University of Virginia Library

SCENE II.

An Apartment in Durazzo's House.
Enter Durazzo splendidly attired, followed by Perez.
DURAZZO.
Now Perez, give your happy master joy,
And change the title of your reverence
To suit his new condition. I am come,
Ennobled by the King, to mate with greatness.

PEREZ.
Thank Heaven, I live to call you lord; therefore,
My Lord, I give you joy.

DURAZZO.
Proclaim it far,
That those who mock'd my humble state may gnaw
Their lips with envy. 'Tis not that I prize
The empty title for its empty sake;
'Tis but a phrase: yet, as the world is caught
With syllables, the phrase hath value in't,
And I would give it swelling currency
Throughout the realm.

PEREZ.
It shall not lack my voice.

DURAZZO.
I met a noble as I came, who thought
To look me out of favour with myself,
As he was wont to do. My soul was nigh
To burst its mortal bound as I rebuked him—
Such transport was in pride.

PEREZ.
It must be sweet
To those who long have felt depression sorely.

DURAZZO.
Ay, there you guess aright; contempt should goad
To rouse it to its proper vehemence.
The vulgar animal we tie by day,
Keeps fiercer watch at night, and nobler brutes
Catch vigour from abuses. Feed the lion—
He's tame; 'tis famine lights a soul of fire
Within his ribs, and crowns the savage, king!

PEREZ.
E'en so, my Lord. But yonder look, where comes
Don Garcia through the vestibule.

DURAZZO.
Depart
[Exit Perez.
And let us be alone. What! would he break
On my retirement rudely thus uncall'd—
No leave obtain'd—no question ask'd; but in,
As if I kept a tavern for his highness?

Enter Garcia.
GARCIA.
Durazzo!

DURAZZO.
Garcia!

GARCIA.
How, my Lord?

DURAZZO.
My Lord
Again, or Garcia, as you chuse to speak,
Addressing me.

GARCIA.
'Tis bold, Sir,—nay, methinks
You look but slightingly upon your patron.

DURAZZO.
My patron!

GARCIA.
I was so this morning.

DURAZZO.
True—
But see, 'tis mid-day now. Think'st thou you orb,
Who, on his glorious round, keeps half our earth
For ever in his beam, beholds no changes
In this diurnal planet, but the lapse
Of growing hours and seasons?—think again;
Trust me, there are more strange vicissitudes
Than one man standing by another's side,
Who never was above him, but in fortune.

GARCIA.
I would keep down this swelling of my heart
To reason calmly with your haughtiness.

DURAZZO.
My haughtiness!

GARCIA.
Ay, haughtiness; what else
Could breed this lofty tone? Those trappings, too,
But ill become the state of yesterday.

DURAZZO.
I wore them not till yesterday was gone.

GARCIA.
And should not, till the memory had pass'd
Into oblivion.

DURAZZO.
By your favour, Sir,
'Tis sometimes prudent to adorn our limbs,
That fools, who look no deeper, thence may see
We mean to be respected.

GARCIA.
But to change,
As you have done, in dress, in manner, word,
And action, from the lowly thing you have been,
So suddenly, as if the flash of fortune
Had set your soul and body in a flame,
Is matter more for mirth than deference.

DURAZZO.
Indeed!

GARCIA.
The world will laugh.

DURAZZO.
Advise the world
It laugh not out too loud.

GARCIA.
You would not make
So huge a sacrifice as all mankind
To your voracious anger.

DURAZZO.
I might chance
To know some voices in the jubilee,
And make amusement danger to the sharers.
Erewhile my pride was like an idle blade
That rusted in the scabbard; now 'tis drawn,
And flourish'd o'er your heads—beware of it.

GARCIA.
Have you not crawl'd your way to this?

DURAZZO.
'Twas fate
Ordain'd it so; but I have broke her spells,
And here stand up for my prerogative,
Enlarged, and free to act. What I have done
And suffer'd was necessity; what more
I do, shall be from choice, and speak the mind
Within me noble. But were I as vile
In birth, as penury begot on meanness,
Still, having won my place, I would assume
Its usage, honours, titles, and respects,
And in the teeth of scorn be dignified.

GARCIA.
'Twere fitting more such uprise to be humble.

DURAZZO.
How! by what process of the intellect
Prove you this fitness? Do we not go arm'd
Into the field of arms; and shall we not
Tread proudly in the palaces of pride?
I come amongst you a competitor,
To answer taunts with tauntings. When the wind
Scolds at the sea, the sea rebukes the wind
With lips of foam; and when a comet starts
Into our system, angrily he glares,
That the bright multitude of stars turn pale
To see the mighty stranger pass along.

GARCIA.
Yet hear me patiently.—Your tale this morning
Hath wrought a purpose useful to the State.
Provoke not inquisition, by the spurns
You cast on others, lest yourself be found
No purer than you should, and what you've done
Be, by your rashness, undone.

DURAZZO.
Have you aught
To urge besides?

GARCIA.
But to apply the rule.
Let no vindictive spirit 'gainst Benducar
Betray your passion to an act of rash
Revenge.—Bethink you, I have pass'd my word
That in due time he shall submit to you:
Bethink,—and pause.

DURAZZO.
O! as the insult fell
On me, I know how calmly you can bear it;
Nor have I yet forgot, how light you made
This morning of the blow; as if it were
A gnat that stung my flesh.—The hand which strikes
Down from the clouds, may execute unquestion'd
The purposes of its omnipotence:—
But that whose force a mortal shoulder wields,
Strikes at its peril, and is answerable
To God and man.

GARCIA.
Yet be advised, and push not
Your rage too far.

DURAZZO.
Revenge is not too far;
'Tis the next neighbour of oppression.

GARCIA.
Be it;
Still should it be discreet.—The noblest natures
Look down upon its dictates as beneath 'em.

DURAZZO.
Why, Hannibal had somewhat of a name:
He took it upon trust; his father gave it;
And, on the hot religion of his soul,
Burn'd by an oath the curse of haughty Rome.
He cherish'd it—fought for it—bled for it;—
There was revenge.

GARCIA.
Not such was Cæsar.

DURAZZO.
No!
But mark the difference: he died with looks
Of mild reproach, not anger: having died,
As if reflection crept into his urn,
He roused him thence to meet at Philippi
With Brutus, and direct his last despair.
There was revenge again. But why appeal
To instances? or if to instances,
Why not to yourself? Ask your own heart
What you would give to crush me into nothing;
Though I have flung no insult but surprise
Into your face, proving myself a man?

GARCIA.
I came not here to listen to this rudeness.

DURAZZO.
Nay, I've some notion of the cause that brought you.
Was it to try the terror of your frown?

GARCIA.
Did I not raise you—make you what you are?

DURAZZO.
With the King's help.

GARCIA.
You sneer, but it was so.

DURAZZO.
Went your intention with it, when you knew not
My object nor my claim?

GARCIA.
No matter now;
'Tis now enough to wonder at your fortunes.

DURAZZO.
You see in what a changeful world we live:
The beggar of to-day is rich to-morrow;
The rich man poor—despised; for circumstance
Hath, as it were, a charter from the Gods
To keep us on the stir for evermore.

GARCIA.
Your comment is a grave one.

DURAZZO.
Hear it to
The end, though. When you see the prosperous fall,
You look upon 'em with an alter'd brow,—
Indifferent, if not scornful: when you find
The lowly thrive, you still would keep your frown,
As if you learnt to nod from Jupiter,
Chose you to use it. Why this inconsistence?
Your wants, your wishes change; your habits change;
Your passions have their date and limit fix'd,
When they give place to others: nay, still more,
Your very wisdom, veering like the wind,
Throws maxims overboard, to take in new,
And so sets sail for change;—your projects, plans,
Performances, affections, friendships, change:
Why not your arrogance—your vanity?

GARCIA.
I'll hear no more.

DURAZZO.
Go home, and ponder on't.
[Exit Garcia.
So; this is well. But next to take some course,
Such as may mar the nuptials I have heard of,
And lay Benducar prostrate at my feet.
[Exit Durazzo.