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Kingsley, Charles, 1819-1875

"The Saint's Tragedy"


I must pack up my jewels--
Serv. You'll not need it--
His Lordship has the keys.
Eliz. He has indeed.
Why, man!--I am thy children's godmother--
I nursed thy wife myself in the black sickness--
Art thou a bird, that when the old tree falls,
Flits off, and sings in the sapling?
[The man seizes her arm.]
Keep thine hands off--
I'll not be shamed--Lead on. Farewell, my Ladies.
Follow not! There's want to spare on earth already;
And mine own woe is weight enough for me.
Go back, and say, Elizabeth has yet
Eternal homes, built deep in poor men's hearts;
And, in the alleys underneath the wall,
Has bought with sinful mammon heavenly treasure,
More sure than adamant, purer than white whales' bone,
Which now she claims. Lead on: a people's love shall right me.
[Exit with Servant.]
Guta. Where now, dame?
Isen. Where, but after her?
Guta. True heart!
I'll follow to the death. [Exeunt.]

SCENE II

A street. Elizabeth and Guta at the door of a Convent. Monks in
the porch.
Eliz. You are afraid to shelter me--afraid.
And so you thrust me forth, to starve and freeze.


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Rodzic Po Ludzku Mimo Wszystko Fundacja Avalon Akogo Nasze Dzieci