University of Virginia Library

Scene II.

—A Street.
Falsetto, Dandolo, Philario.
Falsetto.
Good Signior Dandolo, here's a prodigal waste
Of my fair speeches to the sage philosopher.
I counted on at least a two months diet,
Besides stray boons of horses, rings, and jewels.

Dandolo.
Oh my Falsetto, a coat of my fashion
Come to the wheel!—it wrings my very heart,
To fancy how the seams will crack, or haply
The hangman will be seen in't!—That I should live
To be purveyor of the modes to a hangman!
Enter Bianca.
They pass me by on the other side of the street;
They spurn me from their doors; they load the air
With curses that are flung on me: the Palace,
The Ducal Palace, that should aye be open
To voice of the distress'd, as is God's heaven,
Is ring'd around with grim and iron savages,
That with their angry weapons smite me back,
As though I came with fire in my hand, to burn
The royal walls: the children in the streets
Break off their noisy games to hoot at me;
And the dogs from the porches howl me on.
But here's a succour.— (To Falsetto.)
Oh, good sir, thy friend,
The man thou feastedst with but yesterday,
He to whose motion thou wast a true shadow,
Whose hand rain'd gifts upon thee—he I mean,
Fazio, the bounteous, free, and liberal Fazio—
He's wrongfully accused, wrongfully doom'd:
I swear to thee 'tis wrongfully.—Oh, sir,
An eloquent honey-dropping tongue like thine,
How would it garnish up his innocence,
Till Justice would grow amorous and embrace it!

Falsetto.
Sweet lady, thou o'ervaluest my poor powers:—
Anything in reason to win so much loveliness
To smile on me.—But this were wild and futile.

Bianca.
In reason?—'Tis to save a human life—
Is not that in the spacious realm of reason?—
Kind sir, there's not a prayer will mount hereafter
Heavenward from us or our poor children's lips,
But in it thy dear name will rise embalm'd:
And prayers have power to cancel many a sin,
That clogs and flaws our coarse and corrupt nature.

Falsetto.
Methinks, good Dandolo, 'tis the hour we owe
Attendance at the Lady Portia's toilette.—
Any commission in our way, fair lady?

Dandolo.
Oh yes! I'm ever indispensable there
As is her looking glass.—

Bianca.
Riotous madness!
To waste a breath (Detaining them)
upon such thin-blown bubbles!
Why thou didst cling to him but yesterday,
As 'twere a danger of thy life to part from him;
Didst swear it was a sin in Providence
He was not born a prince.— (To Dandolo)
And thou, sir, thou—
Chains, sir, in May—it is a heavy wear;
Hard and unseemly, a rude weight of iron.—
Faugh! cast ye off this shape and skin of men;
Ye stain it, ye pollute it: be the reptiles
Ye are.— (To Philario)
And thou, sir—I know in whose porch,
He hired thee to troll out thy fulsome ditties:
I know whose dainty ears were last night banqueted
With the false harlotry of thy rich airs.

Philario.
I do beseech thee, lady, judge me not
So harshly. In the state, Heaven knows, I'm powerless:
I could remove yon palace walls, as soon
As alter his sad doom. But if to visit him,
To tend him with a soft officious zeal,
Waft the mild magic of mine art around him,
Making the chill and lazy dungeon air
More smooth, more gentle to the trammell'd breathing:—
All that I can I will, to make his misery
Slide from him light and airily.

Bianca.
Wilt thou?
Why then there's hope the Devil hath not all Florence.
Go—go!—I cannot point thee out the way:
Mine eyes are cloudy; it is the first rain
Hath dewed them, since—since when I cannot tell thee.—
Go—go!— (Exit.)
—One effort more; and if I fail—
But by the inbred and instinctive tenderness
That mingles with the life of womanhood,
I cannot fail: and then, thou grim to-morrow,
I'll meet thee with a bold and unblench'd front.