University of Virginia Library

SCENE II.

—Ante-Room to the Chamber of the Duchess— A Window overlooking the Street.
Enter Floribel.
Flo.
A merry life for twenty-one to lead,
And in a woman too! from morn till night
Mew'd in a lonely tower! Heigho! It is
My lady's will. I would she had been born
In Mantua, where wives their husbands love
In reason! Well!—We'll live in hope she'll learn
In time. I used to lead a dozen kinds
Of life, in a day!—Now, in a dozen days,
I lead but one! Ere breakfast, was a nun;
Then play'd the housewife; after that, to horse;
Then, dinner o'er, a Naiad on the lake,
Floating to music! Evening changed the scene
Again; and night brought on the closing scene,
With open casement, list'ning, by the moon,
The melting cadence of the serenade!
Now morning, evening, noon, and night are nought—
But morning, evening, noon, and night. No change
Save in their turns and names! What I get up,
I last throughout the day, and so lie down;
The solitary lady of the duchess!
And how I bear it! Wonderfully! Past
Belief! I'll do't no longer! If I do,
Then never was I born in Mantua.
[Shouts.
What's that?— [Looks out.]
—The city all astir!—A crowd
Before the palace—I will ope the casement:—
I feel as I could leap into the street!

[Opens casement.
Enter Mariana.
Mari.
What do you at the casement, Floribel?

Flo.
Look from it, madam.

Mari.
That I see. At what?

Flo.
At crowds of happy people, madam,—
Some standing, others walking, others running;
All doing what they list—like merry birds
At liberty.

Mari.
Come from the casement!—Shut it.

Flo.
Nay, rather you approach it, madam! Do!
And look from't too—There's news, and from your lord!
Look—There's the courier!

Mari.
[Approaching the window.]
Where?

Flo.
That cavalier,
Who tries to pass along, but cannot, so
The people press upon him.

Enter Ferrardo and Antonio.
Fer.
[Aside to Antonio.]
At the casement!

Mari.
Who is that cavalier?

Flo.
The courier, madam.

Mari.
I know—but who is he?
His family—His name? I cannot take
My eyes from his face! who is he? Can't you tell?
I have a strange desire to know his name!

Fer.
[Aside to Antonio.]
Father!

Flo.
I'll fly and learn it.

Mari.
Do, good girl!
And soon as you have learn'd, fly back again!

[Floribel goes out.
Fer.
[Aside to Antonio.]
I pray you mark, but speak not—
[Approaches the window on tiptoe, returns, and speaks to himself.
It is Saint Pierre!
Incredible! [To Antonio.]
It is the courier, father.
Of whom they were discoursing.

Mari.
I have lost him!
He has enter'd the palace—I should like again
To see him—I should like to speak to him!

Fer.
[Aside to Antonio.]
My life on't, she will hold a court to-day—
Accost her, father.

Ant.
Benedicite
Fair daughter.

Mari.
Father!—What, his grace!—I think,
Or I mistake, there's news from my dear lord?

Ant.
Madam, there is, and happy news.—Your lord
Has won another victory!

Fer.
All Mantua
Would have a heart of overflowing joy,
Would but your highness notify your will
To let it speak its happiness, and pay
Congratulations to you.—May I hope
You do not pause from doubt? Your confessor
Approves your highness somewhat should relax
Your life of close seclusion.

Mari.
[After a pause.]
Be it so.

Fer.
[Aside to Antonio.]
I told you, father—

[Floribel re-enters.
Flo.
Madam, he is call'd—

Fer.
St. Pierre—You mean the courier
That brought these happy tidings?

Mari.
Floribel,
I want your aid. My lord, and reverend father,
Soon as my toilet's made, I shall descend.

[Mariana and Floribel go out.
Ant.
What kind of man is this?

Fer.
A kind of devil,
That grasps you with his eye—as fascinate
Serpents, 'tis said, their prey.—A tongue to match,
In glosing speech, the master-fiend himself!
I'm troubled, father. Was the dame you spoke of
Indeed a pattern, like my cousin's wife,
Of saintly self-denial?

Ant.
Yes, my son.

Fer.
I grieve we urged her highness with her presence
To grace the court to-day. I tremble for her.
Come! Shall I tell thee something—No, I will not!
When you can lead the sea, you'll sound the depth
Of woman's art.—Would you believe it—No—
While there's a doubt, suspicion should be dumb.
Think'st thou I would have back'd her guardian's suit
But that I knew he had his reasons?—'Sdeath!
What am I doing?—Come, your reverence,
The man of proper charity condemns not,
Except upon enforcement. All is right!

[They go out.