Page:Keats - Poetical Works, DeWolfe, 1884.djvu/377

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OTHO THE GREAT.
361
Conrad's sword, his corslet, and his helm,And his letter. Caitiff, he shall feel—
 Erminia. I see you are thunderstruck. Haste, haste away!
 Albert. O I am tortured by this villany.
 Erminia. You needs must be. Carry it swift to Otho;Tell him, moreover, I am prisonerHere in this camp, where all the sisterhood,Forced from their quiet cells, are parcell'd outFor slaves among these Huns. Away! Away!
 Albert. I am gone.
 Erminia. Swift be your steed! Within this hourThe Emperor will see it.
 Albert.Ere I sleep:[Hurries out.That I can swear.
 Gersa (without). Brave captains! thanks. EnoughOf loyal homage now!
Enter Gersa.
 Erminia.Hail, royal Hun!
 Gersa. What means this, fair one? Why in such alarm?Who was it hurried by me so distract?It seem'd you were in deep discourse together;Your doctrine has not been so harsh to himAs to my poor deserts. Come, come, be plain.I am no jealous fool to kill you both,Or, for such trifles, rob th' adorned worldOf such a beauteous vestal.
 Erminia.I grieve, my Lord,To hear you condescend to ribald-phrase.
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