University of Virginia Library

SCENE THE LAST.

—The Garden of the Castle.
Enter Isoline, tottering and breathless—She leans against a tree—Sounds of tumult without, and the noise of martial instruments.
Iso.
Thus far in time—thus far in safety! Were't
Another stride, ere take it I had dropp'd.
The work is going on! O, spare my father—
Spare him, and deal with me! Hark! Massacre
Has left this quarter free; within the city
Holding her gory reign. She does not riot
Within the castle yet. He yet may live!
Limbs, hold me up. Don't fail me. Who comes here?
My father!—Father!

[Governor enters hastily and wildly.
Gov.
Whosoe'er thou art,
Stop not my way!

Iso.
Dost thou not know me?

Gov.
No!
In times like these men know not one another.
Holding together, they together fall,
As men in knots will drown. In scattering lies
The chance of safety. Do not hold me, friend!
Let go!—Look to thyself!—Let every one
Look to himself. He is lost that casts his eye
Upon another's jeopardy. His own
Asks all his care.—Let go!—Away!—Away!

[Rushes off.
Iso.
[Thrown upon her knees.]
He does not know me!—He's my father, and
He does not know me! He's distracted—mad!
Fain would I follow him, but cannot.—No,
My knees refuse to raise me.

Fern.
[Rushing in.]
Isoline!

Iso.
[Springing up by a convulsive effort, and throwing herself into his arms.]
Fernando!—my Fernando!—True to death!
My husband—Mine own love!—I die for joy!
And bless thee, my Fernando, for my death!

[Swoons in his arms
Fern.
Love!—Wife!—Choice pattern of thy devoted sex—
My Isoline! She is dead!—she is dead!—she is dead!

Guis.
[Entering from the castle, his sword drawn.]
Fernando!

Fern.
Here, Guiscardo!

Guis.
Who is she
Hangs swooning on thine arm? Thy bride?

Fern.
My bride!

Guis.
And dead?

Fern.
And dead!

Guis.
Set down the carrion, then,
And yield me payment for Martini's death!
I want not odds!—I'll fight thee like a man
For ancient friendship's sake!

Fern.
Fight me, Guiscardo?

Guis.
Cast down thy load to earth, and draw thy sword.

Fern.
Wouldst murder me?—and if thou wouldst, Guiscardo,
Do it at once!

Guis.
I'd treat thee like a man.
Wilt thou not throw thyself thy burden down,
And act like one, or must I wrest it from thee
To balk thee of excuse?

[Approaching.
Fern.
You touch her not!
'Fore her dead body do I throw my life
That would not save my own!

Guis.
Have at thee, then!

[They fight; Fernando is wounded.
And.
[Rushing in.]
Hold!—'Tis the son of John of Procida!

Guis.
The son of John of Procida!

Fern.
Too late!—
Take her! Preserve from insult—Pay all honours,—
For her sake, not for mine, and lay us side
By side. I pant for death, and not the life,
Would hold my spirit from rejoining hers!

[Dies.
Enter John of Procida.
Pro.
It is not there!—I came to see his corse,
But not to smite him. No!—I would not stain
This day of freedom with the narrow deed
Of personal vengeance.—To the swords of others
I would have left him, satisfied if they
The debt exacted that was due to mine.
But they, intent on their own quarry, mine
Have suffer'd to escape, and vengeance, now
Balk'd, by its own remissness, of its prey,
Gnashes the teeth in vain!

And.
Di Procida!

Pro.
Ho!—Andrea! What bear'st thou on thy arm?

And.
The body of Fernando's wife, although
If this be death, I much mistake its hue!

Pro.
Who lies upon the ground? The Governor?

And.
Thy son, O Procida!—She is not dead!
Help here!—Hold off!—You kill'd him!

Pro.
Kill'd my son!

Guis.
Strike, John of Procida! He sided with
The enemies of Sicily.

Pro.
He did;
And he was born her son! Live!—You did right.
His father says it.—Yet, he was my son!

Guis.
I knew not that.

Pro.
And had you known it, still
You had done right—I say it—I—his father!
And yet he was my son!

Iso.
[Recovering.]
My lord!—My husband!—
Fernando!—draw me closer to thy breast!
Hold off!—Who art thou?—Where's Fernando?—Who
Is that?

And.
Fernando's father!

Iso.
So it is!
And we are safe!—Art we not, sir?

[Tottering toward John.
Pro.
O, Fate!

Iso.
You will not let them murder us?—You will not!
You can't! else Nature have no truth in her,
And never more be trusted!—Never more!
If fathers will not stretch an arm to save
Their children's throats, let mothers' breasts run dry,
And infants at the very founts of life
Be turn'd to stones! Sir!—Father!—Where's your son?
Ah, you repulse me not! You let me come
Closer to you.—Where's my Fernando, father?
What! do you draw me to you?—Would you take me
Into your very bosom?—There, then!
[Throws her arms about his neck.
Now,
Fernando, what's to fear?—Now, mine own love,
We shall be happy!—happy!—blessed happy!
Why don't you answer me?—Where is he, father?
I left him here! Where I have been I know not.
I recollect a sickness as of death,
And now it comes again. My brow grows chill
And damp—I'll wipe it! Blood!—What brings it here?
Whose blood is this?

And.
Blood has been shed to-day.
No vestment in Messina, but you'll find
Some trace upon't.

Iso.
Where is my husband, sirs?
Is this Fernando's blood?—We were together,
And it was here!—and if death threaten'd us,
He would be close to me, of his own life
Making a shield for mine! Was he alive,
Were he not here?—Not here, he must be dead!
And this must be his blood!

Pro.
Remove her, friend;
Take and remove her hence. I lack the strength.
Her plight, to mine own added, weighs me down.
She must not see his body; 'tis her life
That I feel fluttering next my breast just now
As ready to take wing. 'Twere certain death
To look upon him.

Iso.
[To Andrea.]
No, I will not hence!
They will murder me. I am safe here,—am I not?
Am I not, father? Father!—Where's my father?
He did not know me!—Shook off his daughter!
Fled from her!—You are all my father now!
But there's Fernando, too!—You are not weeping?
You are!—Don't weep!—I'll dry your eyes for you!
The blood again!

Pro.
We must remove her hence.
Come with me, child.

Iso.
Child!—Do you call me child?
Child is a sweet name!

Pro.
Come, my daughter.

Iso.
Daughter!
That's sweeter yet than child. Nothing so sweet
After the name of wife; but wife's not sweeter
Than husband.—Husband? That's the sweetest name
Of all! My husband is your son! and “son”—
There is a sweet name too!—No sweeter name
Than son! Do you not think so?

Pro.
Come.

Iso.
I come!
We are going to Fernando,—are we not?
Sir, fare you well. What's that upon the ground?

And.
Where?

Iso.
There! You know as well as I! Stand off!
[Breaks away.
Fernando!—My Fernando! Dead?—Ay, dead
Indeed, when it is I that call, and thou
Return'st no answer!—My Fernando!—Dead!
Ah! it is well! Here's silence coming too
For me, love!—Yes, I feel the frost of death
Biting my limbs, and creeping towards my heart.
Colder and colder—all will soon be ice.
'Tis winter ere its time! but welcome, since
'Tis shared with you, Fernando. Mercy, Heaven,
'Tis kind—'tis pitiful to suffer me
On thy dead lips to breathe my life away.

[Dies.
And.
Let me conduct thee hence, O Procida!
Grief hath benumb'd his every faculty.

Steph.
[Entering with others.]
Where is John of Procida?

And.
Behold him.

Steph.
Health
To thee and to Messina! which, to-day,
Through thee, beholds her grievous yoke thrown off.
All Sicily is free! From north to south,
From east to west she garrisons herself,
And tyrants rule no more!

And.
Forgive him that
He heeds you not. The body is his son's,
You see him gazing on!

Steph.
We know his heart!

Thomaso.
[Entering with others.]
Health, John of Procida! The enemy
That sack'd thy castle, and who yesterday
Held rule in Sicily, the Governor,
Flying from death, encounter'd it from one
Who knew him, intercepted him, and slew him.

And.
All enmities, all loves, are swallow'd up
In the deep gulf of sorrow for his son.

Carlo.
[Entering with others.]
Where is our chief?

And.
You see what's left of him.

Carlo.
The admiral
And captains of the fleet have disembark'd
To swell the general joy; and, yonder, come
Our ancient magistrates, their offices
Suspended long, resumed, to pay their debts
To John of Procida!

Enter Magistrates, &c.
Chief Magistrate.
Di Procida
The Liberator—so we hail thee—such
Thy deeds declare thee better than our words!
For us and for our children from our hands—
Whose act our sovereign master will approve—
Most poor return take for most rich desert,
And be the Governor of Sicily!

[The whole assembly shout and applaud—John of Procida weeps.
Pro.
Forgive me—I'm a father—There's my son!