University of Virginia Library

SCENE I.

CASTEL-NUOVO. Giovanna and Maria.
Maria.
I do not like these windows. Who can see
What passes under? Never were contrived
Cleverer ones for looking at the sky,
Or hearing our Hungarians to advantage.
I can not think their songs are pastorals;
They may be; if they are, they are ill-set.
Will nothing do, Giovanna? Raise your eyes;
Embrace your sister.

Giovanna.
So, you too, Maria!
Have turgid eyes, and feign the face of joy.
Never will joy be more with us . . with you
It may be . . O God grant it! but me! me,
Whom good men doubt, what pleasure can approach?

Maria.
If good men all were young men, we might shudder
At silly doubts, like other silly things
Not quite so cold to shudder at.

Giovanna.
Again,
Maria! I am now quite changed; I am
Your sister as I was, but O remember
I am (how lately!) my Andrea's widow.

Maria.
I wish our little Sancia would come hither
With her Terlizzi . . those inseparables!
We scarcely could get twenty words from them
All the day long; we caught them after dinner,
And lost them suddenly as evening closed.

Giovanna.
Send for her. But perhaps she is with Filippa. . .

Maria.
Learning sedateness in the matron life.

Giovanna.
Or may-be with the queen whose name she bears,
And who divides her love, not equally
With us, but almost equally.

Maria.
If so,
No need to seek her; for the queen went forth
To San Lorenzo at the dawn of day,
And there upon the pavement she implores
Peace for the dead, protection for the living.

Giovanna.
O may her prayers be heard!

Maria.
If piety
Avails the living or the dead, they will.

Giovanna.
How, how much calmer than thy sweetest smile
Has that thought made me! Evermore speak so,
And life will almost be as welcome to me
As death itself.

Maria.
When sunshine glistens round,
And friends, as young as we are, sit beside us,
We smile at Death . . one rather grim indeed
And whimsical, but not disposed to hurt us . .
And give and take fresh courage. But, sweet sister!
The days are many when he is unwelcome,
And you will think so too another time.
'Tis chiefly in cold places, with old folks,
His features seem prodigiously amiss.
But Life looks always pleasant, sometimes more
And sometimes less so, but looks always pleasant,
And, when we cherish him, repays us well.
Sicily says it is the worst of sin
To cast aside what God hath given us,
And snatch at what he may hereafter give
In its due season . . scourges, and such comfits,
Cupboarded for Old-age. Youth has her games;
We are invited, and should ill refuse.
On all these subjects our sweet Sicily
Discourses with the wisdom of a man.
You are not listening: what avails our wisdom?

Giovanna.
To keep afloat that buoyant little bark
Which swells endanger. O may never storm
O'ertake it! never worm unseen eat thro'!

Maria.
I wish we were away from these thick walls,
And these high windows, and these church-like ceilings,
Without a cherub to look down on us,
Or play a prank up there, with psalter-book,
Or bishop's head, or fiddle, or festoon.

Giovanna.
Be satisfied awhile: the nobler rooms
Are less secure against the violence
Of those Hungarians.

Maria.
I saw one who bowed
Graceful as an Italian. “Send away
The men below,” said I, “then bow again,
And we will try which bows most gracefully.”

Giovanna.
My giddy, giddy sister!

Maria.
May my head
Be ever so, if crowns must steady it!

Giovanna.
He might have thought . .

Maria.
Not he; he never thinks.
He bowed and shook his head. His name is Psein.
Often hath he been here on guard before:
You must remember him.

Giovanna.
No, not by name.

Maria.
Effeminate and vain we fancied him,
Because he always had a flower in hand,
Or with his fingers combed his forehead hair.

Giovanna.
No little merit in that sullen race.

Maria.
If he has merit I will bring it out.

Giovanna.
Resign that idle notion. Power is lost
By showing it too freely. When I want
His services, I order them. We part.
Too large a portion of the hour already
Has been among the living. Now I go
To other duties for the residue
Of this sad day.

Maria.
Unwelcome is Maria
Where sorrow is?

Giovanna.
Her sorrow is unwelcome;
Let me subdue my own; then come and join me.
Thou knowest where the desolate find one
Who never leaves them desolate.

[Goes.
Maria.
'Tis hard
To linger here alone.

Officer.
The Seneschal
Of Naples. Acciajoli.