University of Virginia Library

Scene III.

—A magnificent Apartment in the Palace of Aldabella —Every appearance of a ball prolonged till morning—Duke, Lords, Falsetto, Dandolo, and Aldabella.
Duke.
'Tis late, 'tis late; the yellow morning light
Streams in upon our sick and waning lamps.
It was a jocund night: but good my friends,
The sun reproves our lingering revelry;
And, angry at our scorning of his state,
Will shine the slumber from our heavy eyes.

Gonsalvo.
There's one, my liege, will sleep more calm than we:
But now I heard the bell with iron tongue
Speak out unto the still and solemn air
The death-stroke of the murderer Fazio.

Duke.
So, lady, fare thee well: our gentlest thanks
For thy fair entertaining.—Ha! what's here?

Enter Bianca, followed by Philario.
Bianca.
Ha! ye've been dancing, dancing—so have I:
But mine was heavy music, slow and solemn—
A bell, a bell: my thick blood roll'd to it,
My heart swung to and fro, a dull deep motion.
(Seeing Aldabella.)
'Tis thou, 'tis thou!—I came to tell thee something.

Aldabella
(alarmed and shrieking).
Aye me! aye me!

Bianca.
Nay, shrink not—I'll not kill thee:
For if I do, I know, in the other world,
Thou'lt shoot between me and my richest joys.—
Thou shalt stay here—I'll have him there—all—all of him.

Duke.
What means the wild-hair'd maniac?

Bianca
(moving him aside).
Bye and bye—
To Aldabella.
I tell thee, that warm cheek thy lips did stray on
But yesternight, 'tis cold and colourless:
The breath, that stirr'd among thy golden locks,
That was such incense to thee—it is fled:
The voice, that call'd thee then, his soul of soul—
I know it—'twas his favourite phrase of love—
I've heard it many a time myself—'twas luscious;
That mild, that musical voice is dumb and frozen:
The neck whereon thine arms did hang so tenderly,
There's blood upon it, blood—I tell thee, blood.
Dost thou hear that? is thy brain fire to hear it?
Mine is, mine is, mine is.

Duke.
'Tis Fazio's wife.

Bianca.
It is not Fazio's wife.—Have the dead wives?
Aye, aye, my liege, and I know thee, and well—
Thou art the rich-robed minister of the laws.
Fine laws! rare laws! most equitable laws!
Who robs his neighbour of his yellow dust,
Or his bright sparkling stones, or such gay trash—
Oh, he must die, die for the public good.
And if one steal a husband from his wife,
Do dive into her heart for its best treasure,
Do rend asunder whom Heaven link'd in one—
Oh, they are meek, and merciful, and milky—
'Tis a trick of human frailty—Oh, fine laws!
Rare laws! most equitable laws!

Duke.
Poor wretch,
Who is it thus hath wrong'd thee?

Bianca
(to the Duke).
Come thou here.
The others crowd around her—she says to Falsetto,
Get back, get back: the god that thou adoredst,
Thy god is dead, thou pitiful idolater.
To Dandolo (shewing her Dress).
I know they're coarse and tatter'd—Get thee back.
To the Duke.
I tell thee, that rich woman—she—My liege,
I'll speak anon—my lips do cling together—
There's dust about my tongue—I cannot move it.

Duke.
Ho, there!—some wine!

Bianca.
Thank thee, 'tis moist—I thank thee!
(As she raises the goblet to her lips, she sees Aldabella, and dashes it away.)
Her lips have been upon it—I'll have none on't.

Aldabella.
My liege, thou wilt not hearken to the tale
Of a mad woman, venting her sick fancies
Upon a lady of my state and honour!

Duke.
Lady, there is one state alone, that holds
Above the range of plumed and restless Justice
Her throned majesty—the state of Virtue.—
Poor sad distraught, speak on.

Bianca.
I am not mad,
Thou smooth-lipp'd slanderer!—I have been mad,
And then my words came vague, and loose, and broken;
But now, there's mode and measure in my speech.
I'll hold my brain; and then I'll tell my tale
Simply and clearly.—Fazio, my poor Fazio—
He murder'd not—he found Bartolo dead.
The wealth did shine in his eyes, and he was dazzled.
And when that he was gaily gilded up,
She, she, I say, (nay, keep away from her,
For she hath witchcraft all around her,) she
Did take him to her chamber—Fie, my liege!
What should my husband in her chamber?—Then,
Aye then, I madden'd.—Hark! hark! hark!—the bell,
The bell that I set knolling—hark!—Here, here,
Massy and cold it strikes—Here, here.

(Clasping her forehead.)
Gonsalvo.
Sad woman!
Tear not so piteously thy disorder'd hair!

Bianca.
I do not tear my hair: there should be pain
If that I did; but all my pain's within (with her hand to her bosom)
.
It will not break, it will not break—'tis iron.

Duke.
If this be true—

Philario.
My liege, it is the tale
That Fazio told me ere he died.

Bianca.
Aye, sir,
The dying lie not—he, a dying man,
Lied not—and I, a dying woman, lie not:
For I shall die, spite of this iron here.

Duke
to Aldabella.
There is confession in thy guilty cheeks.
Thou high-born baseness! beautiful deformity!
Dishonour'd honour!—How hast thou discredited
All that doth fetter admiration's eye,
And made us out of love with loveliness!
I do condemn thee, woman, by the warrant
Of this my ducal diadem, to put on thee
The rigid convent vows: there bleach anew
Thy sullied breast; there temper thy rank blood;
Lay ashes to thy soul; swathe thy hot skin
In sackcloth; and God give thee length of days,
T' atone, by this world's misery, this world's sin.

[Exit Aldabella.
Bianca.
Bless thee, Heaven bless thee!—Yet it must not be.
My Fazio said we must forgive her—Fazio
Said so; and all he said is best and wisest.

Duke.
She shall have her desert: ought more to ask of us?

Bianca.
My children—thou'lt protect them—Oh, my liege,
Make them not rich: let them be poor and honest.

Duke.
I will, I will.

Bianca.
Why then 'tis time, 'tis time.
And thou believ'st he is no murderer?
(Duke bows assent.)
Thou'lt lay me near him, and keep her away from us.
It breaks, it breaks, it breaks—it is not iron.

[Dies.