University of Virginia Library

SCENE VI.

An Apartment in the Palace.
Duke, Duchess, and Prince of Andria.
PRINCE ANDRIA.
We have not seen Arezzi.

DUCHESS.
He of late
Has kept too much from home.

PRINCE ANDRIA.
I know his haunts,
And should be better pleased to find his choice
Were wiser in his friends.

DUCHESS.
Who? this Cimbelli?

PRINCE ANDRIA.
O he! I meant not him.

DUKE.
What is he?

PRINCE ANDRIA.
He is
A whelp too loud for mischief, yet they say
True bred—he left us babbling for a drum,
Took sides with Venice, and while heads with brains
Were burst by scores, his own ill-soldered pate—
Though ever thrust the foremost toward mischance—
Came safely back. There is another near,
For choosing whom I mainly blame myself.

DUKE.
He that was late his tutor?

PRINCE ANDRIA.
I should blush
To own how much the learning of that monk,
His reverend carriage, and most eloquent speech,
Prevailed with one so wary. Pious, he seemed,
Discreet and mortified—his clear cool eye
Baffled my watchfulness.

DUKE.
You have heard more?

PRINCE ANDRIA.
Not yet—I dig, but cannot reach the root,
And therefore I suspect him. Meaner reptiles
Crawl to their mischief fearfully, and leave
Snail-like their slime to trace them where they go—
This worm seems native to the fruit he gnaws,
Engendered in the blossom.

DUCHESS.
Well, but why
Thus level at the friar? we must not hope
That Naples hides no fellow knave to this,
As wise and secret as he is.

PRINCE ANDRIA.
Your Grace
Sees that my threads are fine, but will not mark
How many run one way. First, then, we have it
That plots affect the state—we know who meet,
For what, and where—we have a voice among them,
Our seat is in their closet—when we choose
We can lay hold on these.

DUKE.
Then why not, now?

PRINCE ANDRIA.
Good saints! not now. Your highness does forget—
These stand for little else than sticks or stones
To break our heads. I watch the hand which throws,
And leave the pebble where it lies. We know
That Naples swarms with treasons—leagues there are
Where traitors seek a breathing place for spleen,
Banded by tens and twelves. Each makes a whole,
Has signs and countersigns, its laws and leaders,—
A dwarfish state full grown. Though pledged and sworn,
None knows its own confederates—but apart
Obeys some mightier despot, who retired
Rules by his ministers, and holds unseen
Mysterious monarchy o'er all.

DUCHESS.
And so,
Bound by their sacraments, two friends or kinsmen
Might both be disciplined in several schools,
Nor one suspect the other?

PRINCE ANDRIA.
Even thus—and here
The law stands shamed and baffled—bid it on,
It can but crush a fragment of the whole,
And leave the rest more wise.

DUKE.
Well, now this monk.

PRINCE ANDRIA.
Next, then, for this Savelli. He has held
His abbey's purse for years, justly, men think,
At first, more loosely after, by degrees
Wide open to his lusts. A house so large
Has eyes to spare—and some have watched the friar.
Hence whisperings, not of thriftlessness and sloth,
Idle misuse, with prodigal palm toward all,
Large and profuse yet equal—but of waste
Luxurious, selfish, secret, and extreme.
Ask him for gold long due; it is a day
Too late, or else too early—then the charge
Breeds doubts and cavils—he must find it just,
And you, the while, must wait. He makes new friends
Matched badly with his years, his studies, calling—
And those who least love us. Ill men like him
Must put their necks in jeopardy perforce
To bail their heads—as drunkards stand the best
When most unsteadily.

DUCHESS.
This sheep, Arezzi,
Hath never dreamed his shepherd may turn knave,
But follows pure of heart.

DUKE.
Then let us warn him.

PRINCE ANDRIA.
That were to warn them both. I do suspect
An elder member of our house, a branch
Which rotten as it is, is ours—a wart
Set on our honor's nose—a scurf in the blood
To crust our pride with leprosy! I fear
Gerardo, not Arezzi.

DUCHESS.
Well, at night
We shall have time to question this again.

[Exeunt.