 | The Wife |  |
SCENE I.
—A Street in Mantua.Enter Leonardo Gonzaga and Lorenzo.
Leon.
So in my native city, thanks to Heaven,
Ten years and more elapsed, I stand again!
A boy it sent me forth, takes back a man.
Hail to it! 'Tis mine old acquaintance still,
In nothing strange—unalter'd! To a stone
The same I left it! Glad am I to see it—
None better loves its venerable face!
Lor.
I'm glad to see you smile.
Leon.
I do so, signor.
I am a boy again! The days come back
When smallest things made wealth of happiness
And ever were at hand! when I did watch
With panting heart the striking of the clock,
Which hardly sounded ere the book was shut.
Then for the race—the leap—the game—O, signor,
The vigour and endurance of such joy!
Is't e'er to come again?—and care so light,
That, looking back, I smile that thought it care,
And call it part of pleasure! I'm again
In Mantua!
Lor.
Then here we say farewell.
Leon.
Not so! Acquaintance, born and nurtured in
Adversity, is worth the cherishing!
'Tis provéd steel which one may trust one's life to.
You are a stranger here in Mantua.
Which I am native to. What brings you hither?
If 'tis a cause no scruple of just weight
Forbids thee to unfold, unbosom thee;
And, in return for what thou part'st with, take
The zeal and honour of a hearty friend,
And service too, to boot!—You pause from doubt
Either of my ability or faith.
If this, I'm sorry for't—If that, take heed!
Where the inform'd and active sinew lies,
That's equal to the feat. What, silent still?
'Sdeath, man! a dwarf is not to be despised,
For he may have a giant for his friend,
And so be master of a giant's strength!
Come, come, have confidence!—'Tis the free rein
Which takes the willing courser o'er the leap
He'd miss, suppose you check'd him!
Lor.
There are men
Whose habits in abeyance hold their natures,
Which still remain themselves.—Your temperament
Is of the sanguine kind, and so is mine;
But lo, the difference! Thy frankness brooks
No pause—thy wish is scarce conceived, ere told—
As if men's hearts were open as their looks,
And trust were due to all! The law hath been
My study, signor; and, these three years past,
My practice too; and it hath taught me this:—
To doubt, with openness to be convinced,
Is to remain on this side danger, yet
No fraction lack of generosity,
Which it becomes a noble mind to cherish.
Leon.
And doubt you me?
Lor.
No, signor; but drew back,
When you, with instant promptness, made advance,
Where I, with all the heart to take the step,
Had still, I fear, been standing! You shall know
My errand hither. I am nephew—
Leon.
Stop
Till these pass on!
Enter Bartolo, Carlo, Bernardo, and others.
Carlo.
Will not the duke postpone the cause?
Bar.
I tell thee no.
Carlo.
And wherefore?
Bar.
What's that to thee?—Is not he the duke? Shall
such a piece of flesh and bone as thou art, question the duke?
Carlo.
Why not?
Bar.
Why not? Would any one believe he had been born
in Mantua? Now mark how I shall answer him! Dost thou
drink Burgundy?
Carlo.
No, but water.
Bar.
Then art thou, compared to the great duke, what
water is to Burgundy.
Carlo.
He is but flesh and blood.
Bar.
But what kind of flesh and blood? Answer me that!
Wouldst thou, that dinest upon garlic and coarse bread, and
washest them down with water, compare thyself to one who
sits down, every day of the week, to a table of three courses?
Thou art no more than a head of garlic to the duke!
Say on, Bartolo! Well! The duke refuses to postpone
the cause; and what then?
Bar.
Why then the case must come on.
Ber.
And what will be the end on't?
Bar.
That knows the duke.
Carlo.
But what ought it to be?
Bar.
What the great duke wills.
Carlo.
Why so?
Bar.
Because that must be.
Ber.
She was a bold girl, when they forced her to the
church, to refuse to give her hand there, and claim the protection
of the curate.
Bar.
He was a bolder man to have anything to say to so
mettlesome a piece of stuff.
Carlo.
And to refuse a count!
Bar.
Her cause will not thrive the better for that; unless,
indeed, the duke be wroth with the count, for honourably
affecting a commissary's ward.
Leon.
[Aside.]
You seem intent on their discourse?
Lor.
[Aside.]
I am so.
Ber.
You saw her, Bartolo, did you not?
Bar.
Yes, I was passing by, when they were forcing her
into the church, and followed them in.
Carlo.
Is she as handsome as they say?
Bar.
Humph!—handsome?—Handsome is this, and handsome
is that. I could sooner tell the absence of beauty than
the presence of it. Now thou art not beautiful; but dress
thee like a duke, and it might change thee. Thou that art an
ugly craftsman, might become a beautiful duke. Notwithstanding
I think I dare pronounce her handsome—very handsome!
nay, I will go further, and confess that, were she a
countess, or duchess, I would call her the most beautiful
woman in Mantua.
Ber.
But why wishes the curate to have the cause postponed?
Bar.
To wait for a learned doctor of the law, for whom he
has sent to Rome, but who has not yet arrived, though hourly
looked for.
Carlo.
What! must one send for law to Rome?
Bar.
Yes, if one cannot find it in Mantua.
Carlo.
Cannot one find law in Mantua?
Bar.
Not if it be all bought up. There's not a legal man of
note whom the count has not retained; so was the curate
forced to send for his nephew to Rome—a man, it is reported,
of great learning, and of profound skill in his profession,
though hardly yet out of his nonage.
Leon.
[Aside.]
You colour, signor! 'Tis of you he speaks?
Carlo.
Fears he to come to Mantua, or what?
Bar.
'Tis thought the brigands have detained him—a plague
upon the rascals! A word in your ears, signors. You all
know that Bartolo is a loyal man?
All.
We do, Bartolo.
Said I ever a word against the duke?
All.
No.
Bar.
You are right, signors; nor would I, though the duke
were to hang every honest man in Mantua; for is he not the
duke?—and is not Bartolo a loyal man! Now if I speak of
the duke's cousin, whom the brigands, they say, have killed,
speak I against the duke?
All.
No!
Bar.
Is't treason to say “a pity that he was killed?”
All.
No!
Bar.
Ah, signors, had he succeeded his father, he would
have made a proper duke. Is this saying anything against his
cousin that is the duke?
All.
No!
Bar.
I warrant me, no! Catch Bartolo talking treason!
Who says a word against the duke? he dies, as Bartolo is
a loyal man! But fare you well, signors. The trial comes on
at noon—and noon will soon be here.
Ber.
We go your way.
Bar.
Come on, then. Remember I said not a word against
the duke.
[Bartolo and others go out.
Leon.
Of you he spoke—was it not so?
Lor.
It was.
Leon.
You come to Mantua to plead the cause
Of this fair damsel. You were here before,
But that the brigands intercepted you,—
Your hurt, but my advantage, whose escape,
Long time their captive, you contrived. And now,
To prove my friendship more than wordy vaunting—
I have the power to serve you. Take me with you.
Your clerk, you said, opposing vain resistance,
The hot-brain'd robber slew. Suppose me him.
I have a smattering of his vocation,
A notion of the mystery of yours;
And I would hear, by their own lips recited,
This worthy priest and beauteous damsel's cause,
For reasons which—you smile?
Lor.
A thought just cross'd me.
Leon.
I know thy thought—'Tis wrong!—'Tis not the heat
Of youthful blood which prompts—You smile again?
Lor.
Your pardon.—If I did, you have to thank
The quickness of your apprehension.
Leon.
Mark me!—
I have loved my last—and that love was my first!
A passion like a seedling that did spring,
Whose germ the winds had set; of stem so fine,
And leaf so small, to inexperienced sight
It pass'd for nought,—until, with swelling trunk,
And spreading branches, bowing all around,
It stood a goodly tree! Are you content?
This was my sadness, signor, which the sight
Of my dear native city briefly banish'd!
And which will be the clothing of my heart,
While my heart calls this breast of mine its house.
Lor.
I pray you, pardon me!
Leon.
I pray you, peace!
Time presses.—Once again, have confidence,
And take me with you to your uncle's home.
More than you credit me, I may bestead you.
Wilt take my hand?
Lor.
I will!
Leon.
Have with you, then!
[They go out.
| The Wife | |