University of Virginia Library

ACT THE FIRST.

Scene I.

A WOOD NEAR ANTIOCH.
Enter Cyprian in a Student's gown, followed by Clarin and Moscon, as poor Scholars, carrying books.
Cyprian.
In the pleasant solitude
Of this tranquil spot, this thicket
Formed of interlacing boughs,
Buds, and flowers, and shrubs commingled,
You may leave me, leaving also,
As my best companions, with me,
(For I need none else) those books
Which I bade you to bring hither
From the house; for while, to-day,
Antioch, the mighty city,
Celebrates with such rejoicing
The great temple newly finished
Unto Jupiter, the bearing
Thither, also, of his image
Publicly, in grand procession,
To its shrine to be uplifted;—
I, escaping the confusion
Of the streets and squares, have flitted
Hitherward, to spend in study
What of daylight yet may glimmer.
Go, enjoy the festival,
Go to Antioch and mingle
In its various sports, returning
When the sun descending sinketh
To be buried in the waves,
Which, beneath the dark clouds' fringes,
Round the royal corse of gold,
Shine like sepulchres of silver.
Here you'll find me.

Moscon.
Sir, although
Most decidedly my wish is
To behold the sports, yet I
Cannot go without a whisper
Of some few five thousand words,
Which I'll give you in a jiffy.
Can it be that on a day
Of such free, such unrestricted
Revelry, and mirth, and fun,
You with your old books come hither
To this country place, rejecting
All the frolic of the city?

Clarin.
Well, I think my master's right;
For there's nothing more insipid
Than a grand procession day,
Half fandangos, priests, and fiddles.

Moscon.
Clarin, from the first to last,
All your life you've been a trickster,
A smart, temporizing toady,
A bold flatterer, a trimmer,
Since you praise the thoughts of others,
And ne'er speak your own.

Clarin.
The civil
Way to tell a man he lies
Is to say he's wrong:—you twig me,
Now I think I speak my mind.

Cyprian.
Moscon, Clarin, both I bid ye
Cease this silly altercation.
It is ever thus betwixt ye,
Puffed up with your little knowledge
Each maintains his own opinion.
Go, and (as I've said) here seek me
When night falls, and with the thickness
Of its shadows veils from view
This most fair and wondrous system
Of the universe.

Moscon.
How comes it,
That although you have admitted
'Tis not right to see the feast,
Yet you go to see it?

Clarin.
Simple
Is the answer: no one follows
The advice which he has given
To another.

Moscon
(aside).
To see Livia,
Would the gods that I were wingéd.

[Exit.
Clarin
(aside).
If the honest truth were told
Livia is the girl that gives me
Something worth the living for.
Even her very name has in it
This assurance: Livia, yes,
Minus a, I live for Livi.

[Exit.

Scene II.

Cyprian.
Now I am alone, and may,
If my mind can be so lifted,
Study the great problem which
Keeps my soul disturbed, bewilder'd,
Since I read in Pliny's page
The mysterious words there written,
Which define a god; because
It doth seem beyond the limits
Of my intellect to find
One who all these signs exhibits.
This mysterious hidden truth
Must I seek for.

[Reads.

Scene III.

Enter the Demon, in gala dress. Cyprian.
Demon
(aside).
Though thou givest
All thy thoughts to the research,
Cyprian, thou must ever miss it,
Since I'll hide it from thy mind.

Cyprian.
There's a rustling in this thicket.
Who is there? who art thou?

Demon.
Sir,
A mere stranger, who has ridden
All this morning up and down
These dark groves, not knowing whither,
Having lost my way, my horse,
To the emerald that encircles,
With a tapestry of green,
These lone hills, I've loosed, it gives him
At the same time food and rest.
I'm to Antioch bound, on business
Of importance, my companions
I have parted from; through listless
Lapse of thought (a thing that happens
To the most of earthly pilgrims),
I have lost my way, and lost
Comrades, servants, and assistants.

Cyprian.
I am much surprised to learn
That in view of the uplifted
Towers of Antioch, you thus
Lost your way. There's not a single
Path that on this mountain side,
More or less by feet imprinted,
But doth lead unto its walls,
As to its one central limit.
By whatever path you take,
You'll go right.

Demon.
It is an instance
Of that ignorance which in sight
Even of truth the true goal misses.
And as it appears not wise
Thus to enter a strange city
Unattended and unknown,
Asking even my way, 'tis fitter
That 'till night doth conquer day,
Here while light doth last, to linger;
By your dress and by these books
Round you, like a learned circle
Of wise friends, I see you are
A great student, and the instinct
Of my soul doth ever draw me
Unto men to books addicted.

Cyprian.
Have you studied much?

Demon.
Well, no;
But I've knowledge quite sufficient
Not to be deemed ignorant.

Cyprian.
Then, what sciences know you?

Demon.
Many.

Cyprian.
Why, we cannot reach even one
After years of studious vigil,
And can you (what vanity!)
Without study know so many?

Demon.
Yes; for I am of a country
Where the most exalted science
Needs no study to be known.

Cyprian.
Would I were a happy inmate
Of that country! Here our studies
Prove our ignorance more.

Demon.
No figment
Is the fact that without study.
I had the superb ambition
For the first Professor's chair
To compete, and thought to win it,
Having very numerous votes.
And although I failed, sufficient
Glory is it to have tried.
For not always to the winner
Is the fame. If this you doubt,
Name the subject of your study,
And then let us argue on it;
I not knowing your opinion,
Even although it be the right,
Shall the opposite view insist on.

Cyprian.
I am greatly gratified
That you make this proposition.
Here in Plinius is a passage
Which much anxious thought doth give me
How to understand, to know
Who's the God of whom he has written.

Demon.
'Tis that passage which declares
(Well I know the words) this dictum:
“God is one supremest good,
One pure essence, one existence,
Self-sustained, all sight, all hands.”

Cyprian.
Yes, 'tis true.

Demon.
And what is in it
So abstruse?

Cyprian.
I cannot find
Such a god as Plinius figures.
If he be the highest good,
Then is Jupiter deficient
In that attribute; we see him
Acting like a mortal sinner
Many a time,—this, Danae,
This, Europa, too, doth witness.
Can then, by the Highest Good,
All whose actions, all whose instincts,
Should be sacred and divine,
Human frailty be committed?

Demon.
These are fables which the learned
First made use of, to exhibit
Underneath the names of gods
What in truth was but a hidden
System of philosophy.

Cyprian.
This reply is not sufficient,
Since such awe is due to God,
None should dare to Him attribute,
None should stain His name with sins.
Though these sins should be fictitious.
And considering well the case,
If the highest good is figured
By the gods, of course, they must
Will what is the best and fittest;
How, then, can some gods wish one thing,
Some another? This we witness
In the dubious responses
Which are by their statues given.
Here you cannot say I speak of
Learned abstractions of the ideal.
To two armies, if two shrines
Promise give of being victors,
One, of course, must lose the battle:
The conclusion is so simple,—
Need I say it? that two wills,
Mutually antagonistic,
Cannot lead unto one end.
They being thus in opposition,
One we must consider good,
One as bad we must consider.
But an evil will in God
Would imply a contradiction:
Then the highest good can dwell not
Among gods who know division.

Demon.
I deny your major, since
These responses may be given,
By the oracles, for ends
Which our intellectual vision
Cannot reach: 'tis providence.
Thus more good may have arisen
To the loser in that battle
Than its gain could bring the winner.

Cyprian.
Granted; but that god ought not,
For the gods are not malicious,
To have promised victory;—
It would have been quite sufficient,
Without this most false assurance,
The defeat to have permitted.
Then if God must be all sight,
Every god should see distinctly
With clear vision to the end;
Seeing that, he erred in fixing
On a false conclusion; then
Though the deity may with fitness
Be divided into persons.
Yet His essence must be single
In the smallest circumstance.

Demon.
It was needful for this business,
That the oracle should rouse
The two hosts alike.

Cyprian.
If fitting,
There were genii that could rouse them
(Good and bad, as they're distinguished
By the learned), who are, in fact,
Spirits who among us mingle,
And who good and evil acts,
Evil thoughts, suggest and whisper,
A convincing argument
For the immortal soul's existence:
Of these ministers could God
Have made use, nor thus exhibit
He was capable of a lie
To effect his ends?

Demon.
Consider,
That these seeming contradictions
Cannot our firm faith diminish
In the oneness of the gods,
If in things of higher import
They know naught of dissonance.
Take man's wondrous frame, for instance,
Surely that majestic structure
One conception doth exhibit.

Cyprian.
If man's maker then were one
He some vantage must have given him
O'er the others; and if they
All are equal,—'tis admitted
That they are so, from the fact
Of their mutual opposition
To each other,—when the thought
Of creating man was hinted
By one god, another could
Say, “No, no, I do not wish it.”
Then if God must be all hands,
Time might come when they would differ,
One creating, one undoing,
Ere the other's work was finished,
Since the power of each was equal,
But unequal were their wishes.
Which of these two powers would conquer?

Demon.
On impossible and false issues
There can be no argument;—
But your premises admitting,
Say what then?

Cyprian.
That there must be
One sole God, all hands, all vision,
Good Supreme, supreme in grace,
One who cannot err, omniscient,
One the highest, none can equal,
Not beginning, yet the Beginner,
One pure essence, one sole substance,
One wise worker, one sole willer;—
And though He in one or two
Or more persons be distinguished,
Yet the sovereign Deity
Must be one, sublime and single,
The first cause of every cause,
The first germ of all existence.

Demon.
How can I deny so clear,
[They rise.
So conclusive a position?

Cyprian.
Do you feel it?

Demon.
Who would not
Feel to find another quicker
In the rivalry of wit?—
And though I am not deficient
In an answer, I restrain it,
Hearing steps approaching hither
Through the wood; besides 'tis time
I proceeded to the city.

Cyprian.
Go in peace.

Demon.
Remain in peace.—
So involved in study is he,
[Aside.
That I now must wean him from it,
Weaving round him the bewitchment
Of rare beauty. Since I have leave
To attempt my fires to kindle
In Justina's breast, one stroke,
Thus, two vengeances shall give me.

[Exit.
Cyprian.
Never saw I such a man.
But since still my people linger,
I, the cause of so much doubt,
Will now strive to reconsider.

[He resumes his reading, without perceiving the approach of those who enter.

Scene IV.

Enter Lelius and Florus.—Cyprian.
Lelius.
Further let us not proceed;
For these rocks, these boughs so thickly
Interwoven, that the sun
Cannot even find admittance,
Shall be the sole witnesses
Of our duel.

Florus.
Then, this instant
Draw your sword; for here are deeds,
If in words elsewhere we've striven.

Lelius.
Yes, I know that in the field,
While the tongue is mute, the glitter
Of the sword speaks thus.

[They fight.
Cyprian.
What's this?
Hold, good Florus! Lelius, listen!—
Here until your rage is calmed,
Even unarmed I stand betwixt ye.

Lelius.
Thus to interrupt my vengeance,
Whence, O Cyprian, have you risen
Like a spectre?

Florus.
A wild wood-god,
Have you from these tree-trunks issued?

Scene V.

Enter Moscon and Clarin.
Moscon.
Yonder, where we left our master,
I hear sword-strokes; run, run quickly.

Clarin.
Well, except to run away,
I am anything but nimble;—
Truly a retiring person.

Moscon and Clarin.
Sir. ...

Cyprian.
No more: your gabble irks me.—
How? What's this? Two noble friends,
Who in blood, in birth, in lineage,
Are to-day of Antioch all
Its expectancy, the city's
Eye of fashion, one the son
Of the Governor, of the princely
House Colalto, one the heir,
Thus to peril, as of little
Value, two such precious lives
To their country and their kindred?

Lelius.
Cyprian, although respect
Which on many grounds I give thee,
Holds my sword suspended thus
In due deference for an instant,—
To the scabbard's calm repose
It hath got no power to win it.
Thou of science knowest more,
Than the duel, pretermitting
This, that when two nobles meet
In the field, no power can link them
Friends again, save this, that one
Must his life give as a victim.

Florus.
This I also say, and ask thee,
With thy people, that thou quittest,
Leaving us to end our quarrel
Without any help or hindrance.

Cyprian.
Though it seems to you my calling
Makes me know the laws but little
Of the duel—that strict code
Valour and vain pride have written,
You are wrong, for I was born
With the obligations fitting
Rank like yours, to know in truth
Infamy and honour's limits.
The devotion to my studies
Has my courage not diminished,
For they oftentimes shake hands
Arms and letters as though kinsmen.
If to meet here in the field
Was the quarrel's first condition,
Having met and fought, its lies
Calumny can never whisper.
And the cause you thus can tell me
Of the feud that brings you hither;
For I promise, if, on hearing
What to me is thus committed,
I perceive that satisfaction
Must on either side be given,
Here to leave you both alone,
Unobserved by any witness.

Lelius.
Then on this condition solely,
That you leave us, when the bitter
Truth is told, to end our quarrel,
I to tell the cause am willing.
I a certain lady love,
The same lady as his mistress
Florus also loves; now see,
How incompatible are our wishes!—
Since betwixt two jealous nobles
No mediation is admitted.

Florus.
I this lady love so much,
That the sunlight I would hinder
From beholding her sweet face.
Since then all interposition
Is in vain, pray stand aside,
And our quarrel let us finish.

Cyprian.
Stay, for one more thing I'd know.
Tell me this of your fair mistress,
Is she possible to your hopes,
Or impossible to your wishes?—

Lelius.
Oh: she is so good and wise,
That if even the sun enkindled
Jealousy in the heart of Florus,
It was jealousy pure and simple,
Without cause, for even the sun
Dare not look upon her visage.

Cyprian.
Would you marry with her, then?

Florus.
This is all my heart's ambition.

Cyprian.
And would you?

Lelius.
Ah, would to heaven,
I were destined for such blisses!—
For although she's very poor,
Virtue dowers her with its riches.

Cyprian.
If you both aspire to wed her,
Is it not an act most wicked,
Most unworthy, thus beforehand
Her unspotted fame to injure?
What will say the world, if one
Of you two shall marry with her
After having killed the other
For her sake? The supposition
Is not probable in fact,
To imagine it is sufficient.
I by no means say you should
Each your chances try to win her
At one time, for I would blush
Such a craven proposition
Came from me, because the lover
Who could keep his jealousy hidden,
Would condone even shame thereafter,
Were the opportunity given;
But I say that you should learn
Which of you it is your mistress
Gives the preference to, then. ...

Lelius.
Stay!—
For it were an act too timid,
Too faint-hearted thus to ask
Of a lady such admission
As the choosing him or me.
For if me she chose, more fixéd
Is my call for satisfaction;
For his fault has this addition,
He loves one who loves but me.
If to him the choice is given,
This intensifies my anger
All the more, that she, my mistress,
Whom I love, should love another.
Her selection could do little
In the matter, which at last
To our swords should be committed,—
The accepted for his honour,
The refused for his dismissal.

Florus.
I confess that I adopt
Altogether that opinion,
Still the privilege of selection
May to ladies be permitted;
So to-day I mean to ask her
Of her father. 'Tis sufficient
To have come here to the field,
And my naked sword uplifted,
(Specially as one is by
Who the further fight resisteth,)
For my honour;—so to sheathe,
Lelius, my sword I'm willing.

[Sheathes his sword.
Lelius.
By your argument and action,
Florus, you have half convinced me;
I forego the remaining half—
True or false, I thus act with you.
[Sheathes his sword.
I to-day will seek her father.

Cyprian.
On, of course, the supposition,
That this lady you pay court to
Suffers naught by the admission,
Since you both have spoken proudly
Of her virtue and her strictness,
Tell me who she is; for I,
Who am held throughout the city
In esteem, would for you both
Speak to her at first a little,
That she thus may be prepared
When her father tells your wishes.

Lelius.
You are right.

Cyprian.
Her name?

Florus.
Justina,
Daughter of Lysander.

Cyprian.
Little,
Now that I have heard her name,
Seem the praises you have given her;
She is virtuous as she's noble.
Instantly I'll pay my visit.

Florus
(aside).
May heaven grant that in my favour
Her cold heart be moved to pity!

[Exit.
Lelius.
Love, my hopes with laurels crown
When they are to her submitted!

[Exit.
Cyprian.
Further mischief or misfortune,
Grant me, heaven, that I may hinder!

[Exit.

Scene VI.

Moscon, Clarin.
Moscon.
Has your worship heard our master
Now is gone to pay a visit
To Justina?

Clarin.
Yes, my lord.
But what matter if he didn't?

Moscon.
Matter quite enough, your worship;
He has no business there.

Clarin.
Why, prithee?

Moscon.
Why? because I die for Livia,
Who is maid to this Justina,
And I wouldn't have even the sun
Get a glimpse of her through the window.

Clarin.
Well, that's good; but, for a lady,
To contend were worse than silly,
Whom I mean to make my wife.

Moscon.
Excellent, faith! the fancy tickles
Quite my fancy. Let her say
Who it is that annoys or nicks her
To a nicety. Let's go see her,
And she'll choose.

Clarin.
A good idea!—
Though I fear she'll pitch on you.

Moscon.
Have you then that wise suspicion?

Clarin.
Yes; for always these same Livias
Choose the worst, th'ungrateful minxes.

[Exeunt.

Scene VII.

A HALL IN THE HOUSE OF LYSANDER.
Enter Justina and Lysander.
Justina.
Consolation, sir, is vain,
After what I've seen to-day:
The whole city, madly gay,
Error-blinded and insane,
Consecrating shrine and fane
To an image, which, I know,
Cannot be a god, although
Some demoniac power may pass,
Making breathe the silent brass
As a proof that it is so.

Lysander.
Fair Justina, thou indeed,
Wert not who thou art, if thou
Didst not weep as thou dost now,
Didst not in thy pure heart bleed
For what Christ's divinest creed
Suffers on this sinful day.

Justina.
Thus my lineage I display:—
For thy child I could not be,
Could I without weeping see
This idolatrous display.

Lysander.
Ah, my good, my gentle maid!
Thou art not my daughter, no,
'Twere too happy, if 'twere so.
But, O God! what's this I've said?—
My life's secret is betrayed!
'Twas my soul that spoke aloud.

Justina.
What do you say, sir?

Lysander.
Oh! a crowd
Of old thoughts my heart hath stirred.

Justina.
Many times methought I heard
What but now you have avowed,
And yet never wished to hear,
At the risk perchance of paining,
A more accurate explaining
Of your sorrow and my fear;
But since now it doth appear
Right that I should be possess'd
Of the whole truth half confess'd,
Let me say, though bold appearing,—
Trust your secret to my hearing,
Since it hath escaped your breast.

Lysander.
Ah! Justina, I have long
Kept this secret from your ears,
Fearing from your tender years
That the telling might be wrong;
But now seeing you are strong,
Firm in thought, in action brave,
Seeing too, that with this stave,
I go creeping o'er the ground,
Rapping with a hollow sound
At the portals of the grave,
Knowing that my time is brief,
I would not here leave you, no,
In your ignorance; I owe
My own peace, too, this relief:
Then attentive to my grief
Let your pleasure list.

Justina.
A fear
Struggles in my breast.

Lysander.
Severe
Is the test my duty pays.

Justina.
From this most perplexing maze
Oh, sir, rescue me.

Lysander.
Then hear.
I, most beautiful Justina,
Am Lysander. ... This commencement
With my name need not surprise you;
For though known to you already,
It is right, for all that follows,
That it should be well remembered,
Since of me you know no more
Than what this my name presenteth.
Yes, I am Lysander, son
Of that city which on Seven
Hills a hydra seems of stone,
Since it seven proud heads erecteth;
Of that city now the seat
Of the mighty Roman empire,
Cradle of Christ's wider realm,—
Boon that Rome alone could merit.
There of poor and humble parents
I was born, if “poor” expresses
Well their rank who left behind them
Virtues, not vain earthly treasures.
Both of them by birth were Christians,
Joyful both to be descended
From brave sires who with their blood
Happily life's page had reddened,
Terminating the dull scroll
With death's bright emblazoned letters
In the Christian faith well grounded
I grew up, and so well learnt it,
That I would, in its defence,
Even a thousand lives surrender.
I was young still, when to Rome,
In disguise and ill attended,
Came our good Pope Alexander,
Who then prudently directed
The high apostolic see,
Though its place there was not settled;
For, as the despotic power
Of the stern and cruel gentiles
Satisfies its thirst with blood
From the martyrs' veins that shed it,
So must still the primitive church
Keep concealed its sons and servants;
Not that they decline to die,
Not that martyrdom is dreaded
But that rebel rage should not,
At one stroke, one hour of vengeance,
Triumph o'er the ruined church,
So that no one should be left it
Who could preach and teach the word,
Who could catechise the gentile.
Alexander being in Rome,
I was secretly presented
To him there, and from his hand
Which was graciously extended,
With his blessing I received
Holy Orders, which the seraphs
Well might envy me, since man
Only such an honour merits.
Alexander, as my mission,
Unto Antioch then sent me,
Where the law of Christ in secret
I should preach. With glad contentment
I obeyed, and at their mercy,
Through so many nations wending,
Came at length to Antioch;
And when I, these hills ascending,
Saw beneath me in the valley
All its golden towers and temples,
The sun failed me, and down-sinking
Drew with him the day, presenting
For my solace a companion,
And a substitute for his presence
In the light of stars, a pledge
That he'd soon return to bless me.
With the sun I lost my way,
And then wandering dejected
Through the windings of the forest,
Found me in the dim recesses
Of a natural bower, wherein
Even the numerous rays that trembled
Downward from each living torch
Could in noways find an entrance,
For to black clouds turned the leaves
That by day were green with freshness.
Here arranging to await
The new sun's reviving presence,
Giving fancy that full scope,
That wide range which it possesses,
I in solitude indulged
Many and many a deep reflection.
Thus absorbed was I in thought
When there came to me the echo
Of a sigh half heard, for half
To its owner retroverted.
Then collecting in mine ear
All my senses joined together,
I again heard more distinctly
That weak cry, that faint expression,
That mute idiom of the sad,
Since by it they're comprehended.
From a woman came that groan
To whose sigh so low and gentle
Followed a man's deeper voice,
Who thus speaking low addressed her:
“Thou first stain of noblest blood
By my hands this moment perish,
Ere thou meetest with thy death
'Neath the hands of infamous headsmen.”—
Then the hapless woman said
In a voice that sobbed and trembled,
“Ah, lament for thine own blood,
But for me do not lament thee!”—
I attempted then to reach them,
That the stroke might be prevented,
But I could not, since the voices
At that moment ceased and ended,
And a horseman rode away
'Mong the tree-trunks undetected.
Loadstone of my deep compassion
Was that voice which still exerted
All its failing powers to speak
Amid groans and tears this sentence,—
“Dying innocent and a Christian
I a martyr's death may merit.”—
Following the polar-star
Of the voice, I came directly
Where the gloom revealed a woman,
Though I could not well observe her,
Who in life's despairing struggle,
Hand to hand with death contended.
Scarcely was I heard, when she
Summoning up her strength addressed me,—
“Blood-stained murderer mine, come back,
Nor in this last hour desert me
Of my life.”—“I am,” said I,
“Only one whom chance hath sent here,
Guided it may be by heaven,
To assist you in this dreadful
Hour of trial.”—“Vain,” she said,
“Is the favour that your mercy
Offers to my life, for see,
Drop by drop the life-stream ebbeth,
Let this hapless one enjoy it,
Who it seems that heaven intendeth,
Being born upon my grave,
All my miseries should inherit.”—
So she died, and then I ...

Scene VIII.

Livia, Justina, and Lysander.
Enter Livia.
Livia.
Sir,
The same tradesman who so presses
To be paid, comes here to seek you,
By the magistrate attended.
That you were not in, I told him:
By that door you have an exit.

Justina.
This untimely interruption
By their coming, how it frets me!
For upon your tragic story
Life, soul, reason, all depended!—
But retire, sir, lest the justice
Should here meet you, if he enters.

Lysander.
Ah! with what indignities
Poverty must be contented!

[Exit.
Justina.
They are coming here, no doubt,
Outside I can hear some persons.

Livia.
No, they are not they. I see
It is Cyprian.

Justina.
How? what sendeth
Cyprian here?

Scene IX.

Enter Cyprian, Clarin, and Moscon.
Cyprian.
A wish to serve you
Is the sole cause of my presence.
For on seeing the officials
Issuing from your house, the friendship
Which I owe unto Lysander
Made me bold herein to enter;
But to know (Aside.
Disturbed, bewildered
Am I.) if by chance (Aside.
What gelid
Frost is freezing up my veins!)
I in any way could help you.
(Aside.
Ah, how badly have I spoken!—
Fire not frost my blood possesses!)

Justina.
May heaven guard you many years,
Since in his more grave concernments,
Thus you honour my dear father
With your favours.

Cyprian.
I shall ever
Be most gratified to serve you.
(Aside.
What disturbs me, what unnerves me?)

Justina.
He is not just now at home.

Cyprian.
Thus then, lady, I can better
Tell you what is the true cause
That doth bring me here at present;
For the cause that you have heard
Is not that which wholly led me
Here to see you.

Justina.
Then, what is it?

Cyprian.
This, which craves your brief attention.—
Fair Justina, beauty's shrine,
To whose human loveliness
Nature, with a fond excess,
Adds such marks of the divine,
'Tis your rest that doth incline
Hither my desire to-day;
But see what the tyrant sway
Of despotic fate can do,—
While I bring your rest to you,
You from me take mine away.
Lelius, of his passion proud,
(Never less was love to blame!)
Florus, burning with love's flame,
(Ne'er could flame be more allowed!)
Each of them by vows they vowed
Sought to kill his friend for you:
I for you disturbed the two,
(Woe is me!) but see the end;
While from death I saved my friend,
You my own death give in lieu.
Lest the scandal-monger's hum
Should be buzzed about your name,
Here to speak with you I came,
(Would that I had never come!)
That your choice might strike it dumb,
Being the umpire in the cause,
Being the judge in love's sweet laws;—
But behold what I endure,
While I their sick hearts may cure,
Jealousy mine own heart gnaws.
Lady, I proposed to be
Their bold spokesman here, that you
Might decide betwixt the two
Which you would select (ah, me!)
That I might (oh, misery!)
Ask you of your father: vain
This pretence. No more I'll feign:—
For you see while I am speaking
About them, my heart is seeking
But a vent for its own pain.

Justina.
Half in wonder and dismay
At the vile address you make me,
Reason, speech, alike forsake me,
And I know not what to say.
Never in the slightest way
Have your clients had from me
Encouragement for this embassy—
Florus never—Lelius no:—
Of the scorn that I can show
Let then this a warning be.

Cyprian.
If I, knowing that you loved
Some one else, would dare to seek
Your regard, my love were weak,
And could justly be reproved.
But here seeing you stand unmoved,
Like a rock mid raging seas,
No extraneous miseries
Make me say I love you now.
'Tis not for my friends I bow,
So your warning hear with ease.—
To Lelius what shall I say?

Justina.
That he
Well may trust the boding fears
Of his love of many years.

Cyprian.
To Florus?

Justina.
Not my face to see.

Cyprian.
And to myself?

Justina.
Your love should be
Not so bold.

Cyprian.
Though a god should woo?

Justina.
Will a god do more for you
Than for those I have denied?

Cyprian.
Yes.

Justina.
Well then, I have replied
To Lelius, Florus, and to you.

[Exeunt Justina and Cyprian at opposite sides.

Scene X.

Clarin, Moscon, and Livia.
Clarin.
Livia, heigh!

Moscon.
And Livia, ho!—
List good lass.

Clarin.
We're here, we two.

Livia.
Well, what want you, sir? And you,
What do you want?

Clarin.
We both would show,
If perchance you do not know,
That we love you to distraction.
On a murderous transaction
We came here, to kill each other:—
So to put an end to the bother,
Just choose one for satisfaction.

Livia.
Why the thing that you're demanding
Is so great, it hath bereft me
Of my wits. My grief hath left me
Without sense or understanding.
Choose but one! My heart expanding,
Beats so hard a strait to shun!
I one only! 'Tis for fun
That you ask me so to do.
For with heart enough for two,
Why require that I choose one?

Clarin.
Two at once would you have to woo?
Would not two embarrass you, pray?

Livia.
No, we women have a way
To dispose of them two by two.

Moscon.
What's the way? do tell us, do;—
What is it? speak.

Livia.
You put one out!—
I would love them, do not doubt. ...

Moscon.
How?

Livia.
tively.

Clarin.
Eh,
What's alternatively?

Livia.
'Tis to say,
That I would love them day about.

[Exit.
Moscon.
Well, I choose to-day: good-bye.

Clarin.
I, to-morrow, the better part.
So I give it with all my heart.

Moscon.
Livia, in fine, for whom I die,
To-day loves me, and to-day love I.
Happy is he who so much can say.

Clarin.
Hearken, my friend: you know my way.

Moscon.
Why this speech? Does a threat lie in it?

Clarin.
Mind, she is not yours a minute
After the clock strikes twelve to-day.

[Exeunt.

Scene XI.

THE STREET BEFORE LYSANDER'S HOUSE: NIGHT.
Enter Florus and Lelius at opposite sides, not seeing each other.
Lelius
(aside).
Scarcely has the darksome night
O'er the brow of heaven extended
Its black veil, when I come hither
To adore this sacred threshold;
For although at Cyprian's prayer,
I my sharp sword have suspended,
I have not my love, for love
Cannot be suspended ever.

Florus
(aside).
Here the dawn will find me waiting:—
Here, because 'tis force compels me
To go hence, for I, elsewhere,
Am away from my true centre.
Would to love the day had come,
And with it the dear, expected
Answer Cyprian may bring me,
Risking all upon that venture.

Lelius
(aside).
I have surely in that window
Heard a noise.

Florus
(aside).
Some sound descends here
From that balcony.

Scene XII.

The Demon appears at a window in the house of Lysander.
Lelius
(aside).
A figure
Issues from it, whose dim presence
I distinguish.

Florus
(aside).
Through the darkness
I can there perceive some person.

Demon
(aside).
For the many persecutions
O'er Justina's head impending,
Her pure honour to defame
Thus I make a bold commencement.

[He descends by a ladder.
Lelius
(aside).
But, O woe! what's this I witness!—

Florus
(aside).
What do I see! Oh, wretched! wretched!—

Lelius
(aside).
From the balcony to the ground
The dark figure has descended.

Florus
(aside).
From her house a man comes forth!—
Jealousy kill me not, preserve me,
'Till I discover who he is.

Lelius
(aside).
I will try to intercept him
And find out at once who thus
Tastes the bliss I've lost for ever.

[They advance with drawn swords to recognise the person who has descended.
Demon
(aside).
Not alone Justina's fame
Do I by this act discredit,
But dissensions, perhaps murders,
Thus provoke. Ope, earth's dark centre,
And receive me, leaving here
This confusion.

[He disappears between Florus and Lelius, who meet together.

Scene XIII.

Florus and Lelius.
Lelius.
Sir, whoever
You may be, it doth import me
To know who you are directly;
So at every risk I come here,
On this resolute quest determined.
Say who are you.

Florus.
If the accident
Of my having been the observer
Of your secret love, compels you
To this valorous aggression,
More than it can you concern
Me to know, it doth concern me
To know you; for to be curious
Is far less than to be jealous.
Yes, by Heaven! for who is master
Of the house have I to learn here,
Who it is at such an hour,
By this balcony ascending,
Gaineth that which I lose weeping
At these gratings.

Lelius.
This excelleth,
Good, in faith, is it thus to dim
The clear light of my resentment,
By attributing to me
That which solely your offence is!—
Who you are I have to know,
Death to give to him who has left me
Dead with jealousy here, by coming
From this balcony.

Florus.
How excessive,
How superfluous is this caution,
Proving what it would dissemble!

Lelius.
Vainly would the tongue untangle
That which the keen sword can better
Thus cut through.

Florus.
With it I answer.

[They fight.
Lelius.
In this way I'll know for certain
Who is the admitted lover
Of Justina.

Florus.
My intention
Is the same. I'll die or know you.

Scene XIV.

Enter Cyprian, Moscon, and Clarin.
Cyprian.
Gentlemen, I pray you let me
Interpose in this your quarrel,
Since by accident I am present.

Florus.
You cannot oblige me more
Than by letting the fight be ended.

Cyprian.
Florus?

Florus.
Yes, for sword in hand,
I my name deny not ever
To who asks.

Cyprian.
I'm at your side,
Death to him who would offend you.

Lelius.
You produce in me less fear,
Both of you thus joined together,
Than did he alone.

Cyprian.
What! Lelius?

Lelius.
Yes.

Cyprian.
I am prevented
Now from standing at your side,
[To Florus.
Since between you I present me.
How is this? In one day twice
Have I your disputes to settle!—

Lelius.
Then this time will be the last,
For we've settled them already;
Since in knowing who is he
Who Justina's heart possesses,
Now no more my hope remaineth,
Even the thought of it hath left me.
If you have not to Justina
Spoken yet, do not address her;
This I ask you in the name
Of my wrongs and my resentments,
Having seen her secret favours
Florus' happier fate deserveth.
From this balcony I saw him,
From my lost delight descending;
And my heart is not so base
As to meanly love, in presence
Of such jealousies so well proved,
Of disillusions, ah! so certain.

[Exit.
Florus.
Stay.

Scene XV.

Cyprian.
You must not follow him,
(Oh, this news with death o'erwhelms me!)
[Aside.
Since if he who is the loser
Of what you have gained, expressly
Says he would forget it, you
Should not try his patient temper.

Florus.
Both by you and him at once
Has mine own been too well tested.
Speak not now unto Justina
About me; for though full vengeance
I propose to take for being
Thus supplanted and rejected,
Every hope of her being mine
Now has ceased, for shameful were it,
In the face of such proved facts,
To persist in my addresses.

[Exit.

Scene XVI.

Cyprian, Moscon, and Clarin.
Cyprian
(aside).
What is this, O heavens! I hear?
Can it be the two are jealous
Of each other at one time?
And I too of both together?—
Doubtless from some strange delusion
The two suffer, which I welcome
With a sort of satisfaction,
For to it I am indebted
For the fact of their desisting
From their suit and their pretension.—
Moscon, have for me by morning
A rich court-suit; sword and feathers,
Clarin, be thy care; for love
In a certain airy splendour
Takes delight; for now no longer
Books or studies give me pleasure;—
Love they say doth murder mind,
Learning dies when he is present.

[Exeunt.