University of Virginia Library

SCENE II.

A Public Square in Syracuse.
Enter Alphonso, Manfred, and Osmond.
Manf.
These few days are enough to give me wonder,
How one in Syracuse can keep so long
A bachelor.

Osm.
Palermo is a mine
As deeply veined with beauty; but the things
We have we prize not at their height, for aye
Stretching beyond us for a better still;—
Nature's device to draw us up and onward;—
Thus through dissatisfaction with our own
To satisfy her hungry appetite
For sunny change and rich variety.

Alph.
You are a talking theorist; for still
You hug the wilting shade of singleness.

Osm.
'Tis but a step into the sun.

Alph.
And you
Feel autumn's coolness creeping on your veins?

Osm.
I know not if't be that: it well may be:
But since last night I hate what I have loved,
And am in love with thoughts I've always shunned;
I would be the opposite of what I've been,
Think me a fool for being what I am;
And, like a bankrupt, find myself to-day
Suddenly dispossessed of all I've lived on.
I'm ready to begin the world anew.

Manf.
You have been strongly dosed. Who's your physician?

Osm.
Our host Orontio's niece.

Manf.
We shall be cousins.

Osm.
How so?

Manf.
I've asked Orontio for his daughter.

Alph.
His daughter!

Osm.
And how answered he to that?

Manf.
Just as becomes a minister of state;
With stateliness and high-bred courtesy.

Osm.
And promised you the brilliant Rosalie?

Manf.
A minister of state proceeds by steps.
In a first interview he does not say,
In audible words, “Sir, take my daughter.” No;
That were to cheapen both himself and daughter.
But he is shrewd; and being so, will ask,
What makes against this match, and what makes for it?
My friends can doubt not what will be the answer.

Alph.
You have a rival in a visored knight,
Whose steel-cooped eyes fastened on Rosalie,
Making her redden with their fiery gaze,
Such was their glow and hot tenacity;—
And yet, methought, her fancies ripened in it,
Growing more rich and precious from his looks,
Like a Burgundian vineyard in the sun.

Manf.
I'm used to rivals and I dread them not.
Besides, the knight you speak of is my friend.

Alph.
What is his name?

Manf.
I know it not; but finding,
When I accosted him, he knew me well,
I have bespoke his friendly services.
I will go seek him. Gentlemen, adieu.

[Exit.
Osm.
This fellow's tongue filches from words their wealth.
When I have heard him speak, I would be silent,
Ashamed to use speech that has been so emptied.

Alph.
The artless gloss of Rosalie's perfection
Is dulled by the close breath of such a coxcomb.
Osmond, his love makes love ridiculous.

Osm.
He speaks for my especial chastisement.

Alph.
Perhaps for mine. What think you of his suit?

Osm.
That 'tis not worth a thought.

Alph.
You know his station,
Wide-rooted 'mong the highest, in a soil
Steeped to the covert rock in quickening gold.
And in these rank and merchantable times,
Gold is a very pope. It cleanseth crime,
Uplifts the vile to purple altitudes,
Sets crowns upon the base, uncrowns the noble,
And with a sensual sneer upon its front,
Usurps the righteous throne of patient virtue.

Osm.
Orontio, like most men whose breath is fed
On the cold heights of laborsome ambition,
Prizes the glitter of life's pithless pomps,
More than its beauties; but he loves his daughter;
And to that love he adds—like all shrewd worldlings—
A scorn of fools. He will not wed his child
To a gilt popinjay. Look to the knight
With burning gaze.

Alph.
But he is Manfred's friend.

Osm.
'Tis only Manfred's tongue that says he is.
In love trust looks more than the stoutest words.

Alph.
Osmond, let's you and I live bachelors.

Osm.
What, are you out of love with love already?

Alph.
Being hardly in, I'm pricked with thorns already.
I fear there is a briery road before us,
And we shall get well scratched in pushing through.

Osm.
Is it my disposition or my luck?
To me the road is a new swath of carpet,
Inlaid by artful Nature's freshest hand;
Soft as a parrot's plumage and as green,
Bowered by thornless rosebuds, whose sweet breath
Carcsses me, as I trip me along,
Blithe as a robin to his vernal mate.

Alp.
If that's your mood, you ought to be alone;
For rhapsody is spoilt by listeners. Adieu.

Osm.
Nay, I'm too happy now for solitude.
We'll look up, Cousin Manfred, and from him
Learn something of the thorny knight.

[Exeunt.