University of Virginia Library

SCENE II.

Countess, Marchesella, Paolucci, Stamura, at Table.
Countess
(to Stamura).
Sir, there are seasons when 'tis incivility
To ask a name; 'twould now be more uncivil
To hesitate.

Stamura.
Antonio is my name.

Countess.
Baptismal. Pray, the family?

Stamura.
Stamura;
But that my honour'd father gave in marriage
To her who wears it brighter day by day:
She calls me rather by the name he bore.

Countess.
It must be known and cherisht.

Stamura.
By the bravest
And most enduring in my native place;
It goes no farther: we are but just noble.

Countess.
He who could heed the tempest, and make serve
Unruly ocean, not for wealth, nor harm
To any but the spoiler, high above
That ocean, high above that tempest's wing,
He needs no turret to abut his name,
He needs no crescent to stream light on it,
Nor castellan, nor seneschal, nor herald.

Paolucci.
Ha! boy, those words make thy breast rise and fall,
Haply as much as did the waves. The town
Could ill repay thee; Beauty overpays.

Countess.
Talk what the young should hear; nor see the meed
Of glorious deeds in transitory tints,
Fainter or brighter.

Paolucci.
I was wrong.

Countess.
Not quite:
For beauty, in thy native town, young man,
May feel her worth in recompensing thine.

Stamura
(aside).
Alas! alas! she perishes! while here
We tarry.

Paolucci
(overhearing).
She? Who perishes?

Stamura.
The town.

Paolucci.
How the boy blushes at that noble praise!

Countess.
They blush at glory who deserve it most.
. . Blushes soon go: the dawn alone is red.

Stamura.
We know what duty, not what glory is.
The very best among us are not rich
Nor powerful.

Countess.
Are they anywhere?

Paolucci.
His deeds,
If glorious in themselves, require no glory.
Even this siege, those sufferings, who shall heed?

Countess.
He gives most light by being not too high.
Remember by what weapon fell the chief
Of Philistines. Did brazen chariots, driven
By giants, roll against him? From the brook,
Striking another such, another day,
A little pebble stretcht the enormous bulk
That would have fill'd it and have turn'd its course.
And in the great deliverers of mankind
Whom find ye? Those whom varlet pipers praise.
The greatest of them all, by all adored,
Did Babylon from brazen-belted gate,
Not humble straw-rooft Bethlehem, send forth?
We must not be too serious. Let us hear
How were the cables cut.

Paolucci.
I saw the shears
That clipt them. Father John, before he went,
Show'd me them, how they workt. He himself held
The double crescent of sharp steel, in form
Like that swart insect's which you shake from fruit
About the kernel. This enclaspt the cable;
And too long handles (a stout youth, at each
Extremity, pushing with all his strength
Right forward) sunder'd it. Then swiftly flew
One vessel to the shore; and then another:
And hardly had the youths or Father John
Time to take breath upon the upper wave,
When down they sank again and there swang round
Another prow, and dasht upon the mole.
Then many blithe Venetians fell transfixt
With arrows, many sprang into the sea
And cried for mercy. Upon deck appeared
The pope's own nephew, who ('tis said) had come
To arbitrate. He leapt into a boat
Which swam aside, most gorgeously array'd,
And this young man leapt after him and seized him.
He, when he saw a dagger at his throat,
Bade all his crew, four well-built men, surrender.

Stamura.
They could not have feared me: they saw our archers.

Countess.
And where is now your prisoner?

Stamura.
He desired
An audience of the consul.

Countess.
To what end?

Stamura.
I know not: I believe to court his daughter.

Countess.
Is the girl handsome? Is that question harder
Than what I askt before? Will he succeed?

Stamura.
Could he but save from famine our poor city,
And . . could he make her happy . .

Countess.
Pray go on.
It would delight you then to see him win her?

Stamura.
O that I had not saved him! or myself!

Countess.
She loves him then? And you hate foreigners.
I do believe you like the fair Erminia
Yourself.

Stamura.
She hates me. Who likes those that hate him?

Countess.
I never saw such hatred as you bear her:
If she bears you the like . .

Stamura.
She can do now
No worse than what she has done.

Countess.
Who knows that?
I am resolved to see.

Stamura.
O lady Countess!
How have I made an enemy of you?
Place me the lowest of your band, but never
Affront her with the mention of my name.
When the great work which you have undertaken
Is done, admit me in your castle-walls,
And never let me see our own again.

Countess.
I think I may accomplish what you wish;
But, recollect, I make no promises.