University of Virginia Library

SCENE III.

To Julia and Olympia, Durazzo.
DURAZZO.
I come, Olympia, to this chamber door,
To learn my destiny. As we inquire
From those who wake us, if the sun looks bright,
Or clouds obscure him, and then suit our garments
To meet the changeful temper of the sky,
So, by the colour of my daughter's health,
My mind is dress'd for gladness or dejection.

OLYMPIA.
I think, she mends. Her sorrow, that was silent,
Finds some relief in utterance. She approaches.

JULIA.
Your blessing, sir!

DURAZZO.
O, may it drop upon thee,
Refreshing as mild dews on vernal flowers,
To kill the canker that consumes thy fragrance!

JULIA.
My heart, my grateful heart, owns all your goodness;
And could my first devotion reach the sky,
Time and your honour'd days should end together.

DURAZZO.
Not too long life, pray not for curses on me!
Helpless, uncomely, loath'd, and burdensome,
I would not cling to the last hold of nature,
Nor lag without one social cord to aid me.
Surviving my companions of the voyage,
The world to me would seem a ruin'd vessel,
A worthless wreck, when mann'd alone by strangers.
Let my heart burst at once with some great feeling!
Let me go all together to my grave,
Not maim'd and piece-meal with infirmity!—
I have liv'd enough, could I but see thee happy.

JULIA.
That will not be.

DURAZZO.
I swear, it must, it shall be;
And come, I have a suit which you must grant me.

JULIA.
My dearest father!

[throwing her arms round him.
DURAZZO.
Change these mourning weeds:
For outward signs, though trifles in themselves,
When the mind's weak; and spirits delicate,
To fancy, in herself too powerful,
Lend their mute aid, and make her workings stronger.

JULIA.
This habit was best suited to my mood,
But shall no more offend you.

DURAZZO.
Fair Olympia,
I now must beg your aid. Your constant brother,
(Nor does proud Genoa boast a nobler youth,)
With adoration such as saints pay heaven,
Devotes his service here.

JULIA.
Ah sir, for pity!
I feel myself not worthy of his passion.
My soul is out of tune to flattery:
The fondest vows that ever lover sigh'd,
Might wring my eyes, but never warm my heart.

DURAZZO.
Nay, stop these tears; I'll urge this theme no more.
And see, an honour'd visitant approaches;
Receive her not in sorrow.