quarrel between your lordship and himself Cannot accept the challenge. Pol. It is most true— All this is very true. When saw you, sir.