University of Virginia Library

ACT THE FIFTH.

SCENE THE FIRST.

Raymond, Bianca.
Ray.
What would'st thou now? retire to thy apartments:
Leave me; I shall return here instantly.

Bi.
And may I not go with thee?

Ray.
No.

Bi.
Ah, why? ...

Ray.
Thou canst not.

Bi.
Dost thou disregard me thus?
Oh dear departed days, where are ye gone?
Then from thy side thou didst not banish me;
Nor didst thou ever move but I moved with thee,
Blessing thy never solitary steps!
Wherefore do I displease thee? and in what
Have I offended thee? Thou fliest from me;
And, what is worse, thou drivest me from thy presence.
Ah, then, the sound of this my once-loved voice,
No longer reaches, much less penetrates,
Thy alienated heart! I will pursue thee,
If only at a distance ...

Ray.
But what fear'st thou?
Or what dost thou suspect? ...

Bi.
Thou know'st.

Ray.
I know
That thou lov'st me, that thee I also love;
Love thee far more than thou canst comprehend.
My lips divulge it not; but every gesture,
My looks, my countenance, my heart declare it.
Now, if I chase thee from me, or avoid thee,
I do it, since I wish to afflict thee less
With my calamities; ... what solace, say,
Canst thou give me?

Bi.
Cannot I weep with thee?

Ray.
To see thee waste away thy life in tears,
In useless tears, redoubles my affliction.
I fly from all society thou seest;
And to myself am burthensome.

Bi.
I see
Far more than this; too certainly I see
That thou mistrustest me.

Ray.
I tell thee not
All my misfortunes? ...

Bi.
Thy misfortunes, yes;
But not their remedies. With some great scheme
Thy heart is labouring: and thou deemest not
That thou should'st tell it me? Conceal it then.
I ask of thee alone to follow thee;
And thou refusest it? I may, perchance,
A little help, but never injure thee.

Ray.
What say'st thou? ... Nothing in my heart I hide ...
Except my rage, as useless as 'tis ancient.

Bi.
But yet this long uninterrupted night,
Which scarcely yet the rising dawn disperses,
How different, ah, how very different,
Was it to thee from all preceding nights!
Not one brief moment did calm sleep descend
Upon thy weary eyes. Thou closed'st them
To deceive me the better; but the thick,
And frequent pantings of thy breast; thy sighs
Suppress'd by force; thy face alternately
Inflamed with fire, or bathed in hues of death; ...
All I observed, yes, all; for love watch'd with me:
I'm not deceived: in vain thou would'st conceal ...

Ray.
And vainly dost thou rave.—Above my head,
'Tis true, that genial and profound repose
Spread not its wings; but this oft happens to me.
And who the blessedness of sleep enjoys
Where tyrants dwell? Eternally on high,
Above the head of slaves, a naked sword
Hangs by a slender thread. Save idiots, here
No other men repose.

Bi.
What wilt thou say
Of thy so sudden starting from thy pillow?
Is this thy wonted hour? The shades of night
Were undiminish'd yet, when thou already
Hadst leap'd abruptly from thy bed, like one
Whom unaccustom'd care consumes. Towards me
Did not I see thee afterwards direct,
Sighing, thy humid eyes? and scarcely risen,
Thy children one by one embrace? embrace!
Nay, rather to thy breast a thousand times
Glue them, devouring them with eager kisses;
Convulsed with agony, did not I see thee,
With copious torrent of paternal tears,
Their little breasts and faces inundate?
Thou erewhile so ferocious? Thou, a man
Whose eyes are never visited by tears?
Shall I see these things, and not apprehend
That something vast and ominous lies hid
In the recesses of thy labouring heart?

Ray.
... I wept?

Bi.
And thou deniest it?

Ray.
I wept? ...

Bi.
With undropt tears thine eyes are humid still.
If in this breast thou shedd'st them not, ah where? ...

Ray.
Feel, feel, these eyes are dry; ... no tears are there ...
And if erewhile I wept ... I wept the fate
Of the poor children of an outraged father.
Must I incessantly not weep their birth,
And their existence? Wretched little ones!
What fate in this long death, which we call life,
Awaits you! To increase your infamy,
Ye are at once the tyrants' slaves and nephews ...
I ne'er embrace you but I weep for this ...
These pledges of our love, let them be dear
To thee, oh consort; since I, with a love,
Love them too different from thy love; and now
Too different from these corrupted times.
Yet, notwithstanding, weep their destiny; ...
And, to their father, take especial heed
They be not like, if it can comfort thee
Rather to bring them up to servitude,
Than to the practice or the love of virtue.

Bi.
Oh Heaven! ... what words! ... my sons! ... alas! ... In danger?

Ray.
If peril rises, I confide them to thee.
Do thou withdraw them from the tyrants' rage
Should it be ever needful.

Bi.
Woe is me!
Now I perceive, I understand, and now
Am certain. Art thou come, oh fatal day?
Now is the mighty enterprise mature:
Thou wouldest change the state.

Ray.
... And if I would,
Have I sufficient strength for such a deed?
I would perchance accomplish it; but oh,
These are the visions of a maniac ...

Bi.
Ah! ill thou feignest: those beloved lips
Are not accustom'd to deceive thy consort.
That thou dost undertake a mighty task
My terror tells me; and those various,
Tremendous workings of thy countenance,
That in a crowd in quick succession throng,
Despairing agony, compassion, rage,
Hatred, revenge, and love. Ah, by those children,
Which thou, spite of thyself, dost so much love;
Not by myself, oh no! for I am nothing;
And by thy eldest child, our growing hope,
Our mutual precious hope, I do conjure thee,
At least, in part, reveal to me thy thoughts!
Only convince me thou'rt exempt from danger,
And I am pacified: if 'tis not so,
Suffer me at thy side. Ah! how ought I
To save thy children, if I do not know
What peril threatens them? I fall, I fall,
Prostrate before thee: I will never rise
Till thou dost speak. If thou mistrustest me,
Slay me at once; if, on the other hand,
Thou dost confide in me, why art thou silent?
I am thy wife, and nothing else: ah speak.

Ray.
... Lady, ... oh rise! Thy terror represents
Dangers to thy affrighted phantasy,
At present far removed. Arise, return;
Continue with thy children: I to them
Will also come ere long: leave me.

Bi.
Ah no! ...

Ray.
Leave me; 'tis my command.

Bi.
Abandon thee?
Ah! rather kill me: by no other means
Shall this fond grasp be loosen'd ...

Ray.
Cease.

Bi.
Oh Heaven!

Ray.
Desist; or I ...

Bi.
I will pursue thy steps.

Ray.
Ah wretched me! Behold my father here!
Behold my father.

SCENE THE SECOND.

Guglielmo, Raymond, Bianca.
Gu.
What dost thou do here?
There are who now expect thee at the temple;
And meanwhile idle here? ...

Ray.
Heard'st thou? I go;
What dost thou fear? Ah stay; detain her, father:
I fly ... and soon return.—To thee, Bianca,
I recommend my children, if thou lovest me.

SCENE THE THIRD.

Guglielmo, Bianca.
Bi.
What words! Ah wretched me! to death he flies!
And thou forbiddest me to follow him!
Cruel ...

Gu.
Stay, stay; be pacified; ere long
He will return.

Bi.
Cruel! dost thou thus feel
Compassion for thy son? Thou leavest him
Alone to encounter death, and thou'rt a father!
If thus thou canst, abandon him; but ah!
Stop not my steps: loose me, I will go to him ...

Gu.
Thy going now would be mistimed and late.

Bi.
Late! Ah! it is then true that he attempts ...
Ah! tell me ... Speak, or let me go ... Where flies he? ...
To some most dangerous enterprize I know;
But ought I not to hear of what belongs
To such a precious portion of myself?
Do you indeed more than myself remember
The blood from which I spring? Ah, speak! I am
Now fashion'd of your blood: I do not hate
My brothers, no; but I love only Raymond.
I love him much as human heart can love;
And now I fear for him, lest, ere he take
The state from them, they take from him his life.

Gu.
If this be what thou fear'st, and since thou seem'st
To know so much already, be assured
Less dubious is his life than that of others.

Bi.
Oh heaven! are then my brothers' lives in danger?

Gu.
Tyrants are never safe.

Bi.
What do I hear?
Alas! ...

Gu.
Think'st thou that one can wrest the state
From those possessing it, and not their lives?

Bi.
My consort ... then ... seeks ... to betray ... my blood? ...

Gu.
Yes, it behoves us treacherously to spill
Their blood, ere ours they treacherously quaff:
And to the hard extremity by force
They have compell'd us. Instantly from thee
Thy husband and thy children had been taken;
Ah, thence 'twas indispensable for us
To anticipate their cruel purposes.
Myself, thou seest, to aid the enterprise
Have girt the sword, so many years disused,
To my enfeebled side.

Bi.
Ferocious souls!
Dissembling hearts! I could not have believed ...

Gu.
Daughter, what wouldest thou? Necessity
To this compels us. For us to retract
'Tis now too late. Put up what vows to heaven
Thou likest best: meanwhile escape from hence
Is not allowed to thee: thou'rt guarded now
By many armed warriors.—If thou art,
As thou should'st be more than aught else, a mother,
Return to thy poor children, ah return ...
But now, methinks, I hear the sacred toll
Of the lugubrious bell ... I'm not mistaken.
Oh son! ... I fly to liberty or death!

SCENE THE FOURTH.

Bianca, armed Soldiers.
Bi.
Hear me ... Oh how he flies! and I am forced
To tarry here! In pity let me go.
This is the only breast that, interposed,
Can staunch that sea of blood ... Are your hard hearts,
Barbarians, inaccessible to pity?—
Impious, flagitious, execrable marriage!
I ought to have foreseen that blood alone
Could finish such immeasurable hate.
Now I perceive why Raymond could not speak:
In truth thou diddest well to hide from me
Such unimaginable wickedness:
I thought thee capable of high revenge,
But never of an abject treason, never ...
What tumult do I hear? Oh heaven! ... What shrieks!
Methinks the earth shakes! ... Oh! with what a loud
And clamorous dissonance the air rebounds! ...
The name of liberty, of liberty,
I hear distinctly ... Ah! perhaps already
My brothers are no more ... Who do I see?
Oh heavens! Raymond!

SCENE THE FIFTH.

Raymond, Bianca.
Bi.
Wretch! what hast thou done?
Speak. Return'st thou, perfidious spouse! to me
Thy guilty dagger reeking with my blood?
Who would have ever thought thou wert a traitor!
What do I see? Alas! from thy own side
The blood spouts forth in ample streams! ...

Ray.
Bianca ... scarcely ... I ... support myself. Ah spouse ...
Sustain me ... Dost thou see? That blood ... which bathes
My sword, ... it is ... the tyrant's; but ...

Bi.
Alas! ...

Ray.
This is my own blood; ... I ... in my own side ...

Bi.
Oh! frightful wound! ...

Ray.
Frightful indeed! ... Myself,
With my own hand ... blinded by too much rage ...
Inflicted it ... On Julian I fell;
And planted in him so, so many wounds,
That I ... with one ... at last ... transfix'd myself.

Bi.
Oh fatal cruelty! ... Oh mortal blow!
How many of us hast thou slain at once!

Ray.
I told it not to thee: ... Ah pardon me:
Thee should I not have told; nor shouldest thou
Have heard of it, till it was done: ... and yet,
At all events, I was constrain'd to do it.
It grieves me that to consummate the deed
My strength allows not ... If it was a crime,
I come to expiate it with my blood,
Before thine eyes ... But oh! I hear the cry
Of liberty more fervently resound!
And I am dying here! ...

Bi.
Oh heaven! and ... fell ...
Lorenzo ... also? ...

Ray.
A most strict injunction
I gave to his assailant for this purpose.
I shall die unlamenting, if I leave
Safe, and in liberty, my sire, my spouse,
My children, and my fellow-citizens.

Bi.
Thou leavest me to tears ... But will I live?
Give me thy sword ...

Ray.
Bianca ... Oh sweet spouse ...
Part of myself ... remember thou'rt a mother ...
Thou for our children should'st consent to live;
Live for our children, ... if thou lovest me ...

Bi.
Oh children! .. But the dissonance increases ...

Ray.
And it approaches; ... and I seem to hear
Discordant cries ... Run to the little ones,
And leave them not; to their protection fly.—
Alas! ... for me ... no hope ... of life ... remains ...
Thou seest ... that ... I am ... a dying man ...

Bi.
What shall I do? ... Near whom shall I remain? ...
What do I hear? ... The cry of “Slay the traitor!”
The traitor, who? ...

Ray.
The vanquish'd is the traitor.

SCENE THE SIXTH.

Lorenzo, Guglielmo, Bianca, Raymond, and a reinforcement of Soldiers.
Lo.
Slay him!

Ray.
Oh sight!

Bi.
And dost thou live, my brother?
Have pity ...

Lo.
Here the miscreant sought a refuge;
And slunk from danger to his consort's arms.
In vain; drag him force.

Bi.
My spouse! ... my children! ...

Ray.
Thou manacled, oh father! ...

Gu.
And thou wounded!

Lo.
Oh! what do I behold? Thy faithless blood
Thou sheddest from thy side! Now, who forestall'd
My arm?

Ray.
Mine; but it err'd: this was a blow
Aim'd at thy brother's heart. But he from me
Had many more like this.

Lo.
Dead is my brother;
But I live, yes, I live; and to kill me,
A soul unlike that of an inexpert,
That of a perjured, and a dastard priest,
Was needful. Salviati lifeless fell;
And with him fell his comrades: I reserved
Thy father only, that to see thy death
Ere he gain'd his, might aggravate his pangs.

Bi.
What boots this cruelty? He languishes
Half dead ...

Lo.
And thus half dead, do I exult ...

Bi.
He hath the punishment of his offence.

Lo.
What do I see? Dost thou embrace a wretch
Stain'd with thy brother's blood?

Bi.
He is my husband ...
And he is dying ...

Ray.
Whence dost thou beseech him?—
See, if thy death were trusted to my power,
Whether thou wouldest live.

Bi.
What hast thou done?

Ray.
I ... never ... strike ... in vain ...

Gu.
Oh son! ...

Ray.
Oh father!
Imitate me. Behold the sword.

Bi.
'Tis mine.

Lo.
No, it is mine ... Thou murderer of my brother,
How many other deaths, oh sword, art thou
Ordain'd to give!

Ray.
Consort, farewell ... for ever ...

Bi.
And shall I live? ...

Gu.
Oh terrible sight!—Quick, quick,
Put me to death: why dost thou hesitate?

Lo.
Now to thy infamous torture thou shalt go.—
Meanwhile by force from that unworthy neck
Sever the weeping lady. Time alone
Can sooth her grief.—And time alone can prove
That I'm no tyrant, and that these are traitors.