University of Virginia Library

ACT V.

SCENE I.

An Anti-Chamber in the Palace.
Duke, Duchess, Prince of Andria, and Officers.
PRINCE ANDRIA.
You know your duties, gentlemen;—be careful!
Watch all that come to-night, but keep yourselves,
With those who serve you, in the halls below;
And while these traitors pass, guard well the stairs.

OFFICERS.
We will obey your highness.

PRINCE ANDRIA.
So far, good night.
[Exeunt Officers.
Now where are those in masks?—what ho! Filippo—
Good saints! it is almost the time—lights, lights—
Let the guests enter when the rooms are ready;
And bid the chamberlains attend his Grace.

DUKE.
I hear the trumpets—some are here already.

PRINCE ANDRIA.
When shall we see Arezzi?

DUKE.
Will he come?

DUCHESS.
He had our message yesterday, and then
Seemed much perplexed: to-day, I sent another,
And still he answered savingly awry—
If he could come, he would. My message now
Commands his presence in your highness' name,
And instantly.—O! here he is who bore it.

DUKE.
What answer does the Count Arezzi send us?

SERVANT.
He bade me tell your highness to expect him—
Said if he come alone, he will be here,
And that it is his duty.

PRINCE ANDRIA.
This becomes him.

DUKE.
A fair reply indeed.

PRINCE ANDRIA.
Her highness' ladies—
What pages wait? make haste!
[Enter Filippo, with Persons masked.
Bravely Filippo!
These are well furnished, and, I hope, all armed.—
Take off your masks—you have not much to learn,
So, good my friends, be perfect. You must watch,
As loose spectators midst our guests to-night,
For nine or ten—perhaps more—with scarfs and vizars—
Observe them well, and by the signs I give you:
Their scarfs are crimson silk—their vizars gilt—
Walk near them where they go—if they divide,
Sever your numbers too—let two tend one;
And when I bid, lay hold.—Now go your ways—
And good Filippo keep your eyes among them.

DUKE.
Well, is the music ready?

PRINCE ANDRIA.
Send these gentlemen.

[Exeunt.

SCENE II.

Apartment in the Palace, lighted, decorated, and filled with Guests, some of whom are masked and some not. The Duke, Duchess, Cicilia, and Prince of Andria, enter.—The Music ceases, the Guests rise.
DUKE.
The time is chosen for our mirth, not ceremony.
We will accept no homage from our guests
And claim no power but this—to bid them welcome.
Their presence brings us honor—we behold
The stars which make our firmament so glorious—
The light and health of Naples.

[Enter Arezzi and ten others, with masks and scarfs.
DUCHESS.
Let us think
That none is here who loves us not, and so
Once more—all welcome!

PRINCE ANDRIA
(to the DUCHESS.)
Look—the scarfs and vizars!
Right to a man—their leader makes eleven.
We must not seem to watch.

DUCHESS.
Then call the music.

Song.

DUCHESS.
I cannot find Arezzi here—this boy
Is not come yet.

PRINCE ANDRIA.
It may be he is masked.

DUCHESS.
Why will he ever thwart us thus!

PRINCE ANDRIA.
Be patient—
And let him rest awhile—I think not of him:
These traitors must be dealt with first.

DUCHESS.
See!—see!—
They part and walk asunder.

PRINCE ANDRIA.
Good—you have
A servant at the back of each—our followers
Are near enough behind.

DUCHESS.
That tallest seems
To lead the rest.

PRINCE ANDRIA.
I have mine eyes upon him—
He is their guide, no doubt.

DUKE.
When shall we see his face?

PRINCE ANDRIA.
Wait till the rest are safe—let us not scare—
By shooting at their leading stag too soon—
The herd behind.

DUKE.
Now where is Count Arezzi?

DUCHESS.
Either not here or masked.

PRINCE ANDRIA.
When these are netted,
We shall unvizar all—look for him then.

CICILIA.
They walk this way!

PRINCE ANDRIA.
No matter—let your eyes
Pass lightly over them.

[Arezzi and one Conspirator approach.
DUCHESS.
Our guests seem idle.

PRINCE ANDRIA.
The music—ho! there—will your highness dance?
We must deceive the time.

DUKE.
Cousin, dance with me.
The Count Arezzi will not envy this,
Or let him come and claim you. He forgets
His promise to us all—What pale and trembling!
Room there—and music. (A Dance.)


AREZZI.
Ah! she smiled at that—
What was it that he said?

CONSPIRATOR.
Arezzi claims you—
Now let him come and take you.

AREZZI.
So I will—
Wait but a minute, both.

CONSPIRATOR.
They watch us yet—

AREZZI.
How long Cimbelli loiters.

CONSPIRATOR.
Hark—a noise—
Voices below.

AREZZI.
Be ready then—they come—
I did not hear it.

CONSPIRATOR.
Now—both cries and weapons—

AREZZI.
If so, it is Cimbelli—hold!

CONSPIRATOR.
Again!

AREZZI.
This music stuns me—what was that?

CONSPIRATOR.
Hush—hush!
Prince Andria's eyes are on us.

PRINCE ANDRIA.
Louder music!
These pipers sleep!

AREZZI.
Now there is something stirring—
I hear it plain enough at last—fall back,
And join the rest.

PRINCE ANDRIA.
Their captain seems to shake.

DUCHESS.
Look! look! he leads Cicilia toward the door!
The audacious traitor! whispering in her ear!

AREZZI.
Fly, princess—go this way.

CICILIA.
From what?

AREZZI.
Grief—shame—
The sight of danger.

CICILIA.
Whither?

AREZZI.
To the church.

CICILIA.
Who is it that bids me fly?

AREZZI.
One that has loved—
Still loves and pities!

CICILIA.
Who is it? Arezzi?
If thou canst love or pity, fly thyself—
Lost!—thou art lost—betrayed! O! madman, traitor!

DUCHESS.
Peace! still a tumult, Andria!

PRINCE ANDRIA.
I hope their strength
Is less than what we meet it with!
[Enter an Officer.
Now? quick—

OFFICER.
It is all ended.

PRINCE ANDRIA.
Safely?

OFFICER.
Some are dead—
The rest, my lord, are ours.

PRINCE ANDRIA.
Go—watch the doors.
Silence that music—guard the duke who love him—
Let none go out.—Treason! conspiracy!
Look all this way—and now unmask—thou traitor!

[Prince Andria plucks the mask from Arezzi, and while the Conspirators attempt to draw their swords, the masked Attendants rush upon them, and bind them.
GUESTS.
Arezzi! Count Arezzi!

DUCHESS.
Merciful God!
It is our child!

DUKE.
Carry the princess out—
Call help there!—haste!

[Prince Andria gazes at Arezzi, and dashes the mask on the ground.
PRINCE ANDRIA.
Thou traitor!

AREZZI.
I am none—
Naples shall judge her children—which are faithful!
I would have sent the usurper home to Spain,
And loosed her from her shame—but ye are traitors—
Ye hold your rotten fortunes from a thief
Who stole them ere he gave them. Slaves of Spain!
It is your gold which gilds the calf you worship.
I did not mean to live—all that we lose
Is Naples' loss, not our's.

PRINCE ANDRIA.
Take them away—
What is it that you wait for?

DUCHESS.
Let me speak—

[The Conspirators are taken out.
PRINCE ANDRIA.
O! peace—not now. I do adjure your highness!
It is my prayer—make me not mad—quite mad!—
His Grace would be in private.

DUKE.
Leave us, friends,
Till we can meet more happily—farewell!
[The Guests retire, the Duchess sits down and covers her face with her hands.
[Enter Asti.
The ships and Mole are safe.

DUKE.
Then Heaven be praised!

PRINCE ANDRIA.
I would be thankful if I could—this boy
Perverts my prayers, and what were asked as mercies,
Are maledictions to us both!—now go—pray go,
[To Filippo.
Keep them all separate—dost thou understand me?
Well, what dost stare and gape at? get thee gone—
Divide their leaders—lodge Arezzi singly—
We will direct the rest.

DUKE.
Good aunt, take comfort.
You shall distribute mercy where you please—
I know you love Arezzi.

DUCHESS.
You may grant him
A base and shameful life—and I will ask it.
But honor—none can beg or give again.

[Exit with Prince Andria.
DUKE.
Are many hurt?

ASTI.
The most of those below;
And some are dead. Their captain led them madly—
Yet wisely too for one who hates a rope—
Twice through the guards up stairs. His neck seems charmed—
Perhaps the gibbet may have better luck;
But none of these could break it.

DUKE.
Is he known?

ASTI.
He was the Count's companion—one Cimbelli.

[Exeunt.

SCENE III.

Street at Night.
Savelli and Gerardo.
SAVELLI.
Pray—pray—make haste.

GERARDO.
I have made better haste
The other road, Savelli. When I run
It is not toward a jail—if we must go,
We shall be sent for—wait till then.

SAVELLI.
Fool, as thou art!
To trifle now! there is one chance of safety.

GERARDO.
Why true—your jails are safe enough, at least!
No danger there of drowning! We escape
Whatever travellers risk by land or sea,
And all the snares of drinking, wenching, feasting;
Men seldom die of surfeits there. But now,
Brother, be quiet! the game we played is lost!
They keep their king and bishops—let us shut
The tables and be gone.

SAVELLI.
Where shall we go?
The Roads and Port are guarded seven miles round.
Hast wings or fins? Canst live in air or water?
O! do not thwart me now! our secret rests
In silence yet upon a single tongue—
That stopt—we sleep all night without a dream,
And wake to-morrow perfect.

GERARDO.
Whose? Arezzi's?

SAVELLI.
There were but two that knew it—beside thyself—
Arezzi and Cimbelli—one is gone—
The Count sees Death look hard and black upon him,
And youth may flinch from pain.—Andria would give
His life for your's or mine.

GERARDO.
Run then—run on.

[Exeunt.

SCENE IV.

The State Prison.—Night.
Duchess, Prince of Andria, Provost, and Attendants.
PRINCE ANDRIA.
My brother and a friar? What friar? Savelli?

PROVOST.
I do not know his name—he called himself
Confessor to the Count, and as I think,
He also said his tutor. After these
There came a female, veiled, who prayed to see him—
She wept and offered gold.

PRINCE ANDRIA.
And you refused it?

PROVOST.
I answered as became mine office—prince.
Still she besought and wept.

DUCHESS.
And how, at last?

PROVOST.
She called her maids and left me.

DUCHESS.
Veiled—with servants!
You that can bar your doors against a woman,
Might shut them to a monk.

PROVOST.
I would have done so:
But one was brother to his Grace, and both
Spoke loudly of their rights.

DUCHESS.
That female speaks
Ever of her's too meekly—sir, she is kin
To him and me.

PRINCE ANDRIA.
Well, mend your error now—
And since you have them, keep them.—By my truth,
They both shall tarry where they are! Dost hear?
Put them in ward—you have my warrant for it.
Who knows these foxes' earths? O! Guido, you;
Go—search their cells. Meet us at home—make haste.
[Exit Officer.
What prisoners have you here beside the Count?

PROVOST.
There is Allori, Rota, Guazzo, Vasi,
And that Cimbelli.—

PRINCE ANDRIA.
Stop now—some one told me
The last of these was dead.

PROVOST.
'Twas so believed—
He fell, with eight or ten of those he fought with,
Twice down the stairs. Many he struck are maimed—
He was but stunned.

DUCHESS.
Then, Provost, let us see him.

PRINCE ANDRIA.
And make that rumor spread itself: his friends
May speak the plainer if they think him dead.

DUCHESS.
Walk on, and show the way.

PRINCE ANDRIA.
But first, your Grace
Will send our letter to the duke?

DUCHESS.
Come with me—
Better tell all ourselves.

PRINCE ANDRIA.
What, now?

DUCHESS.
Why not?
This secret has been kept too long.

PRINCE ANDRIA.
We must
Be speedy with it then: the clock strikes two—
At three the council will attend us here.

DUCHESS.
Provost, we shall return—stay where you are.

[Exeunt.

SCENE V.

Prison.—Night.
Arezzi, Savelli, and Gerardo.
GERARDO.
Strength! talk of strength! These torments break the heart.
Brave men are weak in pain—the bravest dread it.

AREZZI.
I do not yet. Misery is thus far good—
It masters Fear. Savelli, speak of death.
I would prepare with awe to die, as one
That knows indeed how great a thing it is,
Even where the best give back their souls to Him
In whose sight none are guiltless—how much greater!
When from the maddening struggles of this world,
With all its devilish passions hot about them—
Pride, Envy, Vengeance, desperate Love, and Wrath—
Men sink, at once, like me! It is not Death—
Or pain in passing to his rest—if rest—
That can affright me now—but what I am,
And may be soon!—Teach me to pray, good father!
Thy heart was spotless in this work—but mine!

SAVELLI.
You may lie down and sleep without a sigh—
As the tired infant slumbers after grief
With tears upon its cheek—or else, your spirit
Must pass to death through agony!—My son
Trust not this strength.

AREZZI.
How can I gain such rest?

SAVELLI.
Drink this, and sleep.

AREZZI.
What! poison? It is not poison?

SAVELLI.
The sin be mine, my son! if it be sin.—

GERARDO.
Women dare flee from Pain to Death—and think
His peace a blessing.

AREZZI.
I will face them both.

GERARDO.
Who, but the fool, with power to choose between them,
Takes more than one?

AREZZI.
Art thou God's minister?
Tempt me not, devils—mine eyes are opened now—
Savelli!—fiend!

GERARDO.
The coward!—he dares not die!

AREZZI.
Not as the Iscariot died—though both were traitors!

GERARDO.
Thou slave!

AREZZI.
To-morrow I will answer that.

SAVELLI.
You will betray your friends.

AREZZI.
I have none, friar.
I thought that I had one till now! The last
Is dead already—you robbed me of the earliest.

SAVELLI.
Swear yet once more.

AREZZI.
I will not—I have promised.

[Enter Provost with Officers.
PROVOST.
You must cut short your shrift.

SAVELLI.
Why so?

GERARDO.
For what?

PROVOST.
To go with me elsewhere.

SAVELLI.
Good Provost—not yet.

PROVOST.
Nay, but you shall—your time is mine—good friar—
Bring them along.

[Exeunt.

SCENE VI.

Night.—A Room in the Prison.
Cimbelli chained and reading.—Duchess and Prince of Andria enter.
PRINCE ANDRIA.
(To the Guards.)
Stand at the door, outside—wait till we call.—
We hope the book you study teaches wisdom.

CIMBELLI.
It does—grant me but time enough and health,
I mean to pay it back, and write another.

PRINCE ANDRIA.
A book! good sooth—it must be short.—On what?

CIMBELLI.
We have ill usages in Spain and Naples—
Gentile, unscriptural, barbarous, impious, devilish—
Customs abhorr'd, abjured, and quite swept out
From lands less Christian than our own. In Spain
Ye burn the living man, and here in Naples
Torment him, rack him, rend him!—I have thoughts
To show the manifold sin of what ye do—
Open your eyes, warn you against this evil,
And serve you with my brains.

PRINCE ANDRIA.
We are much beholden!
Hast ever pondered this before to-night?

CIMBELLI.
Believe me that I have, but lacked the leisure
Which now your Grace has given me. I will ask
The judgment of her highness too.

DUCHESS.
Yourself
Will try, in part, the grievance that you treat of,
And so be credited the more—for me,
I did not make the laws, and must obey them—
Yet think of these with you—they are what you say.

CIMBELLI.
Your Grace has mercy in your eyes—I saw
Compassion toward the Count; and once you promised
To love both him and me.

DUCHESS.
I did, Cimbelli.

CIMBELLI.
Now we will put it to the proof.

DUCHESS.
Talk wisely—
Error is not rebellion.

CIMBELLI.
What I ask
Squares well enough with both.

DUCHESS.
What is it then?

CIMBELLI.
Let me be hanged forthwith—'tis no such matter
For one so great as you to beg. The prince
Designs me for the spit—he loves old forms:
I, as a soldier would be shot: the gibbet
Is built in neutral ground 'twixt him and me;
Adjust our difference, reconciles extremes;
Stands like a guide-post where our wishes meet,
And points a rough but speedy road to death—
Confronts mine own ambition and his thoughts
About midway—it arbitrates for both,
A honest sort of mediator, to make
The compromise a fair one. If your Grace
Has more than so much love, and would spare one—
Arezzi is the youngest—he may mend;
I give my share to him.

PRINCE ANDRIA.
It is too late.

DUCHESS.
You should have thought upon his youth last night.

PRINCE ANDRIA.
He is beyond your power to help or harm.

CIMBELLI.
What, is he dead?

PRINCE ANDRIA.
Would that he had been so,
When death were sad, not shameful!

CIMBELLI.
Murdered so soon?
Most provident guardian of the young and desperate!
You do your business suddenly, prince Andria—
And now his lands are yours. Thou merciless butcher!
Bind him, and cut his throat! The duke might find
His pity by to-morrow—he is young,
Nor is his heart grown hard. The Count Arezzi
Was his companion once—his play-fellow—
So you have lost no time!—May God requite you.

PRINCE ANDRIA.
Peace, fool, I say.

CIMBELLI.
I wish my hands were loose,
And then the fool would let his tongue be idle—
But now get out, or hear me to the end.
Thou bloody, barbarous villain!—in prison and chains!
Cruel, unnatural, treacherous, pitiless fiend—
I will not hold my peace. Beware this leopard—
You had compassion on the Count—so mark—
Prince Andria is a traitor—warn the duke;
Tell him to keep a collar round his neck!—
I know the savage better than ye both—
He will devour you too.

PRINCE ANDRIA.
Blockhead—be quiet!

DUCHESS.
These tears are signs of love—

CIMBELLI.
The south wind blind him!
No eyes but his have ever seen my tears—
Now let him light his fagots; if he force
Another from my lids, or hear a prayer,
It shall be for his sins.

DUCHESS.
Hush! hush!—Cimbelli—
Remember what we are.

CIMBELLI.
I do remember
What poor Arezzi was; and nothing else.
'Twas I that pushed and spurr'd him where he fell!
His fault was too much love toward that thin wolf—
He would not let me send your devil below.—
For you—I hope you keep your soul from blood—
Else God forbid! I trust you knew not of it?—
Tell me not what you are! Arezzi loved you—
He made us swear upon our knees to save you—
Preserve your honors—guard and heal your peace—
And while our conscience smote us for our folly,
Faultered and boggled at an oath so vain—
He would take no part with us—but abjured
Our work and fellowship.

DUCHESS.
Dost speak the truth?

CIMBELLI.
You had no hand in this? I saw him weep
At what he fancied would be grief to you—
Yet he could find no mercy!

DUCHESS.
Poor lost Arezzi!
Unhappy as thou art! we drove thee out—
Our cold hard hearts were shut against our child!
Nay—Andria—I will speak.—O! shame upon us!
This stranger found and loved him—we destroyed him!
Now by my hopes of peace, I will be more
Than thou canst dream for this. Speak out, Cimbelli—
Excuse his frailties with the truth, and tell
His sufferings through the world—so God shall judge me,
The hand which lifts a finger to thy harm
Had better grasp my throat!—to thee I will be
All that I should have been to him—a mother!

CIMBELLI.
Then take that basilisk away—his looks
Are death to Charity.

PRINCE ANDRIA.
Provost come in—
Unbind your prisoner there—and when he bids it,
Set the doors wide—he is as free as we are—
Let no man question where he goes.
[Cimbelli is unchained—the Guards retire.
You wished
Your hands were loose, Cimbelli, and now they are so.
Go walk in Naples as ourselves. Last night
Your sword was lost—take this, (gives his sword)
—behold! young man,
The father of Arezzi—not his murderer.

CIMBELLI.
His what?—his father?—art sure thou art his father?—
And not the father of lies?—who killed him then?

DUCHESS.
He is not killed—be wise.

CIMBELLI.
You say so too?
This is some train to set my fire a blazing.—

DUCHESS.
We love him as his parents—both.

PRINCE ANDRIA.
Thou saidst
That when thy hands were free, thy tongue should rest.
So keep it mute a minute, and hear me speak.
Her highness and myself would gather up—
From that which once was whole—some rags of honor,
And clothe against the bleak and pitiless world
Arezzi's shame with these. He must go hence
Where men may count his errors with his years,
And sum the gross of both—think him a boy
Ill-taught, ill-counselled, blinded, ignorant, desperate.

DUCHESS.
Speak what you know, Cimbelli,—what even now
You told, with tears, to us.

CIMBELLI.
I ask two things—
Must I turn heathen first, and hang the rest
In last night's buffet?

PRINCE ANDRIA.
When I gave my sword,
It was to show my faith—not buy your treachery.

CIMBELLI.
The other I will forego.

PRINCE ANDRIA.
Let us have both.

CIMBELLI.
That message to the king then—come, 'twas wicked?
Why wouldest thou have me burnt?

PRINCE ANDRIA.
What drunkard's dream
Is this of burning?

CIMBELLI.
Faith! I walk in fogs,
And may go wrong again!—the brother I know—
He is confessed and proved—as black as Erebus—
This ever was reputed good—I see
What makes me trust your Grace, and will do all
Which leaves mine honor uncorrupt.

PRINCE ANDRIA.
Then haste,
The duke by this expects us. Let us hear
What some who think thee dead, may say about thee.
I would not have thee seen at first—be hidden
Till we shall bid thee speak. Come in— (Guards enter)
Here Marco—
Lend us your cloak and cap—stand close about him.

CIMBELLI.
Your staff too, friend—and button me to the nose.—
Now we are fellows, brothers, guards to the duke—
Strange mutabilities in mundane things!
This masking had ill luck last night.—March on.

[Exeunt.

SCENE VII.

A Hall in the Prison.—Night.
Enter the Duke, Duchess, Cicilia, Prince of Andria, with Guards, and followed by some Officers of State.
DUKE.
It may be hard—good cousin, to both—but yet
With pangs like these must pride be rooted up.

DUCHESS.
Let him behold the pearl his wrath has trod on—
Sit down with us.

DUKE.
His mother herself endures
All this to do him good—now take your places.

[They sit at a Table.—Arezzi is brought in, chained.
DUCHESS.
Who bound these fetters on the Count?

DUKE.
What! Provost—
A noble, and uncondemned?—take them away— (The chains are taken off.)

They grieve him less than us—trust me, Arezzi,
We had no share in this.

AREZZI.
I thank your Grace.
So much of courtesy might breed extremes
And shame us both—your highness, in refusing—
Myself, in asking—more—and yet it is
At last, scarce courtesy.

DUKE.
Tell me your wish.

AREZZI.
That what you mean to do—you will do soon—
What you would know, ask now: your eyes are witness—
There is no more to learn—let me go hence.

DUKE.
I would do so, but must not yet.—Go whither?

AREZZI.
No matter where. I wish to lessen time,
Not pain—and shun, what grieves me worse than death—
And not death too—these faces and your own.

DUKE.
They should awaken more than grief, Arezzi!

AREZZI.
If you remember what I was, or hope
Yourself to be remembered—sit not there
With studious wisdom settled in your face—
You and your queen to gaze! be like a king,
And chuse some nobler kind of hate than this.
Your questions cannot reach beyond myself.
If torments must instruct these lips in treachery—
I know my weakness, and will trust elsewhere—
Try them before you sleep.

DUKE.
O! God forbid!
You shall think justly of us both.

DUCHESS.
For her,
These tears must answer if she loves thee—thankless!
She is not, and she never was unfaithful.

DUKE.
A queen! she might have been—but love though cruel,
Outweighed two kingdoms, and Arezzi still
Is more than sovereignty.

DUCHESS.
She gave her promise—
And kept her faith, to you and me, Arezzi—
I trusted, you did not.

AREZZI.
My prayer was heard!
The other half will follow.

DUKE.
You wronged me too.

DUCHESS.
This child! prince Andria's innocent!—He who sends
His nurse to choose his wife!—was thus far manly—
He threw the arms which Fortune gave aside,
Put by his power, unrobed himself of greatness,
Forgot the privilege of his place, and stood
Fairly—as far as will could make it even—
On level ground before you. When he failed,
He did not hate his conqueror.

DUKE.
Ask herself—
You will believe Cicilia now.

AREZZI.
I do.
A greater error lessens shame for this,
Which yet is shameful.

PRINCE ANDRIA.
There are more than these—
Greater than both! you will not think them so—
But he who cleanses what were else corrupt,
And may impute no sin to love like yours—
Commands a purer service, calls it duty,
And makes his peace its blessing.

DUCHESS.
Tell us now
If Andria and myself, in twenty years,
Were less than parents to you?

PRINCE ANDRIA.
When we erred,
Was it through want of love?

DUCHESS.
You should have felt
No less than may become a child toward us.

PRINCE ANDRIA.
O! but we changed of late—frowned on your hopes,
Lessened our bounties, and for what we did,
Made will and power the prologues!

DUCHESS.
Alas! Arezzi—
Faith is too slow of growth for twenty years!
Distrust can root itself, wax gross, and bear
Its fruits to ripeness in a month!—We could not—
Till Ferdinand had renounced his love, the king
Had sent forgiveness to myself and Andria—
We dared not tell you what you are.

AREZZI.
What am I?

DUCHESS.
Our son.

AREZZI.
Your son!

DUCHESS.
Those whose place you struck at,
Were, what they are, in blood as well as fondness,
Your father, mother, cousins.

AREZZI.
Have mercy—God!
Save me from this!

DUCHESS.
Such tears become my child.
We too have erred—and will reproach no more.
You shall embrace your mother.

AREZZI.
O, no, no—
Shame never found a place near breasts like yours,
Nor must it now. There is a curse above us;
Sorrow and danger fall on all who love me,
And all I love—only thus far forgive—
If it were yours, recal it. (He kneels, and rests his head on the table.)


PRINCE ANDRIA.
Bring these friars.
[Savelli and Gerardo are brought in.
What led you here last night?—do you speak first.

SAVELLI.
My duty, prince.

PRINCE ANDRIA.
Your office then is dangerous.

SAVELLI.
It is, but urgent.

PRINCE ANDRIA.
Does it nourish rebels?

SAVELLI.
It comforts all, but most the fallen and guilty.

PRINCE ANDRIA.
We know your charity.

SAVELLI.
Your highness knows
More than you love or practise then! I am
Confessor to the Count, I was his tutor—
And, feeble as I may be in myself,
The Churches servant shall perform her will,
If princes chide or not.

PRINCE ANDRIA.
Thou insolent priest!
The Church disclaims a traitor.

SAVELLI.
In her name,
I scorn his lie who calls me such. The Count
May tremble, but he knows the truth—does he
Perjure his soul—and for a life of shame,
Impute to me his treasons?

Arezzi
(rising.)
I do not—

SAVELLI.
Hear that—and one as noble as yourself—
Too poor, indeed, to be a proud man's brother—
But yet, your father's son. Speak what thou knowest.

GERARDO.
I will.

PRINCE ANDRIA.
You shall be called on soon, and then
May answer for yourself—we have your billets—
We know your messages—Savelli first
Must meet his brethren here, whose backs may bring
Their abbey's chest untired.

GERARDO.
Ah! thus it is—
Time never mollifies! Before they hear us,
Our next in blood—whose cradle was our own—
Whose flesh and bones are ours—rise up against us!
Savelli knows me what I am, and not
What I may once have been—do I speak truth?
Should I be trusted, brother?

SAVELLI.
Both.

GERARDO.
Why then—
As there is hope of better worlds than this—
Thou art a traitor.—What dost gaze at, man?
I do not fear to speak my words twice o'er—
A cruel, cozening, barbarous, devilish traitor!
Thou hast betrayed thy friend, ensnared the guiltless,
Made me a blind partaker in thy knavery—
This thou hast done—shame on thee, hypocrite!
Andria may trust me now.

SAVELLI.
Thou double-faced fiend!

GERARDO.
Go on—revile, accuse, eat thine own words,
Warn all against belief!—the snare is broken,
And like a frighted bird, I spread my wings
Where truth shall be my resting place.—What was I?
A carrier of his billets! message-bearer!
A runner to and fro in frauds and treasons?
Were these the treasurer's alms? his charities?
His debts and dues?—O! fie, fie, fie!

PRINCE ANDRIA.
Stop now—
And tell us if it were your office too
Which brought you here last night?

GERARDO.
Brother! it was
My love toward that bad man; false pity, fear,
Amazement, and the credit of our house
Now lost! quite gone! Behold him wild with haste,
Half-choked, like one pursued, distraught, possessed,
And bellowing where I lay—O! help me, save me!—
He kneels beside my bed—and looks behind—
Attests the spiritual fellowship between us—
And by our common vows, adjures my pity—
Tells me this treason in the Count, and shows
Some knowledge near to guilt: through me, perchance,
As brother to the prince—these doors may open—
Arezzi must be silenced. Half awake
I rise and follow him—but, ye saints above!
What plots! what snares!—how many oaths and curses!
Fierce vows, relentless wishes, bloody hopes,
And lamentations o'er abortive crime!—
Yes—both of them repent—but what? that murder
Had not been tried more secretly.—One owns
His trust betrayed, the abbey's treasury spent
To fee conspiracy.

DUKE.
This was your friend
For whom you testified so much? whose grace
Shone like a glory round him? He was learned
In all good studies, but the most in those
Which lead to godliness!

GERARDO.
What does this prove?
Your Grace reminds me well—what does it prove?
Marry—what else but that I loved the man,
And did believe him faithful? He has blinded
One wiser than myself—my brother there.

SAVELLI.
Answer this slave, Arezzi.

AREZZI.
When I swore,
It was to both.

GERARDO.
Now will your highness hear!
There was an oath then—do I lie or not?
Savelli tendered poison to the Count—
He has it in his bosom still—by this
My words are verified.

PRINCE ANDRIA.
Take it away—

[Savelli takes out the poison, and drinks it.
DUKE.
Lay hold upon the friar!—too late!

GERARDO.
No matter—
'Tis poison I know.

SAVELLI.
I leave him to your Grace—
May all believe and trust him!

PRINCE ANDRIA.
Till last night
You never heard of this conspiracy?

GERARDO.
Never—till late last night. Hold there, one moment!
Let me be sure—good sooth—I said too much!
I do bethink me of an iron-tongued prater—
The zany of some mountebank decayed—
What was it that they called his name?—a patch
With perilous impudence, brimful of lies
Which bubbled from him daily all day long,
And yet were never spent—a traveller's book
Where every nation's folly found its place,
And all mens' sins, a record—One who had
No soul to be ashamed of—so no shame.
He was Arezzi's counsellor, till his skull
Split on the palace stairs last night—I think
They called the knave—Cimbelli.

AREZZI.
Slanderous liar!
Beware to tempt me further—this Cimbelli
Was noble, if nobility be truth,
And good, if what is faithful lean from evil!—
Yet thou dost well—he was the impostor's scourge,
And hypocrites abhorr'd him.

DUCHESS.
Peace, awhile—
What more of this Cimbelli?

GERARDO.
May I speak?—
So! mercy on us! need these traitors patience!—
The ape we talk about, now two days gone,
Came where I could not shun him, held me fast
And said—“We shall require your prayers, and you
“May then leave off to pray. The prince, your brother,
“Must turn into a monk instead, yourself
“Shall be a prince.” I smiled upon the sot
And asked him, when? he answered, “When the duke
“Is Count Arezzi's subject, and the Count
“Becomes a king.”—I do not chide with drunkards,
So bade him go and sleep.

PRINCE ANDRIA.
Where is Cimbelli?

[Cimbelli throws aside his cloak and cap, and comes forward.
AREZZI.
Cimbelli!

CIMBELLI.
Ay, Cimbelli—who has heard—
Despite the proverb of a listener's fortunes—
Some good about himself at last. He kept
His peace with much ado. Behold me, father,
One of his highness' guards—a man in trust;
The prince your brother gave his zany this—
[Shows his sword.
Dost take me for my ghost?—prithee leave staring—
He did not mean to burn me—what thou saidst
Of letters written by his Grace to Spain,
Then signed and sealed by thee—was fanciful.
The Inquisitors have other fish to fry.
Let the prince live!—besides, why should we kill him?
His lands and honors cannot fall to thee:
He is provided with an heir—Arezzi
Is nephew to your reverence, and his son.

PRINCE ANDRIA.
You hear the truth—what else?

SAVELLI.
Let me speak once.
The darkness gathers round me—I would die
With one sin less—Arezzi fell through treachery—
Beware Gerardo, prince!—Give me some help;
Trust not that scorpion—mercy—O!—no mercy!

[He falls and is carried out.
PRINCE ANDRIA.
Take him away.

PROVOST.
He points, and tries to speak.

GERARDO.
Is this your son indeed?

PRINCE ANDRIA.
Get thee hence—Cain!

GERARDO.
Andria, we both must go—and childless both—
We leave no heirs behind us.
[He takes a dagger from his breast and stabs Arezzi.
Half is done!
Now, brother, for thyself.

DUCHESS.
Lay hold upon him—

[As Gerardo passes round the table to Prince Andria— Cimbelli strikes him with his sword, and throws him down.
CIMBELLI.
Incarnate devil!—canst die? your sword, prince Andria,
Has done its master service!

CICILIA.
Look, he bleeds—
Save him—bring help!

AREZZI.
It is not much.

DUCHESS.
Child, child!

PRINCE ANDRIA.
Look up and speak, my son.

CIMBELLI.
Courage, Arezzi!
He struck but once, bear ye that carcase out—
[To the Guards.
It grins with mischief still.

AREZZI.
Let me lie down.

CICILIA.
Will no one stop this blood! he bleeds to death—
There is no help, no pity!

AREZZI.
I deserve none—
And least of all from you—yet have I loved
To guilt and madness—you will pardon now?

CICILIA.
O! do not speak of pardon—all need pardon!
It is imperfect love that can forgive—
Mine never felt but grief.

PRINCE ANDRIA.
Look! the blood stops!

CICILIA.
We may be happy yet.

AREZZI.
O! never, never!—
The pardoned traitor happy! I have brought
Shame on yourself, and these.

DUCHESS.
Good God! good God!
Make me be patient—I would learn to suffer—
Yet now be merciful!

AREZZI.
It was his mercy
I did not die last night—he never blesses
Him whom a father loves, yet cannot bless!

PRINCE ANDRIA.
We both have blessed thee, child—

AREZZI.
Come near, Cimbelli—
For my sake serve my mother—raise me higher,
So, I feel strength and less in pain—this blood
Which drains my heart, still leaves its guilt behind!

DUCHESS.
Hush, hush! we call not ignorance, guilt—and error
May end in peace.

AREZZI.
No error leads to this—
It makes us not ungrateful! Let men call me
The parricide Arezzi! I have been
Opinion's fool too long. Yourselves, my parents—
Ah! better never known as such, than now—
Will fear to grieve while sorrow looks like sin!
Go, wash your hands—and say that God is just—
He strikes the guilty! One will pity still,
Whose meekness has endured so much, and borne
Distrust, reproach, unkindness! Let the rest
Forget me, or abhor me—I shall find
A place where all things else are good and pure,
For long remembrance—promise this, Cicilia.

CICILIA.
I do.

AREZZI.
Forgive me—O! those lips once more—
They make death easier—all is silence here—
Speak to me—do not leave me—love me still—
Forgive the ungrateful—speak—good God! just God!

[Dies.