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diff --git a/34055.txt b/34055.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..69835e6 --- /dev/null +++ b/34055.txt @@ -0,0 +1,3810 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Charles Di Tocca, by Cale Young Rice + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Charles Di Tocca + A Tragedy + +Author: Cale Young Rice + +Release Date: October 11, 2010 [EBook #34055] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CHARLES DI TOCCA *** + + + + +Produced by David Garcia and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was +produced from images generously made available by The +Kentuckiana Digital Library) + + + + + + + + + + _CHARLES DI TOCCA_ + + _A Tragedy_ + + _By_ + + _Cale Young Rice_ + + + _McClure, Phillips & Co._ + _New York_ + 1903 + + + + COPYRIGHT, 1903, BY + CALE YOUNG RICE + + Published, March, 1903, R + + + + _To My Wife_ + + + + _CHARLES DI TOCCA_ + + + + +CHARLES DI TOCCA + +_A Tragedy_ + + + CHARLES DI TOCCA _Duke of Leucadia, Tyrant of Arta, etc._ + ANTONIO DI TOCCA _His son._ + HAEMON _A Greek noble._ + BARDAS _His friend._ + CARDINAL JULIAN _The Pope's Legate._ + AGABUS _A mad monk._ + CECCO _Seneschal of the Castle._ + FULVIA COLONNA _Under the duke's protection._ + HELENA _Sister to Haemon._ + GIULIA _Serving Fulvia._ + PAULA _Serving Helena._ + LYGIA } + PHAON } _Revellers._ + ZOE } + BASIL } + + NARDO, a boy, and DIOGENES, a philosopher. + + A Captain of the Guard, Soldiers, Guests, Attendants, etc. + + _Time_: _Fifteenth Century._ + + + + +ACT ONE + + +_Scene._--_The Island Leucadia. A ruined temple of Apollo near the town +of Pharo. Broken columns and stones are strewn, or stand desolately +about. It is night--the moon rising. ANTONIO, who has been waiting +impatiently, seats himself on a stone. By a road near the ruins FULVIA +enters, cloaked._ + + ANTONIO (_turning_): Helen----! + + FULVIA: A comely name, my lord. + + ANTONIO: Ah, you? + My father's unforgetting Fulvia? + + FULVIA: At least not Helena, whoe'er she be. + + ANTONIO: And did I call you so? + + FULVIA: Unless it is + These stones have tongue and passion. + + ANTONIO: Then the night + Recalling dreams of dim antiquity's + Heroic bloom worked on me.--But whence are + Your steps, so late, alone? + + FULVIA: From the Cardinal, + Who has but come. + + ANTONIO: What comfort there? + + FULVIA: With doom + The moody bolt of Rome broods over us. + + ANTONIO: My father will not bind his heresy? + + FULVIA: You with him walked to-day. What said he? + + ANTONIO: I? + With him to-day? Ah, true. What may be done? + + FULVIA: He has been strange of late and silent, laughs, + Seeing the Cross, but softly and almost + As it were some sweet thing he loved. + + ANTONIO (_absently_): As if + 'Twere some sweet thing--he laughs--is strange--you say? + + FULVIA: Stranger than is Antonio his son, + Who but for some expectancy is vacant. + (_She makes to go._) + + ANTONIO: Stay, Fulvia, though I am not in poise. + Last night I dreamed of you: in vain you hovered + To reach me from the coil of swift Charybdis. + + (_A low cry, ANTONIO starts._) + + Fulvia: A woman's voice! + (_Looking down the road._) + And hasting here! + + ANTONIO: Alone? + + FULVIA: No, with another! + + ANTONIO: Go, then, Fulvia. + 'Tis one would speak with me. + + FULVIA: Ah? (_She goes._) + +_Enter HELENA frightedly with PAULA._ + + HELENA: Antonio! + + ANTONIO: My Helena, what is it? You are wan + And tremble as a blossom quick with fear + Of shattering. What is it? Speak. + + HELENA: Not true! + O, 'tis not true! + + ANTONIO: What have you chanced upon? + + HELENA: Say no to me, say no, and no again! + + ANTONIO: Say no, and no? + + HELENA: Yes; I am reeling, wrung, + With one glance o'er the precipice of ill! + Say his incanted prophecies spring from + No power that's more than frenzied fantasy! + + ANTONIO: Who prophesies? Who now upon this isle + More than visible and present day + Can gather to his eye? Tell me. + + HELENA: The monk-- + Ah, chide me not!--mad Agabus, who can + Unsphere dark spirits from their evil airs + And show all things of love or death, seized me + As hither I stole to thee. With wild looks + And wilder lips he vented on my ear + Boding more wild than both. "Sappho!" he cried, + "Sappho! Sappho!" and probed my eyes as if + Destiny moved dark-visaged in their deeps. + Then tore his rags and moaned, "So young, to cease!" + Gazed then out into awful vacancy; + And whispered hotly, following his gaze, + "The Shadow! Shadow!" + + ANTONIO: This is but a whim, + A sudden gloomy surge of superstition. + Put it from you, my Helena. + + HELENA: But he + Has often cleft the future with his ken, + Seen through it to some lurking misery + And mar of love: or the dim knell of death + Heard and revealed. + + ANTONIO: A witless monk who thinks + God lives but to fulfil his prophecies! + + HELENA: You know him not. 'Tis told in youth he loved + One treacherous, and in avenge made fierce + Treaty with Hell that lends him sight of all + Ills that arise from it to mated hearts! + Yet look not so, my lord! I'll trust thine eyes + That tell me love is master of all times, + And thou of all love master! + + ANTONIO: And of thee? + Then will the winds return unto the night + And flute us lover songs of happiness! + + HELENA: Nor dare upon a duller note while here + We tryst beneath the moon? + + ANTONIO: My perfect Greek! + Athene looks again out of thy lids, + And Venus trembles in thy every limb! + + HELENA: Not Venus, ah, not Venus! + + ANTONIO: Now; again? + + HELENA: 'Twas on this temple's ancient gate she found + Wounded Adonis dead, and to forget, + Like Sappho leaped, 'tis said, from yonder cliff + Down to the waves' oblivion below. + + ANTONIO: And will you read such terror in a tale? + + HELENA: Forgive me, then. + + ANTONIO: Surely you are unstrung, + And yet there is---- (_Turns away from her._) + + HELENA: Is what? Antonio? + + ANTONIO: Nothing: I who must ebb with you and flow + A little was moved. + + HELENA: Not you, not you! I'll change + My tears to laughter, if but fantasy + May so unmettle you! Not moved, indeed! + Not moved, Antonio? + + ANTONIO: Well, let us off, + My Helena, with these numb awes that wind + About our joy. + + HELENA: Thy kiss then, for it can + Drive all gloom out of the world! + + ANTONIO: And thine, my own, + On Fate's hard brow would shame it of all frown! + + HELENA: Yet is thine mightier, for no frown can be + When no more gloom's in the world! + + ANTONIO: But 'tis thy lips + That lend it might. If I pressed other---- + + HELENA: Other! + You should not know that any other lips + Could e'er be pressed; I'll have no kiss but his + Who is all blind to every mouth but mine! + (_Breaks from him._) + + ANTONIO: Oh?--Well. + + HELENA: "Oh--well?"--Then it is well I go! + + ANTONIO: Perhaps. + + HELENA: "Perhaps!" (_Makes to go._) + + ANTONIO: Good-night. + + HELENA (_returning_): Antonio----? + + ANTONIO: Ah! still----? + + HELENA: There's gloom in the world again. + + ANTONIO (_kissing her_): 'Tis gone? + + HELENA: Not all, I think. + + ANTONIO: Two for so small a gloom? + (_Kisses her again._) + + HELENA: So small! + + ANTONIO: And still you sigh? + + HELENA: The vainest glooms + To-night seem ominous--as cloud-flakes flung + Upward before the heaving of the west. + (_In fright_) Oh! + + ANTONIO: Helena! + + HELENA: See, see! 'tis Agabus! + +_Enter AGABUS unkempt and distracted._ + + AGABUS: O--lovers! lovers! Lord have none of them! + + ANTONIO: Good monk---- + + AGABUS: O--yes, yes, yes. You'd give me gold + To pray for your two souls. (_Crossing himself._) Not I! Not I! + Know you not love is brewed of lust and fire? + It gnaws and burns, until the Shadow--Sir, (_Searching about the + air._) + Have you not seen a Shadow pass? + + ANTONIO: A Shadow? + + AGABUS: Silent and cold. A-times they call him Death: + I'd have him for my brain--it shakes with fever. + (_Goes searching anxiously._ + + HELENA: Antonio---- + + ANTONIO: You're calm? + + HELENA: Yes, very calm-- + Of impotence--as one who in a tomb + Awakes and waits? + + ANTONIO: He is but mad. + + HELENA: But mad. + + ANTONIO: Yet fear you? still? + + (_A shout is heard._) + + HELENA: Who is it? soldiers come + From Arta? + + ANTONIO: Yes. + + HELENA: And by this road!--They must + Not see us! + + ANTONIO: No. But quick, within this breach! + + (_They conceal themselves in the breach. The soldiers pass + across the stage. The last, as all shout "DI TOCCA!" + strikes a column near him. It falls, and HELENA starts + forward shuddering._) + + HELENA: Fallen! Ah, fallen! See, Antonio! + + ANTONIO: What now! + + HELENA (_swaying_): It is as if the earth were wind + Under my feet! + + ANTONIO: Are all things thus become + Omen and dread to you? + + HELENA: O, but it is + The pillar grieving Venus leant upon + Ere to forget she leapt, and wrote, + When falls this pillar tall and proud + Let surest lovers weave their shroud. + + ANTONIO: Mere myth! + + HELENA: The shroud! It coldly winds about us--coldly! + + ANTONIO: Should a vain hap so desperately move you? + + HELENA: The breath and secret soul of all this night + Are burdened with foreboding! And it seems-- + + ANTONIO: You must not, Helena! + + HELENA: My love, my lord-- + Touch me lest I forget my natural flesh + In this unnatural awe! (_He takes her to him._) + Ah how thy arms + Warm the cold moan and misery of fear + Out of my veins! + + ANTONIO: You rave, but in me stir + Again the attraction of these dim portents. + Nay, quiver not! 'tis but a passing mist, + And this that runs in us is worthless dread! + + HELENA: But ah, the shroud! the shroud! + + ANTONIO: We'll weave no shroud, + But wedding robes and wreaths and pageantry! + And you shall be my Sappho--but through joys + Such as shall legend ecstasy about + Our knitted names when distant lovers dream. + + HELENA: I'll fear no more, then---- + + ANTONIO: Yet? + + HELENA: My lord, let us + Unloose this strangling secrecy and be + Open in love. My brother, Haemon, let + Our hearts betrothed exchange and hope be told + Him and thy father! + + ANTONIO: This cannot be--now + + HELENA: It cannot be, and you a god? I'll bow + Before your eyes no more!--say that it can! + + ANTONIO: Not yet--not now. Haemon's suspicious, quick, + And melancholy: must be won with service. + And you are Greek, a name till yesterday + I never knew pass in the portal to + My father's ear, but it came out his mouth + Headlong and dark with curses. + + HELENA: Yet of late + He oft has smiled upon me as he passed. + + ANTONIO: On you--my father? O, he only dreamt, + And saw you not. + + HELENA: Then have you also dreamt! + He looked as you, when, moonlight in my hair, + You call me---- + + ANTONIO: Stay: I'll call you so no more. + + HELENA: You'll call me so no more? + + ANTONIO: No more. + + HELENA: Why do + You say so--is it kind? + + ANTONIO: Why?--why? Because + Words were they miracles of beauty could + As little reveal you as a taper's ray + The lone profundity and space of night! + + HELENA: And yet---- + + ANTONIO: And yet? + + HELENA: I'll hold you not too false + If sometimes they trip out upon your lips. + + ANTONIO: Or to my father's eye? + + HELENA: If he but look + Upon me for thy sake. + + ANTONIO: He smiled, you say? + + HELENA: Gently, as one might in forgetting pain. + + ANTONIO: Perhaps: for some unwonted softness seems + Near him. But yesterday he called for song, + Dancing and wine. + + HELENA: Then tell him! These are years + So dyed in crime that secrecy must seem + Yoke-mate of guilt. + + ANTONIO: Fear has bewitched you--shame! + + HELENA: Antonio, love's wave has cast us high + I would do all lest now it turn to fate + Under our feet and draw us out---- + + ANTONIO: 'Twill not! + +_Enter PAULA._ + + PAULA: My lady, some one comes. + + HELENA: And is the world + Not space enough but he must needs come here! + If it were----? + + ANTONIO: Haemon?--'Twere perhaps not ill. + + HELENA: I know not! Broodings smoulder from his moods + Feverous bitter. + + ANTONIO: Kindness then shall quench them. + But now, away. Forget this dread and be you + By day my lark, by night my nightingale, + Not a sad bird of boding! + + HELENA: With the day + All will be well. + + ANTONIO: Remember then you are + Only a little slept from your life's shore + Out on the infinite of love, whose air + Is awe and mystery. + + HELENA: I go, my lord. + Think of me oft! + + ANTONIO (_taking her in his arms_): My Helena! + + (_She goes with PAULA. He steps aside and watches the + approaching forms._) + + 'Tis Haemon! + My father! + +_Enter CHARLES friendly, with HAEMON._ + + CHARLES: So, no farther? you'll stop here? + + HAEMON: Sir, if you grant it. I---- + + CHARLES (_twittingly_): Some rendezvous? + Who is she? Ah, young blood and Spring and night! + + HAEMON: No rendezvous, my lord. + + CHARLES: Some lay then you + Would muse on? + + HAEMON: Yes, a lay. + + CHARLES: And one of love? + The word, you see, founts easy to my lips. + (_With confidential archness._) 'Tis recent in my thought--as + you will learn. + + HAEMON: How, sir, and when? + + CHARLES: O, when? Be not surprised!-- + Well, to the lay! + (_He goes._ + + HAEMON: Cruel! His soldiers waste + The bread of honesty, the hope of age! + Are drunken, bloody, indolent, and lust + To tear all innocence away and robe + Our loveliest in shame!--Yet me, a Greek, + He suddenly befriends! + + ANTONIO (_coming forward_): Haemon---- + + HAEMON: Ah, you? + + ANTONIO: There's room between your tone and courtesy. + + HAEMON: And shall be while I'm readier to bend + Over a beggar's pain than prince's fingers. + + ANTONIO: And yet you know me better---- + + HAEMON: Than to believe + You're not Antonio, son of Charles di Tocca? + + ANTONIO: I'd be your friend. + + HAEMON: So would he: and he smiles. + + ANTONIO: There are deep reasons for it. + + HAEMON: With him too! + Against a miracle, you are his heir! + + ANTONIO: I think it would be well for you to listen. + My confidence once curbed---- + + HAEMON: May bite and paw? + Let it! for fools are threats, and cowards. Were + You Tamerlane and mine the skull should cap + A bloody pyramid of enemies, + I'd----! + + ANTONIO: Hear me. Will you be so blind? + + HAEMON: To your + Fair graces? No, my lord--not so. Your sword + And doublet are sublimely worn! sublimely! + Your curls would tempt an empress' fingers, and---- + + ANTONIO: Why is my anger silent? + + HAEMON: Let it speak + And not this subtle pride! You would be friend, + A friend to me--a friend!--Did not your father + Into a sick and sunless keep cast mine + Because he was a Greek and still a Greek, + And would not be a slave? His cunning has + Not whispered death about him as a pest? + He--he, my friend? and you?--And I on him + Should lean, and flatter----? + + ANTONIO: Cease: though he has stains + The times are tyrannous and men like beasts + Find mercy preservation's enemy. + You're heated with suspicion and old wrong, + But take my hand as pledge---- + + HAEMON (_refusing it_): That you'll be false? + +_Enter BARDAS._ + + BARDAS: I've sought you, Haemon. Antonio? We are + Well met then: to your doors my want was bent + With a request. + + ANTONIO: Which gladly I shall hear + And if I can will grant. + + BARDAS: My haste is blunt-- + As is my tongue. + + HAEMON: Then yield it us at once, + Our mood is so. + + BARDAS: Haemon, I love your sister. + Not love: I am idolatrous before + Her foot's least print, and cannot breathe or pray + But where she's sometime been and left a heaven! + + HAEMON: Therefore you'll cry it maudlin at the streets? + + BARDAS: Necessity's not over delicate. + Antonio, sue for me. You have been apt + In all love's skill they say. My oath on it + Your words once sown upon her listening + Would not lie fruitless did they bid her yield + More than her most. + + HAEMON: Bardas! Do you--Does such + Unseemliness run in your thought? + + BARDAS: Peace, Haemon. + Antonio, speak. + + ANTONIO: You're strange in this request. + Helena, whom I've seen, would little thank + The eyes that told her own where they should love. + + BARDAS: I saved your life, my lord. + + ANTONIO: And I've besought + Occasion oft for loaning of some chance + Worthily to repay you. If 'tis this, + I am distrest. I cannot plead your suit. + + BARDAS: You cannot or you will not? + + ANTONIO: I have said. + Ask me for service on your foes, for gold, + Faith or devotion, friendship you're aloof to, + For all that will and honor well may render + With nicety, and I'll be wings and heart, + More--drudge to your desire. + + HAEMON: Nobly, my lord! + Bardas, you must atone---- + + BARDAS: Peace, Haemon. + + HAEMON: Peace + Is goad and gall! Why do you burn my cheek + With this indignity? + + BARDAS: Do you ask why? (_to ANTONIO._) + A little since one of your father's guard + Gave his command in seal to Helena + Upon the streets, to instantly repair + Unto his halls--which she must henceforth _honor_. + You knew it not? + + ANTONIO: My father? + + BARDAS: O, well feigned. + Be sure none will suspect he is too old + For knightly feat like this--and that he has + A son! + + ANTONIO: To Helena! my father! sealed! + + HAEMON: Bardas, you bring the truth?--And so, my lord, + You stab me through another--you, my _friend_? + + ANTONIO (_to BARDAS_): Do you mean that----? + + BARDAS: Until this hour I held + The race of Charles di Tocca bold, or other + But empty of all lies in deed or speech, + It grows--a little low? + + ANTONIO: Why you are mad! + Are mad! I'm naked of this thing, and hide + No guilt behind the wonder of my face. + For Paradises brimming with all Beauty + I would not lay one fancy's weight of shame + On her you name! + + BARDAS: A pretty protest--but + A breath too heavenly. + + ANTONIO: Leave sneering there! + You have repaid yourself--cast on me words + Intolerable more than loss of life. + You both shall learn this night's entangling. + But know, between her, Helena, and shame + I burn with flaming heart and fearless hand! + (_Goes angrily._ + + HAEMON: He can be false and wear this mien of truth? + + BARDAS: I'll not believe! + + HAEMON: But, what: my sister seized? + + BARDAS: Ah, what!--"He burns with flaming heart!"--have we + No flesh to understand this passion then? + Bound to the wings of wide ambition he + Will choose undowered worth?--To the ordeal + Of mere suspicion's flaming I'd not trust + The fairness of his name; but doubts in me + Are sunk with proofs. + + HAEMON: No, no! + + BARDAS: Unyielding. + + HAEMON: Proof? + He could not. No! he dare not! + + BARDAS: Yet the rogue + Cecco, the duke's half-seneschal, half-spy, + I passed upon the streets o'ermuch in wine, + Leaning upon a tipsier jade and spouting + With drunken mockery, + + "'Sweet Helena! Fair Helena!' Pluck me, wench, but the lord Antonio + knows sound nuts! And sly! Why hear you now! he gets the duke to + seize on the maid! The fox! The rat! Have I not heard him in his + chamber these thirty nights puff her name out his window with as + many honeyed drawls of passion as--as--as--June has buds? 'Sweet + Helena!'--la! 'Fair Helena!'--O! 'Dear Helena! my rose! my queen! + my sun and moon and stars! Thy kiss is still at my lips, thy breast + beats still on mine! my Helena!'--Um! Oh, 'tmust be a rare damsel. + I'll make a sluice between her purse and mine, wench; do you hear?" + + HAEMON: Well--well? + + BARDAS: No more. When I had struck him down, + He swore it was unswerving all and truth. + Hasting to warn I found Helena ta'en + And sought you here. + + HAEMON (_grasping his brows_): Ah! + + BARDAS: Helena who is + All purity! + + HAEMON: Ah sister, child!--Have I + With strength been father and with tenderness + A mother been to her unfolding years + But to see now unchastest cruelty + Pluck her white bloom to ease his idle sense + One fragrant hour?--If it be so, no flowers + Should blossom; only weeds whose withering + Can hurt no heart! + + BARDAS: These tears should seal fierce oaths + Against him! + + HAEMON: And they shall! until God wrecks + Him in the tempest raised of his outrage! + + BARDAS: Then may I be the rock on which he breaks! + But hear; who comes? (_Revellers are heard approaching._) + We must aside until + This mirth is past. (_They conceal themselves._) + +_Enter revellers dressed as bacchanals and bacchantes, dancing and +singing._ + + Bacchus, hey! was a god, hei-yo! + The vine! a fig for the rest! + With locks green-crowned and lips red-warm-- + The vine! the vine's the best! + He loved maids, O-o-ay! hei-yo! + The vine! a maiden's breast! + He pressed the grape, and kissed the maid!-- + The cuckoo builds no nest! + + (_All go dancing, except LYDIA and PHAON, who clasps and + kisses her passionately_) + + LYDIA (_breaking from him_): Do you think kisses are so cheap? You + must know mine fill my purse! A pretty gallant from Naples, with + laces and silks and jewels gave me this ring last year for but one. + And another lover from Venice gave me this (_a bracelet_)--but he + looked so sad when he gave it. Ah, his eyes! I'd not have cared if + he had given me naught. + + PHAON: Here, here, then! (_Offers jewel._) + + LYDIA (_putting it aside_): They say the ladies in Venice ride with + their lovers through the streets all night in boats: and the very + moon shines more passionately there. Is it true? + + PHAON: Yes, yes. But kiss me, Lydia! Take this jewel--my last. Be + mine to-night, no other's! We'll prate of Venice another time. + + LYDIA: Another time we'll prate of kisses. I'll not have the jewel. + + PHAON: Not have it! Now you're turning nun! a soft and virgin, silly + nun! With a gray gown to hide these shoulders that--shall I whisper + it? + + LYDIA: Devil! they're not! A nice lover called them round and + fair last night. And I've been sick! And--I--cruel! cruel! cruel! + (_Revellers are heard returning._) There, they're coming. + + PHAON: Never mind, my girl. But you mustn't scorn a man's blood when + it's afire. + +_Re-enter Revellers singing_ + + Bacchus, hey! was a god, hei-yo! etc. + (_After which all go, except ZOE and BASIL._ + + ZOE: O! O! O! but 'tis brave! Wine, Basil! Wine, my knight, my + Bacchus! Ho! ho! my god! you wheeze like a cross-bow. Is it years, + my wooer, years?--Ah! (_She sighs._) + + BASIL: Sighs--sighs! Now look for showers. + + ZOE: Basil--you were my first lover--except the duke Charles. Ah, + did you see how that Helena looked when they gave her the duke's + command? I was like that once. (_HAEMON starts forward._) + + BASIL: Fiends, nymphs and saints! it's come! tears in your eyes! + Zoe, stop it. Would you have mine leak and drive me to a monastery + for shelter! + + ZOE (_sings sadly and absently_): + + She lay by the river, dead, + A broken reed in her hand + A nymph whom an idle god had wed + And led from her maidenland. + + BASIL: O, had I been born a heathen! + + ZOE: He told me, Basil, I should live, a great lady, at his castle. + And they should kiss my hand and courtesy to me. He meant but + jest--I feared.--I feared! But--I loved him! + + BASIL: Now, my damsel--! + + ZOE (_sings_): + + The god was the great god Jove, + Two notes would the bent reed blow, + The one was sorrow, the other love + Enwove with a woman's woe. + + BASIL: Songs and snakes! Give me instead a Dominican's funeral! + I'd as lief crawl bare-kneed to Rome and mouth the Pope's heel. + O blessed Turks with their remorseless harems!--Zoe! + + ZOE (_sings_): + + She lay by the river dead; + And he at feasting forgot. + The gods, shall they be disquieted + By dread of a mortal's lot? + + (_She wipes her eyes, trembles, looks at him and laughs + hysterically._) + + Bacchus! my Bacchus! with wet eyes! Up, up, lad! there's many a cup + for us yet! + + (_They go, she leading and singing._ + + He loved maids, O-o-ay! hei-yo! + The vine! a maiden's breast! etc. + + (_HAEMON and BARDAS look at each other, then start after them + terribly moved._) + + +CURTAIN. + + + + +ACT TWO + + +_Scene._--_An audience hall in the castle of CHARLES DI TOCCA; the next +afternoon. The dark stained walls have been festooned with vines and +flowers. On the left is the ducal throne. On the right sunlight through +high-set windows. In the rear heavily draped doors. Enter CHARLES, who +looks around and smiles with subtle content, then summons a servant._ + +_Enter servant._ + + CHARLES: The princess Fulvia. + + SERVANT: She comes, sir, now. + (_Goes._ + +_Enter FULVIA._ + + FULVIA: My lord, flowers and vines upon these walls + That seem always in dismal memory + And mist of grief? What means it? + + CHARLES: That sprung up, + A greedy multitude upon the fields, + Citron and olive were left hungry, so + I quelled them! + + FULVIA: Magic ever dwells in flowers + To waft me back to childhood. (_Taking some._) + Poor pluckt buds + If they could speak like children torn from the breast. + + CHARLES: You're full of sighs and pity then? + + FULVIA: Yes, and-- + Of doubt. + + CHARLES: What so divides you? + + FULVIA: Helena-- + This Greek--I do not understand. + + CHARLES: Nor guess? + You have not seen nor spoken to her? + + FULVIA: No. + + CHARLES: We'll have her. (_Motions servant._) + Go. Say that we wait her here, + The lady Helena. (_Servant goes._ + She's frighted--thinks + 'Tmay be her father found too deep a rest + Within our care: yet has a hope that holds + The tears still from her lids. I've smiled on her, + Smiled, Fulvia, and she--Why do you cloud? + + FULVIA: I would this were undone. + + CHARLES: Undone? Undone? + You would it were----? + +_Enter HELENA._ + + Ah, Greek! Our Fulvia, + Who is as heart and health about our doors, + Has speech for you. And polities + Untended groan for me. (_He goes._ + + FULVIA (_looking sadly at her_): Girl--child-- + + HELENA: Why do + You call me so with struggle on your breast? + + FULVIA: You're very fair. + + HELENA: And was so free I thought + The world brimmed up with my full happiness. + + FULVIA: But find it is a sieve to all but grief? + + HELENA: Is it then grief? I have not any tears, + Yet seem girt by an emptiness that aches, + Surrounds and whispers, what I dare not think + Or, shapened, see. + + FULVIA: It stains too as a shroud + The morrow's face? + + HELENA: You look at me--I think + You look at me, as if----? + + FULVIA: No child. + + HELENA: Why am + I in this place? You fear for me? + + FULVIA: Fear? + + HELENA: Yes! + A dumb dread trembles from you sufferingly. + + FULVIA: It is not fear. Or--no!--has vanished quite, + Ashamed of its too naked idleness. + + HELENA (_shuddering_): He cannot, will not!--Yet you feared! + + FULVIA: Be calm: + Beauty is better so. + + HELENA: Ah, you are cold! + See a great shadow reach and wrap at me, + Yet lend no light! By gentleness I pray you, + What said he? + + FULVIA: Child---- + + HELENA: Child!--Ah, a moment's dread + Brings age on us!--If not by gentleness, + Then by that love that women bear to men, + By happiness too fleeting to tread earth, + I pray you tell the fear your heart so hides! + + FULVIA: You are the guest of Charles di Tocca. + + HELENA: Guest? + Ah, guests are bidden, not commanded.--Where, + Where can Antonio be gone. All day + No token, quieting! + + FULVIA: Antonio, girl? + Antonio?--Is it true? + +_Re-enter CHARLES._ + + CHARLES: So eager?--Truth + Has brewed more tears than lies. But, Fulvia, + Why doth it mated with Antonio's name + Wring thus your troubled hands? + + FULVIA: My lord---- + + CHARLES: You falter? + No matter--now. (_To HELENA._) But you, my fair one, put + More merriment upon your lips and lids, + And this (_giving pearls_) upon the lustre of your throat. + Hither our guests come soon. Be with us then, + And at your beauty's best. Now; trembling so?-- + Yet is the lily lovelier in the wind! + (_He looks after, musingly, as she goes._ + + FULVIA: My lord---- + + CHARLES: True, Fulvia--as titles go. + + FULVIA: My lord---- + + CHARLES: Twice--but I'm not two lords. + + FULVIA: To-night + I think you are. But quench your jests. + + CHARLES: In tears? + And groans? Where borrow them? + + FULVIA (_turning away_): So let it be. + + CHARLES: Why do you say so be it and sigh as + Nought could again be well? + + FULVIA: O---- + + CHARLES: Now you frown? + + FULVIA: The hope you nurse, then, if it prove a pang + Of serpent bitterness---- + + CHARLES: Prove pang? I then + But for an "if" must pluck it from me? + + FULVIA: So + I must believe. + + CHARLES: Pluck it from me! Will you-- + Now will you have me mouth and foam and thresh + The quiet in me to a maelstrom! This + Is mine, this joy; and still is mine, though I + To keep it must bring on me bitterness + And bleeding and--I rage! + + FULVIA: Then shall I cease, + And say no more? No, you are on a flood + Whose sinking may be rapid down to horror. + And she--this girl! It has been long since you + Gave license rein upon your will, and spur. + Do not so now. + + CHARLES: License? + + FULVIA: She is all morn + And dream and dew: make her not dark! + + CHARLES: You think--! + + FULVIA: Wake her not, ah, not suddenly on terror! + + CHARLES: On terror! (_Laughing._) + + FULVIA: You've laughed nobler. + + CHARLES: Fulvia, + Friend of my unrepaying years, dream you + I who in empire youth too soon forgot, + Who on my brow surprise the wafted dew, + The presages of age and death, shake not? + + FULVIA: I knew not, but have waited oft such words. + + CHARLES: Ah what! this hope, this leaping in me, this + White dawn across my turbulence and night, + From license?--Hear me. I have sudden found + A door to let in heaven on my heart. + Had I not laughed to see your dread upon it + Write "license," perilous had been my frown. + + FULVIA: You will----? + + CHARLES: Yes--yes! About her brow shall curl + The coronet! Her wishes shall be sceptres + Waving a swift fulfilment to her feet! + Her pity shall leave ready graves unfilled, + Her anger open earth for all who offend! + She shall---- + + FULVIA: Ah cease, infatuate man! Will you + Build kingdoms on the wind, and empires on + A girl's ungiven heart? + + CHARLES (_slowly_): Unto such love + As mine all things are given. + + FULVIA: All things but love. + + CHARLES: Stood she not as in pleading? Yes--and to + Her cheeks came hurried roses from her heart. + And her large eyes, did they not drift to mine + Caressing?--yet as if in them they found + The likeness of some visitant dear dream. + + FULVIA: The likeness of some dream? + + CHARLES: Question no more. + She is set in the centre of my need + As youth and fiercest passion could not set her. + Supernally as May she has burst on + My barren age. Pain, envious decay, + And doubt that mystery wounds us with, and wrong, + Flee from the gleam and whisper of her name. + + FULVIA: And if your coronet and heat avail + Not with her as might charm of equal years + And beauty? + + CHARLES: Then--why then--why there may slip + An avalanche of raging and despair + Out of me! Hope of her once taken, all + The thwarted thunders of my want would rush + Into the void with lightnings for revenge! + +_Enter ANTONIO._ + + ANTONIO: Sir, I'm returned. + + CHARLES: With lightnings that shall--(_Sees him._) You? + Antonio? My eyes had other thought. + Open your news--but mind 'tis not of failure. + + ANTONIO: We seized the murderous robbers in their cove + And o'er the cliff, as our just law commands, + To death flung them. + + CHARLES: So with all traitors be it. + + ANTONIO: So should it. + + CHARLES: Well, 'twas swift. In you there is + More than your mother's gentleness. + + ANTONIO: Else were + My name di Tocca, sir, and not myself. + + CHARLES: You have my love.--But as you came met you + The cardinal? + + ANTONIO: So close he should by this + Be at our gates. + + CHARLES: He'll miss no welcome, and-- + Perhaps--we shall-- (_Smiles on them._) Give me that cross you wear, + My Fulvia. It may---- + + ANTONIO: Sir, this is good! + We earnestly beseech of you to hear + The Pope's embassador with yielding. + + CHARLES: Ah?-- + But you, boy, draw out of this solitude + And musing moodiness. You should think but + On silly sighs and kisses, rhymes and trysts! + Must I yet teach your coldness youth? + (_A trumpet, and sound of opening gates._) + Draw out! + + ANTONIO: I have to-day desired some words of this. + +_Enter CECCO._ + + CHARLES: Well, who----? + + CECCO: The Cardinal, your grace. + + CHARLES: Then go, + And bid our guests. Bring too Diogenes, + Our most amusing raveller of all + Philosophies. Say that the duke, his brother, + Humbly desires it! (_CECCO goes._ + + FULVIA: And Helena? + + CHARLES (_to ANTONIO_): Why do + You start, sir?--Fulvia, we must look to + This callow god our son. Yet, had our court + Two eyes of loveliness to drown his heart, + I'd think on oath 'twere done. + (_Goes to the throne._) + + FULVIA (_low to ANTONIO_): Listen. No word + Of Helena! + + CHARLES: Now! is it secrets? + + FULVIA: Sir, + He scorns to spill a drop of confidence + On my too thirsty questions. + + CHARLES: Does he so + Tightly seal up his spirits? + + FULVIA: Put the rogue + To prison on stale bread, my lord: I half + Believe he's full of treasons. + + CHARLES (_laughing_): Do you hear! + Because you are the son and scout our foes + Justice is not impossible upon you! + +_The guests enter, among them HAEMON and BARDAS, following the CARDINAL +JULIAN and his suite, and last HELENA, whom FULVIA leads aside._ + + CARDINAL: Peace, worthy duke! + + CHARLES: And more, lord Cardinal, + We would to-day enlarge our worthiness + With you and with great Rome. + + CARDINAL: Firmly I crave + It may be so. + + CHARLES: Here unto all our guests + We then do disavow our heresies---- + For faith's as air, as ease to life--and seek + At your absolving lips release from our + Rough disobedience. Nor shall we shun + The lash and needed weight of penitence. + + (_A murmur of approval._) + + JULIAN: These words, great lord, fall wise and soothing well. + Who so confesses, plants beneath his foot + A step to scale all impotence and wrong. + Our royal Pope's conditions shall be told, + Pledge them consenting seal and you shall be + Briefly and fully free. (_Motions his secretary._) + + SECRETARY (_opens and reads_): "Whereas the duke + Di Tocca has offended----" + + CARDINAL: Pass the offence. + Be it oblivion's. On, the penalty. + + SECRETARY: "Therefore the duke di Tocca humbling himself + Must pay into our vaults two hundred ducats--" + + CHARLES: It shall be three. + + SECRETARY: "And send a hundred men + Armed 'gainst the foes that threaten Italy." + + CHARLES: See to it, yes, Antonio, ere a dawn. + + SECRETARY: "He must also yield up the princess Fulvia + Who's fled her father's house and rightful marriage." + + FULVIA (_to JULIAN_): You told me not of this--no word, my lord! + + CARDINAL: My silence as my speech is not my own. + + CHARLES: We'll more of it--a measure more. + Read on. + + SECRETARY: "And for the better amity and weal + Of Italy and Christ's most Holy Church, + He is enjoined to wed with Beatrice + Of Florence. If his wilful boldness grants + Obedience, his sins shall melt to rest + Under the calm of full forgiveness. He----" + + CHARLES: A mild, a courteous, O a modest Pope! + I must tear from my happiness a friend + Who fled a father's searing cruelty, + And cast her back in the flames! And I must bind + My crippled years that fare toward the grave + In the cold clasp of an unloving hand! + No! No! + Then, sir, and Cardinal, 'tis not enough! + I pray you swift again to Rome and plead + Most suppliantly that I for penance may + Swear my true son is shame-begot, or lend + My kin to drink clean of its fouling damp + Some pestilent prison! And 'tis impious too + That any still should trust my love. Beseech + His Holiness' command for death upon them! + + CARDINAL: This is your answer? + + CHARLES (_rises_): A mite! a mite of it! + The rest is I will wed where I will wed + Though every hill of earth raise up its pope + To bellow at me thunderous damnation! + I will--I will-- (_Falls back convulsed._) + + FULVIA (_hastening to him_): Charles, ah! Wine for him, wine! (_It + is brought._) + + ANTONIO: Lord Cardinal, spare yourself more and go. + You shall learn if a change may loose this strain. + + (_The CARDINAL goes with his suite amid timid reverence._) + + CHARLES (_struggling_): I will--this frenzy--off my throat--! + I-- (_Recovering._) Ah, + Thou, Fulvia? 'Twas as a fiend swung on me. + And shame! fear oozes out upon my brow, + And I----. (_Rises and calms himself._) Forgive, friends, this + so sudden wrench + Upon your pleasure. One too quick made saint, + Stands feebly: but at once wilt I atone. + Where is Diogenes--where is he? His + Tangled fantastic wisdom shall divert us. + + (_DIOGENES, who has stood unconscious of all that has + passed, is pushed forward._) + + Ah, peer of Socrates and perfect Plato, + Leave your unseeing silence now and tell us---- + +_Enter AGABUS gazing anxiously and wildly before him._ + + Who's this? + + AGABUS (_hoarsely_): Where went he--the Shadow?--whither? + + CHARLES: Who's this broke from his grave upon us? + + AGABUS (_searching still_): Where? + I followed him--he sped and there was cold! + Behind him blows a horror! + (_Stops in fascinated awe before HELENA._) + Ah, on her head! + His touch! his earthless finger!--and she rots + To dust! to dust! + + ANTONIO: Ill monk! are there no men + That you must wring a woman so with fear? + + AGABUS: Ha, men? Christ save all men but lovers! all! (_Crosses + himself._) + + CHARLES: Antonio, how speaks he? + + ANTONIO: Sir, most mad + With the pestilence of evil prophecy. + (_To guards._) Forth with him! + + CHARLES: Stay. + + ANTONIO: Let him not, for he will + Beguile you to some ravening belief. + + AGABUS (_going up to CHARLES, staring at him in suppressed + excitement_): A lover! a lover! and he loves in vain! + Wilt go? There is a cave--(_taking his hand_), we'll curse + her--come! + + CHARLES: Out! out! (_Throws him from the dais._) + + AGABUS: Christ save all men but-- (_Seeking vacantly._) Ah, the + Shadow! + Has no one seen him? none?--the Shadow? none? + (_Goes dazed. Guests whisper, awed._ + + CHARLES: He is obsessed--vile utterly! + + A GUEST: O duke, + I pray, good-night. + + ANOTHER: And I, my lord. + + ANOTHER: And I---- + + ANOTHER: And---- + + CHARLES: Friends, you shall not--no. This pall will pass, + My hospitality is up, you shall not! + + ANOTHER: Pardon, O duke, we---- + + CHARLES: Though some grudging wind + Blows us away from mirth, 'tis still in view, + We've lute and dance that yet shall bring us in. + + 1ST LADY: O, dance! + + CHARLES: Cecco, our Circes from the Nile. + (_CECCO goes._ + + 2D LADY: The Nile! Ah, Cleopatra's Nile? + + CHARLES: Her own; + And sinuous as Nile water is their grace. + +_Enter two Egyptian girls, who dance, then go._ + + GUESTS (_applauding_): Bravely!--O, brave! + + CHARLES: Do they not whirl it lithe? + With limbs like swallow wings upon the blue? + + 1ST LADY: 'Twas witchery! + + 3D LADY: Such eyes! such hair! + + 2D LADY: And thus, + Did Cleopatra thus steal Antony? + Wrap him about with motion that would seize + His senses to an ecstasy? O, oh, + To dance so! + + CHARLES: And so steal an Antony? + We'll frame a law on thieving of men's heart's! + + 2D LADY: Then, vainly! 'tis a theft men like the most. + + CHARLES: When in its stead the thief has left her own-- + But shall we woo no boon of mirth save dance? + A lute! a lute! (_One is gone for._) Some new lay, Haemon, come! + And every word must dip its syllables + In Pindar's spring to trip so lightly forth. + + HAEMON: I have no lay. + + CHARLES: The lute! (_It is offered HAEMON._) + Sing us of love + That builds a Paradise of kisses, thinks + The Infinite bound up in an embrace. + Whose sighs seem to it hurricanes of pain, + Whose tears as seas of molten misery. + + HAEMON: I have none--cannot. + + CHARLES: Now will you fright off + Again our timid cheer? + + HAEMON: While she, my sister--! + (_The lute is offered again._) + I cannot, will not! + + CHARLES: Will not? will not? Look! + I had an honor pluckt to laurel it, + A wreath of noble worth, a thing to tell---- + + HAEMON: Honor upon dishonor sits not well. + + CHARLES (_not hearing_): Heat me not with denial. Is new bliss + Raised from the dead in me but to fall back + As stone ere it has breathed? Have I so frequent + Drained you? Be slow to tempt me--In me moves + Peril that has a passion to leap forth! + + HAEMON: Antonio, speak! Where's innocence and where + Begins deceit? + + FULVIA (_to HAEMON aside_): Ask it not, or you step + On waiting hazard and calamity. + + CHARLES: New fret? and new confusion? In the blind + Power and passing of this night is there + Conspiracy?--plot of some here? or of + That One whose necromancy wields the world? + I care not!--I care not! We must have mirth! + Have mirth! though it be laughter at damned souls. + + HAEMON: And I must wake it? I with laugh and lay, + Doting upon dishonor? + + CHARLES: What means he? + + HAEMON: Give me again my sister from these walls, + Since might is yours, strip from me wealth and life + And more, and all--but let her not, no, no, + Meet here the touch and leprosy of shame! + + CHARLES (_laughing_): Said I not, said I, friends, we should + have mirth? + You shall laugh with me laughter bright as wine. + + ANTONIO: But, sir, this is not good for laughter! Sir! + + HAEMON (_to ANTONIO_): Ah, put the lamb on--bleat mock sympathy! + + CHARLES (_still laughing_): Fulvia, O, he foots it in the tracks + Of your own fear! and wanders to delusion! + + HAEMON: Will you laugh at me, fiend! + + CHARLES: Boy! + + HAEMON: Had I but + Omnipotence a moment and could dash + Annihilation on you and your race! + (_Throws his glove in ANTONIO'S face._) + + HELENA: Haemon! + + FULVIA (_restraining her_): No, Helena. + + CHARLES: Omnipotence? + And could Omnipotence make such a fool? + There must be two Gods in the world to do it. + + HAEMON: She shall not----! + (_Attempts to kill HELENA._) + + ANTONIO (_preventing_): Fury!--Ah! what would you do? + + CHARLES: Such things can be? A sister, yet he strikes? + (_HAEMON is seized._) + + HELENA: O let me speak with him, sir, let me speak! + + CHARLES: Not now, girl, no, not now--lest in his breath + Be venom for thee! (_To soldiers._) Shut him from our gates + Till he repent this fever. + (_HAEMON goes quietly out._) + (_To guests who are suspicious and undetermined._) If you stare so + Will the skies stop! Have I not arm in arm + Friended this youth and meant him honor still? + Leave me. I had a thing to tell; but it + Must wait more seasonable festivity. + (_To PAULA._) See to thy mistress, child. Antonio, stay. + + (_All go but ANTONIO and CHARLES, who leaves his chair + slowly and with dejection._) + + ANTONIO: Father---- + + CHARLES (_unheeding_): Did I not humble me? + + ANTONIO: Father----? + + CHARLES: Or ask more than a brevity of joy + To bud on my life's withering close? + + ANTONIO: But, sir----! + + CHARLES: If it bud not----! + + ANTONIO: What thought impels and wrings + These angers from your eyes? + + CHARLES (_slowly, gazing at him_): You're like your mother. + + ANTONIO: In trouble for your peace, more than in feature. + + CHARLES: Peace--peace? Antonio, a dream has come: + To stir--to wake--to learn it is a dream-- + I must not, will not look on such abyss. + You love me, boy? + + ANTONIO: Sir, well: you cannot doubt it. + + CHARLES: There has been darkness in me--and it seems + Such night as would put out a heaven of hope, + Quench an eternity of flaming joy! + I have sunk down under the world and hit + On nethermost despair: flown blind across + An infinite unrest! + + ANTONIO: Forget it, now. + + CHARLES: Had I drunk Lethe's all 'twould not have stilled + The crying of my desolation's want. + Within me tenderness to iron turned, + Gladness to worm and gloom.--But 'tis o'erpast. + A rift, a smile, a breath has come--blown me + From torture to an ecstasy. + + ANTONIO: To----? + + CHARLES: Ecstasy! + Such as surrounds Hyperion on his sun, + Or Pleiads sweeping seven-fold the night. + + ANTONIO: And you--this breath----? + + CHARLES: Is--you are pale! + And press your lips from trembling! + + ANTONIO: No--yes--well-- + This ecstasy? + + CHARLES: Is love! is love that-- How? + You feign! distress and groaning tear in you! + + ANTONIO: No. She you love---- + + CHARLES: O, Eve new-burst on Eden, + All pure with the prime beauty of God's breath, + Was not so! + + ANTONIO: She is Helena?--the Greek? + + CHARLES: She--Still you do not ail?--Yes, Helena, + Who--But you are not well and cannot share + This ravishment!--I will not ask it--now. + This ravishment!--Ah, she has stayed the tread + And stilled the whispering of death: has called + Echoes of youth from me! and all I feared.... + I think--you are not well. Shall we go in? + + +CURTAIN. + + + + +ACT THREE + + +_Scene._--_The gardens of the castle. Paths meet under a large lime in +the centre, where seats are placed. The wall of the garden crosses the +rear, and has a postern. It is night of the same day, and behind a +convent on a near hill the moon is rising. A nightingale sings._ + +_Enter GIULIA, CECCO, and NALDO._ + + GIULIA: That bird! Always so noisy, always vain + Of gushing. Sing, and sing, sing, sing, it must! + As if nobody else would speak or sleep. + + CECCO: Let the bird be, my jaunty. 'Tis no lie + The shrew and nightingale were never friends. + + GIULIA: No more were shrew and serpent. + + CECCO: Well what would + You scratch from me? + + GIULIA: If there is anything + To be got from you, then it must be scratched. + + CECCO: Yet shrews do not scratch serpents. + + GIULIA: If they're caught + Where they can neither coil nor strike? + + CECCO: Well, _I_ + Begin to coil. + + GIULIA: And I'll begin to scotch + You ere 'tis done.--Give me the postern key. + + CECCO: Your lady's voice--but you are not your lady. + + GIULIA: And were I you not long would be your lord's. + Give me the key. + + CECCO: I coil--I coil! will soon + Be ready for a strike, my tender shrew. + + GIULIA: Does the duke know you've hidden from his ear + Antonio's passion? does he?--ah?--and shall + I tell him? ah? + + CECCO: You heard then---- + + GIULIA: He likes well + What's kept so thriftily. + + CECCO (_scowling_): You want the key + To let in Boro to chuck your baby face + And moon with you! He's been discharged--take care. + + GIULIA: The duke might learn, too, you're not clear between + His ducats and your own. + + CECCO: There then (_gives key_), but---- + + GIULIA (_as he goes_): Oh? + And shrews do not scratch serpents? You may spy, + But others are not witless, I can tell you! + (_CECCO goes_. + Now, Naldo (_gives him key and writing_), do not lose the + writing. But + Should you, he must not come till two. For 'tis + At twelve the Greek will meet Antonio. + + (_NALDO goes, through the postern: GIULIA to the castle._ + +_Enter HELENA and PAULA from another part of the gardens._ + + HELENA: At twelve, said he, at twelve, beside the arbor? + + PAULA: Yes, mistress. + + HELENA: I were patient if the moon + Would slip less sadly up. She is so pale-- + With longing for Endymion her lover. + + PAULA: Has she a lover? Oh, how strange. Is it + So sweet to love, my lady? I have heard + Men die and women for it weep themselves + Into the grave--yet gladly. + + HELENA: Sweet? Ah, yes, + To terror! for the edge of fate cares not + How quick it severs. + + PAULA: On my simple hills + They told of one who slew herself on her + Dead lover's breast. Would you do so? + Would you, my lady? + + HELENA: There's no twain in love. + My heart is in my lord Antonio's + To beat, Paula, or cease with it. + + PAULA: But died + He far away? + + HELENA: Far sunders flesh not souls. + Across all lands the hush of death on him + Would sound to me; and, did he live, denial, + Though every voice and silence spoke it, could + Not reach my rest!--But he is near. + + PAULA: O no, + Not yet, my lady. + + HELENA: Then some weariness + Has pluckt the minutes' wings and they have crept. + + PAULA: But 'tis not twelve, else would we hear the band + Of holy Basil from their convent peace + Dreamily chant. + + HELENA: Nay, hearts may hear beyond + The hark of ears! Listen! to me his step + Thrills thro' the earth. + (_ANTONIO approaches and enters the postern._) + 'Tis he! Go Paula, go: + But sleep not. + (_PAULA hastens out._) + (_Going to him._) My Antonio, I breathe, + Now no betiding fell athwart thy path + To stay thee from me! + + ANTONIO: Stronger than all betiding + This hour has reached and drawn me yearning to thee! + (_Takes her in his arms._) + + HELENA: And may all hours! + + ANTONIO: All! tho' we two will still + Be more than destiny--which cannot grasp + Beyond the grave. + + HELENA: 'Tis sadly put, my lord. + + ANTONIO: Ah, sadly, loathly; but, my Helena-- + + HELENA: I would not sink from it, the simple sun-- + Fade to a tomb! What dirging hast thou heard + To mind thee of it? + + ANTONIO: Love is a bliss too bright + To rest on earth. With it God should give us + Ever to soar above mortality. + But you must know----! + + HELENA: Not yet, tell me not yet! + Dimly I see the burden in your eyes, + But dare not take it yet into my own. + Let us a little look upon the moon, + Forgetting. (_They seat themselves._) + + ANTONIO (_musingly_): These hands--this hair-- + (_Caressing them._) + + HELENA: Like a farewell + Your touch falls on them. + + ANTONIO (_moved_): To a father yield them? + + HELENA: Antonio? + + ANTONIO (_still caressing_): No, no! It cannot be! + + HELENA: This dread--and shrinking--let me have it!--speak! + You mean--look on me!--mean, your father?-- + + ANTONIO: Ah! + It must not! must not! + + HELENA: Do you mean--he--No! + Let him not touch me even in thy thought, + To me come nearer than a father may! + + ANTONIO: He's swept by the sweet contagion of you, wrapt + In a fierce spell by your effulgent youth. + + HELENA: Say, say it not! To him I but smiled up-- + But smiled! + + ANTONIO: He knew not that such smiles could dawn + In a bare world. And now is flame; would take + Your tenderness into his arms and hear + Seized to him the warm music of your heart. + O, I could be for him--he is my father-- + Prometheus stormed and gnawed on Caucasus, + Tantalus ever near the slipping wave, + Or torn and tossed to burning martyrdom-- + But not--not this! + + HELENA: Then, flight! In it we may + Find haven and new nurture for our bliss. + + ANTONIO: Snap from his hunger this one hope, so he + Must starve? Push him who has but learned there's light + Back into yawning blindness? Ah, not flight! + + HELENA: I know he is your father, and my days + Have been all fatherless, tho' I have made + Me child to every wind that had caress + And to each lonely tree of the deep wood-- + Oft envious of those who touch gray hairs, + Or spend desire on filial grief and pang. + And most have you a softness in him kept, + Been to him more than empire's tyranny-- + But baffled none can measure him nor trust! + + ANTONIO: Yet must we wait. + + HELENA: When waiting shall but goad + The speed of peril? + + ANTONIO: Still: and strain to win + Him from this brink.--If vainly, then birth, pity, + And memory shall fall from me!--all, all, + But fierceness for thy peace! + + HELENA: My Antony! + + ANTONIO: And fierceness without falter! + + HELENA: I am thine, + Thine more than immortality is God's! + Hear, does the nightingale not tell it thee? + The stars do they not tremble it, the moon + Murmur it argently into thine eyes? + + ANTONIO: Ah, sorceress! You need but breathe to put + Abysm from us; but build words to float us + On infinite ecstasy. (_Kisses her._) + + HELENA: How, how thy kisses + Sing in me! + + ANTONIO: From my heart they do but send + Echoes born of thy beauty mid its strings! + + HELENA: Then would I lean forever at thy lips, + Lose no reverberance, no ring, no waft, + Hear nothing everlastingly but them! + + (_A mournful chant is borne from the Convent. They slowly + unclasp, awed._) + + ANTONIO: Weary with vigil does it swell and sink, + Moaning the dead. + + HELENA: Ah, no! There are no dead + To-night in all the world. Could God see them + Lie cold and wondrous still, while we are rich + In warmth and throb! + + ANTONIO: Yet, hear. The funeral tread + Of the old sea sighs in each strain, and breaks. + + HELENA: As I were drowned and heard it over me, + It cometh--cometh! + (_Her head droops back on his arm. A pause._) + + ANTONIO (_touching her face_): Cold! cold!--your lips--your brow! + And you are pale as with a prophecy! + + HELENA: Oh--oh! + + ANTONIO: Your spirit is not in you but + Afar and suffering! + + HELENA: A vision sweeps me. + + ANTONIO: Awake from it! + + HELENA (_recovering_): A waste of waves that beat + Upon a cliff--and beat! Yet thou and I + Had place in it. + + ANTONIO: Come to yon arbour, come. + The moon has looked too long on the sad earth, + And can reflect but sorrow. + + HELENA: Ah, I fear! + (_They go clinging passionately together._ + +_Enter CHARLES and CECCO._ + + CHARLES: And yet it is a little thing to sleep-- + Just to lie down and sleep. A child may do it. + + CECCO: If my lord would, here's sleep for him wrapped in + A quiet powder. + + CHARLES: Sleep is ever mate + Of peace and should go with it. I have slept + In the wild arms of battle when the winds + Of souls departing fearfully shook by, + And on the breast of dizzy danger cradled + Softly been lulled. Potions should be for them + Who wrestle and are thrown by misery. + + CECCO: And is my lord at peace? + + CHARLES: Strangely.--Yet seem + For sleep too coldly calm. + + CECCO: So were you, sir-- + I keep your words lest you may need of them-- + On the same night young Haemon's father went + The secret way to death. + + CHARLES: Of that!--of that?-- + + CECCO: Pardon, I but---- + + CHARLES: Smirker!--Yet, was it so? + That night indeed? + + CECCO: Sir, surely. + + CHARLES: And the moon's + 'Scutcheon hung stainless up the purple east? + + CECCO: Half, sir; even as now. + + CHARLES (_as to himself_): Since that hour's close + To this I have not stood in so much calm. + Still was he not in every vein of him, + And breath, a traitor? A Greek who--I'll not say it, + Since she is Greek I must forget the word + Sounds the diapason of perfidy. + + CECCO: My lord thinks of the gentle Helena? + + CHARLES: And if I do? + + CECCO: Why, sir---- + + CHARLES: Well? + + CECCO: Nothing: but---- + + CHARLES: Subtle! your nothing harboreth some theft + Of spial. + + CECCO: Sir, I--no--that is---- + + CHARLES: That is + It does! Must I--persuade it from your throat? + (_Makes to choke him._) + + CECCO: It was of lord Antonio---- + + CHARLES: Speak then. + + CECCO: Have you not marked him sundry of his moods? + + CHARLES: Well? + + CECCO: On his back in the wood as if the leaves + Sung fairy balladry; then riding wild + Nowhither and alone; about the castle + Yearning, yet absent to soft speech and arms! + He'll drink, sir, and not know if it be wine! + + CHARLES: So is he! but to-day he bold unsheathed + His skill and bravery. + + CECCO: And did not crave + A boon of you? + + CHARLES: None. But you put not ill + My thought to it. His aspiration flags---- + + CECCO: Ah, flags. + + CHARLES: New wings it needs and buoyancy. + My trust in him is ripe: the fruit of it, + He shall be lord of Arta--total lord. + + CECCO: He begged no softer boon? + + CHARLES: Cunning! again? + Sleek questions of a sleeker consequence? + + CECCO: It was, sir, only of Antonio. + + CHARLES: Worm, you began so. Stretch now to the end, + Or--will you? + + CECCO: I would say--would ask--and hope + There is no thorny hint in it to vex you, + To prick your humor--may not he be sick, + Amorous, mellow sick upon some maid? + + CHARLES: Have you so labored to this atom's birth? + Is a boy's passion so new under the moon + You gape at it? + + CECCO: But if, sir---- + + CHARLES: I had thought + Would start up in your words some Titan woe, + No human catapult could war upon! + Some dread colossal doom, frenzied to fall! + Were it he's traitor gnawing at my throne, + Or ready with some potent cruelty + To blight this tenderness new-sprung in me-- + I would--even have listened! + + (_Noise is heard at the postern. It is unlocked. HAEMON + enters, and stops in consternation._) + + CHARLES: Keys? To--this? + + HAEMON: I--have excuse. + + CHARLES: Perchance also you have + Them to my gems and secrecies? Shall I + Not show their hiding?--rubies, and fair gold? + + HAEMON: Mistake me not, my lord. + + CHARLES: I could not: you + Have come at midnight--a most honest hour. + Enter this postern--a most honest way, + And seem most honest--Why, I could not, sir! + + HAEMON: You wrong me, and have wronged me. I but come + To loose my sister. + + CHARLES: As to-day you would + Have loosed her with a piercing--into death? + + HAEMON: Rather, could I! Antonio--yet neither. + Since you, not he, are here, my passion melts + Into a plea. Humbly as manhood may-- + + CHARLES: This fever still? + + HAEMON: This fever! Must I be + As ice while soiling flames leap out at her? + And passionless--as one cold in a trance? + Rigid while she in stealth is drugged to shame? + Be voiceless and be vain, unstung, and still? + I must wait softly while her innocence + Is drained as virgin freshness from the morn?-- + Though he were twice Antonio and your son, + An emperor and a god, I would not! + + CHARLES: Ever, + And ever bent upon Antonio? + Be not a torrent, boy, of rush and foam. + Be not, of roar!--Yet--look: Antonio? + You said Antonio? + + HAEMON: Yes. + + CHARLES (_troubled_): You did ill + To say it! He's my son. + + HAEMON: I care not. + + CHARLES: Have + You cause--a ground--some reason? Men should when + Suspicions curve their lips. + + HAEMON: Cause! reason! + + CHARLES: No: + He is my son. His flesh has memories + That would cry out and curdle him to madness, + Palsy and strangle every pregnant wish, + Or bring in him compassion like a flood. + + HAEMON (_contemptuous_): O----? + + CHARLES: Never!--Yet, a lurking at my brain! + +_Enter PAULA, hurriedly._ + + PAULA: My lord Antonio! my lady! (_Seeing CHARLES._) O! + + CHARLES (_strangely_): Come here. + + PAULA: O, sir! + + CHARLES (_taking her wrist_): Were you not in a haste? + + PAULA: I--I--I do not know. + + CHARLES: Girl!--Why do you + Drop fearful to your knees? + + PAULA: 'Tis late, sir, late, + Let me go in! + + CHARLES: You have a mistress who + Keeps quick temptation in her eyes and hair. + A shy mole too lies pillowed on her cheek-- + Does she rest well? + + PAULA: My lord---- + + CHARLES: Ah, you would say + She sometimes walks asleep: and you have come + To fetch her? + + PAULA: Loose me, sir! + + CHARLES: Or she has left + Her kerchief in some nook: you seek it? + + PAULA: O, + Your eyes! your eyes! + + CHARLES: I have a son: are his + Not like them? + + PAULA: My wrist, sir! + + CHARLES: It was night, then--night? + You could not see him clearly? + + PAULA: Mercy! + + CHARLES (_looking about_): Yet + Perchance he too walks in his sleep. Were it + Quite well if they have met--these two that walk? + + PAULA: My lady, my sweet lady! + + CHARLES (_releasing her_): Go, for she + Still wonderful may lie upon her couch, + One arm dropt whitely. If you prayed for her-- + If you should pray for her--Something may chance: + There is so much may chance--we cannot know! + (_PAULA goes._ + (_Disturbed._) This child who hath but dwelt about her, touched + And coiled the mystery of her hair, has might + Almost too much! + + HAEMON: You cloud me with these words. + Were they Antonio's---- + + CHARLES: If I but think + "Helena" must you link "Antonio" to it! + Can they not be, yet be apart? Will winds + Not bear them, and not sound them separate! + If angels cry one at the stars will they + But echo back the other?--This is froth-- + The froth and fume of folly. You are thick + In falsity, and in disquietude. + Another rapture rules Antonio's eye, + Not Helena. + + HAEMON: You know it--yet have led + Her to his arms? + + CHARLES: His arms! Ah, mole to burrow + Thus under blind and muddy misbelief! + To mine is she come here. (_Terribly._) Were he a seraph, + And did from Paradise desire to fold her-- + No mercy!--But, I will speak as a child, + As he who woke with Ruth fair at his feet; + Long have I gleaned amid the years and lone. + She shall glean softly now beside me--softly, + Till sunset fail in me and I am night. + + HAEMON: This is a gin, a net, and I am fast! + + CHARLES: A net to snare what never has been free? + + HAEMON: Still must it be this tenderness lives false + Upon your lips. + + CHARLES: "Must," say you, "must," yet stand---- + + HAEMON: Then shall he rest--lie easy down and rest In treachery? + + CHARLES: He----? + + HAEMON: Yes. + + CHARLES: You mean----? + + HAEMON: Yes!--yes! + + CHARLES: Antonio? + + HAEMON: Is it not open? + + CHARLES (_confusedly_): No: + Glooms start around me, glooms that seethe and cling. + + HAEMON: This maid who called, did she come idly here? + You stir? you rouse? + + CHARLES: A coldness runs in me. + + HAEMON: And have not I come strangely on the hour! + + CHARLES: It 'gins to burn! + + HAEMON: Not entered a strange way? + + CHARLES: You pause and ever pause upon my patience. + 'Twill heave unbearably! + + HAEMON: Then hear me, hear!-- + Senseless against a bank I found a boy, + Hurled by some ruthless hoof. Near him this key + And writing---- + + CHARLES: Tell it! + + HAEMON: That avows, mid lines + Clandestine of purport, Antonio + And Helena, under these shades at twelve---- + + CHARLES: You bring on me a furious desolation. + But Fulvia, ah, she---- + + HAEMON: Not there is trust! + She is aware and aids in his deceit. + This writing says it of her. + + CHARLES: Fulvia? No! + No, no!--Though she had sudden whispers for him! + A lie--Yet fast belief fixes its fangs + On me and will not loose me--for against + My hope she set a coldness and a doubt! + O woman woven through all fibres of me! + (_Starting up._) But he----! + + HAEMON: Ah then, it runs in you, the rush + And pang that answer mine? + + CHARLES (_quietly_): If they are still---- + + HAEMON: Under these shades? + + CHARLES: And--lips to lips---- + + HAEMON: Ah, God! + You will?--you will? + + CHARLES: Hush! something--No, it was + But fate cried out in me, not any voice. + + HAEMON: We must be swift. + + CHARLES: It cries again. I will + Not listen! He's not flesh of me--not flesh! + A traitor is no son, nor was nor shall be! + Though it shriek desolation utterly + I will not listen! + + HAEMON: Do not! + + CHARLES: And to-day + He shook, ashen and clenched, remembering + The guilty secret in him! + + HAEMON: Still he's free. + + CHARLES: My words fell warm as tears--"A rift has come, + A rift, a smile, a breath"--men speak so when + They creep from madness up into some space + Whose element is love. + + HAEMON: And will you sink + To a weak palsy--who should o'erwhelm + With penalty! + + CHARLES (_rousing_): No! all and ever false + Was he who's so when most he should be true! + I will make treachery bitter to all time. + Bring dread on all to whom are given sons! + Down generations shall they peer and tremble, + Look on me as on majesties accursed!-- + Search every shade--search, search! You stand as death. + I am in famine till he gives me groan! + (_They go in opposite directions._ + +_Enter FULVIA, distressed, and GIULIA._ + + FULVIA: He was with Haemon? + + GIULIA: On that seat. + + FULVIA: Convulsed, + Yet passionless? + + GIULIA: His words were low + + FULVIA: Why were + You not asleep? + + GIULIA: I---- + + FULVIA: Did he beat his hands + Briefly--and then no more? + + GIULIA: I was behind---- + + FULVIA: And could not see? But heard their names? + The Greek is still without? + + GIULIA: My lady, yes. + + FULVIA: Your voice is guilty. How came Haemon in? + Answer me, answer! No, go quickly! If + The duke has entered now and sleeps! Or if----! + + (_Words and swords are heard, then a shriek from HELENA. + CHARLES rushes in furious and wounded in the arm, followed + by HELENA, ANTONIO, who is dazed, and from Castle side by + HAEMON, guards, etc._) + + ANTONIO: You, you, sir? father? I knew it not, so swift + Your rage fell on me. + + CHARLES (_to a guard_): Gaping, ghastly fool! + Do you behold him murderous and lay + No hand on him! + + ANTONIO: But, sir----! + + CHARLES: Let him not fawn + About me! Seize him! God forgives not Hell. + Not this blood only but my soul's be on him. + + HELENA: O, do not, he---- + + CHARLES: Stand! stand! Touch me not with + Your voice or eyes or being! They are soft + With perfidy, and stole me to believe + There's sweetness in a flower, light in air, + And beauty in the innocence of earth. + Bind him! Leucadia's just cliff awaits + All traitors--'tis the law, they must be flung + Out on the dizzy and supportless wind. + + FULVIA: But this shall never be! No, though your looks + Heave out with hate upon me. + + CHARLES (_convulsed, then coldly_): You are dead, + And speak to me. Once you were Fulvia-- + No more! And once my friend, now but a ghost + Whom I must gaze upon forgetlessly. + Obey, at once! and at to-morrow's sunset! + + (_ANTONIO is taken and led out._) + + HELENA (_falling at CHARLES' feet_): You cannot, will not--O, he + is your son + And loves you much! + + CHARLES: Touch me not! touch me not! + (_To HAEMON._) Lead her away--and quickly, quickly, quickly! + (_HAEMON goes with HELENA through the postern._ + Friends--friends-- (_unsteadily_) I am--quite--friendless now--? + (_Clutching his wounded arm._) Ah--quite! (_He faints._) + + FULVIA: Charles! Charles! my lord! return!--A numbness + Has barred the way of soothing to his breast! + + +CURTAIN. + + + + +ACT FOUR + + +_Scene._--_A chamber in the Castle, opening on the right to a hall, +curtained on the left from another chamber. In the rear is a window +through which may be seen silvery hills of olive resting under the +late afternoon sun: by it a shrine. Enter the CAPTAIN of the Guard +and a SOLDIER from the Hall._ + + SOLDIER: There is no more? + + CAPTAIN: Not if you understand. + + SOLDIER: That do I--every link of it! I've served + Under the bold de Montreal, and he + For stratagems--well, Italy knows him! + + CAPTAIN: You must be quick and secret. + + SOLDIER: As the end + Of the world! + + CAPTAIN: Our duty's with the duke. But then + Antonio has our love. + + SOLDIER: That has he! Ah, + That has he! + + CAPTAIN: Well, be close. None must escape, + Remember, none be hurt. As for the princess, + We'll hear the chink of ducats with her thanks. + + SOLDIER: Madonna save her!--The Judas of a father + Who robs her rest! + + CAPTAIN (_looking down the hall_): 'Tis she who comes this way. + So go, and haste. But fail not. + + SOLDIER: If I do, + Bury me with a pagan, next a Turk! + (_Goes._ + +_Enter FULVIA._ + + CAPTAIN: Princess-- + + FULVIA: Our plans grow to fulfilment--are + No way misplanted? + + CAPTAIN: Lady, all seems now + Seasonable for their expected fruit. + + FULVIA: No accident appears to threat and thwart them? + + CAPTAIN: Doubt not a fullest harvest of your hope. + The duke himself shall for this deed at last + Have benediction. + + FULVIA: May it be! He's quick, + Though quicker in forgetting. I will move + Him as I may. + + CAPTAIN: The kind and wise assaults + Your words shall make must move him, gracious lady. + +_Enter HAEMON._ + + HAEMON: I seek the duke. + + FULVIA (_dismissing CAPTAIN with a gesture_): + You would seek penitence + Were you less far in folly. + + HAEMON (_as going_): O--if he's + Not here, then---- + + FULVIA: Sorrow too would strain your lips, + Not cold defiance. + + HAEMON: Pardon: if you know, + Where is he? + + FULVIA: Was it easy to o'erwhelm + Under the ruin of her dreams a sister? + + HAEMON: Better beneath her dreams than under shame. + + FULVIA: Your rashness cloaks itself in that excuse, + Your ruth, and your suspicion that has doomed + One innocent. + + HAEMON: One innocent! His thought + Had but betrayal for her! + + FULVIA: 'Tis the Greek + In you avows it, no true voice. + + HAEMON: Then 'tis + My father murdered whose last moan I hear + Driven about me in this castle's gray + Cold spaces. And the dead speak not to lie. + + FULVIA: No, no. You cannot brave your action with + The spur of that belief. + + HAEMON: What want you of me? + + FULVIA: This: ache and restlessness are on you. + + HAEMON (_impatiently_): No. + + FULVIA: And doubt begins in you that as a wolf + Will scent the wounded quarry of your conscience. + + HAEMON: After he lured and wooed her under night + And secrecy? + + FULVIA: Not running there will you + Escape its dread pursuit. + + HAEMON: He frauded--duped + His father's trust! + + FULVIA: Or there! But one refuge + Have you against its bitter ceaseless tooth, + And that above the wilds of self-deceit. + + HAEMON: Why do you wind so sinuously about me? + No refuge can be from an hour that's done. + Shall we invert the glass or tilt the dial + To bring it back? + + FULVIA: But if there were? + + HAEMON: Where is + The duke--I will not bauble. + + FULVIA: If there were? + + HAEMON: I will no longer listen to the worm, + You set to feed upon me--torturing! + The sun melts to an end, and with the night + Antonio will not be. + + FULVIA: Yet there is time. + + HAEMON: The duke is fixed. + + FULVIA: No matter: 'gainst the swell + And power of this peril you must lean. + + HAEMON: I----? + + FULVIA: Yes. + + HAEMON: You have a plan? + + FULVIA: One that is sure. + (_Steps are heard._) + But through those curtains, quick. For more seek out + The Captain of the guard. The duke comes hither. + (_HAEMON goes through the curtains._ + +_CHARLES enters, worn, dishevelled, and followed by CECCO. He sees +FULVIA and pauses._ + + FULVIA: I come to plead. + + CHARLES: (_turning away_): Ah! Nature should have pled + With her your mother, 'gainst conception. + + FULVIA: Your trust is causelessly withdrawn. Yet for + A breath again I beg it--for a moment! + + CHARLES: A moment were too much--or not enough. + Is trust a flower of sudden birth we may + Bid bloom with a command? + + FULVIA: Ah, that it were, + Or bloomed as amaranth in those we love, + Beyond all drought and withering of ill! + But hear me----! + + CHARLES: Leave these words. + + FULVIA: Will you not turn + Out of this rage? + + CHARLES: Leave them, I say, and cease! + Still down the vortex of this destiny + I would not farther have you drawn. + + FULVIA: Then from + It draw yourself! + + CHARLES: Myself am but a hulk + Whose treasures have already been engulfed. + + FULVIA: Yet shrink from it! + + CHARLES: A son, a friend, a--No, + She was not mine!--I will not turn. + + FULVIA: It is + Your fury that distorts us into guilt. + Although he will not render up his heart, + But flings you stony and unfilial speech, + Fearing for her---- + + CHARLES: Leave! + + FULVIA: We---- + + CHARLES: Thrice have I said it! + + FULVIA: Yet must I not until your will is wasted. + + CHARLES (_angrily_): Ah! + + (_FULVIA sighs then goes slowly._) + + CHARLES: Cecco! + + CECCO: My lord? + + CHARLES: The hour? + + CECCO (_going to window_): It leans to sunset. + + CHARLES: The sky--the sky? + + CECCO: A murk moves slowly up. + + CHARLES (_wearily_): There should be storm--gloating of wind and + grind + Of hopeless thunders. Lightnings should laugh out + As tongues of fiends. There should be storm. + (_His head sinks on his breast._) + (_Suddenly._) Yet!--yet!---- + + CECCO: My lord? + + CHARLES: The glow and glory of her seem + Dead in me! + + CECCO: Of--the Greek? + + CHARLES: And yearning has + Grown impotent--as 'twere a moment's folly, + A left and quickly quenched desire of youth + Kindled in me!--To youth alone love's sudden. + + CECCO: Sir, dare I speak? + + CHARLES: Speak. + + CECCO: When Antonio---- + + CHARLES: Cease: but a whisper of his name and I + Am frenzy--frenzy--though the stillness burns + And bursts with it! + + (_CECCO steps back. A pause._) + + CHARLES: The sun, how hangs it now? + + CECCO (_going to window_): Above the bloody waving of the sea, + Eager to dip. + + CHARLES (_staggering up_): Ah, I was in a foam---- + Bitten by hounds of fury and despair! + Did you not, Fulvia, pleading for them say + They quailed but would not flee and leave me waste? + + CECCO: She is not here, my liege. + + CHARLES: Antonio! + Ah, boy! thou ever wast to me as wafts + Of light, of song, of summer on the hills! + Soft now I feel thy baby arms about me, + And all the burgeon of thy youth, ere proud + And cruel years grew in me, comes again + On wings and stealing winds of memory! + + CECCO: O, then, sir---- + + CHARLES: Yes. Fly, fly! and stay the guard! + He must not--Ah!--down fearful fathoms, down + Into the roar! + (_CECCO starts. He stops him._) + Yet he has flung me from + Immeasurable peaks, and I have sunk + Forevermore beneath hope's horizon. + Who falls so close the grave can rise no more. + + CECCO: This your despair would wound him more than death. + Forget the girl. + + CHARLES: She? Ah, my sullen, wild, + And gloomy pulse beat with a rightful scorn + Against the hours that sieged it. Stony was + Its solitude and fierce, bastioned against + All danger of quick blisses--till, with fury + For that mute tenderness which women's love + Lays on the desolation of the world, + She ravished it!--Yet now 'tis still and cold. + + CECCO: But 'twas unknowingly. + + CHARLES: A woman's smile + Never was luring, never, but she knew it, + As hawk the cruel rapture of his wings. + + CECCO: She though is young, and youth---- + + CHARLES: Must pay with moan + The shriving!--Ah, the sun--the sun--where burns it? + + CECCO: Upon a cloud whence it must spring to night. + + CHARLES: So low? + + CECCO: Sir, yes. + + CHARLES: Ah, 'tis? so low? + + CECCO: Red now + It rushes forth. + + CHARLES: A breathing of the world, + And then!--Antonio! + + CECCO: Again a cloud + Withholds. + + CHARLES: Antonio! + + CECCO: It dips, my lord. + + CHARLES (_frenzied_): O, will great Christ upon it lay no fear! + Let it swoon down as if its sinking sent + No signal unto Death--and plunge, plunge thee, + Antonio, forever from the day! + Has He no miracle will seize it yet! + Nor will lend now His thunder to cry hold, + His lightning to flame off the hands that grasp, + Bidden to hurl thee o'er! + + CECCO: 'Tis sunk! + + CHARLES (_rushing to window_): Yes!--Yes! + (_Starting back horrified._) The vision of it! Ah,--see + you not, see! + They lift him, swing him--Now! down, down, down, down! + The rocks! the lash! the foam! + + (_Sinks exhausted in his chair. CECCO pours out wine._) + +_Enter hurriedly, a SOLDIER._ + + SOLDIER: Great lord! + + CECCO: What now! + It is ill-timed! + + SOLDIER: Great lord, there's mutiny! + + CECCO: And where? + + SOLDIER: Hear me, great sir, there's mutiny! + + CECCO: The town? the town? + + CHARLES (_rousing_): Ay----? + + SOLDIER: Mutiny! your haste! + + CHARLES: O, mutiny. + + SOLDIER: Sir, yes! + + CHARLES: And do the ranks + Of hell roar up at me?--It is not strange. + + SOLDIER (_confused_): The ranks of--pardon, lord. + + CHARLES: Do the skies rage----? + They were else dead to madness. + + SOLDIER: Sir, it is + Your guard beyond the gates. + + CHARLES: 'Tis every throat + Of earth and realm unearthly has a cry + Against me and against! + + SOLDIER: No, but a few---- + + CHARLES: You doubt it?--Are my eyes not bloody? Say! + + SOLDIER: Sir! sir! + + CHARLES: My lips then are not pale with murder + Bitterly done? + + SOLDIER: Pale--no. + + CHARLES: Yet have I killed; + Spoke death with them--not reasonless--yet death. + And all the lost have echoes of it: hear + You not a spirit clamor on the air? + Ploughing as storms of pain it passes through me. + Mutiny? Go. I could call chaos fair, + And fawn on infinite ruin--fawn and praise. + (_SOLDIER goes._ + Yet will not yield! (_To CECCO._) My robes and coronet! + (_CECCO goes to obey._ + I'll sit in them and mock at greatness that + A passion may unthrone. If we weep not + Calamity will leave to torture us, + And fate for want of tears will thirst to death! + +_Enter CARDINAL._ + + Ah, priestly sir. + + CARDINAL: Infuriate man! + + CHARLES: Speak so. + I lust for bitterness. + + CARDINAL: What have you done! + + CHARLES (_shuddering, then smiling_): Watched the sun set. Did + it not, think you, bleed + Unwontedly along the waves? + + CARDINAL: O horror! + Horrible when a father slays and smiles! + + CHARLES: Not so, lord Cardinal, not so!--but when + He slays and smileth not. + + CARDINAL: Beyond all mercy! + + CHARLES: Therefore I smile. Men should not mid the trite + Enchanting and vain trickery of earth + Till they no longer hope of it, or want. + Smiles should be kept for life's unbearable. + + CARDINAL: Murderer! + + CHARLES: Ah! + + CARDINAL: Heretic! + + CHARLES: Well. + (_Goes to shrine and casts it out the window._) + + CARDINAL: Fool! fool! + + CHARLES: There are no wise men, O lord Cardinal. + + CARDINAL: Heaven let Antonio's death under the sea + Make every wave a tongue against your rest, + And 'gainst the rock of this impenitence! + (_CHARLES listens as to something afar off._) + No wind should blow that has not sting of it, + No light stream that it stains not! + + CHARLES (_sighing_): You have loosed + Your robe, lord prelate--see. + + CARDINAL: O stone! thou stone! + + CHARLES: Have peace. A keener cry comes up to me + Than frenzy can invoke: a vaster pain + Than justice from Omnipotence may call. + + CARDINAL: My lips shall learn it. + + CHARLES: "Father" moans it. "Father!"---- + It is my ears' inheritance forever. + +_Enter FULVIA_ + + FULVIA: Lord Cardinal, one of your servants has + In quarrel been struck, and mortally 'tis feared. + Quickly to him: then I may plead of you + Escort to Rome. + + CARDINAL: I do not understand. + + FULVIA: But shall. + + CARDINAL: To Rome? + + FULVIA: Do not pause here to learn + With the dear minutes of a dying man. + (_CARDINAL goes._ + + CHARLES: You baffle and bewilder. + + FULVIA: Well. + + CHARLES: You--?--Yes! + I am beat off by it. + + FULVIA: Ten years of shelter + Have you held over me. + + CHARLES: Ten years---- + + FULVIA: Whose days, + Whose every moment else had borne a torture. + + CHARLES: Now----? + + FULVIA: I, perhaps, must go. + + CHARLES: Must?--Still I grope. + + FULVIA: Must go! Though in this castle's aged calm + And melancholy dusk no shadow is + Or niche but may remember prayer for thee. + + CHARLES: To Rome? You must?--I am under a spell. + + FULVIA: We, thou and I, after the battle's foam + Or chase's tired return, often have breathed + The passionate deep hours away in rest + And sympathy. + + CHARLES: Say on. Your voice--I marvel---- + + FULVIA: And at the dawn have looked and sighed, then slow + With quiet clasp of fingers turned apart. + + CHARLES: You go?--But, on!--your tone--in it I feel---- + + FULVIA: Have we not fast been friends? + + CHARLES: What hath your voice? + + FULVIA: Such friends have we not been as grow up from + Eternity? + + CHARLES: You say it, and I wake. + + Fulvia: Such friends--till yesterday you---- + + CHARLES: Ah! + + FULVIA: Changed sudden as the sea when cometh storm. + + CHARLES: I had forgot--forgot!--the sun!--the sea! + The sea!--Antonio!--The cliff--the surf! + The shroud and funeral fury of the waves! + + FULVIA: Be calm. + + CHARLES (_rising excitedly_): I'll stay it! Cecco, our fleetest + foot! + A rain of ducats if he shall outspeed + This doom on us. More! more! a flood of them, + If he---- + + FULVIA (_drawing him to his chair_): Be patient--calm. + + CHARLES: I--I--remember, + 'Tis night! + + FULVIA: Yes, night. + + CHARLES: The sun's no more! It hath + Gone down beyond all mercy and recall. + + FULVIA: Beyond?--Ah! + + CHARLES (_quickly_): Fulvia? + + FULVIA: 'Tis hard to think! + + CHARLES: You utter and he seemeth still of life. + + FULVIA: He was a child in mimic mail clad out + When first this threshold poured its welcome to me. + + CHARLES: Softly you muse it, and call to your eyes + No quailing nor a flame of execration! + You do not burst out on me? from me do + Not shrink as from an executioner? + + FULVIA: I am a woman who in tears came to + Your strength, in tears depart. + + CHARLES: And will not judge? + But fear me--fear, and flee?--You shall not go! + + FULVIA: Perhaps---- + + CHARLES: Again "perhaps"--this calm "perhaps!"---- + To Rome?--I say you shall not. + + FULVIA: Yet should he, + Antonio, from those curtains come---- + + CHARLES: Should--should? + You speak not reasonably. Why do you say + "If he should come?" + + FULVIA: Because---- + + CHARLES: You've touched + And led me trembling from reality! + Those curtains?--those?--just those?--You shall not go. + + FULVIA: I will not then. + + CHARLES: But something breaks from you, + And as an air of resurrection stirs. + Speak; on your words I wait unutterably. + + FULVIA: Did not a soldier lately come, my lord, + Breathless with eager speech of mutiny----? + + CHARLES: Well--well----? + + FULVIA: Within your guard? + + CHARLES: My guard? No--yes---- + What do I see yet cannot in your words? + + FULVIA: The mutiny was roused at my command. + + CHARLES: Say it--say all! + + FULVIA: To save you the mad blot + Of a son's blood. + + CHARLES: Antonio----? + + FULVIA: Lives! + + CHARLES: Low--low---- + Joy come too furious has piercing peril. + He lives?--You have done this? With these soft hands, + These little hands, held off the shears of Fate? + Have dared? and have not feared? + + FULVIA: Your danger was + My fear--that, and no more. + + CHARLES: He lives?--I have + No worth, no gratitude, no gift that may + Answer this deed--no glow, no eloquence + But would ring poor in rarest words of earth. + He lives?--Years yet are mine. Too brief they'll be + To muse with love of this! + + FULVIA: No, no, my lord. + + CHARLES: But where is he? Belief, tho' risen, strains + In me as if 'twere fast in cerements + That seeing must unbind. + + FULVIA: Turn then, and see. + + (_ANTONIO steps from the curtains._) + + CHARLES: Antonio!--boy! boy! + + ANTONIO: My father! (_They embrace._) + +_Re-enter CARDINAL._ + + CARDINAL: Princess, + If your decision and desire are still---- + + (_Sees ANTONIO._) + + FULVIA: Your eyes look upon flesh, lord Cardinal. + + (_A cry is heard, then weeping._) + + ANTONIO (_startled_): Whose pain is this?--strangely it hurts + me--strangely! + +_Enter CECCO hastily, bearing robe and coronet._ + + CECCO: My lord, the lady Helen's little maid---- + + (_Sees ANTONIO. Shrinks from him._) + + ANTONIO: What of her? Are you horrified to stone! + Her maid?--There are than risen dead worse things + And worse to dread!--her maid? + + CECCO: Sir---- + + ANTONIO: Forth with it! + She direness of her mistress brings? some tale + That earth elsewhere abyssless gaped her up? + That butterfly or bud turn asp to bite her? + + CECCO: Sir--she--the maid craves audience with the duke. + + ANTONIO: Fetch her, and quickly. + (_CECCO goes._ + + FULVIA: Reason, Antonio. + She will but whimper, tell what overmuch + Of grief her mistress makes for you: of tears + Your sunny coming will dry in her. + + ANTONIO (_putting her aside_): These + Hours come not of any good, but are + Infected with resolved adversity. + This dread!---- + + FULVIA: They ever dread who have but quit + The shadow of some doom and the dismay. + +_Re-enter CECCO, with PAULA weeping._ + + ANTONIO: Girl! girl! Thy mistress? + + PAULA (_shrinking_): O!---- + + ANTONIO: I am no ghost. + Thy mistress? + + PAULA: Mary, Mother! (_Sinks praying._) + + ANTONIO (_lifting her up_): Look on me. See! + I have not been down in the grave, nor ev'n + A moment beyond earth. Do you not hear! + + PAULA (_looking at him_): Sir! + + ANTONIO: Tell me. + + PAULA (_hysterically_): Go to her, + O, go to her. + + ANTONIO: But, child----? + + PAULA: She, O!--go seek her, O, she is---- + + ANTONIO: Where, Paula? + + PAULA: Blind all day she moaned and wept. + + ANTONIO: My Helena! + + PAULA: And when the sun was gone, + Came quiet, kissed me--O, go seek her, sir! + + ANTONIO: Kissed you----? + + PAULA: Then to me gave these jewels. O! + And darkly cloaked stole out into the night. + + CHARLES: Alone? + + ANTONIO: Whither, quick, whither? + + PAULA: Ah, I do + Not know: but she---- + + ANTONIO: Pray, pray, tell out your dread. + + PAULA: Last night she said, "My heart is in my lord + Antonio's to beat or cease with it." + I learned her words--they seemed so pretty. + + Charles (_gasping_): Ah! + + ANTONIO: Why do you gasp?--Paula---- + + CHARLES: If she--the cliff! + + ANTONIO: The cliff! The--? + (_Staggers dizzily, then rushes out._ + + CHARLES: Let one go with him--bring + Us what hath passed--hath passed. + (_A SOLDIER goes._ + + PAULA (_with uncontrollable terror_): My lady! + + CHARLES: Child, + I cannot bear thy voice upon my heart! + It hath a tone--a clutch--no more, no more! + I cannot bear it! We must wait. No hap + Has been--no hap, I think--surely no hap. + +_Enter BARDAS deprecatingly, followed by ANTONIO._ + + BARDAS: Antonio! not in the sea? You live? + + ANTONIO: I say, where is she? + + BARDAS: You are mortal? + + ANTONIO (_groaning with impatience_): O + This utter superstition! (_Pricking his arm._) Is it not blood? + + BARDAS: You live! and live? but let her think your death! + You let her! still devising for yourself + Safety and preservation! + + ANTONIO: She's not safe? + + BARDAS: O, safe--if she had shrift! + + CHARLES (_hoarsely_): The dead are so! + + BARDAS: Ay, so. + + ANTONIO: And none above the grave?--no answer? + + BARDAS: She came unto the cliff amid her tears-- + Her being all into one want was fused, + You down the wave to follow. + + ANTONIO: But you grasped----? + You held her? + + BARDAS: Yes---- + + ANTONIO: Then--well? + + BARDAS: She had a phial. + + ANTONIO: God! God! + + BARDAS: Out of her breast she drew it swift, + And instant of it drank. + + ANTONIO: Drank? and she fell? + No?--no?--Ah but you dashed it from her lips? + She did but taste?---- + + BARDAS: Only: and then---- + + ANTONIO: More? more? + + BARDAS: "Is 't not enough," she pled to me, "Enough + That I must wander the cold way of death + Unto his arms? Go hence! There is no rest. + I will go down and clasp him, drift with him + To some unhabited gray ocean vale + God hath forgot. There will we dwell away + From destiny and weeping, from despair!" + + CHARLES: You left her? + + BARDAS: As I held her piteous hand + Came revellers who saw us--jested her + Of taking a new love. She broke my grasp---- + + ANTONIO: And leapt?--down the wide air? + + BARDAS: Swifter than all + Prevention. + + ANTONIO: Helena! O Helena! + That all thy loveliness should fare to this, + Thy glory go in dark calamity! + + BARDAS: I saw her as she leapt and until death + Shall see no more. + + ANTONIO (_drawing_): Blot it from you! Her face, + Her sorrow and her fairness shall not stand + Imprisoned in your eye, tho' 'twere to cry + Relentlessly your crime.--But no--but no! + + (_Sheathing his sword, he pauses, then staggers suddenly + out._) + + PAULA: Let me go to my lady! + + CHARLES: Still her! She + Forever hath a fluttering, a cry, + Undurably. It presses the lone air + With sensitive and aching agony. + + PAULA (_witlessly, in tears_): I know thy song, my lady, I know, I + know! + 'Twas pretty and 'twas strange, but now I know. + + (_Sings._) Sappho! Sappho! + In maiden woe + (Let alone love, it spurns and burns!) + Wept--wept, and leapt-- + O love is so! + (Let alone love, it burns!) + + My lady! O my lady! my sweet lady! + + (_She is led out._) + + FULVIA: This is most sad--most sad, and pitiful. + + CHARLES: I cannot bear her voice upon my heart + +_Enter AGABUS gazing into the air._ + + Again this monk? this dog of death?--and now? + + AGABUS: My trusty Shadow (_Laughs madly._) Ha, he has been here! + My king o' the worms and all corruption!-- + (_Approaching CHARLES._) Lovers, and lovers! O she leapt as 'twere + To Christ and not sin's Pit! And he is gone + To follow her! The devil's nine wits are + Too many! + (_Wanders about._) + + FULVIA: My lord! Your limbs are frozen, + And bloodlessly you stand! Move, rouse, O breathe! + It is not truth but madness that he speaks. + + (_A cry and clanking of armor are heard in the Hall. A + SOLDIER bursts into the chamber._) + + SOLDIER: O duke! O duke! (_Sinks to his knee._) + + CHARLES: (_gazes at him, struggling to speak_): Rise--go--and, + if thou canst-- + To pray. + + SOLDIER: O sir----! + + CHARLES: You have no tidings. + + SOLDIER: Sir---- + + CHARLES (_desperately_): None, fool! but come to say what silence + groans, + What earth numb and in deadness raves to me. + To tell Antonio hath gone out and o'er + A precipice hath stepped for sake of love. + This is not tidings--hath it not on me + Been fixed forever? It is older than + Despair, as old as pain! (_To HAEMON, who has entered._) Your + sister---- + + BARDAS: Haemon----! + + CARDINAL: Hold him not in this anguish. + + FULVIA: She and our + Antonio have left us to our tears. + + (_HAEMON stands motionless._) + + CHARLES: Let no one groan. I say let no one groan-- + Fury on him that groans! (_He blindly rocks to and fro._) + + FULVIA: My lord! + + CHARLES (_taking her hand_): Well--come. + (_As in a trance._) + There's much to do. We will think of the dead. + Perchance 'twill keep them near us: speak to them, + And they may answer while we wait, may float + Dim words on moonbeams to us. O for one + That shall sound of forgiveness and of rest! + (_More wildly._) + O I have started on the mountain's brow + A tremor that has loosed the avalanche; + And penitence too late--too late--too late-- + Was powerless as flowers along its path! + + (_He sinks back into his chair and stares hopelessly before + him._) + + +CURTAIN. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Charles Di Tocca, by Cale Young Rice + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CHARLES DI TOCCA *** + +***** This file should be named 34055.txt or 34055.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/4/0/5/34055/ + +Produced by David Garcia and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was +produced from images generously made available by The +Kentuckiana Digital Library) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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