Gertrude and Beatrice, Or, the Queen of Hungary, a Tragedy (Paperback)

This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1839 Excerpt: ...Sit, sit Sir, sit (To Rodna) I'll make you testify He is thy very King. Ro. Doubtless, so please you. Still, if you hold it meet, it were as well Hear your fair sister, who can certify, In knowledge, whether he's the Prince or no. (Aside.) Something must come of this. I hate the Queen, Andreas, and Bankban, but 'tis hate of hate I feel for her, my adder Wa. I beseech you, Let your all-honoured sister make report. Ba. She is to be met with in the western wing. Qu. (Indignantly.) What needs this form? What need, I say? Most brave Ye play with me, Nobles of Hungary, I perceive, And yet wear spurs like knights. I'll borrow patience. Attend, my Lord, the Princess into court. Ba. Pray do not stir. I'll fetch her hither straight. Ro. Oh ay do grace to her. But mark, old man, By no means take excuse. (Aside.) These doting fools Exit Bankban. Since I beheld her hanging about his neck I sicken when the thought comes. Through and through It pierced me; and has left a rankling pain In every sense about me, which nought can, Or will assuage until, in quittal, I Girdle in the fierce embracings of revenge Her unconsenting waist. The poison here Only her lips can suck away. (Re-enter Bankban with Lady Bankban, who makes a slight obeisance and stands trembling.) Wa. Wilt please you, Fair Queen, to open to your lovely Sister Wherefore she is summoned? Qu. Sir?... Our lovely Sister, We have sent for you to confirm us, if you have knowledge, Who is this gentleman? (pointing to Wakadin.) L. B. (In a bewildered voice.) This gentleman? He is... I'm faint, and can say little. Oh (Apart.) Would that some speedy death would seal my lips Before I speak again Ro. (Who has overheard.) Were I that Death, Fd kiss, and keep thee dying many years. Qu. Come hither Child. Whence are t...