University of Virginia Library

Scene V.

—The Audience Chamber in the Palace at Palermo.—Enter Steward, Under-steward, and Attendants.
Steward.

Call you this a Hall of Audience? Why 'tis
a ship's cabin in a gale of wind. Here, Trollo, move
this table to the wall and set the throne upon its legs.
Where's Grossi? Be tender with it, for the three legs
that are old have the dry-rot and the one that is new
hath a warp. Is Grossi here?

Under-steward.

No, Sir, he is ill of a surfeit.

Steward.

I thought so; a walk betwixt bed and board
is the best of his day's work. Where is Tornado?

Under-steward.

He hath a quarrel with Secco, and will
not come in the same room with him.

Steward.
The cause—the cause?

Under-steward.
Nay, Sir, I know not that.

Steward.
Then I will tell you, Sir; short work's the cause;
Short work it is fills palaces with strife.
Nothing-to-do was Master Squabble's mother,
And Much-ado his child. A chair of state
Each side the throne. The Chamberlain's is one;
The other the Justiciary's. So.
A footstool for the Chamberlain. That gout
Will one day be the death of him. There—so—
Now all's in order as befits a Court;
Chambering is seated on the right of the King,
And Justice on his left. Here's Nitido.
Enter Nitido, with an ewer and napkins.
What, is the King not risen?

Nitido.
Risen but now;
Three hours behind his wont.

Steward.
Is he not well?

Nitido.
He says that, being troubled in his dreams,
He walk'd in sleep, and falling from the sill
Received some hurts and strains.

Steward.
Ay, truly, Sir!
And hath he seen the Doctor?

Nitido.
No, nor will;
He says he never in his life was sick
But when he saw the Doctor. He is robed
And will be here anon. Off! Off! he comes.

[Exeunt.
Enter The King, Ubaldo, and the Chief Justiciary, followed by the Principal Judicial Functionaries, a crowd of Officers and Courtiers, amongst whom is Silisco, still in his Pilgrim's garb. Tribolo the King's Fool, Fiordeliza, and Ladies of the Court.
Ubaldo.

It is a trick of youthful blood. In my youth
I too would walk in my sleep. I remember Filipo Reni
mistook me for the ghost of Angelina Spinola, whom he
had forsaken.

Tribolo.

And I would walk too. I remember,
walking in my sleep one night, I came into Mistress Barbara
Malfatto's bedchamber, and again very suddenly
proceeded forth of it by the way of the window; but
whether sleeping I walked out or waking was tumbled
out, is not written in the Clown's Chronicle.

The King.

Didst thou fall far?

Tribolo.

I fell in the garden, and the stem of a
daffodilly was broken, besides my leg. My leg was set,
and some foolish women call it the best leg in Palermo
to this day; but the daffodilly died of it; and his last
words were ...

Ubaldo.

Enough, Fool; stand aside.

Ubaldo.
Now, if it please your Majesty, this child—
Where is she?—shall perform her homage due,
And take investiture of Count Ugo's lands.
Where is the Countess?

Fiordeliza.
She was here but now;
She went but to her chamber.

Ubaldo.
Go and fetch her.

[Exit an Usher.
The King.
Meanwhile, if any here, Sirs, hath a suit,
This is St. Michael's festival; tis now
His time to speak.

Silisco.
(stepping from the crowd).
Sir, if it please your Grace,
A suit have I.

The King.
What suit it be I know not;
But this I know, that thou hast rights and claims
Which none but I can rate. Prefer thy suit,
Or let the recompense be mine to name
Unsued for and unsought. Three Jews there be,
The one called Haggai, who died yesterday,
The other two, Sadoc by name, and Shallum,
Whose lives and goods are forfeit to the law.
Those goods, whate'er the value, shall be thine,
Good Pilgrim; Fame delivers them not less
Than a King's ransom; but if Fame should err,
Ask more, and it is granted.

Silisco.
Sire, the sense
Of loyal service done is, unbegilt,
Worth what you say, the ransom of a King.
These goods, the forfeits of those felon Jews;
Were sometime own'd by that unhappy youth
They prey'd upon, the Lord of Malespina.
I would accept them gladly at your hands;
And yet ....

The King.
Speak freely; aught beside?

Silisco.
And yet
More gladly would forego them, and receive
Another boon,—the pardon, shall I say,
Where fault is none?—the pardon of a man
Whom should you in your royal heart replace
You should yourself replenish, and repay
My service fifty-fold—the pardon, Sire,
Of one whom once you counted with the first
Of councillors and friends, the Lord Ruggiero,
Count of Arona.

Ubaldo.
Pilgrim, art thou mad?
Know'st thou this presence?

The King.
Let him speak, my Lord;
He knows his privilege and the presence too;
He's by permission bold. The suit he moves
Is one of grave concern. That outlaw'd Count
I have some cause to think was falsely charged.
It may be that too light an ear I lent
Too willingly to enemies of his
That were no friends to me. But whilst he hides
And bids defiance to our writ, our grace
Can scarcely flow toward him.

Silisco.
Sire, not long
Shall that obstruction stand against the tide
Of your free grace and favour.

The King.
Here is she
Whose comely presence, wheresoe'er she moves,
Makes in itself a festival; the day
Is more adorn'd.
Enter Rosalba.
Lady, before I claim
The homage to my sovereignty owing,
'Tis fit that to that sovereignty of yours
Which Nature crowns, I bow. Queen had I been,
Not King, I gladly would have given my crown
In barter for your beauty.

Rosalba.
Nay, my Lord,
You had not then so easily been pleased.
I pray you, father, prompt me with those words
I ought to speak.

Ubaldo.
Kneel first and put thy hands ....

The Justiciary.
Beseech you pardon me, Lord Chamberlain,
This homage by the law may not proceed
Until Count Ugo's testament be read.
None doubts the Countess by the will inherits;
Still doth the law demand that it be read.

Ubaldo.
Ho, ho! my Lord Justiciary! What's this?
Here is the King, the fountain-head of justice!
Who is it that shall dare block up its course
With muddy gatherings and old wrecks of laws?
You, Sir? or you? or you? The good Count died
In Palestine, and if a will there was
No note of it remains.

The King.
Indeed, my Lord!
I would it were not so; for I must needs
Stay this procedure. Deem not I was false,
Sweet Lady, or but coining courtly words
In owning to a sovereignty of yours;
For over both of us the Law is King
And I am most constrain'd.

Enter an Usher with Gerbetto.
Usher.
So please your Grace,
Gerbetto, the Physician.

Gerbetto.
To your Grace
I bear a mission from the Count deceased,
Whom I to Palestine attended: this
He charged me to deliver to none but you.

[Delivers a packet to the King.
The King.
'Tis the Count's hand, though shaken. 'Tis his will.

Ubaldo.
Ah! there's a guardian Angel ever waits
Upon your Grace! You cannot, if you would,
Run cross or counter! See, Sirs, here's the will!
You're right, my Lord; the law is still supreme!
A will there should be, and a will there is.

The King.
'Tis strange in purport. “I, Count Ugo, leave
My body to the earth, my soul to God.
My worldly chattels to my wife I leave
Should she remain unwedded. Should she wed,
Or quit this life, I leave them to a friend
And fellow-pilgrim to this shrine, by name
‘Buonaiuto.’ Witnessing whereto
I set my hand and seal.”

Ubaldo.
A pilgrim quotha!
A pilgrim to succeed! Impossible!
A man unknown, unheard of!

The Justiciary.
Strange bequest!

Ubaldo.
Waste paper! Rubbish! A preposterous will!
The good old Count had doubtless lost his wits
Before he died; we saw what small remains
Were left him when he took the mad resolve
To travel; and that little he had left
Did plainly die before him.

Rosalba.
Speak not so,
Dear father! he had doubtless good designs
And knew what he was doing.

The King
(to Gerbetto).
Was it so?

Gerbetto.
The wits that he took hence, my Lord, he kept
To his last breath. But I can partly solve
The riddle of this will. The man it names
Was with the Count throughout; by sea and land,
In troubles and in dangers numberless,
In perils of the elements in ships,
In perils of wild beasts in woods and wolds,
In perils of the midnight robber's knife,
By thirst and hunger in the desert tried,
Fever and sickness in the river's mouth,
By strife and blows in cities; and through all
That pilgrim bare himself as vow'd and sworn
To think of danger, sickness, pain, and death
As accidents unworthy to be weigh'd
With one hour's comfort he could yield the Count.
Thus therefore is it that the Count was moved
Doubtless to make this will.

The King.
And what became
Of this good pilgrim? Hast thou seen him since?

Gerbetto.
We parted, Sire .... By Heaven, I see him now!
This is the man!

The King.
This he? our friend at need!
He's some knight-errant then that roams the earth
In search of bold adventures.

Silisco.
Sire, not so;
That which for good Count Ugo I perform'd
Fell short of what I owed him, which was more
Than kingdoms could repay.

Rosalba.
Whate'er it be
You owed him, Sir, it cannot be the half
Of what I owe to you. The lands he left
Will never through my second marriage fall,
As he provided, to redeem the debt;
But I would fain devolve them ....

Ubaldo.
Daughter! Child!
I pray you take me with you. Faith of my body!
Devolve them truly!

Silisco.
Lady, is it so?
And will no second nuptials pay your debt?
And have you then forgotten that dear pledge
Which lifted from the dust one downcast heart
And bid it for a season soar to Heaven?
Or will you not remember him to whom
That pledge was given? 'Tis not long since, though long
To him the time; for measuring time by change
Threescore and ten he numbers; grief and care
Were summon'd to a reckoning and paid up
Their long arrears, and from his prime of youth
Wherein he rambled to his knees in flowers
As heedless as Persephoné watch'd by Dis
On yonder plain, he seem'd to pass to age
Through life-long tracts of time, nor marvels now
That many in this presence know not him
Who scarce may know himself; and yet by you,
If by none else, he hoped to be remember'd;
But be he like or unlike what he was,
Known or renounced, remember'd or forgot,
You see, thus stripp'd of this dissembling garb,
Him that was once the Lord of Malespina.

Fiordeliza.
Rosalba, are you ill? What face is this
To greet a friend withal? Look up, look up.

Rosalba.
Oh, Fiordeliza, is it he indeed?
Is it Silisco?

Fiordeliza.
God in heaven can tell!
Men are such masquers I were loth to say.
But if you list to look him in the face
Perchance some gleam may cross you. What I see
Is a well-favour'd sunburnt gentleman,
Whom I, good easy soul, could be content,
For fault of one should counterfeit him better,
To call my friend, Silisco.

Silisco.
Yes, in name,
Perhaps in fortunes, but in nature not,
The same Silisco. Lady, once you said,
“A spendthrift never yet was generous.”
The word dwelt with me, and its strength and truth,
By anguish aided and adversity,
Wrought in my heart an inward change entire,
And some things you have heard may seem to show
I am not what I was, ungenerous.
But should I press you now for my reward
I well might seem so. Thus once more to touch
This hand with lips unused to softness now
Is all I hazard.

Rosalba.
Oh, forgive, forgive
The joy that, overjoy'd, belies itself
And mimics grief. I would not if I could
Dress it in words, but God, who gave the joy,
Will give you light to see it. Then will you see
A love that from the hour when first we met,
That instant of the meeting of our eyes,
Possess'd my soul, and suddenly as with a flood
And bursting of the chambers of the deep
O'erflow'd my life and nature. Wrestling much
With destiny, with duty, and with love,
I sought for guidance and I seem'd to err;
But God in mercy to my sinking soul
Has brought it back to life and back to peace,
Awakening thus upon a sun-bright shore
With Love and Hope to greet me.

Ubaldo.
Well! why, well!
This wheel of Fortune turns about, my Lord.
'Tis very strange! but I believe you well,—
That you will use your riches thus restored
With better sense of what they're worth.

The Provost.
My Lords.
My duty bids me disabuse your minds;
This is no more my Lord of Malespina
Than I am King of Sicily.

The King.
What? what?

The Provost.
This is that very rogue that tripp'd me up
And in the forest set my prisoner free,
The Lord Ruggiero.

Silisco.
Sire, I needs must own
That I was guilty of that rescue. Still
I hope to be forgiven; for here is he
I rescued, ready to repair the fault
By re-surrender.

Enter Ruggiero.
Fiordeliza.
Oh, Rosalba, see!
See who is here! What will be done? Oh, Heaven
Yet the King looks not angry.

The King.
Count, not yet—
Speak not till I have spoken, lest thy pleas
Forestall me of my justice in acquittal.
Of that offence which thou wert charged withal
Touching thine office, I confess thee free:
Some flatterers of some follies of mine own
Were forgers of the charge. I think, besides,
Thou canst acquit thee on a separate score,
Though there myself was thine accuser, moved
I know not by what promptings of the Devil:
I think that thou canst render good account
Of that fair maid Lisana, whom by stealth
Thou took'st so suddenly from the Court.

Ruggiero.
My Lord,
The maid you speak of is profess'd a Nun;
A Nun since yesterday. I lived conceal'd,
For her sake solely, till the Church could claim
That guardianship she had till now from me.

The King.
Something of this had reach'd me. You stand clear
With me, my Lord; and with no little shame
Nor light compunction for my own misdeeds
Your offices and honours I restore.
But where is she with whom to stand absolved
Is best of absolutions—where is she
To whom to be restored is more, I know,
Than Kings can give or take?

Ruggiero.
When last we met
A cloudy fate had compass'd me about
And I was not so fortunate to please
Her whom to please in duty, faith, and truth,
Has been my life's endeavour: am I now
More happy, standing in the light?

Fiordeliza.
To me
Is it you speak?

Silisco.
Rosalba, look! the tears
Break o'er the saucy brightness of her face
First to make answer.

Fiordeliza.
What am I to say?
I wonder, Sir, what business 'twas of yours
To make that maid a runaway at first,
And then, when you were tired of her, a Nun.

Ruggiero.
Lady, I think you ask me this in sport;
But were it ask'd in earnest, I should pray
Gerbetto to make answer.

Gerbetto.
Lady, yes,
'Tis I should speak to this. When summon'd hence
To Palestine, I left my child in charge
To this good Knight, and well hath he fulfill'd
The trust he took upon him.

The King.
Surely now
You will not so untoward be to try
His patience longer; think how many a year
His suit has linger'd.

Fiordeliza.
Well, Sir, if your Grace
Has less of patience left in looking on
Than I that bear the burthen,—then, I think
It may be, for your ease and for mine own,
I shall be tutor'd to say “Yes”—in time.
The scarecrow, Sir, was married to the maypole
In time; but, bless me! 'twas a tedious courtship.

Ruggiero.
On your own time and humour will I wait
As heretofore.

Fiordeliza.
Then, dear Ruggiero, Yes.
For 'tis my humour that the time be now.

Silisco.
Then shall this glorious Now be crown'd the Queen
Of all the hours in all the ages past,
Since the first Morning's rosy finger touch'd
The bowers of Eden. Grace defend my heart
That now it bound not back to what it was
In days of old, forgetting all that since
Has tried and tamed it! No, Rosalba, no—
Albeit yon waves be bright as on the day
When, dancing to the shore from Procida,
They brought me a new joy, yet fear me not—
The joy falls now upon a heart prepared
By many a trouble, many a trial past,
And striking root, shall flourish and stand fast.