University of Virginia Library

Scene III.

—The same.
Enter Alvise and Beatrice.
ALVISE.
Thou art not well at ease: come in again
And rest: the day grows dark as nightfall, ere
Night fall indeed upon it.

BEATRICE.
No, not yet.
I do not fear the thunder, nor the sea
That mocks and mates the thunder. What I fear
I know not: but I will not go from hence
Till that sea-thwarted ship's crew thwart the sea
Or perish for its pasture. See, she veers,
And sets again straight hither. All good saints,
Whose eyes unseen of ours that here lack light
Hallow the darkness, guard and guide her! Lo,
She reels again, and plunges shoreward: God,
Whose hand with curb immeasurable as they
Bridles and binds the waters, bid the wind
Fall down before thee silent ere it slay,
And death, whose clarion rends the heart of the air,
Be dumb as now thy mercy! O, that cry
Had more than tempest in it: life borne down
And hope struck dead with horror there put forth
Toward heaven that heard not for the clamouring sea
Their last of lamentation.

ALVISE.
Some there are—
Nay, one there is comes shoreward. If mine eyes
Lie not, being baffled of the wind and sea,
The face that flashed upon us out of hell
Between the refluent and the swallowing wave
Was none if not Galassi's. Nay, go in:
Look not upon us.

BEATRICE.
Wherefore?

ALVISE.
Must I not
Save him to slay to-morrow? If I let
The sea's or God's hand slay mine enemy first,
That hand strikes dead mine honour.

[Exit.
BEATRICE.
Save him, Christ!
God, save him! Death is at my heart: I feel
His breath make darkness round me.

Enter Francesca.
FRANCESCA.
Dost thou live?
Dost thou live yet?

BEATRICE.
I know not. What art thou,
To question me of life and death?

FRANCESCA.
I am not
The thing I was.

BEATRICE.
The friend I loved and knew thee
Thou art not. This fierce night that leaps up eastward,
Laughing with hate and hunger, loud and blind,
Is not less like the sunrise. What strange poison
Has changed thy blood, that face and voice and spirit
(If spirit or sense bid voice or face interpret)
Should change to this that meets me?

FRANCESCA.
Did I drink
The poison that I gave thee? Thou art dead now:
Not the oldest of the world's forgotten dead
Hath less to do than thou with life. Thou shalt not
Set eyes again on one that loved thee: here
No face but death's and mine, who hate thee deadlier
Than life hates death, shalt thou set eyes on. Die,
And dream that God may save thee: from my hands
Alive thou seest he could not.

Re-enter Alvise with Galasso.
ALVISE.
Stand, I say.
Stand up. Thou hast no hurt upon thee. Stand,
And gather breath to praise God's grace with.

GALASSO.
Thee
First must I thank, who hast plucked me hardly back
Forth of the ravening lips of death. What art thou?
This light is made of darkness.

ALVISE.
Yet the darkness
May serve to see thine enemy by: to-morrow
The sun shall serve us better when we meet
And sword to sword gives thanks for swordstrokes.

GALASSO.
No:
The sun shall never see mine enemy more
Now that his hand has humbled me.

ALVISE.
Forego not
Thy natural right of manhood. Chance it was,
Not I, that chose thee for my hand to save
As haply thine had saved me, had the wind
Flung me as thee to deathward.

GALASSO.
Dost thou think
To live, and say it, and smile at me? Thy saint
Had heavenlier work to do than guard thee, when
God gave thine evil star such power as gave thee
Power on thine enemy's life to save it. Twice
Thou shalt not save or spare me: if to-morrow
Thy sword had borne down mine, thou hadst let me live
And shamed me out of living: now, I am sure,
Thou shalt not twice rebuke me.

[Stabs him.
BEATRICE.
Death is good:
He gives me back Alvise.

ALVISE.
Was it thou
Or God, Beatrice, speaking out of heaven,
Who turned my death to life?

BEATRICE.
I am dying, Alvise:
I thought to have left—perchance to have lost thee: now
We shall not part for ever.

[Dies. Alvise dies.
FRANCESCA.
Wilt thou stand
Star-struck to death, Galasso? Let our dead
Lie dead, while we fly fleet as birds or winds
Forth of the shadow of death, and laugh, and live
As happy as these were hapless.

GALASSO.
She—is she
Dead? Hath she kissed the death upon his lips
And fed it full from hers?

FRANCESCA.
Why, dost thou dream
I did not kill her?

GALASSO.
Not a devil in hell
But one cast forth on earth could do it: and she
Shall shame the light of heaven no longer.

[Stabs her.
FRANCESCA.
Fool,
Thou hast set me free from fate and fear: I knew
Thou wouldst not love me.

[Dies.
GALASSO.
What am I, to live
And see this death about me? Death and life
Cast out so vile a thing from sight of heaven.
Save where the darkness of the grave is deep,
I cannot think to wake on earth or sleep.