University of Virginia Library

Scene II.

—Garden of the Monastery.
Enter Roberto.
Roberto.
Hurled from the seat of power, like Lucifer,
My soul is wild as Chaos, wroth as Hell,
And claims that vengeance which belongs to Heaven,
As Heaven's vicegerent! Sure and speedy vengeance!
A word for thunder, but the lightning's flash,
While it is speaking, strike—if not before!
Ungrateful cur! thou'st not another day,
Andreas! to live! Now, but to fix the guilt
Of his off-taking on my other foes,
To make the murder sweeter. Glorious vengeance!
Most instant vengeance! ere the eye can wink,
Function respire, or intellection think!—
How now, Geronimo?
Enter Geronimo.
Have you wrought up
The Lazzari to our purpose?

Geronimo.
Be at ease:
I have a knot of fellows, who believe,
In taking Andreas' life, they rid the Queen
Of a loathed burthen, and the Poor Man's Friend
Of an implacable and powerful foe.

Roberto.
Here comes Durazzo! I must play the fawner,
And catch him in the meshes of our net.
Hypocrisy alone can veil our treason!
Go to your task—how shall I know your man?

Geronimo.
A Courier from Naples is the part
He plays—

Roberto.
Is he well up?

Geronimo.
Depend upon it.

[Exit.
Enter Duke of Durazzo.
Duke.
How fares it with you now, Roberto?

Roberto.
Better
Than ever—

Duke.
So! Indeed?

Roberto.
Adversity
Is, to the soul that's pious, wholesomer
Than prosperous fortune to the wicked heart.

Duke.
A veritable saw. Then need to you
Is kinder than much wealth to Andreas.

Roberto.
The ungrateful ever is a mendicant.

Duke.
Another truth! Would'st be revenged?

Roberto.
On whom?

Duke.
On Andreas—

Roberto.
Not I, sir!

Duke.
Wouldst be reconciled?

Roberto.
Neither—I leave the issues in High hands!

Duke.
Neither restored to favor, nor revenged?
I took you for a worse or wiser man—
Good-bye!

[Exit.
Roberto.
Aha! Durazzo's hatred
To Andreas, seething long, boils over now!
He seeks the toils, and runs upon the springe!
He would conspire—with me. He shall conspire—
But not with me! It is about the hour,
When that the seneschal and his household come,
For recreation, to these convent-gardens;
Doubtless, Durazzo, too, will walk with them.
—He never hath concealed his enmity,
Which makes him level lie to artifice,
And what just now he said to me commits him.
Out of my motive for like enmity,
Hopes and designs they fancy and create,
Which do as surely lead them to their ruin,
As the wanton's steps to death!

Re-enter Duke of Durazzo, with Terlizi, Evoli, and Giulio.
Duke.
Here still, Roberto?

Roberto.
I am at prayers—for my enemies.

Terlizi.
A pious exercise—but who are they?

Roberto.
Ye were; but now, ye think, we row together
In the same vessel 'gainst a common foe.

Duke.
Think? Is't not so?

Roberto.
Why—yes—if so ye think—
Ye worldly men let the conceit grow on you,
That all that saints must needs account poor shadow
Is life's substantial pith. Still live to think so!

Duke.
And you to pray?

Terlizi.
And not to eat? or drink?
—Or sleep?

Roberto.
Yes, on our injuries!—'Tis best!
Our dreams are shrewder than our waking thoughts,
And hint a braver vengeance—

Duke.
Hear you? (to Terlizi.)


Roberto
(aside).
They
Are caught! Are ye the men would read the Sphinx?

Duke.
If you are honest, I would have you speak
As man, and not as priest. What mystery?
If you've an interest in saying, “No”—
And yet say, “Yes;” what wonder it should be
With such an inverse emphasis, that wholly
Wanting the force of “Yes;” it nothing lacks
In the effect of “No”!—

Roberto.
Now, you have said!—
Enter Geronimo.
What would you here?

Geronimo.
A Courier from Naples
Waits on Durazzo—

Duke.
Strange! Without? Alone?

Geronimo.
No; there are two or three attend with him!

[Exit Duke of Durazzo.
Terlizi.
What news can come from Naples to the Duke?

Roberto.
Methinks, he half-expected it; for, lo,
He meets it half way—and in secret, too!
I here protest me, before Heaven, I like not
Such latent practice!

Terlizi.
Practice? Tush, there's none—

Roberto.
If't be, I'm quit on't—

Re-enter Duke of Durazzo, with Courier, and two others. (Beppo, Ghino, and Zeppa, so disguised.)
Duke.
You are mistaken, friar;
They want the royal Andreas, and not me.
They have despatches for him. That's your way—
That gallery leads to the Queen's apartment;
His chamberlain will bring you to her consort.

[Exeunt Courier and Companions
Roberto.
You plot it well!

Duke.
I do not understand you—

Roberto.
Then you're as much a mystery to yourself,
As I am to you. Truly, you are strange—
One knows not what to make of you—

Terlizi.
You're mad!

[Turning away indignantly.
Roberto.
Indeed!— (to Geronimo.)
Your Table-book!
Hast writ it down?

Geronimo.
Look here, yourself!

Roberto.
Enough—away!
[Exit Geronimo.
[Shrieks heard from the Monastery. Cries of “Help! Murder! Help!”
Ah! cries
Of “Help!” and “Murder!” Who were they, Durazzo,
You showed to royal Andreas?

Duke.
Search the gallery!

[As he is going off in the direction taken by the pretended Couriers, Philippa meets him.
Philippa.
Wonder and horror! Stop the Assassins! Andreas
Is murdered!

Duke.
Let me pass!

[Hurries out.
Philippa.
Celestial Watchers!
And do ye wink at this? or have ye slept?
All-knowing Powers! if ye would have us trust you,
Divulge—o'ertake the Traitor!

Re-enter Duke of Durazzo.
Roberto.
See him there!—
Thou'st now thy wish, Durazzo!

Duke
(drawing).
For thy life! (Seizing Roberto.)

Monk, or else fiend! be mute! 'Tis true, my friends,
That malice, or just Heaven, hath avenged
The wrongs of Italy on the Hungarian!

Terlizi.
The Assassins have escaped?

Duke.
They were the swifter,
And had advantage of the distance—

Roberto.
Doubtless—

Duke.
Again—and I will slay you!

Roberto.
Let me go, then!

Duke.
Go—with my scorn!

[Releases Roberto.
Philippa.
Some one should tell the Queen! They called him forth
From her apartment by a special message;
Then, in the gallery, seized and strangled him!

Evoli.
The alarm has brought the Queen.

Enter Queen and Attendants, followed by Salvator.
Philippa.
O, royal mistress!

Queen.
Wherefore this tumult?

Philippa.
Heaven! thou know'st it not!
Thy royal lord is murdered!

Queen.
What?—impossible!
How? and by whom?

Philippa.
We know not! Madam!
Grow not to marble! Help the Queen!

[The Queen becomes cataleptic with horror.
Salvator.
What! Andreas!
Murdered! Assassination! Are ye Christian?
Or is the Court a vampyre carnival?
Cannot it be but so? And ye the fiends,
That play your damned parts in it, and torture
The one the other, haply, for your sport?
Is there nor Charity, nor Piety,
In any bosom; but mock reverence,
Precedence feigned, and homage for the nonce;
But when the back is turned, the dagger's out?
I've heard of such things, but believed them not;
But 'tis no slander—'tis no prejudice—
This is the Court, and here doth Murder revel!
Forgive them, God! who rule us in thy name,
Since heavy sins have they to answer for!

Duke.
What means your sire, Philippa? Surely, he
Suspects not men of honorable rank,
Of crime like this? No! You have to be taught,
Salvator, 'tis the mean of birth, the poor
In their estate, who rob and slay for hire;
Not men of wealth and ancestry.

Salvator.
Wherefore so?

Duke.
For they have all to gain, since all they want.

Salvator.
Why want they all, unless ye first have robbed them?
If so—no wonder ye are robbed in turn!

Duke.
Would you, suspicion then should fall on you,
You hold such language? Better hold your peace!

Salvator.
Suspect you me?

Duke.
Not I, old man! This busy life
With you is passed too far, that we should look
To you for that same death you daily dread
To make acquaintance with. This matter's, truly,
Beyond your scope;—that's all. Look to the Queen—

Philippa.
She has recovered.

Duke.
Say you so? Her limbs
Are stiff and rigid!

Philippa.
Ha! speak, your Majesty!

Duke.
Dumb hath the sudden horror stricken her!
We must remove her. 'Tis with her no more
Than if she slept! Let's in; we have need of counsel.

[Exeunt omnes, except Roberto and Salvator.
Roberto.
You see, there's more in statecraft than you wist.

Salvator.
O, maxims crooked! Science indirect!
Mere cunning, and not knowledge! Policy
Not born of wisdom—spawn of desperate Wit!
Leave me—

Roberto.
Leave you? Why, well! All leave the Poor
They not suspect; and give them tendance only,
When they have need to guard them, ere they punish
With chains or death. I've work on hand. 'Twere idle
To waste much speech on you.

[Exit.
Salvator
(alone).
Heart of the World!
Sure, thou hast ceased to beat; for mine is still,
As Death alone lived in the universe!
O care! O pain! O grief! I little knew
Philippa's heavy yoke! no more reproaches!
Amid this lodge of maniacs, being sane,
I seem the only mad! Not virtue rules!
Murder is prince o' the air! No wonder, then,
That earth has suffered time-long tyrrany!
I thank my God, that he hath left me poor,
Humble of station, and unprivileged
Of any order that marks man from man
As something other, whether more or less,
Angel or devil; for religion's self,
By privilege perverted, mocks at merit,
And makes him hypocrite who were a saint.
O den of wealth and power! Come forth, therefrom,
Philippa! noble, wise, belovëd daughter!
Ingenious, diligent, much-injured daughter!
Beneficent, and honest, yet betrayed!
Traitors and villains, authorised and crowned,
Lie still for thee in wait!—thy every step
Is by a pitfall dug by jealousy,
Snares, gins, and traps beset thee round about!
O, wicked court! where'er thy camp is pitched,
It spreads a pestilential atmosphere
Of lies, no honest soul can breathe and live!
Change but a monastery to a palace,
(We have example here,) but for a week,
Less than a week, a day, an hour, a minute,
What once was heaven is turned at once to hell;
And Atheist Murder on the altar sits,
Ape-like agrin, and sips a bloody chalice!
Come forth, I say!—Ha! ha! thou art accused
Of witchcraft; but thou canst have none like theirs—
They have the magic—they, the true “Black Art”—
Not thou;—by aid whereof they do usurp
Upon all natural rights, all sympathies
Of human love, all elements of truth,
And make such havoc both of good and evil,
That the Eternal needs must strike, to chaos,
The world, to recreate it!
I must hence—
Let me reflect. Upon thy pleasant waters,
Native Catania! for my life's brief remnant,
Haply, my spirit may find peace again—
I'll seek my daughter. Would that she, and hers,
Might quit with me, for ever, the false tower,
That hath for her been built beside the throne,
Ere it shall sink into the expectant flood,
That boils, unseen, unheard, beneath them both!

[Exit.