University of Virginia Library

Scene I.

—Naples. Regal Closet in Castel-Novo.
Andreas (seated) and Fra Roberto, discovered.
Andreas.
But will it happen?

Roberto.
Who has said it?

Andreas.
You!

Roberto.
An answer! good!—What I do prophesy,
The saints fulfil. To-morrow, shall the Earthquake
Rock Naples, and o'erwhelm her in her sins;
Unless, like Nineveh, she first repent.
Therefore, this evening, let the multitudes,
In long procession, to the churches go—
Women unsandalled, with bewildered hair,
Their children in their arms—and cry for mercy;
Nor be your Queen exempt, though young and fair.
What! will it happen? Wherefore do I crawl,
A bald-head, barefoot wretch, attired in rags,
Scarce covered, and die daily; if the heavens
Should falsify themselves, to cozen me?
So lay all gauds aside—

Andreas.
That, in my case,
Is done already. The Hungarian fashion
I still have kept in Naples, and wear here
My native garb and manners, at your bidding;
Albeit “the Catanese” pronounce them rude
And borish; me proclaiming weak and ignorant,
Thus swayed by your instruction.

Roberto.
Let her talk!
Best look she to herself! What is she, pri'thee?

Andreas.
The Countess of Montoni—

Roberto,
But what was she?
The daughter of a fisherman of Catania,
In Sicily—no more;—whom chance first made
The foster-mother of a prince, and then
Court-favor a Court-lady. Impolicy!
When democratic insolence rears its front,
As now it doth in Rome, constraining even
His very Holiness to recognise
The authority of its self-christened Tribune,
Cola Rienzi! Here in Naples, too,
To give the low-born such dominion!—Pish!
'Tis to subvert all government at its base,
Hereditary Title! Has she power?
Let her guard well the magic whence it comes,
Or, with my counter-charms, her spells may sicken!

Andreas.
Yet with her Father still you correspond?

Roberto.
For my own ends—or, rather, those of justice.
Saints may consort with sinners for high ends;
Ends consecrate all means. Even now, good Andreas!
The Old Man from Catania hath arrived,
That he, by counsel and by skill, may save
The City and his Child, . . . or perish with them.

Andreas.
'Tis a strange notion. Poor old man! Here comes
The Countess—

Roberto.
Yes—at length!

Enter Philippa.
Philippa.
Your Majesty
Sent for me—

Andreas.
Yes. We must needs rule, it seems,
Through you; nay, even, when divinest mercy
Should be by right implored, must supplicate
Your intercession with our gracious Queen,
To mediate with God for us and Naples,
Against the threatened judgement.

Roberto.
Potent lady!
You must divest you of those princely robes,
Those courtly ornaments, those signs of rank,
Not native to you; these must be put off;
And you, and such as you,—hereditaries,
Or upstarts,—equal both in heaven's just eye,—
Must forth, in rags,—like mine,—and pay your vows,
Where'er the clement Virgin boasts a shrine.

Philippa.
Were you as clement as the Virgin, friar!
Less bitter had your adjuration been.
'Twere better you would learn, our manners here
Befit the gentle clime, even as the vine,
The cedar, and the citron, do the soil;
And songs and gondoliers the twilight sea.
But to my duty. Know, her majesty
Bids me acquaint you, that she hath already
Made preparation for devout procession,
Commanding my attendance.

Roberto.
By your advice?
—Which ever would anticipate my own!

Philippa.
Anticipate?

Roberto.
Yes—'tis your policy—

Philippa.
Honesty is my only policy.

Roberto.
The policy of heretics it is,
Who have no consecration but their virtue,
Which, till the Church confirm it, is worse evil!
Howbeit, not always have you thus advantage—
I am beforehand with you!

Philippa.
How?

Roberto.
Your father!

Philippa.
Stop! Has the sum of years he was to breathe,
Been numbered? No! Then God be thanked!—But why
Should I ask you? Where is my messenger?
Who should, before you could, have told me all?

Roberto.
A brother of my order—Geronimo—

Philippa.
Ay—he! By him full many a time have I
Sent gifts and greeting, still disdained and spurned.
Poor would my father be, nor feed my pride,
By recognition of my state and power.

Roberto.
Yes! power abused to ends that ruin Naples,
And wake the wrath of heaven!

Philippa.
'Tis false, base monk!
But now, what of my father?

Roberto.
By this, he has
Arrived in Naples. I depart to meet him.
Since guilt like yours brings vengeance on the city,
He hopes that, if the earthquake will receive him,
His voluntary death may expiate,
Both the transgression, and the punishment.

(Exit.)
Philippa.
Go, intermeddling and fanatic monk—

Andreas
(interrupting her).
You'll wait upon us to her majesty—

Philippa
(not heeding him).
Thou hast abused thy opportunity,
And, therewithal, a father's ear and heart!
'Tis well! now face to face, I nothing fear;
For not illiterate, nor rude of mind,
Though poor, I learned of him what has sufficed
To raise me to a rank—

Andreas.
Will you wait on us?—

Philippa.
My royal lord! your pardon!—

Andreas.
To the Queen!

[Exeunt.