University of Virginia Library

SCENE V.

PALACE GARDEN. Fra Rupert, Caraffa, and Caraccioli.
Fra Rupert.
The losel!

Caraccioli.
Saints! what graciousness!

Caraffa.
Was ever
So sweet a girl? He is uglier than old Satan,
Andrea . . I abhor him worse than ever . . .
Curse on that Tartar, Turk, Bohemian,
Hungarian! I could now half-strangle him.

Fra Rupert.
We are dismist.

Caraffa.
My speech might have done wonders.

Fra Rupert.
Now, who (the mischief!) stops a dead man's blood?
Wonders! ay truly, wonders it had done!
Thou wert agape as money-box for mass,
And wantedst shaking more. What are our gains?

Caraffa.
A vision the strain'd eyes can not inclose,
Or bring again before them from the senses,
Which clasp it, hang upon it, nor will ever
Release it, following thro' eternity.

Caraccioli.
I can retain her image, hear her words,
Repeat, and tone them on each fibre here,
Distinctly still.

Caraffa.
Then hast thou neither heart
Nor brain, Caraccioli! No strife so hard
As to catch one slight sound, one faintest trace,
Of the high beauty that rules over us.
Who ever seized the harmony of heaven,
Or saw the confine that is nearest earth?

Fra Rupert.
I can bear youthful follies, but must check
The words that run thus wide and point at heaven.
We must warn laymen fairly off that ground.
Are ye both mad?

Caraffa.
One is; I swear to one:
I would not be the man that is not so
For empires girt with gold, worlds starr'd with women:
A trance is that man's life, a dream be mine!
Caraccioli's an ice-pit, covered o'er
With straw and chaff and double-door'd and thatcht,
And wall'd, the whole dark space, with earthen wall.
Why! Frate! all those groans of thine for heaven?
Art toucht?

Fra Rupert.
I have been praying fervently . .
Despairingly I fear to say . . 'twere rash,
Ungrateful, and ungodly.

Caraffa.
He has brought
The whole Maremma on me at one breath.
My cold fit now comes over me. But, Frate!
If we do feel, may we not say we do?

Fra Rupert.
To feel is harm; to say it, may be none,
Unless 'tis said with levity like thine.

Caraffa.
Ah faith! I wish 'twere levity! The pagan
That heaves up Etna, calls it very differently.
I think the dog is better off than I am;
He groans upon the bed where lies his torment;
I very far away from where lies mine.

Fra Rupert.
Art thou a Christian?

Caraffa.
Father! don't be serious.

Fra Rupert.
I must be.

Caraffa.
Have not I most cause?

Fra Rupert.
Yea truly.

Caraffa.
I am not over-given to complain,
But nettles will sting all . .

Fra Rupert.
. . who put their hands in.
Caraccioli! be warn'd by this our friend
What sufferings may arise from lawless love.
Thine passeth its due bounds; it doth, Caraccioli!
But thou canst conquer every wild desire;
A high emprize! what high emprize but suits
A true Caraccioli! We meet again . .
I have some warnings, some reproofs, for him.

[Caraccioli goes.