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 | The complete works of N.P. Willis |  |
2. ACT II.
SCENE I.
[Tomaso discovered sitting at his supper, with a bottle of
water before him.]
Tomaso.
Water! (Sips a little with a grimace.) I
think since the world was drowned in it, it has tasted of
sinners. The pious throat refuses it. Other habits grow
pleasant with use — but the drinking of water lessens the
liking of it. Now, why should not some rivers run wine?
There are varieties in the eatables — will any wise man
tell me why there should be but one drinkable in nature
— and that water? My mind's made up — it's the curse of
transgression.
(A rap at the door.)
Come in!
[Enter Zippa, with a basket and bottle.]
Zippa.
Good even, Tomaso!
Tomaso.
Zippa! I had a presentiment —
Zippa.
What! of my coming?
Tomaso.
No — of thy bottle! Look! I was stinting myself
in water to leave room!
Zippa.
The reason is superfluous. There would be
room in thee for wine, if thou wert drowned in the sea.
Tomaso.
God forbid!
Zippa.
What — that thou shouldst be drowned?
Tomaso.
No — but that being drowned, I should have
room for wine.
Zippa.
Why, now? — why?
Tomaso.
If I had room for wine, I should want it — and
to want wine in the bottom of the sea, were a plague of
Sodom.
Zippa.
Where's Angelo?
Tomaso.
What's in thy bottle? Show! Show!
Zippa.
Tell me where he is — what he has done since
yesterday — what thought on — what said — how he has
looked, and if he still loves me; and when thou art thirsty
with truth-telling — (dry work for such a liar as thou art),
— thou shalt learn what is in my bottle!
Tomaso.
Nay — learning be hanged!
Zippa.
So says the fool!
Tomaso.
Speak advisedly! Was not Adam blest till he
knew good and evil?
Zippa.
Right for once.
Tomaso.
Then he lost Paradise by too much learning.
Zippa.
Ha! ha! Hadst thou been consulted, we should
still be there!
Tomaso.
Snug! I would have had my inheritance in a
small vineyard!
Zippa.
Tell me what I ask of thee.
Tomaso.
Thou shalt have a piece of news for a cup of
wine — pay and take — till thy bottle be dry!
Zippa.
Come on, then! and if thou must lie, let it be
flattery. That's soonest forgiven.
Tomaso.
And last forgotten! Pour out! (She pours
a cup full, and gives him.)
The duke was here yesterday.
—
Zippa.
Lie the first!
Tomaso.
And made much of my master's pictures.
Zippa.
Nay — that would have made two good lies.
Thou'rt prodigal of stuff!
Tomaso.
Pay two glasses, then, and square the reckoning!
Zippa.
Come! Lie the third!
Tomaso.
What wilt thou wager it's a lie, that Angelo
is painting a court lady for the dutchess?
Zippa.
Oh Lord! Take the bottle! They say there's
truth in wine — but as truth is impossible to thee, drink
thyself, at least, down to probabilities!
Tomaso.
Look you there! When was virtue encourraged?
Here have I been telling God's truth, and it goes
for a lie. Hang virtue! Produce thy cold chicken, and
I'll tell thee a lie for the wings and two for the side-bones
and breast. (Offers to take the chicken.)
Zippa.
Stay! stay! It's for thy master, thou glutton!
Tomaso.
Who's ill a-bed, and forbid meat. (Angelo
enters.)
I would have told thee so before, but feared to
grieve thee. (She would have a lie!)
Zippa
(starting up).
Ill! Angelo ill! Is he very ill,
good Tomaso?
Very! (Seizes the chicken, as Angelo claps him
on the shoulder.)
Angelo.
Will thy tricks never end?
Tomaso.
Ehem! ehem! (Thrusts the chicken into his
pocket.)
Angelo.
How art thou, Zippa?
Zippa.
Well, dear Angelo! (Giving him her hand.)
And thou wert not ill, indeed!
Angelo.
Never better, by the test of a true hand! I
have done work to-day, I trust will be remembered?
Zippa.
Is it true it's a fair lady?
Angelo.
A lady with a face so angelical, Zippa, that —
Zippa.
That thou didst forget mine!
Angelo.
In truth, I forgot there was such a thing as a
world, and so forgot all in it. I was in heaven!
Tomaso.
(Aside, as he picks the leg of the chicken
—
Prosperity is excellent whitewash, and her love is an old
score!)
Zippa
(bitterly.)
I am glad thou wert pleased, Angelo!
— very glad!
Tomaso.
(Aside
— Glad as an eel to be fried.)
Zippa.
(Aside
— “In heaven,” was he! If I pay him
not that, may my brains rot! By what right, loving me,
is he “in heaven” with another?)
Tomaso.
(Aside
— No more wine and cold chicken from
that quarter!)
Zippa.
(Aside
— Tortesa loves me, and my false game
may be played true. If he wed not Falcone's daughter, he
will wed me, and so I am revenged on this fickle Angelo!
I have the heart to do it!)
Angelo.
What dost thou muse on, Zippa?
Zippa.
On one I love better than thee, signor!
Angelo.
What, angry? (Seizes his pencil.) Hold there
till I sketch thee! By Jove, thou'rt not half so pretty when
thou'rt pleased!
Zippa.
Adieu, signor! your mockery will have an end!
(Goes out with an angry air.)
Angelo.
What! gone? Nay, I'll come with thee, if
thou'rt in earnest! What whim's this? (Takes up his
hat.)
Ho, Zippa! (Follows in pursuit.)
Tomaso
(pulls the chicken from his pocket).
Come forth
last of the chickens! She will ne'er forgive him, and so
ends the succession of cold fowl! One glass to its memory, and then to bed! (Drinks, and takes up the candle.)
A
woman is generally unsafe — but a jealous one spoils all
confidence in drink. [Exit, muttering.
SCENE II.
[An Apartment in the Falcone Palace. Enter Servant,
showing in Zippa.]
Servant.
Wait here, here, if't please you!
Zippa.
'Tis a bold errand I am come upon —
And I a stranger to her! Yet, perchance
She needs a friend — the proudest does sometimes —
And mean ones may be welcome. Look! she comes!
Isabella.
You wished to speak with me?
Zippa.
My memory is crept into my eyes;
I can not think for gazing on your beauty!
Pardon me, lady!
Isabella.
To find my face a wonder. Speak! Who are you?
Zippa.
Zippa, the glover's daughter, and your friend!
Isabella.
My friend?
Zippa.
And I a lowborn maid — yet I have come
To offer you my friendship.
Isabella.
This seems strange!
Zippa.
I'll make it less so, if you'll give me leave.
Isabella.
You'll please me!
Zippa.
To me as well as you — I have a lover,
A true one, as I think, who yet finds boldness
To seek your hand in marriage.
Isabella.
How? We're rivals!
Zippa.
Yet I'm not sure I love him more than you —
And you must hate him.
Isabella.
What was your thought in coming to me now?
Zippa.
To mar your match with him, and so make
mine!
Isabella.
Why, free again! Yes, as you love him not
'Tis strange you seek to wed him!
Zippa.
Woman loves once unthinkingly. The heart
Is born with her first love, and new to joy,
Breathes to the first wind its delicious sweetness,
But gets none back! So comes its bitter wisdom!
When next we think of love, 'tis who loves us!
I said Tortesa loved me!
Isabella.
With all my heart! See — I'm your friend already!
And friends are equals. So approach, and tell me,
What was this first love like, that you discourse
So prettily upon?
Zippa.
'Twill be a happiness to talk of him!)
I loved a youth, kind madam! far beneath
The notice of your eyes, unknown and poor.
Isabella.
A handsome youth?
Zippa.
But you would not. I loved him out of pity;
No one cared for him.
Isabella.
Was he so forlorn?
Zippa.
Was almost profitless; and 'twas a pleasure
To fill my basket from our wasteful table,
And steal, at eve, to sup with him.
Isabella
(smiling).
Was charity, indeed! He loved you for it —
Was't not so?
Zippa.
The kindest brother sister ever had.
I built my hopes upon his gentleness:
He had no other quality to love.
Th' ambitious change — so do the fiery-hearted:
The lowly are more constant.
Isabella.
Was after all, a false one?
Zippa.
I'll check my story there! 'Twould end in anger,
Perhaps in tears. If I am not too bold,
Tell me, in turn, of all your worshippers —
Was there ne'er one that pleased you?
Isabella.
Prate to this humble maid, of Angelo,
Till matins rang again!) My gentle Zippa!
I have found all men prompt to talk of love,
Save only one. I will confess to you,
For that one could I die! Yet, so unlike
Your faithless lover must I draw his picture,
That you will wonder how such opposites
Could both be loved of women.
Zippa.
Or brown?
Isabella.
In truth, I marked not his complexion.
Zippa.
Tall?
Isabella.
That I know not.
Zippa.
Well — robust, or slight?
Isabella.
Looked in his eyes, and saw him calm and angered —
And see him now, in fancy, standing there —
Yet know not limb or feature!
Zippa.
A shadow, lady!
Isabella.
His eyes were light with it. The forehead lay
Above their fires in calm tranquillity,
As the sky sleeps o'er thunder-clouds. His look
Was mixed of these — earnest, and yet subdued —
Gentle, yet passionate — sometimes half god-like
In its command, then mild and sweet again,
Like a stern angel taught humility!
Oh! when he spoke, my heart stole out to him!
There was a spirit-echo in his voice —
A sound of thought — of under-playing music —
The echo was caught up in fairy-land!
Zippa.
Was he a courtier, madam?
Isabella.
In birth and fortunes, as your false one, Zippa!
Yet rich in genius, and of that ambition,
That he'll outlast nobility with fame.
Have you seen such a man?
Zippa.
My life is humble, and such wondrous men
Are far above my knowing. I could wish
To see one ere I died!
Isabella.
But while we talk of lovers, we forget
In how brief time you are to win a husband.
Come to my chamber, Zippa, and I'll see
How with your little net you'll snare a bird
Fierce as this rude Tortesa!
Zippa.
A way, dear lady, if we die for it!
Isabella.
Shall we? Come with me, then!
[Exeunt.
SCENE III.
[An apartment in the Falcone Palace. Tortesa alone awaiting
the return of the Count.]
Tortesa
(musing).
Your soul, 'tis said, will buy them, of the devil —
Money's too poor! What would I not give, now,
That I could scorn what I can hate and ruin!
Scorn is the priceless luxury! In heaven,
The angel's pity. They are blessed to do so;
For, pitying, they look down. We do't by scorn!
There lies the privilege of noble birth!
The jewel of that bloated toad is scorn!
You may take all else from him. You — being mean —
May get his palaces — may wed his daughter —
Sleep in his bed — have all his peacock menials
Watching your least glance, as they did “my lord's;”
And, well-possessed thus, you may pass him by
On his own horse; and while the vulgar crowd
Gape at your trappings, and scarce look on him —
He, in his rags, and starving for a crust —
You'll feel his scorn, through twenty coats-of-mail,
Hot as a sun-stroke! Yet there's something for us!
Th' archangel fiend, when driven forth from heaven,
Put on the serpent, and found sweet revenge
Trailing his slime through Eden! So will I!
[Enter Falcone booted and spurred.]
Falcone.
Good morrow, signor,
Tortesa.
How sped your riding?
Falcone.
Left you alone?
Tortesa.
Nay — she'll come presently! A word in private,
Since we're alone, my lord!
Falcone.
I listen, signor!
Tortesa.
Your honor, as I think, outweighs a bond?
Falcone.
'Twas never questioned.
Tortesa.
And such more weight as hangs upon the troth
Of a capricious woman, I gave up
A deed of lands to you.
Falcone.
You did.
Tortesa.
To be
Forfeit, and mine again — the match not made?
Falcone.
How if you marred it?
Tortesa.
What I would yesterday, I will to-day!
I'm not a lover —
Falcone.
And not a lover? Shame, sir!
Tortesa.
You take me for a fool!
Falcone.
To love a high-born lady, and your bride?
Tortesa.
I'm not a mate for her — you know I am not!
You know, that, in her heart, your haughty daughter
Scorns me — ineffably!
Falcone.
To slight her, signor!
Tortesa.
If all the pride that cast down Lucifer
Lie in her bridal-ring! But, mark me still!
I'm not one of your humble citizens,
To bring my money-bags and make you rich —
That, when we walk together, I may take
Your shadow for my own! These limbs are clay —
Poor, common clay, my lord! And she that weds me,
Comes down to my estate.
Falcone.
To shut her from her friends?
Tortesa.
By coming to my house — not else! D'ye think
I'll have a carriage to convey my wife
Where she will hear me laughed at? — buy fine horses
To prance a measure to the mocking jeers
Of fools that ride with her? Nay — keep a table
Where I'm the skeleton that mars the feast?
No, no — no, no!
Falcone.
I would, ere now, have struck an emperor!
But baser pangs make this endurable.
I'm poor — so patience!) What was it beside
You would have said to me?
Tortesa.
Has, in your absence, covered me with scorn!
We'll not talk of it — if the match goes on,
I care not to remember it! (Aside — She shall —
And bitterly!)
Falcone.
The task was too much!)
Tortesa.
You may not think it much — I reckon it
A thousand pounds per day — in playing thus
The suitor to a lady crammed with pride!
I've writ you out a bond to pay me for it!
See here! — to pay me for my shame and pains,
If I should lose your daughter for a wife,
A thousand pounds per day — dog cheap at that!
Sign it, my lord, or give me back my deeds,
And traffic cease between us!
Falcone.
Or are you mad or trifling? Do I not
Give you my daughter with an open hand?
Are you betrothed, or no?
[Enter a Servant.]
Who's this?
Servant.A page
Sent from the duke.
Falcone.
Admit him!
[Enter Page, with a letter.]
Page.
The Count Falcone.
Tortesa.
I would have had a bond of such assurance
Her father on his knees should bid me take her.
(Looking at Falcone, who smiles as he reads.)
Falcone.
You shall not have the bond!
Tortesa.
Stirs him to this?) My lord, 'twere best the bridal
Took place upon the instant. Is your daughter
Ready within?
Falcone.
You'll never wed my daughter!
[Enter Isabella.]
Tortesa.
My lord!
Falcone.
My lofty Isabella! My fair child!
How dost thou, sweet?
Isabella
(embracing him).
Art well? I see thou art! Hast ridden hard?
My dear, dear father!
Falcone.
Some better news, my loved one!
To see you back again 's enough for now.
There can be no news better, and for this
Let's keep a holyday twixt this and sunset!
Shut up your letter and come see my flowers,
And hear my birds sing, will you?
Falcone.
Upon this first! (Holds up the letter.)
Isabella.
You and the duke did — where you slept, where ate,
Whether you dreamed of me — and, now I think on't,
Found you no wild-flowers as you crossed the mountain?
Falcone.
My own bright child! (Looks fondly upon
her.)
Tortesa.
To see the glover's daughter in your palace,
And your proud daughter houseless!)
Falcone
(to Isabella).
The news I have for you!
Tortesa
(advancing).
I'll take my own again!
Isabella.
I crave your pardon, sir; I saw you not!
(Oh hateful monster! — Aside.)
Falcone.
Signor Tortesa! It concerns you, trust me!
Isabella.
(Aside
— More of this hateful marriage!)
Tortesa.
My time is precious!
Falcone.
In twenty words. The duke has information,
By what means yet I know not, that my need
Spurs me to marry an unwilling daughter.
He bars the match! — redeems my lands and palace,
And has enriched the young Count Julian,
For whom he bids me keep my daughter's hand!
Kind, royal master! (Reads the note to himself.)
Isabella.
(Aside
— Never!)
Tortesa.
He's mad, or plays some trick to gain the time —
Or there's a woman hatching deviltry!
We'll see.) (Looks at Isabella.)
Isabella.
Then thrust upon a husband paid to take me!
To save my father I have weighed myself,
Heart, hand, and honor, against so much land! —
I — Isabella! I'm nor hawk nor hound,
And, if I change my master, I will choose him!
Tortesa.
(Aside
— She seems not over-pleased!)
Page.
I wait your answer to the duke!
Falcone.
Shall give it you herself. What sweet phrase have you,
Grateful and eloquent, to bear your thanks?
Speak, Isabella!
Isabella.
Courage, poor heart, and think on Angelo!)
(Advances suddenly to Tortesa.)
Signor Tortesa!
Tortesa.
Madam!
Isabella.
Is't yours, or no?
Tortesa.
There was a troth between us!
Isabella.
Is't broke?
Tortesa.
I have not broke it!
Isabella.
Mute as a statue, when 'tis struck asunder
Without our wish or knowledge? Would you be
Half so indifferent had you lost a horse?
Am I worth having?
Tortesa.
Is my life worth having?
Isabella.
Then are you robbed! Look to it!
Falcone.
Is she mad!
Tortesa.
You'll marry me?
Isabella.
I will!
Falcone.
What, shall my daughter wed a leprosy —
A bloated money-canker? Leave her hand!
Stand from him, Isabella!
Isabella.
This “leper” for a husband, three days gone;
I did not ask my heart if I could love him!
I took him with the meekness of a child,
Trusting my father! I was shut up for him —
Forced to receive no other company —
My wedding-clothes made, and the match proclaimed
Through Florence?
Falcone.
Do you love him? — tell me quickly!
Isabella.
To wed him!
Falcone.
I am dumb!
Tortesa.
At him again, 'Bel! Well! I've had misgivings
That there was food in me for ladies' liking.
I've been too modest!
Isabella.
(Aside
— Monster of disgust!)
Falcone.
Signor! you'll pardon me.
Isabella.
I'll follow straight.
[Exit Falcone.
Tortesa.
They're all alike! The same trick woos them all!)
Come to me, 'Bel!
Isabella
(coldy).
You'll find the priest here, and the bridesmaids waiting.
Till then, adieu!
[Exit.
Tortesa.
Sweetheart! I say! So! She would coy it with me!
Well, well, to-morrow! 'Tis not long, and kisses
Pay interest by seconds! There's a leg!
As she stood there, the calf showed handsomely.
Faith 'tis a shapely one! I wonder now,
Which of my points she finds most admirable!
Something I never thought on, like as not,
We do not see ourselves as others see us.
'Twould not surprise me now, if 'twere my beard —
My forehead! I've a hand indifferent white!
Nay, I've been told my waist was neatly turned.
We do not see ourselves as others see us!
How goes the hour? I'll home and fit my hose
To tie trim for the morrow. (Going out.) Hem! the door's
Lofty. I like that! I will have mine raised.
Your low door makes one stoop!
[Exit
| The complete works of N.P. Willis | |