The Count Arezzi A Tragedy, In Five Acts |
 | 1. |
| 1. |
| 2. |
| 3. |
| 4. |
| 5. |
| 2. |
| 1. |
| 2. |
| 3. |
| 4. |
| 5. |
| 6. |
| 7. |
| 3. |
| 1. |
| 2. |
| 3. |
| 4. |
| 5. |
| 6. | SCENE VI. |
| 7. |
| 8. |
| 4. |
| 1. |
| 2. |
| 3. |
| 4. |
| 5. |
| 6. |
| 7. |
| 8. |
| 5. |
| 1. |
| 2. |
| 3. |
| 4. |
| 5. |
| 6. |
| 7. |
 | The Count Arezzi |  |
93
SCENE VI.
A Public Walk.Arezzi and Savelli.
SAVELLI.
Well well—and so it is—we must forgive—
But when? how speaks that law you cite me?
In wisdom truly! all its ends are such:
Beware lest ignorance read the text amiss!—
To see the injurious on their knees, and then
Remit the injury—this were to make
The weeds which nature scatters in mens' hearts,
A growth for Heaven! Our passions thus seem holy,
Their human crudities purged off, and love
Infused instead—but look, young man, the end
Must still be mercy.
AREZZI.
We reclaim our own
From force by force.
SAVELLI.
You might have said—from wrong
By stronger right. Spain hath oppressed us, robb'd us,
And would devour us if she could.
AREZZI.
The prince
94
Must owe to him.
SAVELLI.
Your life? then give him back
What he does value much, his own—and thus
Pay all, with usury. But good, my son,
You must be master of it first. Who now?
AREZZI.
It is the monk his brother.
SAVELLI.
Who? Gerardo?
Hush! then—be wary—never trust that man.
[Enter Gerardo.
GERARDO.
Good thoughts to both.
SAVELLI.
With such a sparkling face
There should be such a welcome—tell us next,
What news, and whence? All men must smile who hear them.
GERARDO.
'Twere treason to look grave: my kinsman here
Will find them old.
AREZZI.
If good—believe me—no.
GERARDO.
Yourselves must judge of that—they came last night
Whence goodness ever comes, from Spain. The king
Resigns us to his son.—Content to keep
95
Two of its oldest, to the duke, who reigns
An infant Jove. He will be married first,
Then crowned forthwith.
SAVELLI.
Married! to whom?
GERARDO.
His cousin.
Nay this, at least, is old enough. Men wished
An empress like Cicilia.
SAVELLI.
Here, at length
His fortune is summ'd up—on this side Heaven
There is no more to grant him.
GERARDO.
Let me confess—
Now that remembrance is the last sin left me—
Could youth with secular thoughts return—and one,
The princess, or the crown, with choice of which,
Be given myself, I should think either much,
But take the first. She looks a queen already;
I saw her at the window by his side,
Blush like Athena ere she stripp'd to Paris;
And mingle in her glance of love, the awe
Which chastens majesty—her cheeks appeared
Offended at her eyes.
SAVELLI.
Arezzi!
GERARDO.
Count!
96
Art sick, man, speak? Savelli! mercy on us!
Thus early drunk? fie! fie!
SAVELLI.
It is the weather.
Brother let loose.
GERARDO.
He freshens now—Heaven bless us!
Prithee stand up—hast legs, good cousin, or no?
SAVELLI.
Arezzi! speak.
GERARDO.
Where did he dine to day?
AREZZI.
Pray—pray—stand back.
GERARDO.
Thou shalt sleep off this surfeit;
A little rest in bed.
SAVELLI.
Come—lean on us.
AREZZI.
What did Gerardo say?
SAVELLI.
Peace, son, no matter—
We both will see thee hence.
AREZZI.
The day is hot,
But now I am myself again—good father—
When will the duke be crowned?
97
I know not when—
He will be married first, they say.
SAVELLI.
Well, well,
Some better time for that.
GERARDO.
The prince my brother
Will sadden when he hears of this—to-day
He seemed himself the bridegroom, such a coupling
Is master policy! Hast ever felt
These qualms before?
AREZZI.
Sometimes—but now, adieu!
SAVELLI.
We must not leave you here.
GERARDO.
Come, walk with us.
In faith, you startled me.
AREZZI.
I want no help—
Savelli, we will meet to-morrow at noon.
GERARDO.
What! wouldst be left alone? we will not leave thee,
Sweet charity! to swoon again—perhaps die!
Take one, or both.
AREZZI.
Pray get thee hence, once more.
98
It is not safe, nor will we go.
AREZZI.
Away—
This drives me mad.
GERARDO.
The greater need, good cousin,
Of care in us.
AREZZI.
Stand off, thou meddling knave—
Get back to Modena—the gallows there
Is nearer kin than I.
SAVELLI.
Let loose, Gerardo.
[Exit Arezzi.
GERARDO.
With all my heart! Master was this done well?
Ah! ah! sir Bounce—Orlando in his teens!
Behold the potency of two dark eyes!
How speedily the carp grew sick! a hair
Will draw your lover on his back to land—
The hook is in his gills; and if we lose him,
He yet may rise again. Come, thank me, praise me;
Have I done well, or no?
SAVELLI.
Bravely—but yet
Too much beyond your book. Where didst pick up
Those news from Spain?
GERARDO.
I found them by the way
99
SAVELLI.
Indeed! art sure?
GERARDO.
We have a ship from Spain,
And such a rumour with it.
SAVELLI.
Thou mightier Æsop!
He made his fables to adorn some truth;
If thou art ever honest, it must be
To grace or hide some lie. Now, I will call thee
My son and heir.
GERARDO.
There is another heirship
The which I covet more—if we shall thrive,
Promise me that beside.
SAVELLI.
What is it? I will.
GERARDO.
First, chide me not for asking thee, but think
If what I say be so. Of living things
All have their several wants and properties,
As great presiding nature grants to each—
So lambs are meek, dogs watchful, leopards fierce;
The vulture hath his taste, though not a pure one;
The wasp or asp is guiltless while it stings,
And, if we slay, we blame it not. In men
There are your lambs and leopards, asps and owls—
Now that which follows instinct seconds nature;
100
And such, we know, is sin. Apply we this.
My instinct moves me to abhor what hurts me;
And there is one, who, five and forty years,
Casting his shade upon my growth, has kept
Both grace and fortune off.
SAVELLI.
The prince of Andria?
These moral reasonings ever point one way!
GERARDO.
Andria must go to bliss, and quickly too.
You shall hear reasons why he must—It is
Nor you, nor I,—but wisdom, justice, safety,
The public weal—which sends him there. His breath
Would blow our new-built house about our ears—
So we must stop it.
SAVELLI.
Those who love him not,
Yet think his instinct is averse from thine,
And looks toward truth.
GERARDO.
The better fit to die!
An upright man withal! full of good deeds,
Blessed in his many charities; and thus
He ever has been. I stand next as heir,
But that he loves me not, and this sick cousin—
Who talked of Modena, and named the gallows—
Pushes himself between. That which I covet
Is plainly mine by right. The jealous Count
101
And leave me his—now judge between us fairly.
SAVELLI.
Wouldst send him too, Gerardo?
GERARDO.
He called me knave,
Prince Andria called me traitor—I would strive
To render back such courtesies as these.
Who taught the boy Arezzi what I was?
Prince Andria taught him. And that younger child,
Whence did he learn to gird me thus, last night?
From Andria too—my loving brother Andria—
That leaped some months before me to the sun,
Became my gracious prince, mine elder brother;
Set me at buffets with the world, and when
I played not quite so fairly, first cried shame!—
Thwarted my hopes, drove me from court and office,
And made me what I am. He reared this babe
To vex and rob me; and my father's land
Must feed an alien.
SAVELLI.
We will think on this.
GERARDO.
As prince, I may be useful to the state.
SAVELLI.
But, then, thy vows!
GERARDO.
The church can bind and loose—
She will be easy toward a son like me.
102
Well, we will talk again some better time.
The men you told me of, must sup with us—
Now, prithee, good Gerardo—haste and bring them.
[Exit Gerardo.
SAVELLI
(alone.)
The good Gerardo! foh! what part have I
With such a fiend as this? the enchanter fears
His own familiar spirit. I cannot need
A devil like him—so merciless as he is—
Accursed and eminent above the damned,
And black beyond my purpose!—What I want
Is rank enough no doubt—false witness, fraud,
Perverted honor, snares for youth, abuse
Of trust and innocence, and when pressed as now,
It may be more and worse. This sin incarnate
Loaths fellowship in such a kind, and walks
The earth for blood! He would dig deep his pits
For one who fed him, clothed him, housed him, warmed him;
And while the murderer's knife is sharp and bare—
Point toward his brother's throat! He was not thus—
O! not like this at first—nor what I am
Was I—but churchmens' pleasures must be hid:
To hide costs much;—hence rapine and abuse
Of trust and truth—hence lies, hypocrisy,
A perjured tongue; and as the danger spreads,
The waste spreads daily. He is at his ease,
Does as his nature teaches, and what use
103
I do believe the things which he does not—
That life must cast its reckoning ere it end,
Or pay it tenfold afterwards.—Why should that strength
Which might have gained me as its right by nature,
Wealth, pleasure, reverence, glory, eminent place;
Nay more, a crown to come—be tasked as now
In twisting cables with the winds and flames,
And weaving webs with dust! This Ludovico
Is loved of men, shall fill the seat I covet;
And though his gifts from Heaven are small to mine,
His learning less—with that calm pace he passes
Where I, with all my jostling and my haste,
Can scarcely hope to come. For good or ill,
Who ploughs in hope, must watch and labor still;
Fix on the furrow's end both eyes and mind,
And never pause to rest or look behind.
[Exit.
| The Count Arezzi | |