University of Virginia Library

Scene 1.—Morning.

Enrico and Ursula conversing.
Enrico.—
Bid me not stir—I have this woman's soul
To struggle for, and win perchance, ere night.

Ursula.—
She is a selfish woman—not worth much.
I hate all such, not having strength to love.

Enr.—
Not having strength? A powerless phrase to use!
Must weakness then develop into hate?

Ursula.—
Not so, for God has strength to bring such back,
And fold them safe within His loving arms.

Enr.—
What! God has strength, and woman is too weak!
Oh, shame! that woman should be thus traduced,
Thus slandered—by a sister-woman too!

Ursula.—
God has the strength: but woman is not God,
Nor yet a goddess—though the poets talk
Of goddesshood in many a sounding phrase.

Enr.—
And as for you, your part it is to make
What poets say, true to the living fact.
If woman will not follow, who can lead?

Ursula.—
Woman will follow: but Bianca—she
Is sinful—shallow—selfish—commonplace;
A vicious, loveless woman of the world.

Enr.—
Oh, that is all a woman sees in this
Frail, sad, mad woman—vicious, selfish, bad—
Past hope, and irredeemable, no doubt.

Ursula.—
Yes, irredeemable by power of man.
I hate such—and I leave them unto God.
Not without hope, I leave them unto Him.

Enr.—
It grieves me, lady, thus to hear you talk—
I thought your wings were whiter, and your hands
Whiter—and all your heart a lordlier thing.

Ursula.—
And, perhaps, Bianca's hands and wings are white,
You'll tell me that next! Perhaps her heart is large—
Larger than mine—more equal with your own.

Enr.—
Nay, white it is not; white it shall be soon,
For I, by power of love will make it white.
A woman cannot reach her! I will try.

Ursula.—
May God forbid that you should ever sell
Your birthright for this mess of porridge—when
You talk so, those who love you can't but grieve.

Enr.—
That I am sorry for: but yet I feel
The great sweet fire upon me, that shall reach
Bianca even, and shall burn her pure.

Ursula.—
You are too proud, you ought to leave to God
His crown of terrible atoning fire.
It will destroy you, if you snatch it down.

Enr.—
Let it destroy me! It is better thus
To perish, burnt in pieces by pure love,
Than slow to tread the placid earthly ways.

Ursula.—
But yet the quiet earthly ways are sweet;
Be gentle, patient, humble: and believe
That God will bring all gracious things to pass.

Enr.—
You cannot understand: why I have moved
In one great yearning dream through every spot
Where fair Bianca's piteous sins were done.
Yea, seen her with her lover, heard them kiss;
I know the whole of it; I know her heart.

Ursula.—
Mere male mad folly—mere subjective dreams.
That woman is too strong for you, I say—
Too wickedly perverse at any rate.
I understand a woman: you do not.
But pray go on: of course I do not care.

Enr.—
I never thought you did care: don't protest.

Ursula.—
There are who care. I am not one of those.

Enr.—
I know it; wait, however, give me time.
A little time I ask for—but one night.
At present leave me, and to-morrow go
And see Bianca—there may be a change.

Ursula.—
Good-bye.