University of Virginia Library

ACT THE SECOND.

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 should'st 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 unspeakable.

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 Duchess?

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 encouraged? Here have I been telling pure 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?

TOMASO.

Very! (Seizes the children, 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 white-wash, 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 art 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, shewing in Zippa.]
SERVANT.
Wait here, if't please you!

ZIPPA.
Thanks! (Exit Servant.)
My heart misgives me!
'Tis a bold errand I am come upon—
And I a stranger to her! Yet, perchance
She needs a friend—the proudest do sometimes—
And mean ones may be welcome. Look! she comes!

ISABELLA.
You wished to speak with me?

ZIPPA.
I did—but now
My memory is crept into my eyes;
I cannot think for gazing on your beauty!
Pardon me, lady!

ISABELLA.
You're too fair yourself
To find my face a wonder. Speak! Who are you?

ZIPPA.
Zippa, the Glover's daughter, and your friend!

ISABELLA.
My friend?

ZIPPA.
I said so. You're a noble lady
And I a low-born 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.
Briefly—for the time is precious
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.
Tortesa loves me, and for that I'd wed him.
Yet I'm not sure I love him more than you—
And you must hate him.

ISABELLA.
So far freely spoken—
What was your thought in coming to me now?

ZIPPA.
To mar your match with him, and so make mine!

ISABELLA.
Why, free again! Yet, as you love him not
'Tis strange you seek to wed him!

ZIPPA.
Oh no, madam!
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.
You shall have him
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,
(aside.)
(Dear Angelo!
'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.
Indeed, I thought him so!
But you would not. I loved him out of pity;
No one cared for him.

ISABELLA.
Was he so forlorn?

ZIPPA.
He was our neighbor, and I knew his toil
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.)
Why, that
Was charity, indeed! He loved you for it—
Was't not so?

ZIPPA.
He was like a brother to me—
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.
And yet, he
Was, after all, a false one?

ZIPPA.
Nay, dear lady!
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,
(aside.)
(Now could I
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.
Was he fair,
Or brown?

ISABELLA.
In truth, I marked not his complexion.

ZIPPA.
Tall?

ISABELLA.
That I know not.

ZIPPA.
Well—robust, or slight?

ISABELLA.
I cannot tell, indeed! I heard him speak—
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.
You but saw
A shadow, lady!

ISABELLA.
Nay—I saw a soul!
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—
As if, before it ceased in human ears,
The echo was caught up in fairy-land!

ZIPPA.
Was he a courtier, madam?

ISABELLA.
He's as lowly
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.
Alas! sweet lady!
My life is humble, and such wondrous men
Are far above my knowing. I could wish
To see one ere I died!

ISABELLA.
You shall, believe me!
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.
We will find
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 waiting the return of the Count.]
TORTESA,
(musing.)
There are some luxuries too rich for purchase.
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 angels pity. They are blest 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-possess'd 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.
Well-arrived, my lord!
How sped your riding?

FALCONE.
Fairly! Has my daughter
Left you alone?

TORTESA.
She knows that I am here.
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.
On your simple word,
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 marr'd it?

TORTESA.
I? I'm not a boy!
What I would yesterday, I will to-day!
I'm not a lover—

FALCONE.
How? So near your bridal,
And not a lover? Shame, sir!

TORTESA.
My lord count,
You take me for a fool!

FALCONE.
Is't like a fool
To love a high-born lady, and your bride?

TORTESA.
Yes; a thrice-sodden fool—if it were I!
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.
You seek occasion
To slight her, signor!

TORTESA.
No! I'll marry her
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.
By this you mean not
To shut her from her friends?

TORTESA.
You'll see your daughter
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,
(aside.)
(With half the provocation,
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.
But this: Your daughter
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,
(aside.)
(My poor, poor Isabella!
The task was too much!)

TORTESA.
There's a cost of feeling—
You may not think it much—I reckon it
A thousand pounds per day—in playing thus
The suitor to a lady cramm'd 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.
Is this earnest,
Or are you mad or trifling? Do I not
Give you my daughter with an open hand?
Are you betroth'd or no?
[Enter a Servant.]
Who's this?

SERVANT.
A page
Sent from the Duke

FALCONE.
Admit him.

[Enter Page with a letter.]
PAGE.
For my Lord,
The Count Falcone.

TORTESA,
(aside.)
(In a moment more
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.)
What glads him now?)

FALCONE.
You shall not have the bond!

TORTESA.
No? (aside.)
(Here's a change! What hint from Duke or devil
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.
She's fitlier mated! Here she comes!
My lofty Isabella! My fair child!
How dost thou, sweet?

ISABELLA,
(embracing him.)
Come home, and I not know it!
Art well? I see thou art! Hast ridden hard!
My dear, dear father!

FALCONE.
Give me breath to tell thee
Some better news, my lov'd one!

ISABELLA.
Nay, the joy
To see you back again 's enough for now.
There can be no news better, and for this
Let's keep a holiday twixt this and sunset!
Shut up your letter, and come see my flowers,
And hear my birds sing, will you?

FALCONE.
Look, my darling,
Upon this first! (Holds up the letter.)


ISABELLA.
No! you shall tell me all
You and the Duke did—where you slept, where ate,
Whether you dream'd of me—and, now I think on't,
Found you no wild-flow'rs as you cross'd the mountain?

FALCONE.
My own bright child! (Looks fondly upon her.)


TORTESA,
(aside.)
('Twill mar your joy, my lord!
To see the Glover's daughter in your palace,
And your proud daughter houseless!)

FALCONE,
(to Isabella.)
You'll not hear
The news I have for you!

TORTESA,
(advancing.)
Before you tell it,
I'll take my own again!

ISABELLA,
(aside.)
(Tortesa here!) (curtseys.)

I crave your pardon, sir; I saw you not!
(Oh hateful monster!) (aside.)


FALCONE.
Listen to my news,
Signor Tortesa! It concerns you, trust me!

ISABELLA,
(aside.)
(More of this hateful marriage!)

TORTESA.
Tell it briefly,
My time is precious!

FALCONE.
Sir I'll sum it up
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 enrich'd 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,
(aside, with suppressed rage.)
('Tis a lie!
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,
(aside.)
(I'll die first! Sold and taken back,
Then thrust upon a husband paid to take me!
To save my father I have weigh'd myself,
Heart, hand, and honour, 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.
Your pardon, Count!
I wait your answer to the Duke!

FALCONE.
My daughter
Shall give it you herself. What sweet phrase have you,
Grateful and eloquent, to bear your thanks?
Speak, Isabella!

ISABELLA,
(aside.)
(There's but one way left!
Courage, poor heart, and think on Angelo!
(Advances suddenly to Tortesa.)
Signor Tortesa!

TORTESA.
Madam!

ISABELLA.
There's my hand!
Is't yours, or no?

TORTESA.
There was a troth between us!

ISABELLA.
It's broke?

TORTESA.
I have not broke it!

ISABELLA.
Then why stand you
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 robb'd! Look to it!

FALCONE.
Is she mad!

TORTESA.
You'll marry me?

ISABELLA.
I will!

FALCONE.
By heaven you shall not!
What, shall my daughter wed a leprosy—
A bloated money-canker? Leave her hand!
Stand from him, Isabella!

ISABELLA.
Sir! you gave me
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—
Forc'd to receive no other company—
My wedding-clothes made, and the match proclaim'd
Through Florence!

FALCONE.
Do you love him?—tell me quickly!

ISABELLA.
You never ask'd me that when I was bid
To wed him!

FALCONE.
I am dumb!

TORTESA.
Ha! ha!! well put!
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.
My daughter! I would speak with you in private!
Signor! you'll pardon me.

ISABELLA.
Go you, dear father!
I'll follow straight.

[Exit Falcone.
TORTESA,
(aside.)
(She loiters for a kiss!
They're all alike! The same trick woos them all!)
Come to me, 'Bel!

ISABELLA,
(coldly)
To morrow at this hour
You'll find the priest here, and the bridesmaids waiting.
Till then, adieu!

[Exit.
TORTESA
Hola! what, gone? Why, Bella!
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 shewed 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 turn'd.
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.