University of Virginia Library

SCENE V.

Re-enter Camillo, leading in Manoa.
MENTEVOLE.
[starting.
Swallow me, earth! he lives. But I must brave it.

DUKE.
[rising.
Ha! can I trust my senses? Manoa!

DURAZZO.
The same, my lord, and by no miracle.

DUKE.
Yet things so strange are next to miracles,
And his appearance such. We thought him dead.—
This is beyond your hopes.

[to Mentevole.
MENTEVOLE.
O, much beyond them.—
All curses of his nation light upon him!

[aside.
JULIA.
The villain's cheek turns pale; his fate has found him.

[aside.
DUKE.
Surprise to see you here, no way abates
[to Manoa.
Our pleasure at your welfare. Blushing deeply,
We own the state has wrong'd you, but soon purpose
To give you full redress.

MANOA.
My humblest thanks.

DUKE.
[takes his seat.
At present we must set aside that care
For one which now employs us. No more thanks,
We yet deserve them not.—Come nearer still;
[gives Manoa the picture.
Take this, examine it. Do you remember
(Observe them well) the jewels round that picture?

MANOA.
Most sure, my lord; they are by no means common;
But all, indeed, most rare and singular.

DUKE.
They once were yours. Who was their purchaser?

MANOA.
A noble youth, by whose untimely death
Genoa has lost her brightest ornament.
Even in the depth of my own misery,
My heart dropp'd blood to hear the fate of Claudio.

DUKE.
Did you at any time, (think, ere you answer,)
Procure for any other purchaser
Jewels like these?

MANOA.
Never, my lord.

MENTEVOLE.
Out, dotard!
Thy miseries have craz'd thy memory.
To me these gems were sold; look on me well,
I was the friend of Claudio: think, old man,
A noble person's life, and reputation,
(More dear than life,) hang on the words you utter.

MANOA.
I've said, what I have said; were my soul's fate
Link'd to the testimony, thus I stake it:
As I do hope forgiveness of my sins,
And peace in death, I never sold these gems,
Nor any like them, save to noble Claudio.

DUKE.
Hear you, my lord?

MENTEVOLE.
I hear a faithless Jew,
A slave suborn'd, a traitor to the state,
A bankrupt, fugitive, and outcast Hebrew,
Aver—he knows not what;—and still more strange,
I see the credulous duke of Genoa,
The first in estimation as in place,
Gaping to swallow monstrous perjuries.

MANOA.
What interest, lord, have I to do this wrong?
I enter'd, uninstructed of the cause
For which you summon'd me; nor know I now,
Why I am thus revil'd for my true answer.

DUKE.
[to Mentevole.
It can avail you nought, to disallow
The proof yourself appeal'd to.

MANOA.
Mighty signor,
I have an attestation of my truth,
Beyond all oaths, or sacred form of words.
If I am not a liar, and suborn'd,
There rests within this frame a spring conceal'd
With nicest art, and known to me alone,
And its first master. Touch'd, it will discover
The noble Claudio's image.—Ay, 'tis here.—
Ill-fated youth!—Is this to be a liar?

[He touches a spring, and shews a picture of Claudio beneath that of Julia.
JULIA.
[eagerly.
Give me that picture. O, my promis'd love,
This was thy form. Thy brow, the throne of honour,
And grace thy minister.—For ever gone!
So look'd those glossy eyes when turn'd on Julia.—
Cold is that tongue.—Come, animating warmth,
Breathe through my lips, give life to this dear shade,
And let me die thus gazing!

MENTEVOLE.
Dæmons seize thee!
[to Manoa.
Cramps and cold palsies wither thy curs'd hand!
Thou hast undone me.

DUKE.
[rising.
Sir, you are our prisoner;
And in our palace you must hear your sentence.—
Bear him away this instant.

[Two of the Guards attempt to seize him.
MENTEVOLE.
Stand aloof!
Nor raise a hand in violence against me;
Or with one stroke I'll frustrate all your forms,
And the dark tale dies with me.

DUKE.
Hold;—let's hear him.

MENTEVOLE.
I did kill Claudio. On the morn you miss'd him,
We took together our accustom'd walk;
When this too certain arm achiev'd the deed,
Which long lay brooding in my jealousy.

FULVIA.
Deliberate, curs'd assassin!

JULIA.
O, my heart!

MENTEVOLE.
He talk'd with rapture of the approaching bliss,
Till passion drown'd his sight; with eyes upcast,
Then drew that picture, hanging round his neck,
From underneath his garment; glew'd his lips
With transport, to the beauteous, lifeless form.
My smother'd fury rose at once to madness;
With one hand, from his grasp I tore the picture,
And with the other smote him to the heart.

[Julia faints.
DURAZZO.
My daughter! ha! the blood forsakes her cheeks.
My life, my all, look up!

FULVIA.
[running to Julia.
Dear, injur'd, maid,
Live but to see my penitence, my tears!
Thou lovely sufferer, O wake, and hear me!
Alas! she heeds me not. My barbarous tongue,
Sharp as the felon's steel, was fatal to thee.—
See, she revives.

DURAZZO.
Thank heaven! she breathes again.

JULIA.
O, who has call'd me back to this dark world,
From choirs of angels, and celestial light,
To view that murderer? Yet, let me view him;
For I would find the speediest way to peace;
And in the hollow of his cruel eye,
There should be mortal mischief, freezing terror,
To stop the tide of nature.—Monster, think,
Pain, ignominy, death, which wait thee here,
Will have their lengthen'd end, but to consign thee
To ever-during misery hereafter.

MENTEVOLE.
My sentence here I know; the rest's uncertain.
But least of all, fair sorceress! that tongue
Should aggravate the crime, those eyes persuaded;
Thou, thou, the cause of all this guilt and ruin.
Why did I kill my friend? Why, but for thee.
Why risk my soul's perdition? Still for thee.
Why forfeit life and honour? All for thee.
Then where should I seek vengeance, but from thee?
And thus, insulted love thus bids me take it.

[He stabs Julia, and attempts to stab himself, but is prevented.
JULIA.
Ha!

DURAZZO.
Seize his arm! O, execrable wretch!
Fly, fly for succour! See, she bleeds, she dies:
The fiend, the inhuman fiend has kill'd my daughter.

DUKE.
Quick, bear him hence; each hour while he draws breath,
All laws divine and human are insulted.
[Exit Duke.

MENTEVOLE.
'Tis done; I laugh at you. Your triumph's past.
See there, the last despair of outraged love.
Now plunge me in your dungeons; tire your code,
To wake new torments for me. The great spirit
Which dared such deeds, shall brave their penalty.

[Mentevole is carried off.
DURAZZO.
Good heaven, in pity to a father's anguish,
Let me not lose her thus!—my child, my child!

JULIA.
The pain of this deep wound is light, my father;
But O, to think, that your declining age
Will want the comfort of a daughter's care;
That cold obedience must discharge the office
Affection made so welcome to your Julia!

DURAZZO.
My heart's best blood! I shall not long survive thee.

FULVIA.
Hide me, O earth! I tremble to approach.—
Has thy soft generous heart one drop of mercy,
To fall upon a wretch, whose savage fury
Outraged thy virtues, pierc'd thy tender soul,
Mocking thy bitterest pangs. O, Julia! Julia!

[kneeling.
JULIA.
Rise, madam, rise. These supplicating hands,
Your streaming eyes, and that respected body,
Thus bow'd with grief, and groveling on the earth,
Are sights unfit for her, whose dying beams
With tender reverence must still behold you.
Alas! resentment, at this awful moment,
Can find no place in my departing spirit;
For all will soon be peace.

FULVIA.
Thou saint-like goodness!
Unmov'd I saw thy tears, saw the sweet blush
Of thy wrong'd innocence. For pity hate me;
In life, in death, rise not so much above me.

JULIA.
Give me your hand; my last tears fall upon it.
As these dissolving drops part from my eyes,
So melts the memory of all past unkindness.

FULVIA.
O, could they quench my everlasting shame!

MARCELLUS.
[without.
I will not be withheld. [Enters.]
O, grief and horrour,
Why, why did I obey?—thy cruel order
Kept me far off. My presence might have saved thee:
The ruthless ruffian in my faithful breast
Should first have drench'd his steel. These fruitless tears
Are all I now have left thee.

JULIA.
Thus 'tis better.
A life of sorrow, (such alas, was mine,)
Is well exchang'd for bless'd eternity;
Thine shall be long and happy.

MARCELLUS.
Never, never:
Infinite woe from this black hour awaits me.
Yet let me print on that pale beauteous hand
One sad adieu. O, that my soul could pass thus!
By every sacred power that hears, I swear,
My lips thus hallow'd by this holy kiss,
Shall ne'er again—

JULIA.
[eagerly.
As you regard my peace,
My last, my earnest prayer, let no rash vow,
Blasting the hopes of all your noble race,
Replunge the dagger in my bleeding bosom.

MARCELLUS.
Yet, there are means of death—

FULVIA.
My best Marcellus!

JULIA.
[to Fulvia.
I beg you do not leave my poor remains,
But lighten that sad office to my father.

DURAZZO.
O, misery!

JULIA.
[taking papers from her breast.
These papers,—pray observe me,—
Bury these papers with me. Lay that picture
Close to my heart, and let my coffin rest
In the same tomb which holds my murder'd Claudio;
One love, one death, and the same sepulchre.
I thank your tender tears.—Fountain of mercy!
Mild peace, and heavenly light, dawn on my sense;
My pains grow less; this load will soon fall off:
I shall be happy. Weep not. Mercy! Oh!

[Dies.
[Curtain falls.