L'Aiglon: A Play in Six Acts

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R.H. Russell, 1900 - 261 pages
 

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Page 243 - VVagram, behold me! Ransom of old days, Son, offered for, alas ! how many sons ! Above the dreadful haze wherein thou stirrest, Uplift me, Wagram, in thy scarlet hands ! It must be so! I know it! Feel it! Will it! The breath of death has rustled through my hair! The shudder of death has passed athwart my soul ! I am all white : a sacramental Host ! What more reproaches can they hurl, O Father, Against our hapless fate ? — Oh hush ! I add In silence Schonbrunn to Saint Helena !— 'Tis done ! —...
Page 100 - Like a poor prisoner who falls a-dreaming Of vast and murmuring forests, with a tree Fashioned of shavings, taken from a doll's house, I build my Father's Epic with these soldiers!
Page 85 - Of course the Duke is not a prisoner, but — THE DUKE. I like that " but," I hope you feel its value ! Good Lord, I'm not a prisoner, " but " — that's all ! " But "—not a prisoner, " but " — that is the word, The formula ! A prisoner? Oh, not a moment ! " But " there are always people at my heels. A prisoner ? Not I ! You know I'm not ; " But " if I risk a stroll across the park A hidden eye blossoms behind each leaf. Of course not prisoner, " but " let anyone Seek private speech with me,...
Page 243 - Ptfre an(j unstained its name of Victory. /Wagram, behold me ! Ransom of old days, Son, offered for, alas ! how many sons ! Above the dreadful haze wherein thou stirrest, Uplift me, Wagram, in thy scarlet hands ! It must be so ! I know it ! Feel it ! Will it ! The breath of death has rustled through...
Page 94 - ... through the playwright's power alone. Her first task in the second act — a speech in which the Duke ironically declares that he is not a prisoner, "but" — was much better executed by Miss Adams. Then the little eagle goes on to a passionate explanation that he is being killed by his soul, by — " That mighty name, which throbs with guns and bells, Clashes and thunders, ceaselessly reproaches Against my languor with its bells and guns ! " That is followed by a scene in which he wearily opens...
Page 243 - I am the expiation. All was not paid, and I complete the price. Twas fated I should seek his battlefield And here, above the multitudinous dead, Be the white victim, growing daily whiter, Renouncing, praying, asking but to...
Page 184 - For this cry, this movement Were not my own. Within me still remains A reverence for my mother and her freedom ! Twas he — 'Twas he by whom my soul's possessed, Who sprang upon you with this tragic force ! Thank God ! I'm saved ! The Corsican leapt out ! BOMBELLES.
Page 175 - Tis well the legend closes thus, And that this conqueror is the other's son. I'm the fair shadow of the dusky hero, And, as he conquered nations, one by one, So will I conquer women, one by one. Moonbeams shall be my sun of Austerlitz ! PROKESCH.
Page 217 - FLAMBEAU. I see them now ! Eleven bullet-heads, as like as peas, Between the flapping of their foolish ears, Who marched, they knew not whence, nor why, nor whither, But gayly marched and rolled their rataplan ! We used to chaff them, for their funny ways Made them the darlings of the sutler's wife.
Page 175 - The adventurer landed in the Gulf of Juan, He felt Don Juan's thrill ; and when Don Juan Pricked a new conquest in his list of loves, Did he not feel the pride of Bonaparte ? And, after all, who knows whether 'tis greater To conquer worlds, or be a moment loved ? So be it!

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