University of Virginia Library

ACT I.

SCENE I.

VATICAN. Urban. Durazzo.
Urban.
Charles of Durazzo! I have found thee worthy
To wear not only ducal coronet,
But in that potent, in that faithful hand,
To wield the royal sceptre.

Durazzo.
Holy father!
I am half-ready to accept the charge,
When it befalls me, studying your content.

Urban.
So be it. The crown of Naples is now vacant.

Durazzo.
Good heavens! is then my mother (let me call her
Even my mother, by whose bounteousness
My fortunes grew, my youth was educated)
Giovanna! is she dead?

Urban.
To virtuous deeds,
Like those, she long hath been so.

Durazzo.
His Beatitude,
The predecessor of your Holiness,
Who through her hands received his resting-place
At Avignon, when Italy rebell'd,
Absolved her from that heavy accusation
Her enemy the Hungarian brought against her.

Urban.
I would not make Infallibility
Fallible, nor cross-question the absolved,
I merely would remove that stumbling-block
The kingdom from her.

Durazzo.
Let another then
Aid such attempt.

Urban.
Anoter shall.

Durazzo.
Another
Nearer in blood is none.

Urban.
Ere long, Durazzo,
I may look round and find one, if not nearer
In blood, yet fitter to perform the duties
Imposed on him by me.

Durazzo.
None, holy father!
Is fitter.

Urban.
Easy then are the conditions.
I would not place Butello, my own nephew,
Altho' deserving, and altho' besought
By many of the Neapolitans,
By many of the noble and the powerful
In every city of that realm, not him,
Durazzo! would I place, against thy interests,
So high. But haply from thy gratitude
Accept I might in his behalf a dukedom
Or petty principality, dependent
Upon our See or (may-be) independent;
For there are some who fain would have things so.
We must content the nations of the earth,
Whom we watch over, and who look to us
For peace and quiet in the world we rule.
Why art thou beating time so with thy foot
At every word I speak? why look so stern
And jerk thy head and rest thy hand on hip?
Thou art determin'd on it, art not thou?

Durazzo.
I can not, will not, move her from her seat,
So help me, God!

Urban.
Impious young man! reflect!
I give thee time; I give thee all to-morrow.

SCENE II.

A STREET IN NAPLES. Maximin. Agatha.
Agatha.
(to herself).
'Twas he! 'twas father Rupert.

Maximin
(overhearing).
Well! what then?
What wouldst thou with him? thou must wait his leisure:
I have some business first with father Rupert.

Agatha
(gazing anxiously).
Can it be? can it be?

Maximin.
Have not men sins
As well as women? have not we our shrivers,
Our scourers, soderers, calkers, and equippers?

Agatha
(embracing him).
Forbear! O, for the love of God, forbear!
Heed him not, Maximin! or he will cast
Thy soul into perdition; he has mine.

Maximin.
And who art thou, good woman?

Agatha.
That fair name
Is mostly given with small courtesy,
As something tost at us indifferently
Or scornfully by higher ones. Thy sister
Was what thou callest her; and Rupert knows it.

Maximin.
My sister? how! I had but Agatha.
Agatha!

Agatha.
Maximin! we have not met
Since that foul day whose damps fell not on thee,
But fill'd our father's house while thou wert absent.
Thou, brother! brother! couldst not save my peace,
Let me save thine. He used to call me daughter,
And he may call thee son.

Maximin.
The very word!
He began fathering early: seven years old
At most was father Rupert. Holy names
Are covered ways. .

Agatha.
. . To most unholy deeds.

Maximin.
I see it; say no more: my sword is reddening
With blood that runs not yet, but soon shall run.

Agatha.
Talk not thus loud, nor thus, nor here.

Maximin.
Cross then
Over the way to that old sycamore;
The lads have left off playing at pallone.
I found out long ago his frauds, his treasons,
His murders; and he meditates a worse.
Agatha! let me look into thine eyes,
Try to be glad to see me: lift them up,
Nay, do not drop them, they are gems to me,
And make me very rich with only looking.
Thou must have been most fair, my Agatha!
And yet I am thy brother! Who would think it?

Agatha.
Nor time nor toil deforms man's countenance,
Crime only does it: 'tis not thus with ours.
Kissing the seven nails burnt in below
Thy little breast, before they well had healed,
I thought thee still more beautiful with them.

Maximin.
Those precious signs might have done better for me.

Agatha.
Only the honest are the prosperous.

Maximin.
A little too on that side hath slipt off.

Agatha.
Recover it.

Maximin.
How can I?

Agatha.
Save the innocent.

Maximin.
But whom?

Agatha.
Giovanna.

Maximin.
Is the queen in danger?

Agatha.
Knowest thou not?

Maximin.
Hide we away our knowledge;
It may do harm by daylight. I stand sentry
In many places at one time, and wink,
But am not drowsy. Trust me, she is safe.
And thou art then our Agatha! 'Twould do
Our mother good, were she alive, to find thee;
For her last words were, “Agatha, where art thou?”

Agatha.
Oh! when our parents sorrow for our crimes,
Then is the sin complete.

Maximin.
She sorrows not,
And 'tis high time that thou should'st give it over.

Agatha.
Alas! our marrow, sinews, veins, dry up,
But not our tears; they start with infancy,
Run on through life, and swell against the grave.

Maximin.
I must now see Fra Rupert. Come thou after.
He shall admit thee. Pelt him with reproaches,
Then will I . .

Agatha.
Brother! not for these came I,
But to avert one crime from his o'erladen
Devoted head. He hath returned . .

Maximin.
. . To join
Giovanna with Andrea? On with me:
We may forbid the banns a second time,
Urging perhaps a few impediments.
He hath been in some convent o'er the hill,
Doing sad penance on Calabrian rye,
How then couldst thou have heard about him? how
Find he was here in Naples?

Agatha.
There he should
And may have been: of late he was in Buda.

Maximin.
You met in Buda then?

Agatha.
Not met.

Maximin.
How know
His visit else, if he was there indeed?

Agatha.
While thou and Stephen Stourdza tended sheep
Together, I was in our mother's sight,
And mostly in her chamber; for ill-health
Kept her from work. Often did Father Rupert
Pray by her, often hear her long confession,
Long, because little could be thought of for it.
“Now what a comfort would it be to you,
If this poor child read better,” said the friar,
“To listen while she read how blessed saints
Have suffered, and how glorious their reward.”
My mother claspt her hands, and “What a comfort!”
Echoed from her sick bosom.
“Hath she been
Confirm'd?” he askt. “Yea, God be prais'd,” sigh'd she.
“We may begin then to infuse some salt
Into this leaven,” said the friar, well-pleas'd.
“The work is righteous: we will find spare hours.”
She wept for joy.

Maximin.
Weep then (if weep at all)
Like her.

Agatha.
Religious tracts soon tost aside,
Florentine stories and Sicilian song
Were buzz'd into my ears. The songs much pleas'd me,
The stories (these he cull'd out from the book,
He told me, as the whole was not for maids)
Pleas'd me much less; for woman's faults were there.

Maximin.
He might have left out half the pages, still
The book had been a bible in its bulk
If all were there.

Agatha.
To me this well applies,
Not to my sex.

Maximin.
Thou art the best in it.
Those who think ill of woman, hold the tongue
Thro' shame, or ignorance of what to say,
Or rifle the old ragbag for some shard
Spotted and stale. On, prythee, with thy story.

Agatha.
He taught me that soft speech, the only one
For love; he taught me to repeat the words
Most tender in it; to observe his lips
Pronouncing them; and his eyes scorcht my cheek
Into deep scarlet. With his low rich voice
He sang the sadness of the laurel'd brow,
The tears that trickle on the rocks around
Valchiusa. “None but holy men can love
As thou, Petrarca!” sighed he at the close.
Graver the work he brought me next. We read
The story of Francesca.

Maximin.
What is that?

Agatha.
Piteous, most piteous, for most guilty, passion.
Two lovers are condemn'd to one unrest
For ages. I now first knew poetry,
I had known song and sonnet long before:
I sail'd no more amid the barren isles,
Each one small self; the mighty continent
Rose and expanded; I was on its shores.
Fast fell the drops upon the page: he chided:
“And is it punishment to be whirl'd on
With our beloved thro' eternity?”
“Oh! they were too unhappy, too unhappy!”
Sobb'd I aloud: “Who could have written this?”
“Tenderest of tender maids!” cried he, and claspt me
To his hot breast. Fear seiz'd me, faintness, shame.
Be calm, my brother!

Maximin.
Tell then other tale,
And skip far on.

Agatha.
The queen Elizabeth
Heard of me at the nunnery where I served;
And the good abbess, not much loving one
Who spoke two languages and read at night,
Persuaded her that, being quick and needy,
'Twould be by far more charitable in her
To take me rather than some richer girl,
To read by her, and lace her sandals on.
I serv'd her several years, to her content.
One evening after dusk, her closet-door
Being to me at every hour unclosed,
I was just entering, when some voice like his,
Whispering, but deep, struck me: a glance sufficed:
'Twas he. They neither saw me. Now occurr'd
That lately had Elizabeth said more
And worse against Giovanna. “She might be
Guiltless, but should not hold the throne of Naples
From the sweet child her daughter: there were some
Who had strong arms, and might again do better
In cowl than fiercer spirits could in casque.”
Sleepless was I that night, afraid to meet
The wretched man, afraid to join the queen.
Early she rose, as usual; earlier I.
My sunken eyes and paleness were remarkt,
And, whence? was askt me.
“Those who have their brothers
At Naples,” I replied, “most gracious lady,
May well be sleepless; for rebellion shakes
A throne unsteady ever.”
First she paus'd,
Then said, with greater blandness than before,
“Indeed they may. But between two usurpers
What choice? Your brother may improve his fortune
By loyalty, and teaching it. You wish
To join him I see clearly, for his good;
It may be yours: it may be ours: go then,
Aid him with prudent counsel: the supply
Shall not be wanting, secrecy must not.”
She urged my parting: the same hour we parted.

SCENE III.

RUPERT'S CELL. Rupert. Maximin.
Rupert.
Thou hast delaid some little, Maximin.

Maximin.
Frate! I met a woman in the street,
And she might well delay me: guess now why.

Rupert.
Who in the world can guess the why of women?

Maximin.
She said she knew us both in Hungary.

Rupert.
I now suspect the person: she is crazed.

Maximin.
Well may she be, deprived of such a friend.

Rupert.
No friend was ever mine in that false sex.
I am impatient, Maximin.

Maximin.
Impatient!
And so am I. (Maximin throws open the door, and Agatha enters.)

Knowest thou this woman, Frate?

Rupert.
Art thou crazed too? I know her? Not at all.

Maximin.
And hast thou never known her? never toucht her?
I only mean in giving her thy blessing.

Rupert.
A drunken sailor in a desert isle
Would not approach her.

Maximin
(indignant).
Not my sister?

Agatha.
Scorner!
Insulter! (Aside.)

He may have forgotten. Can he?
He did not see me, would not look at me.

Maximin.
My sword shall write her name upon thy midrif.
Prepare!

Agatha.
Hold! hold! Spare him yet, Maximin!
How could I . . and the man who . .

Maximin.
Speak it out,
Worthless one!

Agatha.
I am worthless. Let him live!
Oh let him live!

Maximin.
Thou lovest thy betrayer.

Agatha.
The once beloved are unestranged by falsehood;
They can not wholly leave us, tho' they leave us
And never look behind.

Maximin.
Wild! wild as hawk!

Rupert
(on his knees).
Vision of light, of love, of purity!
Dost thou revisit on the verge of earth
A soul so lost, to rescue it? Enough,
Agatha! Do not ask him for my life;
No, bid him slay me; bid him quench the days
That have in equal darkness set and risen
Since proud superiors banisht faithful love.
I am grown old; few years are left me, few
And sorrowful: my reason comes and goes:
I am almost as capable of crimes
As virtues.

Maximin.
By my troth, a hundred-fold
More capable.

Rupert.
Both ('tis Heaven's will) are over.
Here let me end my hours: they should have all
Been thine; he knows it; let him take them for thee;
And close thou here mine eyes where none behold,
Forgiving me . . no, not forgiving me,
But praying, thou pure soul! for Heaven's forgiveness.

Maximin.
I will not strike thee on the ground: rise up,
Then, when thou risest . .

Agatha.
Come away, my brother!

Rupert.
Never, so help me saints! will I rise up:
I will breathe out my latest breath before her.

Maximin.
It sickens a stout man to tread on toads.

[Goes.
Rupert
(rising slowly, and passing a dagger through his fingers).
And the stout man might slip too, peradventure.

SCENE IV.

PALACE NEAR NAPLES. Durazzo. Margarita.
Durazzo.
The Pope is not averse to make me king.

Margarita.
Do we not rule already?

Durazzo.
Rule indeed!
Yes, one small dukedom. Any shepherd-dog
Might make his voice heard farther off than mine.

Margarita.
Yet, my sweet Carlo, oftentimes I've heard you,
When people brought before you their complaints,
Swear at them for disturbing your repose,
Keeping you from your hounds, your bird, your ride
At evening, with my palfrey biting yours
Playfully (like two Christians) at the gate.

Durazzo.
I love to see my bird soar in the air,
My hound burst from his puzzlement, and cite
His peers around him to arraign the boar.

Margarita.
I think such semblances of high estate
Are better than the thing itself, more pleasant,
More wholesome.

Durazzo.
And thinks too my Margarita
Of the gray palfrey? like a summer dawn
His dapper sides, his red and open nostrils,
And his fair rider like the sun just rising
Above it, making hill and vale look gay.

Margarita.
She would be only what Durazzo thinks her.

Durazzo.
Queenly he thinks her: queen he swears to make her.

Margarita.
I am contented; and should be, without
Even our rule: it brings us but few cares,
Yet some it brings us: why add more to them?

Durazzo.
I never heard you talk so seriously.
Not long ago I little heeded state,
Authority, low voice, bent knee, kist hand:
The Pope has proved to me that, sure as any
Of the seven sacraments, the only way
To rise above temptation, is to seize
All that can tempt.

Margarita.
There must be truth then in it.
But what will some men think when you deprive
Our aunt of her inheritance?

Durazzo.
Men think!
Do not men always think what they should not?

Margarita.
We hear so from the pulpit: it must be.
But we should never take what is another's.

Durazzo.
Then you would never take another's child
To feed or clothe it.

Margarita.
That is not my meaning.
I am quite sure my aunt has loved me dearly
All her life long, and loves me still; she often
(Kissing me) said, How like thou art Maria!
You know, Durazzo, how she loved my mother.

Durazzo.
And she loved me no less: and we love her
And honour her.

Margarita.
May we not then obey her?

Durazzo.
The Pope, who teaches best, says otherwise.
Rule has been tedious to her all her reign,
And dangerous too.

Margarita.
Make it less dangerous, make it
Less tedious.

Durazzo.
She has chosen the duke Otho
To sit above thy husband, and all else.

Margarita.
I think my husband is as brave as he.

Durazzo.
I think so too: yet people doubt.

Margarita.
Indeed!

Durazzo.
And doubt they will, unless the truest knight
Of Margarita takes to horse, and scours
Her grandsire's realm of foreigners like Otho.

Margarita.
If you do that, you must displease our aunt.

Durazzo.
Perhaps so: and hast never thou displeas'd her?

Margarita.
Never; although I sometimes did what might.

Durazzo.
I can not disappoint the Holy Father.

Margarita.
Nay, God forbid! But let me no more see her,
To hear her tell me all she did for me!
I can bear anything but evil tongues.

Durazzo.
Then let us slink away and live obscurely.

[Going.
Margarita.
Come back again . . Now! would you leave me so?
I have been thinking I must think no more
About the matter . . and am quite resolved.

Durazzo.
My sweetest! you have several female cousins;
What are they?

Margarita.
Duchesses.

Durazzo.
But are they queens?

Margarita.
No indeed; and why should they be? They queens?

Durazzo.
I know but one well worthy of the title.

Margarita.
Now, who can possibly that be, I wonder!

Durazzo.
She on whose brow already Majesty
Hath placed a crown which no artificer
Can render brighter, or fit better, she
Upon whose lip Love pays the first obeisance.

[Saluting her.
Margarita.
I know not how it is that you persuade
So easily . . not very easily
In this, however: yet, if but to tease
And plague a little bit my sweet dear cousins,
Writing the kindest letters, telling them
That I am still, and shall be, just the same,
Their loving cousin; nor in form alone;
And if I write but seldom for the future,
'Tis only that we queens have many cares
Of which my charming cousins can know nothing.

Durazzo.
What foresight, friendliness, and delicacy!

Margarita.
Nothing on earth but these, in the idea
Of vexing . . no, not vexing . . only plaguing
(You know, love! what I mean) my sweet dear cousins,
Could make me waver . . and then you, sad Carlo!

Durazzo.
To please me . .

Margarita.
Now, what would you have me say?

SCENE V.

NAPLES. Page, Giovanna, Agnes, Maximin.
Page.
Fly, O my lady! Troops are near the city.

Giovanna.
There always are.

Page.
But strangers. People say
Durazzo . .

Giovanna.
What of him?

Agnes.
Now then confess
I knew him better. No reports have reacht us
These several days: the roads were intercepted.

Giovanna.
I will fear nothing: Otho watches over us.
Insects, that build their tiny habitations
Against sea-cliffs, become sea-cliffs themselves.
I rest on Otho, and no storm can shake me.

Agnes.
How different this Durazzo!

Giovanna.
All men are:
But blame not without proof, or sign of proof,
Or accusation, any man so brave.

Page.
Lady! his soldiers on Camaldoli
Wave the green banner and march hitherward.

Giovanna
(after a pause).
It can not be! my Carlo! my Carlino!
What! he who said his prayers with hands comprest
Between my knees, and would leap off to say them?
Impossible! He may have been deterred
From helping me: his people, his advisers,
May have been adverse . . but . . make war upon me!
O they have basely slandered thee, my Carlo!

Agnes.
He has been with the Holy Father lately.

Giovanna.
This would relieve me from all doubt, alone.

Agnes.
So kind as you have been to him! a mother!

Giovanna.
Remind me not of any benefit
I may have done him: tell me his good deeds,
Speak not (if some there may have been) of mine:
'Twould but disturb the image that has never
Yet fallen from my breast, and never shall.
He was my child when my own child indeed,
My only one, was torn away from me.

Agnes.
And you have brooded o'er a marble egg,
Poor darkling bird!

Giovanna.
O Agnes! Agnes! spare me.
Let me think on . . how pleasant 'twas to follow
In that Carlino, in that lovely boy,
The hidings of shy love, its shame, its glee,
Demurest looks at matters we deem light,
And, well worth every lesson ever taught,
Laughter that loosens graver, and that shakes
Our solemn gauds into their proper place.

Maximin
(out of breath).
The castle-gates are open for one moment . .
Seize them and enter . . Crowds alone impede
Durazzo, and not arms.

Agnes.
Do you believe
His treason now?

Giovanna.
Peace, peace! 'tis hard, 'tis hard!