 | The Virgin Widow ; or, A Sicilian Summer |  |
Scene IV.
—An Antechamber with folding doors, opening upon a Ball-Room in the Royal Palace at Palermo.—The King, masked as a Knight of St. John, and Lisana, as a Minstrel.The King.
Young minstrel, had thy ditty been less sweet
I should have bid thee sing me one less sad,
But thou hast so subdued me to thy strain
I crave another like it.
Lisana.
Sooth, my Lord,
It is but such that I can sing; I'm young,
Untaught, and have but a few natural notes:
I sing but as the birds do, from my heart.
The King.
Well, sing from that again. Thy voice awakes
A tenderness that might be troublesome
And shame to show itself by day; but tears
That come at twilight like a summer dew
May trickle unrestrain'd; sing once again.
Lisana.
(sings).
And lusty Summer near her birth;
The birds awoke and waked the air,
The flowers awoke and waked the earth.
On dewy plain, in budding brake!
A sweet bird sings on every tree,
And flowers are sweeter for my sake.
Lightly brush'd he through the wood,
And snared a little bird that slept
And had not waken'd when she should.
Lightly stept he o'er the plain,
And yet—a little flower was crush'd
That never raised its head again.
The King.
That voice had won me were I blind; that face,
Though I were deaf, had spoken to my heart!
I am ashamed to say what love is mine
For thee, and of what temper. Jesu Mary!
That I, a King, God help me! should so waste
The night, the dawn, the noon, the dewy eve
In this sweet serious idleness of love.
The masquers thicken, and such songs as these
Are not for every ear. See! through this door
There is a private chamber. Come with me.
[Exeunt the King and Lisana.
Enter Ruggiero, masked as Conscience, with a lamp and scourge.
Ruggiero.
Surely I know that voice! Lisana's, if I
err not. And that Knight of St. John was the King.
Poor girl! she is in the toils, and they glisten in her eyes
like a cobweb dew-bespangled. A word of warning in
her father's ear were not ill bestowed, and doubtless he
will be here anon.
Enter divers Maskers, passing through to the Ball-Room, and others passing out.
1st Mask.
Marco, I think? Yes, I know you by the
wave of your feather. What, have you danced?
2nd Mask.
Ay; but methinks these festivities are
somewhat sadly carried. Seest thou the bride yonder?
By my faith she stands more like a marble statue in a
mist than a bride of flesh and blood. There—have you
seen her, Sir?
(to Ruggiero).
Ah, now she slinks behind
the crowd.
Ruggiero.
In truth a pitiable spectacle!
I marvel, Sir, what pleasure age can take
So airily to deck its dim decline.
A chaplet of forced flowers on winter's brow
Seems not less inharmonious to me
Than the untimely snow on the green leaf.
2nd Mask.
Why, Sir, it is a common error of age to
think that it can get back the enjoyment of youth by
getting what youth only can enjoy.
1st Mask.
Nay, but this was a match of Ubaldo's
making, not of Ugo's. We are here to dance; so pass
on, I pray you.
[All pass into the ball-room except Ruggiero and one Mask.
Ruggiero.
Gerbetto, no?
Gerbetto.
The same, Sir; and can I mistake the voice
of the Count of Arona?
Ruggiero.
Make me not known, Gerbetto; but when
we pass in, do thy endeavour to draw the Countess out
of the crowd to where I shall stand apart. Know you,
Gerbetto, that your daughter hath secret conference with
the King?
Gerbetto.
You say not so, my Lord?
Ruggiero.
I do; and though the maiden be as modest
as the rosebud's inmost leaf, yet I like not the sun and
the south-west wind to play with her.
Gerbetto.
You are right, my Lord; and I shall beseech
you to give me your counsel. But lo! the crowd divides
and if we take the occasion ....
Ruggiero.
Pass in, I pray.
| The Virgin Widow ; or, A Sicilian Summer | |