University of Virginia Library

SCENE II.

[A Lady's dressing-room in the Falcone Palace. Isabella discovered with two phials.]
ISABELLA.
Here is a draught will still the breath so nearly,
The keenest-eyed will think the sleeper dead,—
And this kills quite. Lie ready, trusty friends,
Close by my bridal veil! I thought to baffle
My ruffian bridegroom by an easier cheat;
But Zippa's dangerous, and if I fail
In mocking death, why death indeed be welcome!

(Enter Zippa angrily.)
ZIPPA.
Madam!

ISABELLA.
You come rudely!

ZIPPA.
If I offend you more, I still have cause—
Yet as the “friend” to whom you gave a husband,
(So kind you were!) I might come unannounced!

ISABELLA.
What is this anger!

ZIPPA.
I'm not angry, madam!
Oh no! I'm patient!

ISABELLA.
What's your errand, then?

ZIPPA.
To give you back your costly bridal veil
And take my mean one.

ISABELLA.
'Twas your wish to change.
'Twas you that plotted we should wed together—
You in my place, and I in yours—was't not?

ZIPPA.
Oh, heaven! you're calm! Had you no plotting, too?
You're noble born, and so your face is marble—
I'm poor, and if my heart aches, 'twill show through.
You've robb'd me madam!

ISABELLA.
I?

ZIPPA.
Of gold—of jewels!—
Gold that would stretch the fancy but to dream of,
And gems like stars!

ISABELLA.
You're mad!

ZIPPA.
His love was worth them!
Oh, what had you to do with Angelo?

ISABELLA.
Nay—came you not to wed Tortesa freely?
What should you do with Angelo?

ZIPPA.
You mock me!
You are a woman, though your brow's a rock,
And know what love is. In a ring of fire
The tortured scorpion stings himself, to die—
But love will turn upon itself, and grow
Of its own fang immortal!

ISABELLA.
Still, you left him
To wed another?

ZIPPA.
'Tis for that he's mine!
What makes a right in any thing, but pain?
The diver's agony beneath the sea
Makes the pearl his—pain gets the miser's gold—
The noble's coronet, won first in battle,
Is his by bleeding for't—and Angelo
Is ten times mine because I gave him up—
Crushing my heart to do so!

ISABELLA.
Now you plead
Against yourself. Say it would kill me quite,
If you should wed him? Mine's the greater pain,
And so the fairer title!

ZIPPA,
(falling on her knees.)
I implore you
Love him no more! Upon my knees I do!
He's not like you! Look on your snow-white arms!
They're form'd to press a noble to your breast—
Not Angelo! He's poor—and fit for mine!
You would not lift a beggar to your lips!—
You would not lean from your proud palace-stairs
To pluck away a heart from a poor girl,
Who has no more on earth!

ISABELLA.
I will not answer!

ZIPPA.
Think what it is! Love is to you like music—
Pastime! You think on't when the dance is o'er—
When there's no revel—when your hair's unbound,
And its bright jewels with the daylight pale—
You want a lover to press on the hours
That lag till night again! But I—

ISABELLA.
Stop there!
I love him better than you've soul to dream of!

ZIPPA,
(rising.)
'Tis false! How can you? He's to you a lamp
That shines amid a thousand just as bright!
What's one amid your crowd of worshippers?
The glow-worm's bright—but oh! 'tis wanton murder
To raise him to the giddy air you breathe,
And leave his mate in darkness!

ISABELLA.
Say the worm
Soar from the earth on his own wing—what then?

ZIPPA.
Fair reasons cannot stay the heart from breaking.
You've stol'n my life, and you can give it back!
Will you—for heaven's sweet pity?

ISABELLA.
Leave my presence
(Aside.)
(I pity her—but on this fatal love
Hangs my life, too.) What right have such as you
To look with eyes of love on Angelo?

ZIPPA.
What right?

ISABELLA.
I say so Where's the miracle
Has made you fit to climb into the sky—
A moth—and look with love upon a star!

ZIPPA,
(mournfully.)
I'm lowly-born, alas!

ISABELLA.
Your soul's low-born!
Forget your anger and come near me, Zippa,
For ere I'm done you'll wonder! Have you ever,
When Angelo was silent, mark'd his eye—
How, of a sudden, as 'twere touch'd with fire,
There glows unnatural light beneath the lid?

ZIPPA.
I have—I've thought it strange!

ISABELLA.
Have you walk'd with him
When he has turn'd his head, as if to list
To music in the air—but you heard none—
And presently a smile stole through his lips,
And some low words, inaudible to you,
Fell from him brokenly.

ZIPPA.
Ay—many times!

ISABELLA.
Tell me once more! Hast never heard him speak
With voice unlike his own—so melancholy,
And yet so sweet a voice, that, were it only
The inarticulate moaning of a bird,
The very tone of it had made you weep?

ZIPPA.
'Tis strangely true, indeed!

ISABELLA.
Oh heaven! You say so—
Yet never dreamt it was a spirit of light
Familiar with you!

ZIPPA.
How?

ISABELLA.
Why, there are seraphs
Who walk this common world, and want, as we do—
Here, in our streets—all seraph, save in wings—
The look, the speech, the forehead like a god—
And he the brightest!

ZIPPA,
(incredulously.)
Nay—I've known him long!

ISABELLA.
Why, listen! There are worlds, thou doubting fool!
Farther to flee to than the stars in heaven,
Which Angelo can walk as we do this—
And does—while you look on him!

ZIPPA.
Angelo!

ISABELLA.
He's never at your side one constant minute
Without a thousand messengers from thence!
(O block! to live with him, and never dream on't!)
He plucks the sun's rays open like a thread,
And knows what stains the rose and not the lily—
He never sees a flower but he can tell
Its errand on the earth—(they all have errands—
You knew not that, oh dulness!) He sees shapes
Flush'd with immortal beauty in the clouds—
(You've seen him mock a thousand on his canvass,
And never wonder'd!) Yet you talk of love!
What love you?

ZIPPA.
Angelo—and not a dream!
Take you the dream and give me Angelo!
You may talk of him till my brain is giddy—
But oh, you cannot praise him out of reach
Of my true heart.—He's here, as low as I!—
Shall he not wed a woman, flesh and blood?

ISABELLA.
See here! There was a small, earth-creeping mole,
Born by the low nest of an unfledged lark.
They lived an April youth amid the grass—
The soft mole happy, and the lark no less,
And thought the bent sky leaned upon the flowers.
By early May the fledgling got his wings;
And, eager for the light, one breezy dawn,
Sprang from his nest, and, buoyantly, away
Fled forth to meet the morning. Newly born
Seem'd the young lark, as in another world
Of light, and song, and creatures like himself;
He soar'd and dropp'd, and sang unto the sun,
And pitied every thing that had not wings—
But most the mole, that wanted even eyes
To see the light he floated in!

ZIPPA.
Yet still
She watch'd his nest, and fed him when he came—
Would it were Angelo and I indeed!

ISABELLA.
Nay, mark! The bird grew lonely in the sky.
There was no echo at the height he flew!
And when the mist lay heavy on his wings
His song broke, and his flights were brief and low—
And the dull mole, that should have sorrowed with him,
Joy'd that he sang at last where she could hear!

ZIPPA.
Why, happy mole again!

ISABELLA.
Not long!—for soon
He found a mate that loved him for his wings?
One who with feebler flight, but eyes still on him,
Caught up his dropp'd song in the middle air,
And, with the echo, cheered him to the sun!

ZIPPA,
(aside.)
(I see! I see! His soul was never mine!
I was the blind mole of her hateful story!
No, no! he never loved me! True, we ate,
And laugh'd, and danced together—but no love—
He never told his thought when he was sad!
His folly and his idleness were mine—
No more! The rest was lock'd up in his soul!
I feel my heart grow black!) Fair madam, thank you!
You've told me news! (She shall not have him neither,
If there's a plot in hate to keep him from her!
I must have room to think, and air to breathe—
I choke here!) Madam, the blind mole takes leave!

ISABELLA.
Farewell!
[Exit Zippa.
(Takes the phial from the table.)
And now, come forth, sweet comforter!
I'll to my chamber with this drowsy poison,
And from my sleep I wake up Angelo's
Or wake no more!

[Exit.