University of Virginia Library

SCENE III.

A Parterre, contiguous to Schidoni's mansion; four leagues from Naples. An alcove at the farther end.
Enter Lorenzo.
Lor.
This is the spot; and yonder is the mansion.
Never lived one, more odious than its master.
Hatred and infame breathe upon his name.
Only one, solitary, virtue has he:
Love to his mother's memory. All Naples
—Court, palace, castle, church, change, mansion, cot,—
All stand in awe of him: while he, obsequious,
Winds round the judgment of the king; and makes him
Do and undo, believe and disbelieve,
Just what he pleases. It is wonderful!
Strange, too, it is;—at least I have been told so;
That he can never hear the name, Romano,
But his lips quiver, and his cheeks turn pale.
There must be some strange reason for all this.
One day, perchance, the sinner may turn saint;
As dolphins change their colour, ere they die,
And after they are dead. All hail, good madam!
Theresa at the casement! I shall now
Learn if the fair Lavinia sleeps within.
Some one approaches: I must hide myself.
Perchance;—it is;—it is the fiend himself.

[Exit.
Enter Schidoni.
Schid.

“I found Fontano sitting at the casement; and stealing close behind, I threw the dust you gave me full into his eyes. The groan he utter'd! I would not hear another such for all the wealth you have. Then I led him into the waste, but could not lead him to a precipice, as you commanded. But seeing a boy, I gave him a ducat, and charged him to do so: and with this I hope you will be satisfied. Not even Romano would desire more.”

Enter Lavinia and Theresa.
Lav.
Music, nor painting, poësy, nor prayer,
Have power to soothe my agony one moment.
For what sad purpose am I hither brought?
My father gave me to the care of Paulo,
With strictest charge to guide me safe to Venice.
But scarce three leagues had we been travelling, when
He turn'd into a forest. Then he led me
Through the lone windings of a pathless glen,
Re-echoing with hoarse cataracts; and came,
As well thou know'st, at dreary midnight, to
This silent, solitary mansion. Wherefore
Am I brought hither?

The.
When the signor comes—

Lav.
Is it Romano, or Schidoni? say—
Would I were sleeping in St. Catherine's convent,
Shrouded in silence, near my sacred mother!
Oh my dear father! oh my dearest father!
Robb'd of thy sight? Theresa, are you sure,
Lorenzo did inform you, that it was so?
Sure 'tis some tale, some wandering rumour. Nay,
'Tis but too true; your countenance betrays it.
Heav'n, look you there. A man,—a man! who is it?
Gracious! I'm petrified. Schidoni! Hide me:
Hide me—oh hide me. I am lost: nay stay:
Theresa!—stay. If you go hence, I perish.

Schid.
Hence, mistress, hence. I'll speak to thee anon.

The.
Sir, I am going: use the lady gently.
Nay, sir; I'm not accustom'd to such looks,
For merely saying, use the lady gently.

Schid.
Hence, hence, old harridan.

The.
(aside.)
I'll not remain
In this house longer.

[Exit.
Schid.
Get you gone: so ho—
Gone? and no reverence. Insolent old hag!

Lav.
Then, sir, I'll take my safety on myself.

Schid.
Wherefore so haughty? Did I love thee less,
Ill should I brook such dignified returns.
I call the sainted spirits to be witness—

Lav.
Frightful, oh frightful! To invoke the saints
To witness falsehood. Thou most cruel man—
Who quench'd my father's eye-balls? Thou;—thou;—thou!

Schid.
Not so:—Velutri. I?—Schidoni?—I?
Why wrong me thus? I love thee, heavenly maid.
I loved thy father also:—but he hated,
(Wherefore I know not;) he insulted me.
Who did not love him for his gentleness?
No term in language suited him but one;
And that one, gentilezza. If I could,
Yes, if I could have imitated any,
His was the model, I'd have copied.

Lav.
You?

Schid.
Nay, my Lavinia, do, I charge, dismiss
Doubts of my sacred honour, which ne'er yet,
E'en by the venom of a slanderer's tongue,
Has once been breath'd on.

Lav.
I'm the slanderer then!

Schid.
Nay, my sweet maid; nay, this is past endurance.

Lav
If I could smile at such a time as this,
Yours were a mask for my derision. You?
The very scorn and pestilence of the times!

Schid.
(aside.)
I shall remember thee!

Lav.
You always were
A deadly enemy to my father:—always.

Schid.
Dreams—fancies—visions!

Lav.
Not Romano's self—

Schid.
Curst be the name; and thou for using it. I vow—

Lav.
Were but Lorenzo—

Schi.
Excellent! Lorenzo?
Hear, hear, ye guardians in the court of love,
Lorenzo is the fair Lavinia's idol!
Leave him, fair lady; leave him; he is worthless.

Lav.
Slander—mere slander; thou unworthy man!
He is all honour; full of noblest thoughts;
And in all true nobility of heart
Eclipses thee, as much as thou in turn
Eclipsest all the lofty poet dreams,
When, in his flight, he paints, in monstrous shape,
A fiend more horrid, than our eyes can look on.

Schid.
Why all this anger?

Lav.
Touch me not;—unhand me.

Schid.
Vain are all prayers and imprecations;—vain!

Lav.
Away, thou monster: thou Romano—hence!

Schid.
(aside.)
I'd rather meet a legion of foul Gorgons,
Arm'd all with torches, snakes, and hideous serpents,
Than hear the name of that detested man,
At such a time as this. Thou shalt not go.
She palsies me!—thou Jezebel!—she palsies me!

Lav.
Unhand me, heartless villain, as thou art.

Schid.
Fled, as I live. Theresa! here—Theresa!
Nay,—who is this? Lorenzo; or mine eyes
Paint objects yellow. Would he were in hell! Enter Lorenzo.

How dost thou do? Thou'rt welcome to my mansion.
Up with thy sword. She's not worth fighting for;
A proud, vain, Jezebel. Thy hand—

Lor.
Stand off!
I know thee well. No glossing words with me.
Stand off! I'll not waste words upon a villain.

Schid.
Nor I waste words upon a fool. A fool
Is one, who, with a voluntary spirit,
Unsheathes his sword in any woman's cause,
Angel or devil. She is mine: but sooner
Than I would draw a sword in her behalf,
She's yours, or any man's.

Lor.
The matchless dastard!

Schid.
Words are but wind, when speaking of a woman.

Lor.
Draw, sir.

Schid.
I shall.—Lorenzo, as I live!
Now, sir—the folly! now, perhaps, this sword
Can show, I'm not more easily o'erthrown,
Than the thrice-brave and elegant Lorenzo.
Nay, nay—fight slow. Don't be in such a fury.
Thou'rt like an Arab, just let loose from mosque.

Lor.
And thou like fiend, escaped from lowest hell:
Worse than Romano, whom you charged with murder.

Schid.
Curse thee for that! I'll punish thee, be sure.

[Exeunt.